by K. C. Crowne
I walked around the pool in the dying light of the afternoon. The heat was still high and I felt the beads of sweat rolling down my back, making my shirt cling to me uncomfortably. In some ways, the heat of the desert reminded me of my time overseas, though I never expected to have to fight a war of sorts here at home.
If it had been any other day, I would have stopped to admire, and probably chat up, some of the gorgeous women wearing next to nothing who were lounging around the pool. I felt their eyes on me and could tell by the soft, sultry little smiles on their faces that they liked what they saw.
This wasn't any other day though and the women, gorgeous though they were, held absolutely zero appeal for me in that moment. Not only was our best friend missing, they'd taken Samantha. Lois and Frank were up in their room, out of their minds with worry and fear, about not one, but two missing children – and I had no answers to give them. I knew nothing.
I'd never felt so impotent before in my entire life.
Not to mention, the way things had gone with Mallory last night had my head in a fucking spin. She had told me she loved me. Well, she’d told all of us. And she’d let Liam fuck her. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the thought that we could all have her. It wasn’t conventional by any meaning of the word, but it worked for us. We’d made a pledge before that if we all couldn’t have her, none of us would. Now it seemed like wouldn’t have to go without the woman we all adored.
I stopped at the bar on the pool deck and grabbed a beer. The bartender slid it over and I lifted the bottle, taking a long swallow. I relished the cool liquid sliding down my parched throat. I turned around and leaned back against the bar, surveying the crowd in the water, splashing and playing. A DJ was set up at the far end of the pool and the thumping beats underlined the screams and laughter of the people playing grabass in the pool.
As I rolled it around in my head, I realized we had overlooked one important fact we also know – Santiago and the cartel didn't have him. Nor, had they killed him. If they were holding him, or Ignacio hard ordered him killed, there would be no need for them to take Sam and demand Chris for her return.
So there was a chance that Chris was alive. He was out there somewhere, but he was still alive – and Santiago didn't have him. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was some small sliver of hope for us to hold onto. Something I could bring to his parents.
Of course, that left the overwhelming problem of trying to figure out how we were going to get Sam back without knowing where in the fuck Chris was.
“You have something my boss wants.”
I turned to find a large Hispanic man standing at the bar to my right looking straight at me. He was sipping on a beer, doing his best to look casual, like we were nothing more than a couple of guys having a chat at the bar.
He was about as tall as I was, and just as brawny. He had skin darkened by the sun, dark eyes that looked both bottomless and cruel, a shaved head, and a neatly trimmed goatee. He had a jagged scar on his left cheek and three teardrop tattoos beneath his right eye, adding to his intimidating presence.
Though large and bulky, when he turned around and leaned his back against the bar, I saw that he moved with a smoothness and grace that made me a little uneasy. He moved like a soldier, or somebody who had been trained like one.
There was no mistaking the fact that this was a man who knew how to take care of himself. I could only guess that this had to be the Antonio whose name was scrawled on that message pad in Santiago’s building.
Somehow, they'd found us.
“Say again?” I asked, playing dumb in order to buy myself a little time.
My military training kicked in and I discreetly looked around, trying to formulate an exit strategy on the fly. The fact that this guy had moved up next to me so easily that I hadn't even realized he was there, set me on edge.
“We were wondering when you'd come up for air,” he said, his voice carrying a strong accent. “We followed you from your boy's house. You got to his folks before we could.”
I shrugged and took a sip of my beer, doing all I could to not look as unprepared as I felt.
“I wasn’t going to let you hurt them,” I said.
“Doesn't matter,” he says. “We got the sister. She'll do. For now, anyway.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
He took a long pull from his beer and looked out over the pool, his eyes drinking in the tanned, scantily clad bodies running around the deck.
“We want your boy,” he said casually, as if asking for a spare cigarette and not a human life.
“Why?” I ask. “What did he do?”
The man shrugged again. “Dunno,” he said. “My boss says he wants him back, so it's my job to collect him. I don’t need to be burdened with the details.”
“And if I tell you I have no idea where he is?”
“That'd be real bad, man,” he replied. “It'd be worse for that sweet young thing we're holding right now. But, I'd also think you're lying, bro.”
“How do you even know who I am?'
“Because I do my homework,” he replied smoothly. “My boss doesn't hire many people from the outside. So, when he does, we learn all about them. Their backgrounds, friends, lovers, family – we learn it all. Knowledge is power and shit, man. Mr. Santiago can’t afford to have people around that might get in the way of his business.”
I shrugged, trying to look unimpressed. “I got nothing to hide.”
He nodded. “Nah, you don't. You're all squeaky fuckin' clean, man. Bunch of fuckin' Boy Scouts or some shit like that,” he said and laughed. “Well, all except for sweet Mallory. I got a feelin' she'd be anything but squeaky clean if I got her in between the sheets. Maybe even bring out her handcuffs just for fun.”
Hearing him mention Mallory's name in that slimy, disgusting context pissed me off to no end. My blood pressure soared, and a dark rage rose up within me. I looked Antonio in the eye, my anger flaring inside of me. He was smirking at me, an amused twinkle in his eye.
He obviously knew the reaction he was going to get by mentioning Mallory like that. If he'd done his homework like he said he had, he knew how close we all were and maybe somehow thought he could use her to get under our skins. He wanted me off balance and not thinking straight. He wanted my mind more focused on my anger than on finding out where he was holding Sam, or be able to pump him for any other information.
He'd just played me, and I'd walked right into it. He saw my reaction to his remarks about Mallory and I knew he'd just gotten the intel he was looking for. I'd inadvertently told him what my weak point was – what all of our weak point was. I knew from experience, that he Son of a bitch.
“We want your boy,” he said. “Give him up, the girl goes free.”
I couldn't hand something over that I didn't have. Not that I would have anyway. I couldn't let him know I had no idea where Chris was. If I did that, Sam was as good as dead. They’d kill her to bring him out into the open. I needed to string him along as far as I could. Needed to keep him thinking there was a chance he was going to get his hands on Chris.
“How do I know Sam is still alive?” I asked.
“Because I said she is.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, given who you work for, you're going to have to forgive me if I don't take you at your word.”
Antonio smirked as he looked out over the pool again and I could see his mind spinning. He drained the last of his bottle and slammed it down on the bar.
“Okay,” he said. “Let's go, man.”
“Where are we going?”
“You want to see the bitch or not?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I want to see Sam.”
“Then shut the fuck up and let's go.”
I swallowed down the rest of my beer to fortify myself and set the bottle down, my mind a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. I didn't figure I was in any personal danger. Santiago didn't want me. He wanted Chris. Knowing that I may have been his only chance at getting to
Chris, seemed to more or less guarantee my safety.
At least for now.
“Hold up,” I say. “I need to call and –”
“Nah, man,” he said. “No calls. You either come with me now – alone – or you don't get to see shit.”
I stood there and debated with myself for a minute. By going with him, alone and unarmed, I was taking a big chance. There was always the possibility that they'd take me as a hostage myself. Give themselves two chips to work with, rather than just one. On the other hand, it could also give me some valuable intel about where they were keeping her, which could allow us to launch a rescue op. We may not have known where Chris was, or what his situation might be, but we could do something about his sister.
I nodded, as I came to the decision in my head.
“Let's go,” I said.
* * *
The blindfold they'd made me wear was tight and unfortunately blacked everything out. I couldn't see shit as we drove. I'd been hoping to pick up landmarks or something on the way, but they'd made sure that wasn't possible.
Antonio was in the back seat with me, and there had been one guy behind the wheel. A short, portly Hispanic man with slicked back hair and a full beard. I saw him for a moment before Antonio put the blindfold on me. They spoke to each other in rapid-fire Spanish, but with my incredibly limited vocabulary, I didn't understand a damn thing.
The car stopped and as the man in front shut off the engine, I heard what sounded like a garage door rolling down behind us. It shut with a bang and only then did Antonio remove my blindfold.
“Get out,” he said gruffly.
I did as he said and found myself in a two-car garage. We were in a residential home. A cartel safe house, more than likely. Made sense. You could hide somebody in the middle of a housing tract and nobody would be the wiser.
“Let's go,” he said.
I followed Antonio and the bearded man to the door that led from the garage into the house. Aside from some stacks of boxes and the car, the garage was mostly empty. As I was about to walk into the house, I caught sight of a sign peeking out from behind a couple of larger boxes. It looked like the sort of sign you put out on the lawn when your house is for sale. It read, “Desert Oasis Homes,” followed by what I thought were the digits that made up the street address.
I filed the information away in my head for later use.
Not wanting to tip Antonio off that I'd seen it, I committed the address to memory and looked straight ahead as I walked into the house. The bearded man closed the door behind us and walked away. Antonio stood there staring at me. The house was nicely furnished and tastefully decorated. It looked like the kind of place any upper middle-class family would inhabit. In other words, it was a perfect cover.
“Come in,” he said.
A sense of unease twisting my gut, I followed him deeper into the house. We walked into the den where I found a man with an automatic rifle in his hand standing just inside the doorway.
Sitting in a chair, her eyes wide, her face stained with tears, was Samantha. The moment I stepped into the room, she jumped up and ran toward me. The man with the gun raised it up and shouted something at her in Spanish and she stopped dead in her tracks, absolute fear etched into her face.
Antonio said something to the man and motioned for him to lower his gun. The man did and left the room. I turned to Antonio who was looking at Sam like she was a delicious little treat he was desperate to try.
“Can I have a minute with her alone?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I have a couple more guys out here though, so don't try to pull any shit. One more body don’t mean anything to me man.”
“I just want to talk to her.”
Antonio nodded and then turned, walking down the hallway. I listened to his footsteps receding, then turned to Samantha. I pulled her into a tight embrace and the dam of emotions inside of her broke. She cried and clung to me like a lifeline.
“Please, get me out of here,” she whispered. “I don't know what's going on or who these guys are. Please get me out.”
“I'm working on it,” I said as I stroked her hair.
I managed to disentangle myself from her and sat her down on the couch that was in the room. Keeping her hands in mine, I gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“What's happening, Jason?” she asked. “Why are they doing this?”
“I honestly don't know yet,” I said. “All I know is that Chris is in some kind of trouble and –”
“Chris? Oh my God, is he okay?” she asked, her face flooded with worry. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don't know yet,” I said. “We're trying to find some answers. All I know is they're looking for him and took you to make sure they get him.”
“They want to trade my life for his? No, Jason, don’t give them my brother. I don’t care what it costs,” she said, sounding angry now instead of terrified.
I shook my head and pitched my voice even lower. “Fuck no,” I said. “I'm just gathering intel right now. We need to find out what the situation is. We'll find a way to get you out of here. I promise you that, Sam.”
She nodded, though tears continued to stream from her eyes. “I – I believe you,” she said. “I'm just so scared.”
“I know,” I replied. “But, right now, I need you to focus. I know you're scared, but I need you to think. Can you do that for me?”
She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. I squeezed her hand reassuringly again.
“Good girl,” I said. “Now, how many guys are guarding you in this place at any one time.”
She shrugged. “I've only ever seen two,” she said. “But, I've heard another man's voice here as well. It sounded like he was talking on the phone.”
“So, probably three?”
She thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“Good,” I said. “That's good.”
“Have any of them mentioned Chris that you've heard?”
She shook her head. “No, not once.”
“Have they mentioned any specific locations? Anything that makes you think they've been looking for somebody in any particular place?
She again, shook her head. “Not that I've heard,” she said, her tears coming harder and faster. “I'm sorry, I'm not much help.”
“You're doing fine,” I said. “You're doing great. Don't worry, we're going to get you out of this, Sam. I promise you.”
She looked at me with eyes that were red and puffy. At first, she looked completely resigned to her fate. Like she knew they were going to kill her and had come to accept it. But, slowly, I saw a small spark of hope flicker to life within her.
“Time's up,” Antonio said from the doorway. “You have your proof that she's alive an unharmed.”
I gave her a tight smile and stood. Sam remained on the sofa and looked down at her hands resting in her lap. She fidgeted and twisted a ring around her finger – a nervous gesture I remember her having even when she was a kid.
I squatted down quickly and grabbed her hands in mine again. “We're going to figure this out, Sam,” I said, pitching my voice low again. “We're going to get you out of here. In the meantime, just keep your head down and say nothing. You got me? Nothing.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good.”
As I stood, I planted a soft kiss on the top of her head and then let Antonio lead me out of the room. The guard stepped back in, his weapon at the ready, casting an angry glower in my direction.
They loaded me back into the car and put the blindfold back on.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked.
Antonio didn't say a word, he just cinched it tight. I sat back in the seat as the bearded man started the car. A few moments later, the garage door went up and we were back on the road. I waited a little bit to speak, processing the infuriatingly little information that I had. I needed to know more.
“What is this all abo
ut, Antonio?” I asked. “Why does Santiago have such a hard on for Chris?”
“I told you I don't know, man,” he replied. “I do my job and I don’t ask questions. It’s much less messy that way.”
“I think that's bullshit,” I said. “I think you know exactly what's going on here.”
I had no reason to think that. I was just throwing out a line. I was fishing, hoping he'd bite. Luckily for me, he did.
“All I know is that Chris was supposed to pick some shit up down in Mexico and deliver it to the big man,” he said. “Big shipment. Two hundred and fifty grand big. For some reason, your boy never showed. And all that product disappeared along with him.”
“Product?” I asked. “What kind of product? Chris was a security guard. What in the hell was he doing picking up a quarter million dollars in ‘product’?”
“Beats me, man,” he said. “The big man gave him a shot. Tried to bring him into the circle, and your boy bent him over and fucked him good. The boss doesn't take kindly to getting fucked over, I can tell you that.”
“What's he planning on doing if he gets ahold of Chris?”
“He’s gonna take him out for ice cream. Come on man, what the fuck do you think he’s gonna do?”
His words sent a chill through me, although it was exactly what I’d expected him to say. Still, what in the fuck had Chris been thinking? There was no way the brother I’d grown up with, the one I’d trusted to watch my back in combat, would be a drug mule. I just couldn’t comprehend it.
No, the more I thought about it, the more I knew in my gut he wouldn't have gotten involved with that kind of shit of his own volition. That wasn't Chris. That wasn't the guy I knew. That was not my brother. Somebody – maybe even Julia – had gotten him involved in this, and now he was up to his neck in shit because of it.
The only two things I knew for certain was that one, we were going to find him, and two, whoever got him caught up in all this shit was going to pay the price for it.
