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CHAPTER11
Antonio cut the engine on the giant military surplus cargo truck as he pulled up in front of the warehouse. There was a woman crying in the back, the tarp covering the bed not holding back the terrible noises from within. With it running, the engine was loud enough to drown out any noises, but as soon as all was quiet, he could hear the weeping.
He tossed another pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry. The pills took the sharp edges off everything. Or at least they used to. He’d been taking more and more of them over the last few years, because at some point, they’d lost their effectiveness. The bitter taste on the back of his tongue didn’t last long enough to make him feel bad about his actions. Before he realized it, he would forget he’d taken one and everything would be too much again.
It was a vicious cycle and made him understand exactly how addicts worked, but it was the least of his worries right now.
Antonio stepped out of the truck, met by Hector, who had a maniacal gleam in his eyes. Clearly, he knew something that Antonio didn’t, and it was killing the smaller man. But Antonio didn’t give a shit.
He clenched his jaw.
“You got them?”
Antonio nodded, tossing Hector the keys and starting to walk away.
“You’re not unloading them?” He almost sounded disappointed.
“Nope. Get a grunt to do it.” He didn’t want to see the women who had answered the ad for seasonal workers at a water park in the UK, promised a free four-month trip in exchange for not letting spoiled rich kids drown. He didn’t want to hear them beg for their lives. He didn’t want any part of this anymore.
After leaving Katie, he’d felt off-kilter, like something was missing. It was stupid, but he’d felt like half a man for making her look at him like she had. She’d been heartbroken by his words, but he couldn’t keep her. There was no way he was the kind of man who would ever be able to be with a woman like her. She was too good for him.
He was no man at all. He was a monster. Plain and simple.
She would be better off with a man who could provide the kind of life she needed, not him.
That thought cut straight through him. He crunched another pill between his teeth, willing the bitter taste to coat the inside of his mouth.
Finally, just as he was finding his cottage in the dense undergrowth, he felt the pain dulling. He opened up his game to do his daily check-in, only for the disappointment to rear its ugly head again.
She hadn’t been online since the reunion. The rest of the alliance was there, so he did his normal, “Hey, guys, how’re things? I had some business to take care of; sorry I’ve been out of the game a while.” Yadda yadda.
That particular game was supposed to be where his handler was, under an identity as someone he wouldn’t know. They had a code that wouldn’t be detected by someone else. Who the fuck knew? He put out his messages and never got a response, so as far as he knew, he was playing the wrong damn game.
It had worked well as a cover though, as soon as he convinced El Cuchillo that online games were the way to target potential cargo. Get in the game, assume the identity of a teenager, throw a party, get people there, and then take them. This way, it wasn’t suspicious that he played this particular game every day. He played a lot of games every day.
Abuella came in with a soft knock, and he grunted at her softly as he shut down the game and walked to the window. The compound was massive, and he could see the main house from where he looked, as well as the warehouse where he’d taken the women. At least he couldn’t hear them from here.
“I brought pastelitos and some macheteadas for your sweet tooth for later.” Abuella had adopted him as soon as he came into the compound, making him treats and giving him special treatment. She wasn’t actually anybody’s grandmother; they just all called the housekeeper that, probably because she was old, but she was the kindest person here.
“Gracias,” he murmured, not the least bit hungry, as she puttered around, cleaning the old food out of his fridge to make room, and settling a basket of his favorite fried treats on the counter.
“Tomorrow I’m making chicharrones, so you have something to look forward to.” She patted his arm before she left. “You’re getting too skinny. You need to eat more.”
He smiled vaguely as the door shut quietly behind her. She’d been telling him that since he’d gotten here. Apparently, all Latin mothers weren’t happy unless the sons were as big as a house, because Antonio was far from skinny.
He took two more pills and lay down.
