21

Bartolo strode across the cramped living room of the dilapidated ranch-style house. His younger brother, Carlos, had rented the tiny home for one month. Situated on a large, secluded lot in an older neighborhood in the western part of Phoenix, it offered enough privacy to serve as a temporary way station for the cartel’s human trafficking operation.

Carlos maintained several teams of coyotes, smugglers who brought people across the border illegally. Once in the United States, the coyotes took exhausted travelers to a central location where they awaited disbursement. Sometimes they were held for ransom until their families paid even more money to the cartel for their release.

Bartolo surveyed the twenty people huddled before him. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of sweat and fear that filled the room and turned to Carlos. “If I find one I like, you’ll have to clean her up.”

Carlos frowned. “There’s a shower in the master bedroom.”

Bartolo scanned the group again. His eyes rested on a woman clutching two girls tight against her body. He switched to Spanish. “How old are your daughters?”

The woman trembled. “Th-they are both fourteen years old.”

“Ah, twins.” Bartolo smiled. “Are they virgins?”

A gasp went around the room. A man in his fifties stepped beside the mother and her daughters. “Leave them alone!”

Bartolo, never taking his eyes from the girls, jerked his chin in the direction of the interloper. Carlos’s second-in-command pushed away from the wall, strolled directly behind the man, and sank a dagger between his shoulder blades.

The man howled in pain as the coyote twisted the knife and wrenched it free. The man sank to his knees and collapsed on the floor. Eyes glassy. Face contorted in agony. A pool of blood oozed into the filthy carpet beneath him as he ceased writhing.

No one moved. The coyote sauntered back to his post against the wall.

Eyes still fixed on his prey, Bartolo continued as if there had been no interruption. “You were about to tell me whether your daughters are virgins?”

The girls sobbed into their mother’s arms as she looked at him plaintively. “They are too young.” She pried her daughters away from her, pushed them toward a woman standing next to her, then took a wobbly step toward Bartolo. “Take me.”

Bartolo’s lip curled. “I don’t want a dried-up old woman.” He glanced at the girls, who now clung to the other woman. “I want something young. Fresh. Unspoiled.” He slid his index finger along his jaw. “In fact, I like the idea of twins. I will have them both.”

“No!” Their mother threw herself at Bartolo’s feet. “Please!”

Bartolo relished the drama. He viewed it as an exotic spice to arouse his appetite. “I will offer you a choice. I will agree not to take both of your daughters.” He looked down at her. “But you have to decide which one I enjoy.”

She gazed up in horror. “What?”

“If you don’t choose which daughter you will give to me, then not only will I take them both, but every single man here will do the same.”

Still on her knees, the woman cast a glance at her daughters.

They began to shriek. “No, Mamá, please!”

Bartolo laughed. This was more fun than he had anticipated. “You have one minute to decide.”

While he waited, Carlos slid behind him and whispered in his ear in English. “You’re cutting into my profits by taking a virgin from my stable.”

The corners of Bartolo’s eyes tightened. “It is my prerogative.”

“The last time you took one of my girls, you beat her senseless. I had to wait a month for her to heal before she could start working off her transport fee.”

“And since then she has made up for the loss of a month’s wages.” A smile spread across his stubbled face. “I remember her. She didn’t want to do what she was told. I had to teach her obedience.”

“You almost killed her, Bartolo.”

“And … ?”

Carlos sounded exasperated. “Just don’t damage my merchandise this time.”

“There is a price to pay for coming to the United States. As the saying goes, ‘freedom isn’t free.’”

“This is my part of the business you’re messing with.”

Bartolo spoke through clenched teeth. “If I say I want a virgin, you give her to me. If I beat her until she dies, you bury her body in the desert. If I cost you money, suck it up. Do I make myself clear?” He reverted to Spanish and looked at the mother, who now stroked her daughters’ hair. “Time’s up.”

The mother’s voice sounded strangled, as if she spoke around an enormous lump in her throat. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“I’m getting angry.”

“Please, I will do anything you want.”

“You did not do as you were told. As punishment, you must not only choose which daughter, but you will bring her to me.” He held out his hand. “Now.” He beckoned. “Or I take them both.”

The woman crossed herself. “Mother Mary, forgive me for what I must do.” She crept toward Bartolo. Both girls sobbed and clung to her. Tears streamed down her face as she used her right arm to force one of her daughters into his grasp.

Across town, Adolfo pulled out his cell phone when he felt it buzz. “What is it, Carlos?”

“Bartolo, again.” The strain in his youngest brother’s voice was audible.

“Tell me.”

“He took one of my girls at the drop house in West Phoenix. He looked totally coked out, as usual.”

“He said he would stop using.”

“He’s losing control. You should have seen what he did to this girl. She’s just a kid. I had to get one of my guys to take her to our private emergency clinic downtown. I don’t know if she’ll pull through.”

Adolfo sensed the growing rift and took advantage. “Bartolo has become a liability.”

“You mean because of his drug use?”

“Not just the drugs. He’s been hotheaded since we were kids. Cocaine just makes it worse.” Adolfo let that sink in before continuing. “I heard from our mole today that someone burned down the restaurant owned by that Phoenix detective’s family.”

“You mean Veranda Cruz? Was that Bartolo?”

“No doubt.”

“Did he get approval to do that?”

Adolfo wanted Carlos to understand the stakes. To choose sides. “Bartolo is operating on his own.” He paused for effect. “I’m going to call Papá. He must be told that we do not support Bartolo’s actions. His drug use and reckless behavior put us all at risk.”

“From what our mole tells us, Detective Cruz isn’t the type to back down. Now that Bartolo has attacked her family, she’ll never stop coming after him.”

“And Bartolo is the same way. I wonder if either of them realizes this will only end when one of them is dead.”