by Marie Carnay
If a woman got tangled up in the cartel, she was sold over and over until she was all used up. Then they just threw her away. Mia fought down the wave of bile rising in the throat. She wasn’t anyone’s whore. No fucking way.
“I thought after the other night…after we…” She paused. She wasn’t going to beg. “Don’t you have any feelings? Don’t you give a damn about anyone but yourself?”
Her captor didn’t respond. His jaw ticked as he slowed the car to a stop on the side of the road.
After a moment, he turned to her. “If there was any other way, I would turn this car around and take you away from here. But they know who you are. Even if I let you go, do you think you would be safe? One of Marcelo’s henchmen would put a bullet in your head before you even hailed a cab.”
Mia looked out the window. They had stopped at the entrance to the docks. The waterfront was home to grifters and low-lifes, drug dealers and pimps. Not a place for a good girl like her.
“You could help me.”
Damien didn’t say a word. Instead, he put the car back in drive and eased through the open gates. They cruised down the barren road, the intermittent street lights shining down on graffiti-covered walls and trash-riddled sidewalks. Good intentions didn’t live there.
Mia hugged her hands to her chest. She needed to stay strong, not break down. Damien might be a son of a bitch, but she didn’t regret what they’d shared. She didn’t hate him, just his choice.
What was it like to grow up with no options and no future? What would that do to a person? She might not have had a loving family, but he was right—she had a roof over her head and plenty of food to eat. She hadn’t had to do terrible things to survive.
Damien did, though. She could see it etched into the lines around his eyes. The scars on his hands. The tattoos covering his back. He’d grown up with no one and nothing. If trading her in got him some semblance of satisfaction, then she didn’t blame him.
It just meant she was on her own.
The car slowed and Damien motioned at the warehouse looming ahead in the darkness. “Hand-off is in there. We wait until they show, then we go in.”
Mia nodded.
Wind blew in from the water and an empty beer can tripped across the street. Did her father ever come to the underbelly of the city? Did he ever pull up and wait in the gloom on the side of the road?
The hairs rose on Mia’s neck as headlights swam in the inky dark beside the warehouse.
“They’re here.” Damien unlocked the car. “Time to go.”
The driver’s side door swung open and Damien got out. He ducked back in and pulled a pistol from the console. “I’ll come around.” He shut his door and came over to the passenger side.
Mia’s heart hammered in her chest. She had to get away. If she made it inside the warehouse, freedom would be a memory. She would be owned by the cartel. Vivid images of all the horrors and atrocities waiting for her barged in on her consciousness.
Begging was all she had left. “Please don’t do this.”
Damien took her by the arm and hauled her out of the car. He shut her door with his hip and the sound made her jump. It sounded like a gunshot.
With his hand tight on her arm, her kidnapper propelled her down the sidewalk. Every step closer to the building sent another tremor through Mia’s body. She’d been brave so many times in her life. Basketball games in high school. Swim team in college. Climbing Half Dome during spring break in law school.
But those were child’s play. Her brave moments were things people who lived comfortable lives did to feel good about themselves. Nothing could have prepared her for this.
Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades despite the harsh wind. Her feet stumbled over the sidewalk. Her legs barely worked at all.
Damien pulled up short as the inside of the warehouse came into view. He ducked the pair of them behind a dumpster and motioned for her to be silent. With one hand on his gun, he peered around the edge.
His whole body stiffened.
“What is it?”
“There’s too many people here. At least four enforcers…Something’s not right.”
Mia fought the urge to panic. If Damien—a man she’d watch kill someone in cold blood—said that, then things were bad. Really bad.
He peered around the dumpster again.
“Whatcha’ doin’ out here, my friend? Got cold feet?”
A man the size of a damn tractor-trailer with more tattoos than bare skin appeared in front of Mia and she bit her tongue to keep from screaming.
Damien turned like he hadn’t a care in the world. Only his tight jaw said otherwise. “Surprised you’re here, Rocco. Did Mr. Marcelo think he needed protection?”
The man snorted up a nasty glob of crud and spit on the ground before coming closer. He sidled up to Mia and she shrank back against the cold metal. Everything about him said evil. His sneer, the jagged scar running the length of his arm, even his smell. Stale beer and smoke.
Rocco’s gun gleamed under the streetlight as he ran the barrel down the side of Mia’s cheek. “Just checking out the merchandise. Heard there was a fine piece coming in tonight.”
The gun trailed lower, grazing Mia’s neck and shoulder. It paused at her breast and Damien stepped forward. “Hands off. She’s not Marcelo’s yet.”
The enormous man ignored him. The gun kept moving. “You know Marcelo thinks you’d fetch a pretty penny with Valera. His crew is landing on the next pier tonight.”
“He’s selling her to Valera? But they’ll take her back to Colombia.”
Rocco let the gun linger on her hip. The circle of the barrel dug into Mia’s soft flesh. She closed her eyes.
“You know how much they’ll pay for an innocent girl who looks like this? Those big eyes.” The gun left her hip and Mia opened her eyes in time to see it lift her hair. “That long, sexy hair.”
Damien turned to her and the alarm in his eyes seemed genuine. “I figured she’d stay here.”
“What’s it matter to you?”
Damien shrugged. “Nothing.” He shoved his gun into his waistband and any hope Mia had vanished. “You know if Marcelo’s good on my conditions?’
Rocco’s eyes darted up to Mia and back down. “Yeah, sure. You should head in. He’s expecting you.”
Damien nodded. He took Mia by the arm to lead her toward the warehouse, but Rocco stopped him.
“I’ll be taking her. Marcelo wants you to go in alone.”
Damien’s grip tightened. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. He told me to come find you and get the girl. She’s going straight to a car. You’re going in.”
Mia’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men. Something was going on behind the words, but she couldn’t make it out. Was it a set-up? Was Damien having second thoughts?
He glanced at her as he spoke. “What if I don’t like what I hear?”
Rocco shrugged. “Don’t think he cares much about that.”
Damien snorted. “Nice knowing you, babe.” He leaned toward Mia and grabbed her head. His lips brushed against her ear. “When I tell you to run, do it.” He made a loud smack with his lips and pulled back.
“Tell Marcelo she’s got a mouth like a vacuum. It never loses suction.”
Rocco laughed. “You’re one mean son of a bitch, Damien.”
“I try.” Damien walked toward the warehouse as Rocco held Mia by the arm.
He slipped in through the door and the brute laughed. “That man doesn’t know what he’s got comin’. You don’t screw with Marcelo and live to tell about it.”
Fear bloomed fresh in Mia’s chest. If Marcelo killed Damien, she would never escape.
Rocco tugged her toward the street. “Come on. I’m gonna sample the merchandise.” He grabbed at his crotch and made a sick sucking sound with his lips. “Think you can handle me?”
Oh my God.
He shoved her to her knees. She fell with a thud to the pavement.
“Eyes up, bitch.”
Mia looked up through a tangle of her hair. No fucking way.
She didn’t need Damien to save her. She could do this on her own. As Rocco tugged on the zipper of his pants, Mia tensed. He could shoot her in the back for running away, but it would be better than giving in.
The brute’s pants fell around his ankles and Mia threw herself to the ground. She rolled over the pavement as he cursed and struggled to yank them back up. Planting her bound hands in front of her, she pushed up and staggered to her feet.
“I’m gonna get you for this!” His words bellowed through the night and Mia took off at a sprint.
The shoes Damien had given her were a size too big and every step was like running in mud. She tripped over broken bottles and crushed cans, stumbled over cracks in the pavement. But she kept going.
The sound of gunshots pierced the night. She didn’t know if they were shooting at her or Damien, but it didn’t matter. The lights of the warehouse faded behind her and she ducked behind a broken down car. Her breath came hot and fast and she gulped in the foul-smelling air.
Footsteps sounded in the dark and Mia cursed. This can’t be happening. She took off again, trying to make it to somewhere she could hide. She didn’t find it.
A body slammed into her from behind. No! She struggled, fighting off her attacker as she scraped her skin on the pavement. She kicked out and he grunted. She opened her mouth to scream and his hand wrapped around her face.
“Mia.”
She kicked again.
“It’s Damien. Stop fighting.”
She slowed. He let her mouth go.
“Are…you…going to take me back?” The words came out between ragged breaths.
“No. I’m getting you out of here. But we’ve got to hurry.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “My car’s this way. Let’s go.”
He held her by the arm as they raced down the empty street. As they reached the car, Damien slowed. He motioned for her to duck behind the fender.
After a moment, Damien unlocked the doors and Mia slipped into the passenger seat. She shut it as quietly as she could as Damien hopped in the other side. With a glance in the rear view, he started the car and pulled out onto the street.
They coasted away from the warehouse with their lights off. It wasn’t until they turned onto a main street and Damien turned on the lights that Mia could breathe.
“Are you okay?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one. Are you hurt?”
She blinked. Mia had so much adrenaline pumping through her veins, she had no idea. She looked herself over. “A few scrapes. Nothing serious.”
“Did Rocco…”
“No. I ran away before he could do anything.”
“Good.” The single word held so much more than its meaning. Damien’s voice carried with it an emotion Mia couldn’t place. Anger? Fear? Jealousy?
After a moment, she risked a glance at his profile as he drove. A bruise was swelling on the side of his face. Blood oozed from a cut above his brow. His knuckles were raw. The man must have punched his way out of that warehouse.
She shifted in the seat. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t take his eyes from the road. “A few scrapes. Nothing serious.”
Mia’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to swallow. “Why did you come back for me?”
“Marcelo had no intention of holding up his side of the deal. I was never supposed to leave the warehouse alive.” Damien flexed his hand and a drop of blood dripped off his knuckle. It landed on his jeans and spread out into a dark stain.
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.” He turned to her and the glow from the dashboard lights turned his gray eyes blue. “I couldn’t let them send you to Valera. The man is scum.”
Warmth spread up Mia’s chest, but she kept going. She had to know. “But you were going to give me to Marcelo, right?”
Damien’s features contorted and he snapped his head back to face the road. “That was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“So what do we do now?”
Damien almost laughed. “Now we run and hope we’re still alive by morning.”
11
MIA
Mia was losing her mind. For the first hour of the drive, she’d sat quietly in the passenger seat, still reeling from shock. Numbness washed over her and she stared out the window like a zombie.
Sometime during the second hour, she became aware of little things. The tap-tap of Damien’s fingers on the steering wheel. The rattle of a loose fender at the front of the car.
In the third hour, reality crashed through the haze like a drunken frat boy at two in the morning. She was sitting in a car with a murderer who had tried to sell her to a drug cartel. Movies were made of less.
A laugh bubbled up her throat and she couldn’t stop it. Mia had the giggles.
“Are you all right?”
“J-just p-p-peachy.” She tried to talk through the laughter but the words came out garbled and broken up.
“Mia. Look at me.”
She turned to face the man who’d taken her life and flipped it upside down. He must not have liked what he saw.
“We’re stopping for a few hours. You need to sleep.”
Another laugh threatened to break through and Mia clamped her hand over her mouth. She was losing her mind.
The car slowed as they left the highway. Damien parked in the shadows of a broken street light in front of a run down motel.
“I’ll get us a room. Stay here.”
She nodded.
He slid out of the car and shut the door. Mia watched him walk away. A small voice inside her told her to run. Now was her chance to break away from him and call the cops. But what would she say?
Where would she go?
Marcelo would never stop looking for her. If the cops were as dirty as Damien claimed, then she might be handed right over while her kidnapper…
Mia ran her fingers over her lower lip and stared at the motel’s sign. V-CANC-ES blinked on and off in garish pink neon. It was as broken as she felt inside.
The passenger door opened and she jumped. “Room’s this way. Come on.”
Damien held out his hand and she took it, her fingers sliding over the wounds that had turned to scabs on his knuckles. He walked her to a door at the end of the building and unlocked it.
It swung open and the light flicked on, one of those old bulbs that hummed and turned the whole place sickly yellow. Damien shut the door behind them.
Mia didn’t know when she had started to shake. Was it when Rocco had thrown her to the ground? When Damien landed on top of her? Sometime during the drive?
Now that they were behind a locked door, her emotions took over. Her body trembled and quivered and no matter how hard she wrapped her arms around her middle, she couldn’t help but feel like she was falling.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe for now.” Damien stepped up to her, soothing noises coming from his throat.
“I—I don’t know that. I don’t know anything anymore.” Mia gulped back sobs that threatened to swallow her whole. She wasn’t a crier. She didn’t break down. Not ever.
Damien’s hands ran up and down her arms. Thick hands. Hands covered in scars and tattoos and dried blood.
They shouldn’t be comforting. He shouldn’t be anything but a terrifying monster to her. And yet…every swipe of his thumb up and down her arm soothed her.
Mia snuffed back a mass of tears and focused on the floor between their feet. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t have any family. No friends to speak of…And you…You’re just planning on throwing me away.”
“No.” His grip tightened on her arm. “I would never do that. Now that I know you…I…”
Damien brushed a clump of matted hair off her face and tapped his finger beneath her chin. She looked up into his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this life. I never should have
put you in my car.”
She blinked and Damien rubbed a tear from her cheek. “There’s no going back, is there?”
His eyes darkened like thick smoke. “I can’t keep you safe if you go home. Marcelo will come for you.”
“Will he kill me?”
“Worse.” He traced the edge of her cheek and she clenched her jaw to keep from leaning into his hand. “He’ll use you to get to me.”
She thought of Rocco and shuddered. “How many women has that man abused?”
Damien’s lips thinned. Pain lurked behind the surface. “Too many.”
“We need to stop him.”
“It’s not that easy.” Damien let her go.
The loss of his touch sent a chill to her bones. “There has to be someone we could trust. Someone who would help bring Marcelo down.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Damien shook his head. “Marcelo runs Wellington. The cops. The lawyers. Shit, even some of the judges. They’re all in his pocket. If he’s not selling them drugs, he’s giving them girls or bankrolling their election campaigns.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You’re naïve.”
Mia slumped down onto the bed. Her borrowed jeans were covered in dirt, the too-big T-shirt was ripped in a million places. Her feet ached, half her fingernails were broken, and she couldn’t go home.
Not until Marcelo was either put behind bars or put out of his misery.
All because she’d tried to steal her father’s file. She covered her face with her hands. “I’m not this kind of person, Damien. I can’t do this. I can’t turn into a fugitive.”
“I’ll start a shower.”
Mia sniffed. “Okay.”
Damien stalked into the bathroom. The sounds of running water made her feet move of their own accord.
She stumbled into the tiny room. It wasn’t much. But there was a shower and soap and shampoo. It would get the job done.
Damien moved toward the door, but Mia reached out and grabbed his arm. She knew it was foolish and weak, but she couldn’t help it. She waited until he looked her in the eye.
“I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”