He quirks a brow.
“Is that supposed to convince me? You won't have the option to tell anyone shit if I don't let you go, estúpida. And keeping you here means no risk,” he hisses quietly, his accent deepening with annoyance.
“Right. That was stupid. But it is still completely the case. I just… I have a sister. She's only a year old, and all alone…” I trail off, realizing I'm telling a sex trafficker that my little sister is super fucking kidnappable.
Stupid. Fucking. Idiot.
His other brow joins the first halfway up his forehead.
“You're terrible at this,” he comments dryly.
“She's not completely alone,” I amend weakly. Then, I sigh impatiently. “Okay, whatever. Telling you that doesn't put her in any more danger than she's already in. My parents are addicts and will have friends come over who tend to go exploring the house at night. I guess the only difference between here and there—I'll be able to kill the sick fuck who touches her if she’s with me.”
He grins, but I've no idea what the fuck he could possibly find funny.
“If you're lucky, you'll manage to kill one before one of them kills you. Then your sister would really be alone.”
I growl under my breath. Of course, he's right, but my goal was to tug at his heartstrings, not bring out his logic and reasoning.
Hell, I really do suck at this.
I chew my lip mercilessly, trying to figure out a different angle. The man may be fucked up, but he's proven to have empathy. Somewhere beyond the spiderwebs, venomous snakes, and flesh-eating parasites in his soul is a soft spot. I just have to find it.
Worrying my lip harder, I peek over his shoulder again. I'm running out of time. It's a miracle the others haven't returned yet.
“Do you have a sister?” I ask.
His expression wasn't exactly… expressive to begin with, yet it seems as if his face falls anyway. A dark, ominous look passes over his eyes, and his features sharpen. It sends chills down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
I'm not sure if I found the soft spot or just struck a very sensitive nerve.
The blood in my body turns to ice. If I hadn’t been standing in front of a beast before, I certainly am now.
“Is she alive?” I push.
What's stopping me? I'm dead, anyway.
“Yes,” he clips. “But letting you go could get her killed if they decide to retaliate against me.”
“They'll never know you saw me,” I reason, growing desperate. “You weren't even supposed to be on duty tonight.”
He considers that for a moment, and my anxiety amps up.
“Look, we’re both desperate to keep our sisters safe, yeah? I don't need to be someone who gets in your way, nor do you need to be for me.”
His upper lip curls into a snarl, frustration pinching his brow.
It feels like an eternity passes before he finally speaks again.
“Get out of my face. Now. I sure as fuck hope you know what you're doing, because I'm not helping you, nor will I save you if you're caught.”
Relief explodes in my chest, stealing my breath away.
“Thank you. I won't forget you, Rio.”
I don't wait for him to respond. With one last glance, I take off down the steps and toward the only place that offers a chance of survival—the unwelcoming arms of the forest.
It will be unkind, but I've suffered much worse.
Cage
Present
2022
“Don't let the job title deter you, man. She may be a pig farmer, but she's fucking hot as hell,” Eli says from the other end of the phone. “I’ll admit, she’s showed up in a few of my fantasies when I—”
“Finish that sentence, and I'll drive off the fucking road,” I growl, curling my lip in disgust.
As if I give a fuck about who the dickhead jacks off to. I’ll sooner cut off his dick before I listen to him talk about what he does to it.
“I'm just sayin', man. Sexy as fuck.”
“Noted,” I respond tonelessly.
Don't really give a fuck what she looks like, either. The only thing I'm concerned with is dropping off the two dead assholes in my trunk.
Eli’s the one who normally takes care of the drops, until he went and got himself shot in the side. Now, he's on bed rest for six weeks, and I was hired to fill in until he recovers.
I'm no stranger to making criminals disappear, though my methods tend to be very different. And less… messy.
“I'll let Legion know when the job’s done. Rest up and leave your goddamn dick alone. I don't want to be hauling around dead bodies longer than I need to,” I grumble, then click off the phone. The line goes dead, finally giving me some peace and fucking quiet.
His response wasn't important, anyway.
The moon guides me down the barren dirt road, my headlights switched off. While this pig farmer supposedly doesn't have a neighbor for miles, I still like to take extra precautions.
My job relies on my ability to cover my bases, and I certainly won't sacrifice that now when there are two corpses rotting in my car.
After a few more minutes, I arrive at a lone ranch house nestled beside a massive barn, sitting on over a hundred acres of land. At the entrance of the driveway is an old sign that reads Paladin Farm.
The corner of my lip quirks as I recall what ‘paladin’ means. How noble.
There's a light shining through a single window from her house and a soft glow emitting from the barn. Otherwise, it's pitch-black out here, allowing an unobstructed view of the Milky Way and its star systems.
I stop by the barn just as a shadowed figure emerges from its depths. She stands at the entrance, hands on her hips as she watches me approach.
Legion warned her that I was coming in Eli’s place, yet based on the stiff set of her shoulders and her tapping foot, she's on edge.
Rightfully so.
The minute I step out of my car, I'm greeted with the chilly March breeze and her smooth, angelic voice.
“You’re here for the delivery?”
My heart pauses, and a distinct part of my brain is blaring an alarm. I've heard thousands of women’s voices over the years, but that voice—I swear it’s familiar.
“Last time I checked,” I return dryly, narrowing my eyes to see her better, and failing.
She hums, clearly unimpressed with my answer.
“Two bodies in the trunk,” I inform.
“Bring 'em in,” she clips, before pivoting and disappearing into the barn.
Digging in my pocket, I pull out a pack of nicotine gum and pop one in my mouth. Then, I open the trunk, curling my lip at the abhorrent smell that wafts from within.
They're already beginning to bloat.
I carry the first body in the barn, the aroma from the pigs no better. It's much bigger on the inside with smooth concrete flooring. Three pens are to my right, with five large, fat pigs dispersed between them. On the other side is the woman, her back to me as she dresses head to toe in a bright yellow hazmat suit.
Without looking back, she points to an expansive metal table with hair clippers, a large metal contraption with a few buttons, pliers, and a Sawzall laying atop it. “Lay them right there.”
I do as she says while she begins slipping on oversized rubber gloves that reach up to her elbows.
“I 'm going to grab the other one,” I say, regarding her closely.
She's reserved, and though she doesn't watch me with her eyes, I can sense that she knows exactly where I am, aware of every movement I make.
A bead of sweat forms on my brow as I carry in the second man, dropping him on the table next to the other.
Thick, opaque plastic covers the wall in front of her setup, descending to the floor, then across it, reaching the pens.
Seems she also likes to cover her bases.
Protective glasses rim her eyes as she grabs the hair clippers. She won't look directly at me, and a few strands of dark brown curly hair frame her face and hide her features, preventing me from getting a good look at her.
“I got it from here,” she says woodenly.