Chapter 23
Angel
The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow at an undisclosed location, but when I found out she was being held in Tamaulipas, I couldn’t just sit around at home and wait.
If I were working, if this wasn’t personal, if they hadn’t taken what was mine, I would’ve kept that scheduled time, but I need the element of surprise. This isn’t a normal case, one where I no longer give a shit about anything but collecting the thing that gets me paid.
I used to care. Getting paid had always been number one for me, but I always took pleasure in eliminating a few pieces of shit along the way.
That changed in El Salvador, but I don’t question why I’m sitting in my truck, waiting for a guy to walk out of an internet café.
I know Lauren is to blame for that, but she’s mine to punish.
I tracked the communication with the sellers to this location, and a response came so quickly when I asked for newer pictures of my purchase, I was already sitting outside the building.
It’s not uncommon for traffickers to use public internet to make their transactions, and knowing this, I know exactly who I need to keep an eye on.
The man emerges, a cocky swagger to his walk, a wide smile on his face. He’s already counting the money he expects me to be bringing for Lauren. Little does he know he’ll never see the light of day again.
He has to be known around town as being dangerous because I watch as several people move out of his way as he follows the sidewalk to a house closer to the end of the street.
He’s conducting business in a public place less than three hundred yards from where he’s keeping his products.
It’s not very smart, but there’s so much crime in Tamaulipas, the police just can’t keep up.
There’s always the chance the police are taking their cut from these guys as well.
If so, that just means that the not-so-honest men and women of law enforcement here are about to take an unexpected pay cut.
Instead of collecting their hush money, they’re going to be collecting bodies.
As I climb out of my truck after waiting fifteen minutes after the guy enters his house, I feel less prepared than I ever have making entry on a location.
I normally spend days scoping out a place, making sure that I’m protected.
I can’t get paid if I’m dead, and although dangerous more often than not, no job is worth dying over.
Until now.
The shadows swallow me up, the people milling around either not seeing me or minding their business, which is common around here.
No one is willing to invite trouble into their already hard lives, especially where these trafficking rings are concerned.
They seek vengeance for fun. They don’t keep their business further away to avoid suspicion like William Varon and his family were known to do.
They flaunt their captures. They want the women around them to be scared. It gives them a sense of power.
It's brazen, but the guys don’t even have the windows boarded up like I’m used to.
You can’t see anything from the street, but it’s easy for me, peeking through the slats in the blinds to count the people inside.
The open floor plan is more industrial, one vast space that includes only a kitchen, and a single door that leads to what I have to assume is a bathroom.
The rest of the space is wide open, several filthy mattresses strewn about, each one with a woman on it.
I search the beds for Lauren, my eyes barely glancing over one of the women being hurt in the far corner. The man hurting her will pay, but he’s not my primary focus.
My eyes land on her naked form.
I guess I should be happy at the sight of the used condoms littering the floor around each of the beds, but it makes fire ignite in my veins. The fact that they’re being safe comes secondary to the hatred I feel for any of them thinking they could touch her in the first fucking place.
I count two other men in addition to the fucker that just arrived back here.
A sinister grin spreads across my face at the possibilities, but this isn’t about vengeance.
This isn’t an opportunity to let my blood-thirsty demons out to play.
My goal is to get Lauren away from here as fast as humanly possible.
Drawing as little attention to what’s going on is key.
I’m going to need to pay attention to her on the drive back to my house, not spending my time looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’ve been followed.
I twist the silencer on the tip of my weapon, checking and rechecking to make sure I’m locked and loaded.
Three men, meaning three bullets, but it won’t hurt to use a couple extra on these guys.
There’s no tremble in my hand as I make my way around back. These guys aren’t even smart enough to have a dog in the fenced yard to alert them. Either it’s inexperience or cockiness. Either way, it’s going to make killing them that much easier.
The climb through the open bathroom window isn’t a graceful scene, but it’s a silent one. I consider waiting for one of them to come in here, but a woman’s scream draws me out.
The room is brighter than it looked from outside. It’s as if these guys want spotlights on the damage they’re causing.
I shoot the man standing over Lauren’s bed first, wanting to believe that right now is the first time he’s pulled out his dick in front of her, because that would be less painful than the truth.
Next is the guy who I followed back here.
The bowl of cereal he made while I was climbing through the window sprays the room in milk after falling to the floor.
If he was the last one I needed to take down, I’d spend a few quiet moments watching the milk mix with the blood draining from his body. The swirl of red always intrigues me.
The guy raping the other woman in the corner dies last because he’s the one that posed the least amount of threat to me. His distraction only allows for a few seconds longer in this world.
She screams when he falls forward, pinning her to the bed with more force than he was using to hurt her.
A decent guy would help her, but that woman isn’t my focus.
Lauren’s eyes flutter as I inch closer to her, and I can immediately tell she has no life-threatening injuries, but she’s not herself either.
The used needles discarded on the floor near her bed mean either some form of paralytic or possibly heroine.
But it doesn’t matter right now.
A lot of things shouldn’t matter right now, but the way I want to grip her fucking neck and warn her of what’s coming from me is trying to beat all other emotions out.
The urge to fuck her right into this dirty mattress hits me pretty hard.
It’s beyond fucked up, absolutely fucking terrible to think of something like that, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from drifting over her battered body. Doesn’t keep my mouth from watering at the need to reclaim her as mine.
When she sees my face, she tries to speak, but it comes out a mess of syllables that make no sense.
A thump across the room draws my attention, but my weapon trains on the woman in the corner who finally managed to get the dead man off of her.
She stares at me in terror, and I’m not shocked by it.
It’s not unheard of for one group of traffickers to raid another’s location to steal their product.
Sometimes it’s easier because collection is usually the hardest part.
It’s what brings the most heat, depending on where they’re abducting women.
She knows not to be relieved because she has no idea which camp I’m in right now.
I turn my attention back to Lauren. I really need to grab her and get the fuck out of here, but she’s fucking filthy, covered in spit and cum. My stomach rolls at the sight of her.
For good measure, I walk around the room, putting two more bullets in each of the dead men. It’s fruitless. It makes no difference. Each of my first shots were true, ending them quickly, showing a mercy they didn’t deserve.
When I drop low beside Lauren, she tries to lift her arm. I know what she wants. She’s pointing at one of the other beds, but those women aren’t my focus.
She’s relentless, however, managing to wiggle and growl as I reach down to lift her up.
I glare at her eyes, and even in her drugged state she manages to glare back. I’m ready to refuse, but it’s the sight of a single tear rolling down her temple that forces me into action.
With frustrated steps, I make my way across the room, pulling a knife from my pocket. I make quick work of cutting through the ropes tying two women down. Each of them shies away from me, terrified of what I might be capable of.
I don’t open my mouth to assure them they’re fine. I don’t urge them to get away. They have to make those decisions on their own. I’m not their fucking savior. I’m making a mental list of what Lauren will owe me for forcing me to waste my time.
The woman in the corner, the one who was actively getting raped isn’t tied up at all. She’s curled up in a ball in the corner. It seems these guys liked their women in different states of captivity.
When she looks up at me, I just point at the fucking door before heading back to Lauren.
“I’m not fucking carrying all of them out of here. They can unlock the goddamned door and leave if they want.”
She nods, her throat working on what looks like an incredibly painful swallow. It hits me in the chest, making me pity her for a second before I can shove it down. There will be time to express my disappointment in her later. Now is not the fucking time.
She whimpers when I stand and head back to the bathroom, but I ignore her. It’s another way for me to punish her, and I hate that it doesn’t feel right.
It takes forever for the water to warm, but I’m not exactly concerned about her comfort. What I do know is that I’m not taking her into my truck covered in another man’s cum.
She’s dead weight in my arms as I lift her from the mattress. Although I’m not exactly gentle as I place her in the tub, I do go as far as making sure she doesn’t drown despite wanting to shove her head under the water for a few seconds.
I don’t want her to be grateful I showed up. I want her fucking terrified. I want her to beg to be left, to be mad I killed the other men because she knows what she’s going to get from me is going to be worse than they ever could’ve imagined.
But then I use gentle hands to run soap over her body, my heart racing as more tears leak down her face.
Everything I do is contradictory.
I hiss angry words at her, blame her for this entire situation, all the while cradling her head against my chest as I wash her gently between her legs.
In order to get better control over myself, I leave her in the draining tub while I head back to my truck to grab a blanket I brought with me.
It’s not for her comfort, but peace of mind for the guy that will help me get back across the border into Texas.
I don’t need his conscience rearing its fucking head at the sight of a naked, battered woman beside me in the truck.
She’s shivering when I reenter, the open window letting the cool winter air into the room.
I’m in no rush to wrap her up, to ensure that she’s warm and comfortable. The agitation the cold causes will help her body fight the drugs flowing through her veins, and I need her completely aware when we get back to my place. I need her to know who she’s with and that I’m so fucking mad at her.
Two of the three women in the room are gone by the time I carry Lauren out of the house. The one in the corner remains, but I pay her no mind as I make my way to the truck.
Getting across the border goes smoothly despite my mind racing with all of my plans for this woman.
She only thought she was experiencing hell in that fucking house.