Victoria Blanca #2
He cut me off and moved towards me as I moved faster to get away from him.
I’ve been raised in a place where I knew how to get men away from me who I didn’t want anywhere near me and El Blanca never punished me for it, instead he would praise me and laugh at those fools before he had them all killed.
I drove my knee up, hard aiming and hit his thigh instead of his penis because he pivoted at the last second like he knew what was coming.
He grunted hard and yanked my wrist hard enough to bruise it.
The next thing I knew, a second man stepped out from behind the dumpster to my left, and a third came from behind the pallet stack to my right.
I didn’t scream because screaming with men like this was a signal for other men I didn’t want to show up.
“Let me go!” I growled.
“Shhh,” he hushed me. If they wanted to kill me, they would have already. I knew this all too well.
“Dom’s men are right there,” I said, flicking my chin toward the front of the alley where the black truck waited. “Two seconds and they will kill you if they see you.”
“You think we don’t know how to count?” he asked sounding a little amused. “The front is theirs. The back is ours. You took the back, and I thank you.”
“Stupid!” I hissed.
The second man came up silently looking at me.
He lifted a soft white cloth. In that moment, I lost it and everything around me seemed narrow, even my breathing.
The world seemed to slow down and no matter how bad I wanted to, I couldn’t allow myself to scream.
I tried, and it just wouldn’t come out. I slammed my heel down on the top of his foot with all the strength I had causing him to curse me out in Spanish.
I snatched my wrist back and dug my nails into his flesh while doing so but also leaving a little of my raw skin in his grip.
I then went for his eyes, with my other hand, which he wasn’t expecting.
I actually could’ve escaped had the back door had not locked.
Before I could react again, the cloth found my nose and mouth with something I’d never smelled before, but it was strong.
I turned my head and breathed through the smallest hole I could make with my teeth.
He clamped a hand over the cloth, but it wasn’t rough enough to leave marks on me, which meant they were being very careful and intentional about my face.
“Your uncle sends his love.” He hissed with a smirk on his face.
“You’re lying!” I said muffled since my mouth was covered.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe he doesn’t send love.” He shrugged
A horn blew one time at the far end and for a second, I thought it was blowing at me, but it was only the driver of one of Dom’s trucks checking the mirror as if he was waiting on someone.
Where the hell were his people? I wanted to slam my body against the metal door and shout somebody’s name, but I also knew what I’d been taught over the years…
survive the first minute. Don’t die in the alley and don’t give them a show they can shoot you for. I had to buy myself time.
My red eyes were now glossy and let my knees buckle just enough that they had to help me stand.
The first man eased his grip, thinking it was over, and I’d freely surrendered.
Instead, I slammed the crown of my head into his nose causing an ugly cracking sound and immediately gave me a headache.
His nose gushed with blood and his eyes watered.
The second and third man was sick of my shit.
They must’ve had strict orders not to hurt me because they were surely letting me have my way when they could’ve easily overpowered me.
I didn’t know what had been on that cloth, but I found myself becoming lightheaded.
They grabbed for my waist and pushed me ahead.
“Walk,” the second man hissed.
“No,” I muttered, again with muffled words and just because of that, he precisely punched me in the ribs, again, not the face.
“Walk,” he repeated again but this time softer.
I followed their directions. The alley was now quiet, and a stray cat watched me from beneath a dumpster.
Inside, the alley hall, it looked worn, marked by delivery carts and a dented wall.
The air smelled of cleaning supplies and food cooking somewhere nearby, mixed with the sound of a distant radio playing softly.
“Keep your head down,” the first guy said with his nose still bleeding. “Hands behind your back.”
I shoved my hands behind me, feeling the zip tie pinch a little tight enough to hurt, while thinking that maybe I could slip out it if I popped a thumb.
It’s gross, but I knew for a fact it worked.
They forced me across the alley to the other side where we had to walk a hall first dragging me through the kitchen like I was invisible.
The cook glanced up, saw trouble, and turned the radio up a notch, deciding it was best not to get involved.
Out the back door, a white van waited with the engine running.
No plates where they should be at all and there was a busted Virgin Mary glued to the dash, probably to make someone feel safe about something that wasn’t safe at all… idiots.
“Careful,” the second man said. “Your uncle wants you to…”
“Don’t you dare,” I snapped cutting him off. How dare he even mention my uncle.
His mouth twisted up. “Then use God,” he said dryly. “I don’t give a shit.”
He shoved me into the van but not rough, it was just enough shove to let me know who was boss and who was running the show.
That spooked me more than any show of force because guys that were too loud wanted the most attention, but the quiet ones were who finished what they started.
The door slammed shut, and it got chilly inside.
Whatever they used on me now had it impossible for me to have any fight left inside of me. I was feeling extremely lazy.
The van smelled like rubber and bleach cleaner.
There was a mat like you’d find in a kitchen instead of real van mats and I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I guess they thought it was thoughtful.
A moving blanket was bunched in the corner.
The engine roared and we took off without so much as the radio on.
My heart kicked into an overdrive of fear living rent free in my head.
I shut my eyes and tuned in like my life depended on it.
Left turn, stop, long wait, right turn, no honks, no yelling, no sirens.
Hmmm, I thought to myself hoping it would help.
I didn’t know the Miami streets like I did back home.
The wheels rolled over a huge pothole and my heart began to beat outside of my chest. I started counting again.
My phone was obviously gone since they swiped it in the alley, as slick as a creep trying to steal a kiss but they missed the backup phone, in between my breast. The thought of everything made my stomach twist and it was all my fault for going out back, which I was never supposed to do.
I swallowed down that lump and kept breathing slowly through my nose.
When the van halted coming to a stop, I opened my eyes. The two up front were whispering and I did hear Hector’s name a few times. Was Hector dead? I wondered. I swore that’s what it sounded like.
“He’ll want her cleaned up,” said the driver. “He hates…” he stooped himself from talking as if he was being interrupted and decided not to finish.
I twisted my hands against the zip tie, as the burning sensation intensified while my thumb rolled, with joints popping.
It was the kind of pain that meant you either fainted or pushed through.
I breathed slowly and worked at it. The tie loosened just a little bit.
I hid my hands under my thighs, rocking them slowly against the mat for friction.
The van moved again and again, I tried to remember the turns.
The ride started off bumpy at first but was now smooth which meant we’d hit the highway as the bumps stretched out.
We were leaving the city but again I couldn’t tell where because I couldn’t smell the ocean at all and the way they had me positioned was impossible to see.
The van crept and turned, and I could tell that we were in some kind of garage, it had to be.
The sounds bounced off of concrete, and I could hear the creaking from a door as well as a beep from another vehicle.
The van continued to creep and then it stopped.
Somewhere outside, someone whistled a tune that I recognized from back in the day when I was a kid.
That was the tune those kinds of men sang when pretending life was good before messing it all up for everyone.
It wasn’t a good whistle at all, and my stomach twisted in knots.
“Ready?” the first man asked.
“No,” I said, and they laughed like it was something funny and it wasn’t funny to me at all.
The door slid open, and the light burned my eyes as the heat immediately caused me to sweat. The first man placed his hand under my elbow as if I were a woman being helped from a carriage or something. Eww, I thought. Estúpida. “We can do this easy,” he said. “Or we can do it ugly.”
“Death?” I asked, and he smiled.
“Impatient mamacita, no worries, your day is coming,” he winked.
“Yeah, well the trauma makes the clocks hungrier,” I sarcastically replied, causing him to frown at me for having a slick mouth.
They shoved me out and my feet hit the concrete. I kept my head down best not to look like I’m looking. The air smelled like burnt rubber and burned-out brakes. We passed a column painted yellow with numbers B2, Row E. I did make a mental note of that just in case.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“Home,” he said.
“Whose.”