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The man unnerved me.

His emotionally dead eyes that held more than a little madness made me fearful that he could snap at any time.

Violence was a way of life for him.

He liked it when I gave him a reason to beat me.

I hadn’t been raped, but the way that he looked at me made my skin crawl.

“Eat!” Rico snarled in heavily accented English as he dropped a small bowl of water, a tiny amount of bread, and a mango that looked like it was half rotten onto the floor. “I’m not handing a weak woman over to the boss as a gift. He likes it when they fight.”

I looked up at him from my seated position on the cement and shuddered.

I’d known what his plan was for me since the day I’d arrived here in this prison.

Rico was in Mexico to visit family.

He’d married an Ecuadorian woman years ago, and he’d made his home there as he’d worked his way up in a South American cartel.

I was going to be a gift to his boss.

Apparently, his cartel boss had always wanted to add a redhead to his collection of females. Strangely, Rico said that my horrible scars would be a turn-on for his boss. Beating women was a kink for this South American cartel leader, and he loved to see scars on a woman.

I guess I was the perfect sex slave for this asshole.

Rico was certain giving a woman like me to his boss was going to mean a promotion for him in the cartel.

I swallowed hard as bile threatened to work its way up to my throat.

“I’ll have to clean you up before we leave tomorrow,” Rico said in a disgusted voice. “You’re starting to stink.”

Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let this animal see my fear.

There goes my chance of possible rescue.

If I was trafficked to Ecuador the following day, I was a lot less likely to be located anytime soon, if ever.

I’d texted my Mexico plans to Nina, but how would anyone know where I’d gone once I’d been moved to Ecuador?

“I told you to eat!” Rico bellowed angrily.

I slowly picked up the bowl of water. It looked dirty, but I closed my eyes and choked some of it down.

I needed some kind of real hydration and food. I’d take my chances with the possible bacteria. If I didn’t get more water soon, my dehydration was going to get to a critical level.

I’d learned not to speak days ago.

I’d taken several brutal beatings during the first few days when I’d tried to fight back and speak up.

Since that had gone badly for me, I’d just stayed quiet for the subsequent days so I could heal.

Fighting had been pointless, and it had just made me weaker.

My face was probably bruised, and I was sporting a partially healed split lip, but the rib pain was the worst.

They were either cracked or badly bruised from the vicious kicks Rico had administered over and over. The screaming pain had lowered in volume, but they hurt every time I moved.

I picked up the bread, shoved it into my mouth, and washed it down with the rest of the water, desperately hoping that Rico would just leave.