Sweet Collateral

by LP Lovell

  Sweet Collateral

  LP Lovell

  Contents

  1. Rafael

  2. Anna

  3. Anna

  4. Rafael

  5. Anna

  6. Rafael

  7. Anna

  8. Rafael

  9. Rafael

  10. Anna

  11. Rafael

  12. Anna

  13. Rafael

  14. Anna

  15. Rafael

  16. Anna

  17. Anna

  18. Rafael

  19. Anna

  20. Rafael

  21. Anna

  22. Rafael

  23. Anna

  24. Anna

  25. Rafael

  26. Anna

  27. Rafael

  28. Anna

  29. Rafael

  30. Anna

  31. Rafael

  32. Rafael

  33. Anna

  34. Anna

  35. Rafael

  36. Anna

  37. Rafael

  38. Rafael

  39. Anna

  40. Rafael

  41. Rafael

  42. Anna

  43. Rafael

  44. Anna

  45. Rafael

  46. Anna

  47. Anna

  48. Rafael

  49. Anna

  50. Rafael

  51. Rafael

  52. Anna

  53. Rafael

  54. Anna

  55. Rafael

  56. Anna

  57. Rafael

  58. Anna

  59. Anna

  60. Anna

  61. Rafael

  62. Anna

  63. Rafael

  64. Rafael

  65. Anna

  66. Rafael

  67. Anna

  68. Anna

  69. Rafael

  70. Rafael

  71. Anna

  72. Rafael

  73. Anna

  74. Rafael

  75. Anna

  76. Rafael

  77. Anna

  78. Rafael

  79. Anna

  Epilogue

  Other books by LP Lovell

  Dear Reader

  The Author

  1

  Rafael

  A chorus of agonized screams ricochets around my skull until a dull ache forms behind my eyes. Tossing my paperwork aside, I get up from my desk and yank the office door open. All the girls in the warehouse look up from their workstations, dressed in worn and dirty-looking underwear, their little paper masks stopping them from getting higher than a damn kite breathing in my shit.

  “Get back to work!” I shout, and they all scurry on with what they were doing.

  My gaze snaps to where my second, Samuel, stands in the middle of the warehouse. In front of him, a guy is hanging by his bound wrists, the metal chain creaking as his weight swings back and forth on the winch. A crimson pool is slowly gathering beneath him, tainting the dull grey concrete. Sam casually wipes his hands on a dirty rag before doing the same with his blade.

  “You shouldn’t drag out his suffering, Samuel. Just kill him.”

  “No. No, please,” the man begs, lifting his head weakly.

  The man is a rat who rolled over on us to the DEA, and he has the audacity to beg for his life.

  “They made me!” he blurts. If there is one thing I hate more than a rat, it’s a pussy. “They said they would protect me.”

  A laugh breaks past my lips, cutting into the tense silence. “I am Rafael D’Cruze.” Moving closer, I grip his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “There is no protection from me. There is nowhere you can run. Nowhere you can hide. They played you. They knew I would kill you.” A low keen slips from his throat before he starts rambling, begging.

  “You don’t want to die?” I ask with a smirk.

  “Please, I have children.”

  “I do not take betrayal well.” I take a cloth from my pocket and dab at a streak of blood covering his cheek. “But I do not like to leave children without a father, and I am a believer in redemption, Javier.” I pat his cheek, and he sags in his chains.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” he breathes.

  “My mercy is not without cost.” He’s already nodding his head, agreeing to terms he has not yet heard. Because when faced with the choice, a man will do anything but die. “You will continue to work with the DEA and tell them whatever I instruct you to. Are we clear?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Good.” I grin. So easy. The only way to play the DEA is with their own dirty tricks. They may threaten a man like Javier with jail if he does not comply, but I hazard that he’d rather go to jail than suffer a cartel execution. So very gruesome.

  “Betray me again, and it will be your children who pay the price.” His eyes go wide, panic flashing through them. Good. In my line of work, you must become a monster in order to maintain power.

  My phone starts ringing, and I shove Javier away from me before turning my back on him. I take the phone out of my pocket, smearing blood over the screen. Nero Verdi. Fuck’s sake. The man goes through cocaine like its water. I slide the answer button.

  “Samuel, drop Javier off and while you’re there, acquaint yourself with his wife and children,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Yes, boss.”

  I turn and walk back to my office, placing the phone to my ear. “Nero.”

  “I see you’re up to old tricks.”

  “Eh, fucking gringos putting rats on the ship. I’m dry until Thursday, Nero.” I still haven’t worked out why a capo is buying enough cocaine to supply several cities, but then, it’s Nero. I wouldn’t put anything past him. As long as I get paid, I don’t care.

  “I don’t need another shipment. I’m calling in my favor.” Well, this can’t be good. It’s been five years. If he’s calling it in now, then it has to be something big, and undoubtedly inconvenient.

  “What do you need?”

  “I’m buying a girl. Andre is negotiating her sale as we speak…”

  I groan. “You know that little fuck will rob you blind.”

  “I had to use a middleman, Rafael. I can’t very well walk into the Sinaloa cartel and ask to buy a sex slave, can I? I can’t draw too much attention to this. Once the sale is done, Andre will bring her to you.”

  “I don’t deal in girls, Nero. You know this. I owe you, but don’t ask me to—”

  “I’m not buying her as a slave.”

  “What are you buying her for then?”

  “Collateral.”

  “Collateral for what?” Silence. “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “It’s safer if you don’t know. No one can know she’s with you.” What the hell is he getting into?

  “And what am I supposed to do with her?”

  “Just keep her safe. I can’t get her out of Mexico yet.”

  He’s serious. “And you aren’t going to tell me who she

  is.”

  “Her name is Anna Vasiliev. I can’t tell you more than that right now.”

  I rub my fingers over my temples. “That means she’s not someone I want near me.” But what can I do? I owe Nero a debt that can never really be repaid, and he’s never once asked me to. Until now.

  He huffs a short laugh. “I need her with someone I trust, someone no one will dare fuck with.” I really have no choice here, and that irritates me.

  “Call me when Andre has secured the sale. I’ll have my men collect her.”

  I hang up the phone and shake my head. Nero Verdi helped put me where I am. I owe him a loyalty that very few are privy to. He’s proven more than once that he’s a good friend to have, if not very dangerous. The Italian is ruthless, power-hungry, and completely lacking the morals the
mafia usually pride themselves on. The cartels, for the most part, don’t like outsiders, but Nero and I, we play by different rules, more ambitious ones. Empires are built on such bloody alliances.

  2

  Anna

  The man dresses, barely sparing a glance for my naked form sprawled over the dirty mattress. I count the tiles on the far wall. Thirteen across and fifteen down. One hundred and ninety-five in total. I can recall every crack, every smudge of dirt, every chipped and blackened bit of grout like a map imprinted on my mind. These things that should be without consequence and hold no meaning are my only salvation within these four walls. Tiles and cracks—a necessary distraction from my morbid existence.

  There was a time when I would hope and dream of something better than this. That time has long since passed. What once felt like the most brutal form of degradation; daily rape, is now my normality. In my acceptance, I have found a degree of peace. This just is…I just am. I exist and this is my life. As soon as you accept a situation, it becomes far more bearable. Hope is what breaks even the strongest.

  The man slams the door behind him and leaves me in the dark, windowless cell. And here I lay, waiting for the next man to come in here, and the next…and the next.

  Some time later, the lock clicks ominously, before the hinges scream, allowing a shaft of light to creep over the dirty floor. One distinct set of footsteps enters the room. A dragging limp that I know is his damaged right leg. Alejandro’s gaze drags over my exposed body. There’s no point in putting clothes on here; they just get torn off. Modesty is for those who care. I don’t. Greasy black hair sticks to his forehead and sweat patches spread from beneath his arms and around his neck. Alejandro is a disgusting excuse for a man, but his favors are easily bought. Suck his dick, and he’ll get me almost anything I want. I learned fast in here that drugs help ease the situation. More specifically, ketamine, though it’s not as easy to acquire as cocaine or heroin. I’ve accepted this fate, but I can’t quite bring myself to completely give up, and that’s what heroin is, dying without actually taking the bullet. And Cocaine heightens everything I want muted.

  “Did you bring some?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “No. Get up. It’s your lucky day.” A sick grin works over his lips. “Or perhaps unlucky.” He laughs and turns away, walking back out of the door. I push to my feet and move to follow him, hesitating in the doorway.

  “Where are you taking me?” A trace of panic starts to creep up on me as I stare at that line on the floor, the invisible border of my room.

  “You have a new owner, Rubia. I’ll miss those sweet lips wrapped around my cock.” I know the way this works. I’ve seen girls outlive their usefulness—become worn out and undesirable. Or get diseases, then they’re either sold or killed. And useless girls… the places they end up… Sold. The word evokes a fissure of fear that stirs the edges of my numb mind. I know what humans are capable of, the depths of depravity they can sink to. It’s not so bad here. I’ve had much worse.

  “Hurry up!” Alejandro barks.

  I don’t even know how long ago it was that I was brought here. Time has no place here. When was the last time I left these four walls?

  I cross the threshold and follow him down a corridor and through another door. Bright sunlight hits me, and I squint away from it, nervously glancing around at my surroundings. It’s a warehouse.

  Frowning, I look behind me at the maze of wooden walls erected in the middle of the vast space. Holding my arm out, I allow the sunlight to dance over my skin as it drifts through the windows high above us. So close. I was so close to freedom, all this time. I’d assumed that the dark little room was buried in the basement of some building, impenetrable and forgotten.

  Alejandro crosses the warehouse and holds open a door, gesturing me inside patiently. “Clean up and put on the clothes.”

  The door slams, leaving me alone. Do as you’re told. It’s an easy rule to follow, one that requires no thought at all. I’d usually comply, stuck in my numb acceptance, but the only thought whirling through my mind is that I’m going to be sold or killed. This may seem like a horrible way to live, but I know well that it can be far worse. I close my eyes as the memories of vile acts and depraved violence whirl through my mind, dragging me out of whatever blind state I’ve come to cling to. On the other side of this door, freedom is so close I can almost taste it. There was a time when I thought of escaping. They might kill me, but I’d rather die than end up with someone like the Master again.

  A plan starts to take shape in my mind, tentative at first, like a wild animal approaching new surroundings, careful and nervous. I tiptoe toward the prospect and then back away before nervously moving forward again. Back and forth, life and death, the known and the unknown.

  I’m in a gym-type locker room. I move over to the communal showers and turn on the water, using the sliver of hand soap to wash my hair and body as fast as I can. Months of dirt and grime wash down the drain in a whirlpool of tainted water. I’d say I feel clean, but I don’t. Of course I don’t. I’m stained to my very soul, and no amount of soap will rid me of that.

  Getting out, I dry myself with the worn, ratty towel left on the bench. The clothes are simple, a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, but they’re clean. I can’t remember the last time I wore clean clothes or clothes at all for that matter.

  Finally making a decision, I tie my hair up in a knot and frantically search the locker room. I turn on several of the showers until the room is filled with the sound of water hitting tile. Steam rises, filling the space rapidly. In the end stall, I grip the metal pipe with the showerhead on it. The metal groans when I yank on it, but it doesn’t give. Summoning all my strength, I yank it three more times until it comes loose. Water bursts from the broken pipe, soaking my shirt and burning my skin until it finally rips free of the wall.

  Alejandro’s heavy, uneven footsteps echo over the sound of the showers. I hurry across the room and crouch down beside the lockers, watching as his form appears through the thick steam.

  “Rubia?” he calls out.

  Taking a deep breath, I rush at him and swing the metal pipe at the back of his head. He twists at the last minute, and the pipe collides with the side of his face. There’s a cracking of bone before he hits the floor. I don’t look at him, just run. Tearing the door open, I sprint across the warehouse, looking for a way out. There’s a metal walkway with a ladder up to it. I run for it and climb the ladder as fast as I can. Once I hit the walkway, I’m running for the open window sat ajar at the top of the warehouse. Poking my head out, I squint against the bright sunlight. It’s a long way down to the ground. There’s a garbage bin off to the side. If I can just get a little farther along…

  A series of shouts echo around the warehouse below. I’m out of time. This is it, now or never. My pulse pounds against my eardrums—adrenaline pumping through my veins and driving me on. Swinging my leg over the window ledge and drop to a crouch, before lowering myself down and dropping over the egde. Long-dormant muscles scream in protest as my finger cling to the concrete window ledge. The garbage bin is just to the left of me. If I can just…I swing my weight back and forth until I can’t hold on anymore, and then I release and close my eyes, waiting for the ground to rise up and break me like a fledgling bird. Something hits my ankle hard before I land in a heap of hot, smelly trash. Biting back tears, I clutch my ankle as pain lances through it. I must have just clipped the top of the dumpster. Forcing myself to move, I drag myself over the edge, and hobble behind a small outbuilding. This is so pointless. The likelihood of getting out of here is slim to none. There’s a perimeter fence topped with razor wire and men walking around everywhere. A row of parked cars are maybe twenty feet away. A guy leaves the warehouse via a side door and gets in his car, reversing out before driving across the compound to the gate. The guard waves him through without hesitation. Alejandro is going to come out here soon to bring me back. I need to move. Shoving away from my hiding place, I hobb
le as fast as I can over to the cars and duck down behind an old Ford SUV. I pull the back door handle. Locked. Damn it. Glancing down the line of cars, I look for something old and shitty. There’s a Honda Accord three cars down. I drop to the floor and roll beneath the car next to me, slowly making my way down the line until I’m next to the Accord.

  “Please, please, please,” I whisper under my breath. The door clicks open, and I breathe a sigh of relief, climbing inside. I need somewhere to hide. Feeling around behind the back seats, I find the latch to release the seats. They fold forward, and I slam a hand over my mouth, fighting back the urge to gag at the disgusting smell. Panic rises like a wave at the sight of horrified, bloodshot eyes staring lifelessly from behind a sheet of clear plastic. A body. There’s a body in the trunk.

  I swallow back bile as I consider having to crawl into the trunk with a dead body. What if they remove it and find me? My heart pounds rapidly, my mind processing options, and then I hear voices. I reach inside the trunk space, breathing through my nose as I feel around. My fingers brush over cool metal, and I grab the object, pulling it out. The gun weighs heavy in my hand, the weight of it so foreign to me, and yet empowering. The voices move closer, and I have no choice. Steeling myself, I crawl in, next to the dead man. This is sheer desperation. I have no other options right now. Reaching for the back seat, I pull it upright, making sure it doesn’t fully click into place. The trunk plunges into darkness, leaving me alone with a corpse. I think of anything but the cold, waxy skin pressing up against my thigh. A door opens and then the car shifts under the weight of someone getting inside. There are voices and laughing before the engine starts. I strain to hear over the Spanish rap music blaring through the speakers. Adrenaline fires through my veins, the drive to survive riding me hard. I’m a girl with nothing left to lose and my freedom to gain. Fear blends with that long-forgotten feeling of hope. So near and yet so far. This really is freedom or death. There’s nothing else for me on this path, and there’s something thrilling in that. I’m taking control of my own fate for the first time in a very long time.