***
Zita left her backpack in the car, hoping no one would steal it while they were away. Then she walked toward the brothel with David. Her heart raced and every step felt like she was walking toward her own execution.
As the red building came into view, she said, “Let me do the talking. I’ll translate any questions they have. You just need to pay.” She’d given him the cash while they were at the car.
There were two men guarding the door.
“He’s after a girl,” Zita said in Spanish, jerking her head at David.
They looked David up and down, grinned and let them in. Inside the dim, narrow hallway Zita took a breath to brace herself. The scent of dirt and sweat filled her nostrils and she screwed up her nose.
Slowly, she walked down the hallway, glad she wasn’t alone. She entered a large room with a wooden desk in the center. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a mustache and gang tattoos sat behind it. As Zita strode over to him, she took in the room. The paint on the walls was yellowed and peeling, and there were half a dozen plastic chairs around the edge. A teenage boy lounged in one, and there was a flight of stairs up to the next floor.
Mustache man glanced up from cleaning his gun. “What do you want?”
She dragged her eyes away from the weapon. “We’re here for a girl.”
The man grinned widely. “What kind of girl?”
She translated for David.
“The younger the better.” He winked at the man, and Zita had to take a second to control her surprise at his authentic leer before she translated.
The man called to the teenager, “Bring in some young lovelies.”
The boy got up with a groan and headed up the stairs.
Mustache man leered at Zita. “You know you’d fetch a pretty penny here. I can make you rich.”
“No, thank you.” She couldn’t prevent the disdain on her face.
“Why, you rich enough?” He scowled. “You too good for us?”
Her heart thudded. She hadn’t considered the gang might want her. She should have— it was what had happened to Teresa. Zita was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the lovelies. The girls trudged down the steps, all of them no more than teenagers. As Zita searched their faces for Manuela, all she saw was resignation or fear. Her heart wanted to burst. She wanted to save them all. They lined up in a row, and the man indicated to David that he could choose.
Feck.Manuela wasn’t there. She couldn’t say anything, could only hope David realized.
David took his time, standing in front of each one, checking them out and then moving to the next. When he reached the end, he frowned. “Got anyone younger? I’ll pay well for a virgin.” The expression on his face was creepy.
Zita translated and the man pursed his lips. “Virgins cost double.”
When she told David, he said, “I’ve got the money.”
The man ordered the girls out and said to the teenager, “Go get Manuela and Agatha.”
Zita turned to the window as if she was bored so her relief couldn’t be seen. Mustache man got to his feet and walked around to get a better look at Zita. Her pulse pounded. What was he going to do?
He reached out and caressed her cheek. She shuddered and stepped away.
“I’m not done with her yet,” David said, moving to stand beside her. Zita translated.
The man looked at David. “Let me know when you are,” he said in English. “I’d pay well to have her here.”
David grinned and nodded.
Zita was so stunned she couldn’t speak. She knew he didn’t mean it, but damn he was convincing.
The boy returned with two young girls. One of them was Manuela, and she looked absolutely terrified, with tears welling in her eyes.
