Hard Trauma

by Franklin Horton

  Ty shifted the gun in his hand and brought the butt down on Ramon’s forehead, stunning him. A second blow followed, then a third, and Ramon’s head tipped to the side, lights out. Ty climbed off Ramon, then dragged him to the pole where he himself had been secured. He wrenched the unconscious man around, cuffing him with his back to the pole. Ty unbuckled Ramon’s belt, yanked it free of the loops, and lashed it around the man’s neck, strapping him to the pole. He didn’t tighten it completely, wanting Ramon to be able to breathe. He needed him alive a little longer.

  Ty frisked the guy, finding and keeping two spare mags, his cellphone, a fixed blade knife, and a ring of keys. Ty used Ramon’s own fingerprint to unlock the phone, then disabled the password. He wasn’t certain he remembered any phone numbers off the top of his head, other than 9-1-1, and it was too early for that. He needed information first. He needed to find out where the girl was. Were these some of Tia’s associates? Did they work for her son? Had she sent the cartel after him?

  He placed his knuckles against Ramon’s sternum and rocked them back and forth, applying intense pressure. The man squirmed, attempting to twist away from the pain, and his eyes cracked open. Rivulets of blood ran down his forehand and from the shattered bridge of his nose. He gave Ty a scowl, a look that said this wasn’t over yet.

  “Where’s the girl?” Ty demanded. “Is she here?”

  “I don’t know anything about a girl.”

  Without warning or preamble, Ty unsheathed the fixed blade knife he’d taken from Ramon and buried it in the man’s thigh. He was certain it struck bone. He left it embedded there, allowing Ramon to see what had been done to him, allowing him to taste a little of what Ty was capable of.

  Ty leaned closer. “You can see that I’m not in the mood to fuck around. I’ll ask again. Tia took a child in Virginia and I need to find her. Where is the girl?”

  “They’ll kill you,” Ramon hissed.

  Ty yanked the knife free from the man’s thigh and immediately drove it into the top of the other thigh. He slapped a hand over Ramon’s mouth, turned his head away, and waited for the scream to subside. Ty removed his bloody hand and grinned. “You’ve got a lot of places to cut and I’m not squeamish. I suggest you start talking.”

  “I can’t—”

  “I don’t have time for this!”

  Ty yanked a cowboy boot off Ramon’s foot, then peeled off a rancid, sweaty sock. He shoved the sock into the protesting man’s mouth. Ramon gagged and pushed at it with his tongue but couldn’t remove it.

  “You’re going to need that,” Ty whispered. He moved back down to his foot and locked it in his powerful grip, momentarily second-guessing his choice. Did this dude ever wash his feet? They smelled like a dumpster. With his other hand, Ty shot a powerful palm strike aimed at Ramon’s big toe.

  Ramon’s body arched and contracted as the big toe snapped. It stuck out at ninety degrees to its original position, now pointing at Ramon’s face.

  Ty smiled. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Remember there are nineteen more fingers and toes.”

  Though Ramon couldn’t speak, his tearful eyes revealed the level of pain he was experiencing.

  “This is where we test your level of commitment, Ramon. I’m going to twist that broken toe until it separates from your foot like a tomato coming off the vine. Can you imagine what that feels like? The bone grinding? The muscle tearing?”

  Ramon started to jabber, trying to speak around his gag.

  Ty reached up and yanked the sock from his mouth. “Talk to me, Ramon.”

  “The house,” he groaned. “They’re keeping a young girl in the basement of the house. I don’t know if that’s who you’re talking about or not but that’s all I know. She just showed up here last night.” He began sobbing, fixated on his mangled toe.

  “If you would quit staring at it, it might not hurt so badly,” Ty said. He shoved the sock back into Ramon’s mouth, ignoring the protests. “I’m leaving you alive, Ramon. If I find you’ve lied to me, I’ll be back, and we’ll talk again.”

  He removed the knife from Ramon’s leg and cleaned the blade on the man’s pants. He stashed the knife in his belt, ran to the door, and slipped out into the brutal heat of the day.

  44

  When they parked on the circular stone drive at the house, Tia remained in the car, waiting for Alvarez to walk around and open her door. As he circled the hood, he gave her a sideways glance to let her know what he thought of the demands she put on him. She smiled broadly, her lips caked in fresh pink lipstick, but he didn’t smile back.

  “Thank you,” she said when he tugged the door open and held it for her.

  “You’re welcome. Will you be requiring anything else? Do you need me to carry your tiny little bag to the house?”

  “No, smartass, I got it.”

  “Then if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.” Alvarez closed the door behind her and returned to the driver’s seat. Luis didn’t like the front of the house cluttered up with cars, preferring they park them all around back.

  Tia headed toward the door in her ambling, unhurried gait, Crocs flapping against the sidewalk. She opened one side of the massive hand-carved entry doors and stepped inside. The house was cool and dark, the walls thick enough to muffle the sound of the car pulling away from the house. She never cared for this gigantic house with its fancy furniture and expensive decor. She didn’t know who her son thought he was that he needed such a house.

  “Hello?” she called, uncertain if anyone was even home.

  “In my office,” Luis replied. “I need to speak with you.”

  “Give me one minute. I need to set my bags down.” Tia walked to the kitchen, placing her purse and shopping bag on the table.

  The house was quiet. Luis’s children were in school. They were technically her grandchildren but she wasn’t that close to them. She suspected Luis kept them away on purpose, which was fine with her since most kids were brats. Her daughter-in-law was gone shopping in the city, something she did every day. Tia didn’t care for her either. Aside from Luis’s men, it looked to be just the two of them on the property. That was perfect.

  She made two tall glasses of lemonade. To hers, she added a long pour of tequila. To Luis’s, she added the special tincture she’d obtained at the botanica. She took a careful sip of hers, since the addition of the liquor had filled it to the top of the glass. She picked up both drinks and headed toward her son’s office.

  He was on the phone when she went into the expansive room with its exposed beams and large desk. She placed one of the glasses of lemonade on his desk. He frowned at her, surprised by the gesture. It wasn’t like her to do things like that. He suspected she was trying to butter him up, perhaps trying to change his mind. She sipped from her glass and looked out the window while she waited for him to complete his call.

  “Jesus Christ, Tia. This smells like straight tequila,” Luis said, placing his phone face down on the desk.

  “That’s mine you smell. I need a little tonic each day before my afternoon nap. Yours has no tequila.”

  He took a sip of his lemonade, eyes on Tia, confirming his drink wasn’t half-tequila, like hers. Satisfied that it wasn’t, he took a longer drink. “There will be no afternoon nap today, Tia, unless you take it in the back seat of a car. You’re leaving as soon as we’re done here.” He took another sip of his lemonade and placed it on his desk, sitting back in his chair to measure her reaction.

  “What about the girl?” she asked.

  “I’ll clean up your mess.”

  Tia took a seat across from his desk, settling into a nice leather chair. “That’s not what I mean, Luis. She’s my property and if you’re taking her, I’m owed money. That’s the way this works.”

  Luis pounded a fist on his desk. “You’re owed nothing!”

  “When one pimp steals from another, payment is customary.” She was aware putting it in those terms would infuriate him.

  Luis rolled his eyes heavenward
. “This is not me stealing your girl. This is me covering your ass to protect myself.”

  “That’s not how I look at it.”

  “I don’t care how you look at it. You’re lucky I’m not sticking you in a hole in the desert, because I fucking considered it. You’re a crazy old woman who thinks she’s still a player but you’re not. You’re old news, Mother. You’re history. You cause me nothing but trouble and inconvenience. I’m done with it. You’re leaving for Mexico and you should consider that payment – the fact I’m letting you live.”

  Simmering, Tia took a sip of her drink and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t believe you’d talk to me that way.”

  Luis erupted into a loud, genuine laugh. “Don’t even go there. Don’t even play the ‘mother’ card with me, Tia. You’ve never been concerned with anyone but yourself. It’s too late to pretend there’s any feelings between us.”

  Tia didn’t deny it. “If you won’t let me sell her to El Clavo, how about we ask for a ransom? They do this in Mexico all the time, right? It’s big business, kidnapping.”

  Luis was shaking his head in frustration. He took a sip of his drink, rested his elbows on his desk, and let his head sag into his palms. “There’s a reason that’s successful in Mexico. The cartels control the whole fucking country. It may work here one day but we’re a long way from that point.”

  “What if I take her to Mexico with me? I can hide her out until you have the ransom. I’ll split it with you.”

  “No!” Luis shouted, shooting to his feet. “This is done. This was your last screw-up, Mother!”

  With those words, Luis froze, his face turning bright red.

  Though she’d been averting her eyes, his sudden silence caught her attention. Tia turned to look at him and saw his eyes bulging from his head, his mouth contorted into a violent rictus. His skin was flushed a brilliant red. Tia took a sip of her drink and watched placidly.

  “Help...me,” he gasped, staggering. He tried to sit down but couldn’t control his muscles. His rigid body pushed the wheeled chair away and he dropped onto his back on the floor. She could see his feet jerking as he began to have a seizure.

  Tia considered getting up but didn’t need to see this. She had a suspicion of how it ended, if the tincture was all it was promised to be. She heard steps behind her and craned her neck around in a panic. She hadn’t expected anyone.

  Alvarez was standing in the doorway, eyes wide. He could hear the gurgling and choking sounds coming from behind the desk. “What’s going on here?” He rushed around the desk and crouched at Luis’s side. “What’s wrong?”

  Luis was unable to answer, clutching desperately at Alvarez’s arm. White foam filled his mouth and ran down his face. Blood vessels were bursting in his eyes.

  “I think he’s having a heart attack or something?” Tia said, getting to her feet, and taking another sip of her drink. She made no attempt to hide her lack of concern.

  Alvarez popped up from behind the desk. “And you’re just sitting on your ass watching? Why haven’t you called 9-1-1?” He reached for the phone.

  As he picked the desk phone up from its base, Tia placed her hand on his. Alvarez paused, looking from Tia’s hand to her eyes. She pressed his hand back down and he conceded, hanging up the phone. He understood now what was taking place. Tia was letting Luis die.

  “We’re not calling anyone. There’s nothing to be done,” Tia whispered.

  When Tia reached forward and picked up Luis’s lemonade glass, awareness dawned on Alvarez. “You did this to him?”

  Tia stepped to the French doors and flung the contents of the glass onto the patio. It would evaporate in minutes. Uncertain of what to do with the glass itself, she tossed it into the landscaping. When she turned around, Alvarez was in her face.

  “What the fuck did you to do him, Tia?”

  “I did to him what was done to me. One day you’re the dog, the next you’re the rock other dogs piss on. I got tired of being pissed on,” she said flatly. “Luis is no longer in charge here.”

  Alvarez turned away, rubbing his temples with his fingers, pacing frantically. “You just can’t do things like this. This is not a street gang he works for. This is the cartel! They’ll kill you. They’ll kill all of us!”

  “I have no fear, Alvarez. I’m protected by The Skinny Lady. I cannot say the same for you.”

  “You crazy old bitch,” Alvarez mumbled.

  “I can make this simple for you, old friend. You return my property to me and you give me a car. Once I’m gone, you call his bosses and tell them whatever you wish. Blame me, if you want. I don’t care.”

  Alvarez returned to Luis’s side and confirmed he was dead. The time for getting help had passed. “What about his wife? What about your grandchildren?”

  Tia shrugged. “Tell her there’s been a problem at the house and it’s not safe for them to return. Put them in a hotel with a guard. If she understands Luis’s business, this life, she’ll respect the seriousness of that.”

  Alvarez looked at Luis’s body, refusing to believe what he saw. “You are a cold woman, Tia. I’ve known you for a long time but I can’t believe you killed your own son.”

  “I killed a man who stole from me. Now are you going to do as I asked, Alvarez, or do I need to be concerned about you too?”

  Alvarez turned and found Tia had removed a shiny automatic from her purse. It was leveled in his direction. He looked into her eyes. “I am no threat to you, Tia. We go back a long time and I respect that history.”

  “I feel the same way. Killing you might even bother me a little.”

  Alvarez laughed but there was no humor in his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Leave me with Luis. I need to say my goodbyes to my niño. Then bring me a car. I expect the girl to be in there. Can you do that?”

  Alvarez nodded. “What about the prisoner in the barn?”

  “Kill him as soon as I’m gone. Bury him somewhere off the property. Then I would advise you to call your cartel associates and let them know Luis had a heart attack. Let them decide if they want you to call an ambulance or not. They’ll give you instructions. I suggest you not let the men see him. You don’t want them asking questions. You don’t want them starting rumors this wasn’t a natural death.”

  Alvarez gave his dead boss a final, grim nod and left the room. He closed the door behind him.

  Tia stepped around the desk and stopped in her tracks, momentarily frozen by the gruesome visage of her dead son. His red face and frothy mouth, his open, sightless eyes. She fished a small statue of Santa Muerte from her pocket, then awkwardly knelt on the floor, using the desk to lower herself. She held the tiny statue in such a way that the empty sockets gazed upon the dead body of her son.

  “Can you see this, Holy Death? Do you see what I am willing to do for you? I give you the flesh of my flesh. The blood of my blood. All I ask is your blessing. Protect me and grant me what I ask.”

  She used the desk to raise herself back up. The motion left her lightheaded and she stood there for a moment, gathering herself. When she was done, she drained her glass of lemonade, belched, and left the room.

  45

  Cliff Mathis was barreling toward the airport in his 1979 Bronco when the phone in the passenger seat rang. Had the phone in his pocket rang, it could have been anyone. This ringing phone could only be one person. He hoped like hell there was some good news. He snatched it up and took the call.

  “Mathis.”

  “Gray Mesa Ranch. Take I-19 to West McGee Ranch Road. It’s about ten miles out. There’s a sign.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Talked to someone who’d been there.”

  “What’s the security like?”

  “He’s cartel. What do you think?”

  “Got it,” Cliff replied.

  “When do I get my money?”

  “If your info is accurate, I’ll have it for you tomorrow. You still have that card I gave you?”


  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll put the five thousand on it tomorrow if this pans out. Thanks.” Cliff powered the phone down, stashing it in the center console.

  In ten more minutes, he hastily parked by DKI’s private hangar. A shiny black Bell 412 had already been rolled out. The chopper was leased for Cliff’s company by a charity that supported their anti-trafficking efforts. A team of men sitting in the hangar stopped talking at his arrival.

  “I’ve got an address. You guys ready to scramble?”

  “We’re ready. What’s our loadout?” John, the man who’d assembled the team on such short notice, replied.

  “Non-lethal,” Cliff said. “Baton and stun guns, entry tools and optics. We’ll pull up satellite footage when we’re in the air but I don’t have much to go on.”

  “What’s the mission?” Badger asked. He was a burly guy known for his tenacious grappling. He was a brawler and would go toe-to-toe with anyone.

  “Not much to go on,” Cliff said. “More of a hunch than anything. Brother of ours from Special Forces tracked a missing child here on his own dime. The FBI now confirms her DNA is present in the RV suspected of transporting her. The woman who allegedly snatched her is MIA. Cops raided her home this morning. The ranch we’re dropping in on belongs to her son and we’re going to see if the suspect is hiding out there, possibly with the missing child.”

  “So there hasn’t been a confirmed sighting?” John asked.

  “Negative,” Cliff said. ‘This is all a hunch. I’m doing this to support a brother who put a lot on the line to get things this far. He’s dropped off the radar so we’re carrying the ball.”

  The men nodded. They got it.

  “Law enforcement joining the party?” Badger asked.

  “I’m going to send them the address when we’re in the air. It’ll take them some time to verify it and get warrants in place, but we’re not waiting. I’m not sure we have that kind of time.”

  “We’re going rogue!” said another of the men, pumping his fist.