" Sure Jigs. By the way, where's the wine cellar."Jigs smiled indulgently and said, "Make a left at the lobby and two doors down on the right." Okay,"...Ryan said and hurried off, his head still spinning. He made the left at the lobby but forgot what side Jigs said. He turned to the left instead of the right and opened the door. It wasn't the wine cellar but the exercise room. He stopped in his tracks. Inside, sitting on one of the exercise benches, was a dark haired woman of about 40. Ryan. Of course we will try to help. Let me talk to her again.”More rapid-fire Spanish, but Camila’s tone took a definite upturn.Then in halting English. “Where are we?”“Wharton,” I said.“Wharton,” Camila repeated, then more Spanish. Then she handed me the phone back.“She doesn’t look as scared, punkin.”“I told her that you only ate one or two young girls a day and that you have your selection waiting at home.”I smiled at the double entendre. Don’t know if I’ll get to eat either of my wives tonight.. More

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