The man's screams echoed through the entire house. He was panting and drooling, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. I wasn't getting anywhere with this piece of shit. Maybe he was telling the truth, but I didn't give a fuck, anyway. Lowlifes like him weren't worth a penny.
I bent down, pressing the hook into his leg, and dug deep with the butcher’s claw. I sliced his femur wide open, cutting through muscle, cartilage, and bone. No screams, just gurgles and groans. The scumbag was too far gone.
He was still gasping for breath, but I didn't feel like playing nice today, so I just let him suffer and bleed out.
I stood up, my apron full of blood. My breath was calm and controlled. I didn't realize my face was beaming. Although these two losers didn't kidnap Kitlyn, they were part of the problem. If the girls had passed through here, they would have found the tracker in her neck.
I was hoping against hope that the device was still where I had it inserted and the scumbags would remove hercollar for something, and once that signal pinged, I would be on Hector like a fly on shit. Jacob was still working on gut rot. He would not give up any information either. He insisted he knew only that he lived in the mountains. A lot of good that does me. It accomplishes nothing. The country is full of mountains. It was time to finish the mess and move on to the next filthy shack. I nodded at my partner.
"Finish him. He either doesn't know where to locate the cartel, or he has a huge tolerance for pain."
Jacob smiled wickedly from ear to ear, while our little friend screeched to high heaven.
I looked into his eyes.
All I saw was pure terror.
"Do you have anything you want to say before you die?"
I said sarcastically.
His voice was shaky, and his body trembled.
"Please don't kill me, man. I have kids!"
I glanced at my partner, running a hand over my overgrown goatee. "He's right. Let's not kill him. One of the other criminals will show up with the next batch of girls, and they can release him. I mean, the man has rugrats at home."
Jacob nodded. "Okay, boss, whatever you say."
Gut rot's voice dripped with disbelief.
"Oh, my God! You're not gonna kill me? Thank you. Thank you so much." He took a deep breath, sucking the snot back up into his nose. I looked over at the lifeless body of his friend, then back at gut rot.
"Let's hope your kids never get trafficked."
He was bloody and torn apart, but still managed a smile, thankful to us for sparing his life.
"I am going to quit this business. I am forever indebted to both of you for opening my eyes."
I looked over at Jacob, wiping the blood from my hands, turning toward the door. I wasn't interested in what this fucktard had to say. It was time to get the hell out of this dump.
The place was made of old, splintered wood that was dry-rotted everywhere. It was not stucco or concrete like the typical homes you find in Mexico. The sun was going down, and we needed to rest and refuel.
Jacob and I exited the filthy, decaying structure and walked to the SUV. I grabbed some lighter fluid from the bag.
We returned to the house, dousing the decomposing exterior in the flammable liquid. I coated every edge and every rotted board until the place was saturated.
I lit a match and flicked it onto the trail. The fire roared instantly. Flames crept along the walls, swallowing the structure in seconds. From inside, panicked screams erupted, raw and begging. "Ah! Ah!! Please, please. I am going to be burned alive. You said I could live! You said I could live!!!"
I turned to Jacob and smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "So sue me…I fucking lied."
We walked back to the truck and climbed in. I started the engine and pulled away, grateful to put this reeking hellhole behind us. Both our aprons were covered with blood.
We needed to find a nearby hotel—somewhere to shower, change, eat, and crash for a few hours. It was getting late. Tomorrow, we'd head out early and, with any luck, finally get closer to finding Kitten.
Chapter 9
Trafficked
