Sweet Collateral

I say nothing, and she sighs, her frown deepening. “You are safe here.” There’s no such thing as safe, and if there were, I certainly wouldn’t feel it in this house with those men. “You should wash the grime off. There are clothes in the closet. I’ll take these clothes and get rid of them.” She stands there waiting. I slowly pull the shirt over my head and then slip out of the denim shorts I’d been given at that bar, handing them to her. Her eyes trace my body, full of horror and pity. “I’ll send some food up,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. I know what she sees: a skinny girl covered in a lifetime of scars, something broken. “You need a doctor as well.”

She ushers me towards the bathroom, grasping my elbow tightly to help me before she shuts the door. The enormous tub sits in the middle of the huge bathroom, the water steaming. Of course, they’d want me clean before they fuck me.

6

Rafael

My phone rings just as I step into my home office. Dominges, the Sinaloa cartel boss, and Anna’s former owner.

I can’t remember the last time I even spoke with him. The little Russian has been in my possession no more than a few hours, and he’s calling me. Too coincidental.

I answer the video request and his aged face fills the screen, grey hair neatly combed back. “Ah, Rafael. Good to see you.” I do not like the man, but the cartel is as much about politics as it is about cocaine and blood.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He inhales on a cigarette. “You have something of mine.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“The Russian girl. I’d like her back.” He smiles like a shark. He isn’t asking.

Laughing, I take a seat behind my desk. “She’s not mine. I believe you negotiated a fair sale via a fence. The buyer paid for her, and now he owns her.”

“Then tell your buyer that I’m willing to refund him, plus a little extra for his trouble.” He snaps his fingers, and a girl staggers into view beside him. He drags her into his lap. She’s gagged, blonde hair sticking to her damp cheeks. The shirt that she’s wearing has been torn and hangs off her, barely covering her breasts. A terrified whimper makes its way up her throat as he gropes at her. “Looks just like her, doesn’t she?” A sick smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “I’m sure your buyer will find this deal very satisfactory.”

“Why do you want the Russian back so badly? Is there something special about her?” I want to know why Nero wants this girl, why the Italian would buy a Mexican sex slave and go to all this trouble without reason.

“She’s a whore. I want her because she escaped! That little slut is making me look weak.”

I force an image of indifference. The truth is, every time I think of one of those girls in those places, all I see is my mother; a broken whore, or my sister; a junkie willing to do anything for a fix.

“You’d rather lose money just to kill her?” I lift a brow at him. “That’s bad business, Dominges.”

He grins. “A poor reputation is bad business. She now owes me a lot more than the ten million she fetched.” Ten million! He could buy a hundred of the most beautiful slaves in Mexico for that money.

The look in his eyes tells me he’ll do a lot more than just kill Anna, and he’ll enjoy every twisted second of it. He grabs the girls throat, and she starts sobbing.

“This one is worth a lot of money.” He strokes a hand down her face, groping at her body. “She’s American.” Some unsuspecting tourist snatched off the street no doubt. “Contact your buyer.”

“There’s no point. I know he won’t sell the Russian. I’m just saving myself the effort of a phone call.”

With a snarl, Dominges presses a gun to the side of the girls head. A sick smile covers his face before he pulls the trigger. Her head snaps back on a loud bang before her body falls from view. Inside, I want to kill him, but outwardly I’m the image of calm. Cold. A cartel boss. I pity her, but I have to pick my battles. I couldn’t save her because I can’t care about the fate of every kidnapped and abused girl in Mexico. It’s not possible, and it’s not my problem. The fate that awaited her… that bullet was a kindness, a bittersweet mercy.

“Fuck up her body and hang it in the compound. Tell the girls that it’s the Russian,” Dominges snaps at someone off screen. “I had hoped for your help in this matter, Rafael.” He feigns disappointment, though I suspect he knew I wouldn’t help him. It’s not in my nature to do him favors.