Тетрадь на гребне "Питомцы. Where your friend", А5, 96 листов, клетка

All he had to do was pull them out and fasten them around her wrists. As if he did this sort of thing all the time. "What is it you're doing to us?" Renee asked shakily, scared, sick, ashamed of what she'd just done with this man who had assumed the proportions of a beast. The man turned back to her. He was still naked. Without his fancy shirt and expensive black charro jacket he had lost some of his attractiveness. His ribs stuck through and he was pigeon-chested. His face had taken on a foxy, mean cast. "Do? Me? I will do nothing. It is you who will do everything. Everything I say." "You can't get away with it. Our families know we're down here. They'll send the police looking for us," Renee lied desperately. "Tch, tch, senorita! Your friend, she told me everything. That you two are here alone. And you told no one you would come to a filthy place like Tijuana." He nodded wisely and smiled. "Si, maybe when you don't go to school in two weeks, maybe they look for you. Maybe in Los Angeles, no? That is where your friend say you are supposed to be ...»