“Now, go fix yourself up so I can try out the goods before I put them up for sale. If I like what you do, I’ll take you to the shop for a tat.”
He spun Dolla around to face me and pulled her collar to expose the ugly burn on her chest. “Or maybe you’d like a brand instead.” He released Dolla’s shirt and gripped her shoulders. “What do you think, baby? Should I burn her like I did you?”
Dolla turned around and ran her hands up his chest. “She doesn’t deserve it, Daddy. I’m your best girl, not her—or Cheeks or Princesa or Sharelle.” She nuzzled against his neck and whispered. “Have you forgotten all the nasty things I can do?” She kissed him hard and flicked her hand in the air for me to go.
Although I knew Dolla had done this a thousand times before, I hated watching her do it for me. But as much as I wanted to pull her aside and bash in Manolo’s pretty face, I had other, younger girls to save—or at least, that was my hope. I still didn’t know who else might be here.
The house had two bedrooms in the back with a bathroom in between. The door on the right was locked. The door on the left was partially opened. I knocked as I entered.
The tall blonde girl I had seen on The Blade a couple of nights ago—Dolla had called her Cheeks—sat at the foot of an unmade twin bed, the center of three crammed into the room. She appeared dressed for sleep in a long night shirt and a clean face. Without the black eye shadow and eyeliner, she looked younger than I remembered—sixteen, seventeen tops. She was watching a small television perched on a chest of drawers, and I heard the faint sounds of laughter before she shut it off.
“I remember you,” she said. “You had blonde hair.”
“I did.”
She grunted, pleased with herself.
The room was crowded, and past the beds and chest was what appeared to be a large animal crate. Although I couldn’t see the whole kennel, I recognized the hard polyethylene shell and the sturdy metal grating. Ma’s neighbor in Arcadia used similar crates for her Akitas. They’d been kennel-trained since they were pups so no matter how big they grew or how much space they lost, they always willingly entered with just enough room to turn around and curl up to sleep. I couldn’t see what kind of dog Cheeks kept inside her kennel, but whatever it was, it needed a bath.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Manolo brought me.”
Her blue eyes widened. “Does Dolla know?”
“She introduced us.” When Cheeks made a face, I added, “You look surprised. Isn’t that what a bottom does, recruit?”
She glanced nervously at the door, as if to make sure I had closed it. When she found that I had, she shrugged. Cheeks didn’t seem to like this line of conversation, so I let it go.
“My name’s Candy, by the way. Which bed should I take?”
She nodded toward the one, closest to me. “That one, I guess. When Princesa’s here, she likes to sleep against the wall.”
I looked at the corner bed, protected by two walls and a kennel. Princesa was a smart girl.
“She’s not here now?”
“Nah. Only when her parents think she sleeping at a friend’s.”
“They haven’t figured it out?”
“They’re telenovela stars. You know what that is? I saw their show once. It’s pretty good, like a soap opera with subtitles. It comes on after Y and R. The Young and the Restless?” she added, when I didn’t respond.
“Right.”
“Princesa teases me about watching soaps, but I’m not in school anymore, so I figure why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do during in the day. Anyway, her parents aren’t home much, so Princesa does whatever she wants.”
“And she wants…this?”
Cheeks shrugged. “It’s complicated. You can ask her when she shows up. She’ll probably tell you. She loves to talk. Just don’t ask when Dolla or Manolo are around because they won’t like it. We’re not supposed to talk about outside stuff.” She glanced around her dismal space and shrugged. “But what else is there?”
Was that why Cheeks was opening up to me—because Princesa wasn’t around to gab? Was this girl so lonely she’d spill her heart to a stranger? Or did she assume we were sister-wives now that Manolo had taken me in?
“Dolla said something about a new girl—Sharelle. Does she live here, too?”
“Not yet. But the way she’s crushing on Manolo, she probably will soon.”
I dropped my pack on the bed and pulled out a clean shirt and shorts. “Where does Emma sleep?”
“You mean Cin? Yeah, she lived here for a while, started out in Manolo’s room then moved into ours.” Cheeks gazed into space, seemingly lost in unpleasant memories. “They all did that. Except for me.”
“Why not you?”
“You ask a lot of questions. You know that?”
“You’re the one jabbering. I’m just doing what I was told.” I peeled off my grimy shorts and pulled on the clean ones in the same move, so Manolo wouldn’t catch me without pants if he barged in the room. I did the same with my shirt. Then I wiped my face and brushed my hair.
Cheeks watched with a knowing expression. “Testing the goods, huh? He does that a lot.”
“Even with you?”
“Of course with me. What, you think I’m not good enough? I’ve been sucking dick since I was fifteen. Believe me, his isn’t anything special.”
I held out my hands. “No offense. You just said that you were the exception.”
“No. I said I didn’t start in his room. Jeez, don’t you know anything? Manolo only romances the girls he needs to seduce. He doesn’t waste his charm on merch like us.”
I winced. Girls like Cheeks were not merchandise, no matter how many times they’d been sold or what they’d been forced to do. But now was not the time to convince her of this.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Cheeks said. “But you’re already in the life, right? I mean, Manolo doesn’t have to trick you into it—he bought you, same as me.”
I took a breath and shed my alter ego’s indignation. I wasn’t selling my body, and I had no intention of letting Candy sell it either. I needed to stay clear on who I was and what needed to be done. I couldn’t afford to let emotion goad me into hasty decisions, irrational behavior, or sloppy listening.
He bought you, same as me.
Cheeks had opened up a new line of questioning.
“You traded up?” I asked.
“You say that like I had a choice. I didn’t kidnap myself from that college recruiting fair. And I sure as fuck didn’t beat myself into screwing every pervert in Phoenix.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “Dolla’s right. Talking about this shit only makes it worse.”
I pretended to straighten with my choker so I could aim the camera at Cheeks. I had told Payns about a girl trafficked from Phoenix. Maybe he’d put two and two together and compare this footage of her with the all the teens reported missing in Arizona over the last couple years.
Cheeks watched as I fiddled with my necklace. “Don’t show him how much that means to you, or he’ll take it away. And when he comes for you tonight, make sure you give it to him good. Because if he doesn’t like what you’re selling, well… I’ve seen him do some fucked up shit.”
Give it to him good?
Cheeks had no idea how much I yearned to do just that.
“You gonna wear those boots?” she asked.
I ran my hand along the side of my ankle where my karambit waited to be drawn. “Always do.”
She shrugged. “I guess he might think it’s hot.”
The animal crate thumped and jostled. Cheeks jumped off the bed and went to check. She crouched in the space between the foot of Princesa’s bed and the metal gate, and brushed her hand against the black fur puffing out through the holes. “You all right, Baby Girl? Need some fresh water or something to eat?”
I moved off the bed to join her. “I’m surprised Manolo lets you keep
a dog. What breed is it?”
Cheeks looked up at me in confusion, as if my question were too much for her mind to grasp. She moved aside, and the animal in the crate shifted to see who had come to visit.
Except it wasn’t an animal.
It was a girl.
Chapter
Fifty-One
It was hard to guess her age, curled in on herself in such a confined space, but if I had to guess, I’d say early teens.
I grabbed the kennel gate with my fingers and yanked. “We have to get her out.”
“We can’t,” Cheeks said, hugging her knees as she rocked side to side against the foot of the bed.
I examined the lock and hinges. “Of course we can. I just have to find a way in.”
Cheeks shook her head, morosely. “Only Manolo has the key.”
“Then I’ll break it apart. Look, I need something to wedge inside this gate, like a crow bar. Do you have anything like that?”
When she didn’t answer, I ransacked the chest of drawers. But all she did was watch.
“What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you help?”
“Princesa and I already tried.” She held out her arms, palms up, to show me the ugly craters burned into the undersides of her arms. They aligned perfectly—two above the elbow crease and two below—like matching rows of red-ringed buttons.
“Did Manolo do that to you?”
Cheeks nodded. “He burned Princesa, too.”
I bent forward, aiming the choker cam at her arms so Payns could see. “What about Dolla? Did he do that to her?”
Cheeks shrugged. “I don’t think she even knows. She hasn’t come around since she and Manolo brought in Baby Girl.”
I knelt in front of the crate. I’d been so shocked to discover a girl locked inside that I hadn’t stopped moving. This time, I held very still so Payns could see the girl in the cage. With this footage and the shots of Cheeks—which I prayed he had already matched to a missing teen in Phoenix—Payns would have probable cause to barge in and arrest Manolo.
The girl cowered in the back, hunched over one folded leg while her other knee protruded beside her shoulder. A tangled mane of thick, black hair framed her face and hid her body except for a few glimpses of naked brown skin.
“Hi,” I whispered, keeping my voice friendly and calm so the rage I felt about her imprisonment wouldn’t add to her terror. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise. I just need a little time.”
When the girl didn’t react, I turned to Cheeks. “How long has she been unresponsive like this?”
“What do you mean? Like, when did she stop crying and screaming? Or when she did she stop begging for us to help her?”
Emotion welled into my eyes and threatened to spill. “Both.”
“Well, Manolo put her in the cage on Tuesday. She stopped crying on Sunday. I don’t know when she stopped talking, but now that you mention it, she hasn’t said anything today.”
Six days.
Could it be?
“Ana Lucía? Is that you?” I reached my fingers through the gate. “That’s your name, isn’t it? I saw you with Dolla at Paco’s Tacos. I saw you get into Manolo’s car. Did he bring you here? Did he hurt you—more than I can see?”
She didn’t answer, but her lips trembled and tears slid from her eyes.
I stretched my fingers until the metal grate dug into the webs. This poor child needed comfort, and all I had to offer were promises.
Unless…
I raced for my backpack and pulled out a bundle of bobby pins. They didn’t make the most reliable picks, but, given enough time, they’d suffice.
“What are you doing?” Cheeks asked, as I opened the first pin and gnawed off the rubber tip.
“Getting her out.”
I stuck the straight end of the bobby pin into the lock and bent it flush against the gate to form a ninety-degree angle. I did the same with the looped end of a different pin. Then, using the loop as a wrench to create tension on the plug, I used the straightened pick to raise the interior pins in the lock.
A car honked outside with two quick taps of the horn.
Cheeks jumped to her feet. “They’re here.”
The bobby pin snapped. “Who’s here?”
“Manolo’s crew.”
Ana Lucía screeched and crammed into the back of the crate, muttering, “No, no, no, not again. Por favor, ayúdame. Ayúdame, Dios mío.”
Outside the house, the metal gate rattled open. I dropped the pins and turned to Cheeks. “He has a crew?”
“You think he runs all of us on his own?”
“What do you mean all of us? How many girls are there?”
“I don’t know. Twenty, thirty maybe.”
I threw out my hands to encompass the pigsty of a room. “And he lives here?”
“Who said he lives here?”
The bedroom door opened and Dolla slipped inside. “Shit’s getting deep. The crew’s here and Manolo offered them a taste.”
“A taste of what?” I asked.
“You.”
“Damn it. How many are out there?”
“Three, plus Manolo.”
“Why didn’t you mention a crew?”
“You didn’t ask.”
I muttered a curse. “How large is his operation?”
“Three pimps, five girls each, not counting Manolo and us.”
“Any more of them trafficked from out of town?”
“Three, maybe four. I’m the oldest.” She smirked. “Not counting you.”
I didn’t have time for digs about my age, not with four pimps in the living room psyched for rape.
“Are you supposed to bring me out, or are them coming in?”
“Bring you out. But they won’t wait long.”
I went to the mirror and drew my knife from my boot. I held it up so Payns—and whoever else was watching—could see it. Then I held up four fingers and pantomimed slitting my throat.
“What the fuck?” Dolla said. “Are you wired?”
“Video. No sound.”
She backed away. “I don’t know about this.”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t know about a crew, so we’re even.”
I folded the karambit and returned it to my boot.
“What about us?” Cheeks asked.
I glanced from her to Ana Lucía, face pressed against the wire grid of the dog kennel gate. “You’ll be safe in here. Just don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”
Ana Lucía panicked and stretched her fingers through the grid. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
I grabbed the bobby pins off the floor and handed them to Cheeks. “Bend another one to use as a wrench. The straight ones raise the pins.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Figure it out.
“I vouched for you,” Dolla said. “Do you know what he’ll do to me if you set her free?”
Ana shook the gate of the kennel. “You can’t leave me in here. Please. You have to let me out.”
“You can’t,” Dolla countered.
Ana Lucía wailed. Cheeks jumped to her feet. Dolla advanced.
“Make her shut up, Cheeks. Make that bitch shut up or I swear to God…”
A fist pounded on the door.
“On the beds,” I whispered, and lept to join Cheeks.
Manolo barged into the room and found Dolla sitting beside my backpack, Cheeks and I on the center bed, and Ana Lucía crammed into the back of her crate.
“What are you bitches fighting about?” he said. “I can hear your screeching all the way from the kitchen.”
He glared at Cheeks and I, tangled on her bed. “You better be fucking and not brawling. Because if one of you marks up the other, I swear I’m going to do way worse to you.”
Cheeks nuzzled against my breasts and rubbed her leg against mine. “We’re not fighting, Daddy. Promise.” She ran her hand up my
thigh and cooed.
“You never get enough, do you, Cheeks?”
She shrugged. “Sister love is different, Daddy. You know how it is.”
“I do, and tomorrow, I’ll let you show me. But not tonight.” He held out his palm toward me and beckoned with his fingers. “Let’s go, Candy Cane. My crew’s here, and they want a taste.”
Chapter
Fifty-Two
Manolo led me by the arm into the living room to meet his crew, three Latino guys barely older than Dolla. Two had buzzed haircuts with straight across hairlines and wide-boned features similar enough to be brothers. The younger, maybe eighteen, wore a big smile, as if Manolo had brought him a special treat. The elder brother, no more than twenty, sized me up from ankle to head, like a horse trader accustomed to being swindled.
Manolo pointed from younger to older. “This is Ricky, and that’s Saint. They run Van Nuys, NoHo, and Cahuenga.” Then he pointed to the last member of his crew, a hard-muscled teenager with green ink across his forehead, neck and arms. “That’s Big D. In a minute, you’ll know how he got his name.”
Big D’s stare made my fingers twitch toward the knife in my boot. If things went south, I’d stab him first.
I slid my arm out of Manolo’s grip and struck a Candy pose. If I wanted to survive until Payns and his task force arrived, I needed to take control of this situation.
I strolled over to Ricky, who I’d assessed as the least dangerous of the group, and positioned myself so he blocked me from the others. “Nice to meet you, Ricky. I’m Candy. I hear we’re gonna party.”
“Hell, yes,” Ricky said, reaching for my breast.
“Hey,” I said, deflecting his hand with a smile. “Didn’t you mother teach you any manners?” I nodded toward the dining table strewn with weed and rolling papers.
“What? You want a hit?”
I shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a party, right?”
Ricky glanced at Manolo for approval then back at me. “Yeah, okay. If it makes you hot.”
I led him to the table, away from the couches and ottomans. How many girls had they raped on that easy-to-clean vinyl? How much blood had they wiped away when they were done?
The Ninja's Blade Page 25