“Where are the men who drive the trucks?”
“Dead,” Onyx answers for me.
“How many?” Rhodes asks.
“Over a hundred.”
Quinten whistles, but there is a sense of appreciation in his eyes. We all know those men won’t be missed.
“How do you want to proceed? We will follow your lead.” Edwards looks at me, and I realize he is giving me control, not that I was asking. No matter what, I was always going to be the one to find Camryn.
“The man in charge is someone called El Patron. He has domestic and international connections. No one gets to him unless you are in his inner circle.”
“You still have connections with the FBI,” Jace said,” Onyx steps in.
At Caleb’s nod, Riggs continues. “We know the area they use and the holding facility they use as a layover. They take the women and children in smaller vehicles across the border. We need more bureaucratic power to shut down the legal organizations that house them. Additionally, there are three other outposts where the women might be located. One is in Essex, and the other two are in Oneida and Hamilton. All three sites are approximately 3 hours away from here. We think they’ve gone to Hamilton since it’s the closest geographically. When this shit explodes, we need people near all three sites. They are run by El Patron’s subordinates. No one knows who he or she is, but they are the money and the real power.”
I finish, wanting them to understand. I don’t care about their connections or who they are. “The three holding facilities are run by three key players. Three men. El Guerrero, El Conquistador and El Jefe. And just one last thing. El Jefe is mine,” I say, booking no argument.
Caleb nods, and Zeke, Quinten, and Rhodes say nothing else.
“Got it. Just send me the addresses,” Caleb continues.
Riggs takes over from there, giving them the three locations he’s been scouting for months. He knows them all like the back of his hand.
None of it matters to me who goes where. I’m headed to where I feel she is. My gut tells me that she’s at the holding facility in Hamilton. So that’s where I’m headed. From what Riggs, Onyx, and I were able to gather over the years, it’s El Jefe’s favorite holding facility, and when I get her back, I’m going to kill every last one of them. El Jefe has no idea who he’s dealing with.
Chapter 72
“What the fuck happened? El Jefe won’t be happy.”
Blinking against the intense light coming from a flashlight roaming over my face, I try to see beyond the glare, but the bright light shines over both Jacinda and Kami, making it hard to see anything other than shadowy figures. This time, the view beyond the doors is dark. Kami and Jacinda rouse next to me, and we use each other to help sit up.
Thankfully, they fed us earlier, untying our hands so we could eat. We all scarfed down burgers from what I could tell was a chain restaurant. Long gone was the dignity of refusing food. I didn’t care where they got it. They laughed at how ravenous we were, but neither Kami nor Jacinda nor I paid them any mind. I wasn’t sure when they would feed us again, and I wanted to conserve my strength.
Angry whispers in more unfamiliar languages erupt beyond the opening of the van. I turn to Kami, hoping she can understand them. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, mumbling “No, no.” Seeing her distress, I wonder what they’re saying. Hearing scuffling, the bigger man from before is once again staring at us.
“Get them out of there,” he barks.
Another man enters. This one is small, petite, like a small child. But clearly, an adult, given the amount of facial hair and wrinkles on his face.
He crawls toward me, almost timidly, and I wonder if he’ll strike out. But he doesn’t. Instead, he shines the light over us and sneers. “Brutos. Al jefe no le gustará que sus cosas se dañen.∗”
The hand that touches my face isn’t rough, but gentle as he turns my head. “I am so sorry, señorita. I will fix it.”
Tears leak out of my eyes at his kindness, which is foolhardy. He’s my captor, and his boss is planning on selling us. To whom I can’t imagine, but the horrors of it are very real.
He helps me up and lifts me up, leading me to the open door. He jumps down, spry despite his obvious age. I lick my dry mouth. Clearing my throat, I hoarsely ask. “Who are you? Where am I?”
He doesn’t respond to my questions
“Can you walk?”
“Yes, but what is going on? Why have you taken us?” He doesn’t answer, but I hear the muffled cries of Jacinda and Kamilah behind us. Spinning around, I shout behind me, “Jacinda! Kamilah!” before the gag is put back over my mouth.
I’m escorted forward. I can hear the trees and use my other senses to help me determine my location. I’m estimating, but we were driving for almost six hours. That would put us around Northern New York State. I’m in a forest that’s for sure.
I look behind me to see that Kamilah and Jacinda are also being escorted. Jacinda’s eyes are full of rage, and Kamilah looks around us. I’m sure she’s cataloging everything the way I am. She’s only 19, but handling everything like a pro.
