The Beasts of Juarez, R.B. Schow [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

is what makes me really want to kill. Before I go, tell me the job.” Leopold told him the particulars of the abduction, and that’s when he said, “So you tell me I can’t kill a politician, but that I have to save a politician’s kids, and his wife?”

“Who are all innocent.”

“I am shaking my head in disgust right now, Mr. Wentworth,” Yergha said. “But I will do this job because I need the money.”

“Need it or want it?”

“Want it.”

“Good, text me your flight information, and I don’t want to hear any more of your opinions on life, women, or even Estella from here on out.”

“You say the word and it is done,” Yergha said, jubilant.

“I just said the word, dumb-ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up, looked at the girls by the pool, and thought that they were both so lovely and so ready to go that it would be foolish to disappoint them any further.

Walking outside, he removed his towel and said, “Ladies, you’re about to get the best ten minutes of my day so let’s make it worth it.”

“Now that’s what we’re talking about, Mr. Wentworth,” Emily said as her head popped up from between Stacy’s thighs.

Chapter Thirteen

ZOEY FOX

As Zoey and Maisie were dragged into a different vehicle and driven away from Callie and their mother, Zoey fought hard not to cry. She was shoved into a bench seat next to Maisie. Her baby sister’s face was whiter than normal, her eyes wide with terror. This was by far the scariest thing that had ever happened to their family and it kept getting worse. She didn’t know what to do, what was happening, or when her father would come and rescue them.

When she could no longer see her mother, Zoey turned back around and glanced at Maisie. Her younger sister was looking forward, stiff as a board, with the odor of urine from her pants starting to permeate the air. The man on the other side of Zoey cracked a window pushing his head outside for fresher air.

Half an hour later, they pulled into an industrial yard filled with junky cars and several large scrap piles of fabric. The building at the center of the yard was big, like a warehouse, and it was ugly. There was peeled white paint, the dull shine of metal, and more than a few large patches of rust.

“Get out,” the man said to the girls when they stopped. He was a big man with acne pits and a few lines of scarring on his knuckles and arms. His black hair was thick and shiny, his mustache like a dead snake someone draped over his lip.

Both she and Maisie got out of the vehicle.

“Follow me,” the man said.

The two girls walked through the dusty parking lot to the warehouse. Zoey looked behind her and there was another man behind them making sure they didn’t run. Where would she run? With whom would she talk? They were trapped in another country and they didn’t know the language. That meant they wouldn’t run.

Zoey believed that her and Maisie’s only hope for survival was to do exactly as these men said and hope that someone would come for them.

Inside the warehouse, Zoey saw rows of what looked like standing desks full of strips of fabric. Around twenty women, girls, and boys were working. There were fluorescent lights strung up overhead along with open slats in the roof allowing for ventilation and natural sunlight. The workstations were situated on the bare concrete floor. Beside each station was a huge stack of fabric, presumably the day’s work.

Zoey wasn’t sure what they were making nor did she understand why young kids were working. One of the boys was a few years younger than Maisie and white. Was he American? He glanced up at Zoey and Maisie, but quickly returned his eyes to the task at hand. He had a bruised cheek and a split lip.

“Eyes forward,” the man who had driven them here shouted.

Zoey made sure she kept her eyes forward. She did so all the way into the office where an even uglier man sat behind a desk with the phone to his ear. He was yelling at someone in Spanish. When he was done, he slammed down the phone, looked up at the girls, and smiled the way you smile when everything just keeps getting worse.

“Are you kidding me?” the man barked in passable English.

“What?” the driver asked.

This new monster studied the girls carefully then he drew a deep breath, blew out a hostile sigh, and looked back up at the man. “Do you know who these two girls are?”

“Boss doesn’t seem to care, so I don’t care. I take them where I’m told to take them and I was told to take them here.”

“Those are the kids of a US Congressman,” the man bellowed.

“No kidding?” the driver asked, surprised. He looked the girls over, cocked an eyebrow, and said, “All the same, they’re yours now.” To the man who had been walking behind Zoey and Maisie, the driver said, “Ándele, Paco.”

The two men disappeared leaving the girls with this new creature who did not want them, but who seemed to know them.

“You weren’t supposed to end up here,” the man grumbled.

Neither she nor Maisie said anything, so he stood up, walked around the desk, then leaned down and pulled the duct tape off of Zoey’s mouth. She drew a breath from her mouth at long last.

“Thank you,” she said. “I was having difficulty breathing.”

He went to Maisie and pulled off her duct tape, too. She took a breath then looked at Zoey, almost as if Zoey’s actions dictated her actions. If Maisie was as scared as Zoey, she sure wasn’t showing it.

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” the