by Sybil Bartel
I glanced at Luna. “You said you, me, Christensen and Talerco.”
“They knew who we were going after. They volunteered.” Luna gave me a warning look that said not to question it. “We need the extra firepower and Tank has connections in Mexico.”
I said nothing. After seeing the satellite images of the size of the port, I knew he was right.
Luna made the introductions. “Tyler, Collins, you know Callan Anders.” He glanced at the third man who was standing back, scanning the tarmac. “And that’s Tank.” He tipped his chin at the man who was nearly as tall as me but with thirty more pounds of muscle. “You get what we needed?” Luna asked Tank.
Tank scanned our surroundings one last time before acknowledging Luna with eye contact. “Yeah. Vehicles, firepower, ammo, tactical gear and medical supplies. Where’s Talerco?”
As if on cue, a low, black sports car pulled up too fast and slammed on the brakes two feet from where Neil was standing. Neil did not even flinch as Talon got out of the vehicle.
“What’s up, ladies?” Talon smiled wide. “Y’all miss me?”
Tank addressed him. “I didn’t get everything you asked for.”
Talon instantly turned serious. “What’s missin’?”
“The Xstats and antibiotics. And I can’t vouch for the age or condition of anything else,” Tank warned.
“Christ,” Talon swore.
“What is an Xstat?” I asked Luna.
Talon answered. “Stops the bleedin’ from a gunshot wound.” He glanced at Luna. “I need to take supplies, Patrol. I can’t go in blind. Not if you expect me to treat whatever comes up.”
Luna had said we could not take anything on the plane. Mexican customs had strict rules on weapons. He had said the Mexican authorities would detain first and ask questions later, but I had concealed a 9mm anyway, and was going to take my chances.
When Luna didn’t answer Talon right away, Neil spoke up. “We are wasting time. Bring what you need. Disperse it throughout the cabin.”
“If customs searches the plane and sees a shit ton of medical supplies, we’re going to get detained,” Luna warned.
Talon was already at the back of his vehicle. “Have a little faith, Patrol.” He rummaged in the trunk. “Rower, Ivy, Tank, come help me with this shit.”
Tyler, Collins and Tank walked to Talon’s vehicle. Talon started handing them items wrapped in plastic that they shoved in their pockets.
A minute later, Talon slammed his trunk shut. “All good,” he drawled before a sinister smile spread across his face. “Let’s go shoot some shit up.”
I WILL NOT WHIMPER. I will not whimper.
I chanted the silent omen as tears dripped down my face.
The back left side of my ribs feeling like they’d been crushed, my knees bleeding, my hands duct taped behind my back, the asshole dragged me by my hair. After being forced to walk out of the container with a gun pressed into my head, I’d stupidly taken a moment to breathe in fresh air and blink up at the night sky.
That’s when he’d shoved me to my knees a second time and kicked me in the back.
The pain had been so intense, I didn’t have a single second to gather my wits and fight against the duct tape he’d wound tight around my wrists after yanking my hands behind my back. His boot had jammed so hard into my flesh, I thought for sure my ribs would break under his weight, but I hadn’t heard anything snap.
Trying and failing to suck in a deep, cleansing breath, I was taken off guard a second time when he yanked on my hair and pulled. My face scraped across the rough metal floor of the ship, and I’d rolled to avoid losing a layer of precious skin.
Except now he was dragging me by my hair, my dress had ridden up around my chest and my shoes were gone. I didn’t think I could take another second of being dragged without my hair being ripped from my scalp when he finally stopped between two containers.
“You think you’re too good for me, bitch?” He kicked my legs apart then stood between them.
I looked up into his face for the first time. The moon behind him, his vile expression in shadow, I still memorized every wretched angle of his crooked nose, thin lips and evil eyes so I could describe him to the police.
“You think your dirty cunt is worth all that?” He dropped to his knees between my legs.
My hands crushed under my body, his vile, unwashed, rank scent filling my head, I lost my voice as I lay helplessly while he shoved my legs wide.
I will not whimper. I will not whimper.
He grabbed my underwear in a fistful and yanked. “You ain’t worth shit.”
The stretchy black material scraped halfway down my thighs, and cold night air laced with ocean hit the most private part of my body.
I found my voice. “You fucking asshole!”
His large palm connected with my face, the sound echoing between the cargo containers. “Did I say you could fucking talk, bitch?”
My face stinging, the flesh burning where he’d slapped me, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks, but I wouldn’t shut up now, not for one goddamn second. “Only impotent assholes hit women.”
The second slap was a hundred times harder than the first.
My head whipped to the side as more blood pooled in my mouth.
He grabbed the sides of my mouth and squeezed, hard. “You think your smart mouth is worth more than your fucking cunt?” He grabbed his belt and undid the buckle with his free hand. “I’m gonna fuck both of them, and when I’m done, I’m gonna roll you over and fuck your ass so hard you’ll wish my cock was still in your dirty cunt.” He surged to his knees.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a smooth, accented voice said calmly.
My entire body shaking, I turned my head.
The man from the club stood there. Wrinkled dress shirt, suit pants, one hand in his pocket, the other at his side, he casually glanced from me to the asshole.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the asshole barked.
“Protecting my investment.” His arm rose, a gun in his hand.
Quicker than I could blink, Javier pulled the trigger.
The explosion of sound hit my ears a split second before warm blood splatter rained down, covering every inch of my exposed skin.
The asshole’s lifeless body hung suspended for an eternal moment, then it dropped on top of me.
THE CUSTOMS AGENT SPOKE in Spanish to Luna.
Luna answered, pointing at the papers Roark had given him, repeating the same thing he had said in Spanish for the past five minutes.
Talerco studied his fingernails.
Tyler bounced his foot.
Collins tapped his thumb on his leg.
Tank sat rigidly, perfectly still.
Neil stared at the customs agent.
I could smell their adrenaline.
Weapons were not permitted on the plane, but we were all armed. Disregarding regulations, we had all brought our own concealed gun on board.
I glanced at the time on my cell phone.
We needed to get off the plane and get to the port.
The customs agent looked suspiciously around the cabin, then settled on Talerco. “Why are you here?” he asked in accented English.
Talon lazily pushed to his feet and smiled. “Bachelor party.” He slapped Luna on the shoulder. “My friends thought I needed one last hurrah before I tied the knot.” He leaned toward the customs agent. “I didn’t have the heart to tell ’em testosterone and margaritas aren’t as temptin’ as my woman.” He chuckled.
The customs agent handed the paperwork back to Luna and quoted a fee.
Luna pulled cash out of his wallet and gave it to the customs agent.
The customs agent pocketed the money and nodded once before taking his leave.
Luna exhaled.
Talon slapped him on the shoulder again. “Relax, Patrol. He was just tryin’ to get a rise out of you. And a bribe.” Talon chuckled again. “Next time you might wanna get
with the program if you wanna speed the process up.”
“I’m not going to a fucking Mexican jail for offering a bribe to a customs agent.” He shook his head. “No way in hell.” He glanced at his watch then at Tank. “We got supplies coming?”
Tank was looking down at his phone. “Our ride’s already here.”
Luna glanced at Roark. “You stay with the plane. If we’re not back in three hours, head back without us and switch to plan B.” Luna glanced at all of us. “Everyone set on the backup plan?”
The backup plan had us getting out of Mexico by vehicle. Once we got to the Texas border and crossed, then we were to call Roark or Luna’s office to arrange a pickup or an additional escort. The problem with plan B was the highway between the port and the Texas border. Luna referred to it as the Highway of Death. He had said it was impassable without an armed Mexican federal police escort.
“We are all in consensus.” Neil stood. “Let’s go.”
Seven of us exited the plane.
Two SUVs similar to Luna’s vehicles were waiting with drivers, engines running. I got in the vehicle with Luna, Talon, and Neil. The driver did not say a word as he drove off the hot, dusty tarmac. Twenty minutes later, the driver speeding through increasingly deserted streets, no one spoke.
I glanced behind us for the other vehicle, but it was gone.
The hair on the back of my neck rose.
Luna was in the front passenger seat, Talon behind in the third row of seats. Neil sat next to me. I moved my foot and tapped Neil’s boot once.
His gaze trained out the tinted window, Neil did not acknowledge me.
I tapped again.
Deep, quiet, Neil spoke. But the words were in another language.
If I was not staring straight ahead, I would have missed the slight lift of Luna’s chin.
Before I took my next breath, both Neil and Luna moved.
Neil’s arm went around the driver’s neck as Luna reached over and grabbed the wheel.
The SUV swerved violently.
The driver choked and kicked and flailed his arms.
“Motherfucker,” Talon swore from the back seat. “End this now, Vikin’!”
Neil snapped the driver’s neck.
“’Bout fuckin’ time.” Talon cursed again. “Kick his ass out.”
Luna held the wheel while Neil reached forward and opened the driver door.
As if they had choreographed their maneuvers, Luna shoved the dead driver out. Hot air rushing in, the vehicle still moving, Luna held the steering wheel and crawled into the driver seat. “Fucking pendejo.” He yanked the driver door shut.
Neil leaned back in his seat.
“I thought you two ladies were fuckin’ sleepin’ on the job.” Talon scoffed. “That fucker took a detour ten minutes ago. Tank is on my shit list.”
Luna pulled his phone out, dialed and held it to his ear. “Where the fuck are you?… Jesucristo. Yeah we will talk about it, but not right now. You got any fucking supplies because this vehicle is empty… Copy.” He handed his phone back to Neil. “Get GPS up on the location Tank’s got.”
Neil took the phone and held it to his ear. “Address,” he demanded. A second later, he hung up, swiped across the screen a few times then handed the phone back to Luna. “We are ten minutes away.”
I glanced behind me at Talon. “Is there anything in the back?”
Talon scoffed. “Not a thing.” He looked over my shoulder. “Patrol. Who the fuck was this prick Tank hired?”
Luna glanced at the cell phone’s GPS. “No clue, but we’re on our own, and Tank’s vehicle has limited guns and ammo.”
“They got medical supplies?” Talon asked.
“Don’t count on it.” Luna reached in his pocket, then handed each of us one of the small communication devices for our ears. “We’ve got comms, our personal weapons, and hopefully some long-range firepower when we meet up with Tank. We’ve figured shit out with way less before, we’ll do it again.”
Talon took his device and put it in his ear. “They get rid of their driver?”
Luna shook his head. “Their driver was Tank’s contact. He claimed he had no idea our driver was up to something.”
“What kinda idiot takes on four guys in an unarmed SUV?” Talon asked.
Luna shrugged. “A desperate one.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Or a paid one.”
“You think Estevez knows we are coming?” Neil interjected.
“No clue, but I’m gonna assume the worst.”
I only had one priority at this point. “How are we going to get the women back with limited ammunition?”
Luna met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Creatively.”
MY CHEST CRUSHED, A dead man’s blood in my mouth, I freaked the fuck out.
Sheer panic and fear making me fight for breath, revulsion making me gag, I tried and failed to shove the body away.
I started to hyperventilate.
Javier pulled the body off me.
Shaking violently, I watched Javier drag the dead man to the side of the ship and toss him overboard with surprising strength. Strength I should’ve paid attention to, but didn’t, because I was losing my fucking shit.
More than the prospect of being raped, more than the prospect of being sold, more than the knowledge I may never see my family again, I was thinking about Callan.
Murder.
Javier had murdered the asshole.
Callan had seen death.
Lots of death.
I had a dead man’s blood on me. One dead man’s blood.
Callan had seen lots of death.
Shaking, shaking, shaking. Blood, bits of flesh, metal, copper, dirty, dirty blood.
I rolled to my side and heaved. Pain stabbed at my bruised ribs as blood and bile and despair lurched from my soul and shot from my mouth.
Flipping open a switchblade, Javier squatted in front of me and cut the duct tape binding my hands. “Where did he touch you?”
“Water,” I choked out.
With a sigh of disgust, Javier flicked his blade shut and stood. “Stay. Or I will find you and this will seem like child’s play.” He walked off.
The tremors wracking my body coming in waves, I rolled away from the mess of murder and vomit and landed on my back. Looking up between the tall containers on either side of me, the stars twinkled, the engine hummed, and waves hit the side of the ship. It would have been beautiful if everything about this moment was different and I wasn’t thinking about jumping overboard.
Jumping.
Beaten, bruised and with my underwear around my knees.
Jumping.
Laughing like I had completely lost my shit, I pulled my underwear up and my dress down.
I looked at the side of the ship where the asshole had been tossed over.
Nothing seemed real. Except jumping. But jumping was out of the question. I didn’t have any jump in me. I would have to climb overboard and drop into the ocean. Let the waves wash this fucking blood off me. Big, middle of the ocean, cleansing, suicidal waves.
Climbing overboard would be suicide.
And an easy out for the piece of shit who’d drugged and kidnapped me.
He didn’t deserve an easy out.
The piece of shit returned.
I hated myself for still lying where he’d left me.
Javier held the water bottle out. “I ask again. Where did he touch you?”
Thirstier than I’d ever been, desperate to get the blood off my face and out of my mouth, I stared at the water. Would my family look for me? Would Callan? “Where are we going?”
“Drink,” he ordered.
I eyed him without the fog of a date-rape drug coursing through my system. “The last time I took a drink from you, shit ended badly.”
“I have no reason to subdue you now.”
I barely remembered talking to him at the bar. In fact, everything post Callan walking out of my apartment was a blur. But I did remember Javier havi
ng a way different demeanor. He wasn’t smiling or casually flirting with me now. A gun shoved into his waistband, thick veins showing where he’d rolled his shirt sleeves up, he didn’t look like a monster like the asshole rapist did. But he’d killed without blinking, and I knew he would do it again.
I took the water and pushed to a sitting position. Trying to hide weakness by not showing pain as my sore body moved, it was my voice that betrayed me. “You’re a monster.” No force in my tone, I still held eye contact. Just like the asshole rapist, I would remember my kidnapper’s face. I would remember it so well, I would be able to describe it to one of those police sketch artists in perfect fucking detail.
He lifted one eyebrow. “Do you see me forcing myself on you?”
Fucking prick. “You drugged and kidnapped me.” I took a swig of the water and swished it through my mouth then spit.
His head cocked to the side. “How old are you?”
“What, you didn’t steal my purse and memorize the information on my driver’s license?” For about the millionth time since I’d woken up, I mourned the loss of my cell phone.
He laughed a dry, no-humor laugh that didn’t carry any echo between the cargo containers. “I am not stupid enough to bring evidence with me, pobrecita.”
The last of my hope died. I didn’t know how cellular technology worked, but I’d seen plenty of TV shows where they tracked someone’s location from their cell phone. I was at least hoping my purse and cell were somewhere on this stupid ship. “My family will find me,” I lied. My mouth still tasting like blood, I took another swig and spit.
“There is no one looking for you,” he countered confidently. “Now, tell me.” He fingered the hem of my soiled and ripped dress. “Did Bando get inside those panties? Or are you still a virgin?”
Horror mixed with hatred, then rage bled over everything. I didn’t remember telling him I was a virgin, but if I had, or fucking worse, if he’d somehow checked or done something to me while I was passed out, then this was even more horrific than I thought. I now knew for sure I was being sold, and sold specifically for my virginity. The thought of that young girl in the container with her sisters made me want to commit murder, starting with Javier. “You’re a pig.”
