Page 92 of Paco
On the way back from the store, Army opened up the box and took out the phone. “Is Chelsea coming back with us?”
Paco gripped the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road. “No.”
“Really? I thought you guys had something going there.”
“Her life was interrupted. She needs to find out who she is.”
“She seemed like she had her head on straight. Are you sure you’re not going to regret this?”
I already do.“I’m doing this for her. Did you get the phone to work?”
“Yeah.”
“Then call the asshole and make the arrangements for tonight. Tell him we want three hours with the women at a motel.”
“Here we go,” Army said, tapping in the number then bringing the phone to his ear.
The Ambassador Motel sat off the freeway and was one of several motels that lined the frontage road. Paco and Army had arrived a few hours before and sat across the street waiting for Erik to show up with the two girls. They didn’t want to take any chances with the security cameras, so they parked the car by the curb. At nine thirty, a yellow mustang rolled into the lot and parked in front of the third building. A stocky man of medium height got out of the car then pulled two women out. One of them looked like she was resisting him, and Paco saw him backhand her before pulling her hair and dragging her to the metal stairs. The three of them disappeared into one of the rooms. It was torture for Paco to sit and wait in the car before confronting Erik, but he knew if he let his emotions get the better of him, costly mistakes could very well be made.
A little before ten o’clock, he and Army got out of the car, pulled their hoodies down low over their faces, crossed the street, and walked upstairs. They knocked on the door, and a deep voice told them to come in.
When they entered the room, the same stocky man they’d seen earlier stood near the dresser, a black briefcase in his hand. A blonde girl of about fifteen, dressed in skimpy lingerie, sat in one of the chairs next to the window while another blonde of about the same age, wearing a skirt that showed the underside of her butt cheeks and a too small top, sat on the bed. Both girls had their eyes cast downward.
He glanced quickly at their gloved hands then took a step back. “Gentlemen. This is Sasha”—he pointed to the teen in the chair, then directed their attention to the girl on the bed—“and this is Gemini.” He snapped open the briefcase and took out a ledger. “You want three hours of… anything goes… with the two women. That’ll cost you three hundred sixty dollars. Credit card?”
“Cash,” Paco said.
A broad smile spread over his face. “Even better.” As he took out a receipt book, Paco pictured a terrified Chelsea cowering in the corner as the dirtbag in front of her beat her. Rage seared his nerves, and he clenched his fists and took a couple of steps toward him.
“Have the chicks take a shower,” Army said.
Erik looked up, surprise etched on his face. “They’re clean. I made sure they took one before they came.”
“If they don’t do it, the deal’s off.” Army crossed his arms and his biceps bulged.
Erik shook his head. “You’re the customers. If you want them to take a shower, they can.” He turned to them. “Get in the shower. Now.” Fear laced the girls’ eyes as they hurried into the bathroom, never once looking at Paco or Army. “Once you pay, I’ll leave you alone with your dates.”
“Only a pussy forces a girl to have sex for money,” Army said.
Erik closed the briefcase and his hand began to slip inside his leather jacket. Paco jumped forward and grabbed his hand, bending it back until the sex trafficker cried out. “Don’t even think it, fucker. Go ahead and hit me, or do you just like hitting women?”
“Are you guys cops?”
“You’re gonna wish we were.” Paco slammed his fist full force into his face. Erik cried out. “That’s for the two women in the bathroom.” Paco jerked his head toward the TV and Army switched it on, turning the volume up. Paco bent Erik’s head down then brought his knee up, smashing Erik’s face.
The man groaned. “Do you want money? Take it.”
“I want retribution for what you did to Chelsea and all the other women, you sick motherfucker.” Another punch, that time to the belly.
“I don’t even know a Chelsea. This is a misunderstanding,” he sputtered.
“Misty, you asshole. You fucking stole her dignity! You forced her to do things shedidnot want to do—fucked up things that she was scared, ashamed, and appalled to be doing. You made her live in hell twenty-four seven. You fucking raped her!”
Army and Paco jumped on him like animals attacking prey. Paco hit his head into the wall so hard the cheap paintings shook. They pulverized him, leaving him in a heap on the beige carpet in his own blood and excrement.
Paco went over to the bathroom door and knocked softly. There was no answer. He knocked again. “Open up. We’re not gonna hurt you,” he said. Once again, he pulled the hoodie low over his head, shadowing his face. Army had done the same and walked over to switch off all the lights but one dim lamp.
The door slowly opened, and the two girls glanced over to Erik’s body then back to him. “Please don’t hurt us. He forced us to be here. We just want to go home.” Sasha’s voice hitched.
