3. Vaughn
3
VAUGHN
A s we walked along the sidewalk toward the bar, Hope tugged at the hem of her skintight black dress and fiddled with the leather collar around her throat.
“Stop fidgeting,” I said.
I felt like an asshole, asking her to play the part of my slave girl for the evening, but if it helped get us the intel we needed to track down Espinoza, a few hours of discomfort would be worth it.
“Sorry.” Hope dropped her hands to her side. “This whole ensemble is irritating as hell.”
We passed a group of guys who looked like they were heading out for the night. The lot of them eyed Hope the way a pack of hungry wolves zeroed in on a lame deer. Until they met my murderous gaze, then they quickly looked away.
“Are people staring at me?” Hope asked, her words flying out fast. “I feel like people are staring at me.” She went to adjust the collar but lowered her hand before reaching it.
“Only because you look hot as fuck, Gatita. No other reason.”
With her tight dress, high heels, and heavy makeup, the collar passed as a fashion accessory rather than a symbol of ownership.
I swapped the box of cigars to my other hand and brushed my fingers against Hope’s. “Once the meeting starts, unless I tell you otherwise, you’re to kneel beside my chair, eyes down. Okay?”
She made a small anxious sound. “I’m seriously beginning to regret the life choices that brought me to this moment.”
I directed Hope into a dark alleyway and backed her up against a wall. Her mouth parted in surprise when I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to meet mine. “I’ll take care of you in there. No one will hurt you. No one except me will even lay a finger on you. I’d sooner kill every last motherfucker in this meeting than let that happen. Just follow my lead, do exactly as I say, and everything will be all right. I promise.”
She nodded and exhaled a shuddering breath. Then I pressed my lips to hers gently, hoping the gesture conveyed how precious she was to me. It was the last time I’d show her any kindness until we returned to our hotel room. From here on out, she was my property, and I needed to remember to treat her as such.
A short walk later, we reached the bar. It was a multilevel building wedged between an open-air restaurant and a hotel with a cracked pale-blue facade. I gave the bouncer the code word from el Capitán’s text message, and he opened the door. Hope followed a couple of paces behind me, the way a slave girl would.
There were people inside the bar—men and women—although not a regular bar crowd. It looked more like a private party for a bunch of gangbangers and strippers. Beneath low lighting, an almost naked woman danced around a pole. Half a dozen guys played cards at a table near the back, while a few others were shooting pool .
At a lounge area to the side, girls dressed similarly to Hope draped themselves over the laps of heavily tattooed men, all inked with red handprints on their necks that declared them members of la Mano Roja. I recognized a few of them.
One guy rose from the sofa, unceremoniously shoving his lady friend off his lap. “El piloto loco.”
The crazy pilot. I’d earned that moniker many times over when doing jobs for la Mano Roja after I first got out of Zulu. Did I have a death wish at the time? Probably. In those days, my life revolved around doing anything to forget the fucked-up shit that had happened to me.
I wasn’t proud of the coping mechanisms I’d employed. Drugs, booze, meaningless bathroom-stall hookups. And of course, trafficking product for la Mano Roja in some of the most dangerous and inhospitable places in Central and South America. I’d chased anything to either numb the pain or fill me with so much adrenaline that I was forced to remain in the present.
As the man drew nearer, I recognized him as José, one of Miguel’s junior enforcers. Well, he’d been a junior when I’d met him several years ago, but the cocky way he strutted toward me made me think he’d moved up the ranks. It was surprising he’d stayed alive this long. I didn’t recall him being all that smart.
“Welcome, Brother,” José said, and extended his hand. When I glared at his open palm like it was smeared with shit, he dropped it. “That’s right. I forgot you’re weird about touching.”
Weird? If wanting to rip this asshole’s spine from his body was weird, then yeah, I guessed I was. I reminded myself it would be poor form to murder the welcoming committee, so I took a deep breath before I changed my mind.
“José,” I said with a nod .
His slimy gaze moved behind me, and I sensed Hope shifting nervously on her high heels.
“Collared.” José chuckled in a knowing way. “Someone’s been sampling the product.”
Hope moved nearer to me, and I positioned myself to block her from this jackass’s view. “Not sampling. She’s mine .”
“My mistake.” José stroked his embarrassingly sparse goatee. I’d seen fourteen-year-olds with coarser whiskers than this clown. “The boss is waiting for you upstairs. She can stay down here with us.”
“No” was all I said as I brushed past him with Hope sticking close behind.
We made our way to the first floor and were met by another bouncer guarding a door. “Weapons and phones in the box.”
I removed my two pistols—the one from the waistband of my jeans and the other from my ankle holster—as well as the blade at my hip. My phone went in last. The guard ran a metal detector wand over Hope and me before ushering us inside.
The large, smoky room resembled a club’s VIP area with sofa seating on one side, a bar on the other, and a large poker table in the middle where Miguel and his second-in-command, Armando, sat with two other men. They must’ve just finished a hand, because all four of them had their cards facing up on the table while Armando greedily scooped cash, a gold watch, and a chunky diamond-encrusted ring toward himself.
And over in the corner, sitting locked inside a goddamn cage like a zoo animal, sat a woman as naked as the day she was born except for the pink collar around her neck.
Despite expecting a scene like this, it took all my effort not to react with fury and revulsion at the sight of the woman kneeling on a cushion, thighs spread, utterly exposed. With eyes downcast, she slowly swayed to the beat of the electronic music permeating the room from the party below. Track marks scored her arms, and I was almost glad for it because at least it meant she had some escape from her miserable reality.
This. This was why Hope and I were risking so much to be here. We had to stop this vile shit from happening. I couldn’t do anything to help the woman in the cage tonight, but I’d make sure Brandon knew of her situation so he could plan an extraction op.
La Mano Roja hadn’t always been involved in human trafficking. Back when I did jobs for them, they’d only ever asked me to move drugs, weapons, and cash. This side of their transportation role had kicked off when the Pacific Coast Cartel had expanded into flesh peddling.
“El piloto loco. Llegaste justo a tiempo,” Miguel said. You arrived just in time. “I’m about to lose my villa in Tulum to this asshole if I don’t stop playing.”
Armando laughed as he folded notes and stuffed them into his trouser pockets.
The two men I didn’t recognize rose from their seats and relocated to the bar, taking their glasses of amber liquor with them.
I let a lazy smile slide across my lips. “That’s a shame. Thought I could join you for a few hands.”
“Like fuck you will. I’m still recovering from the last time you cleaned me out.” Miguel gestured to the vacated spots opposite him. “Have a seat, friend.”
I guessed Hope had been using my body to shield herself from view, because once I sat at the table, both Miguel’s and Armando’s eyes shifted to her.
A moment later, she scurried to my side and knelt. I reached down to stroke the silky dark strands at Hope’s crown. It was an act of gentle reassurance, although to anyone in the room, it probably appeared as though I were petting her.
“I didn’t realize you were an advocate of this lifestyle.” Miguel leaned forward and nodded toward Hope as he tried to get another look at her.
“Why should our clients have all the fun?” I relaxed back in my chair. “She’s new. In fact, this is her first time out since her training started. Still a work in progress.” That was my cover story in case Hope did something out of line for a slave.
Armando poured me a glass of whiskey and refilled the others. “What happened to her face?”
This motherfucker .
Every muscle in my body tensed. I forced myself to take a steadying breath, but there was nothing I could do to lessen the death stare I aimed at Armando. “All you need to know is if anyone damages my property again, I’ll skin them alive.”
Hope shifted closer until her shoulder pressed against the side of my leg, reminding me that I needed to remain cool and calm through this. Losing my shit over every disrespectful comment aimed at her tonight would spark suspicion.
To ease the tension in the room, I pushed the box of cigars toward Miguel and tapped the lid. “Special delivery. You can’t find these anywhere, and I know they’re Espinoza’s favorite.” It wouldn’t surprise me if each stick fetched over a hundred grand on the black market, and there were a dozen in the box. “You give these to him, and la Mano Roja will be back in the boss’s good graces.”
Miguel arched one thick dark brow. “What makes you think we were ever out?”
“The fact that several of your recent shipments have run into trouble. It’s been all over the news. Stash houses turned over. Busts at Puerto Vallarta and Mazatlán. I’m assuming that’s why you’re in need of my services.” Little did he know that tip-offs from yours truly had instigated those raids.
Miguel knocked ash from his cigar onto a silver tray. “Good help is hard to find.”
I spun my whiskey tumbler on the table, being careful to only take small sips so the alcohol didn’t affect my reflexes. “Then you’ve come to the right pilot.”
He grunted. “You’re one of very few people who haven’t let me down. Remind me why you stopped working for us?”
I took a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and lit it. “Went overseas to investigate some emerging markets. Found plenty of them. There’s serious money to be made if you’ve got the balls and the product.” I grinned. “Which means I just need the product.”
Miguel laughed and reached for the bottle of whiskey to pour another splash in his glass. “I always liked you.”
I blew smoke into the air. “Get me a meeting with Espinoza, and I’ll cut you in on the deal.”
He canted his head. “That will be difficult.”
“Why?” I asked. “You’re close with him, aren’t you?”
“Carlos is more paranoid about security than ever. No one even knows the last time he left his compound. All our instructions come through Ortega. I might be able to get you an audience with el Se?or del Dolor.”
Beside me, Hope flinched at the mention of the Lord of Pain, her once betrothed. Being forced to marry that sadistic fuck must truly have been her worst nightmare.
“I’d appreciate that.” I weaved my fingers through Hope’s hair again.
Miguel’s eyes followed the movement. He leaned forward, straining for a better view, because from his seat, all he could see was the top of Hope’s lowered head.
As I’d anticipated, there was more than curiosity in his gaze, which I planned to use to our advantage. If Miguel wanted a show, we’d give him one. Who knew what his lust-addled mind might disclose if he was preoccupied with drooling over the goddess at my side?