“You and Zabala?” she asks.
I nod. “We’re the only ones assigned here full time.”
“And Vega?”
“He doesn’t come down here unless he needs to.”
“So it’s just the two of you?”
“Most of the time,” I say. “And Zabala takes a lot of breaks.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he does.”
“There are cameras, but I know their angles. The blind spots. The gaps in coverage. I can get you out of the cell. Out of the corridor. Up through the service exit.”
“And then?”
“We’re out of here,” I reply. “Even if the cameras catch something, it won’t matter. By the time anyone reviews the footage, we’ll be long gone.”
“Where do we go?” she asks.
I don’t hesitate. “To the brothel. Where my mother worked.”
She widens her eyes.
“They’ll take us in,” I continue. “No questions asked.”
She bites her lip. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze softens. “Because they love you.”
I nod. “I owe them everything. They raised me. After my mother died, they made sure I was taken care of. Until Vega took me in.”
“Vega? So what happens with him, then?”
I don’t answer right away because I already know where she’s going with this.
“You feel like you owe him,” she says.
I meet her gaze. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s not,” I say firmly. “What he gave me and what those women gave me are two completely different things.”
“So you don’t feel any loyalty to him?”
“I feel…obligation,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean I owe him my life. Or yours.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” I say automatically.
But I’m not altogether certain. Because the truth is Vega didn’t just give me a job. He gave me a way out of the life I was headed toward.
And men like him don’t give things like that without expecting something in return.