“He’s a machine. He’s my machine.” The smile falls from his face like a stage curtain. “Do you know what that means?” Icy hands squeeze my lungs. I clutch my thighs under the table and jerk my head again. “It means that you work for me. I’m your pimp, Zita, and you’ve got one trick. One job. Keep Nicky the driver happy. If he wants his cock sucked, you get on your knees. If he wants ass-to-mouth, hold your nose and open up, baby.” He lowers his voice. “You don’t ever let another man touch you. Not your arm. Nothing.”
