Page 11 of Dom 3
The van smelled like rubber and bleach cleaner. There was a mat like you’d find in a kitchen instead of real van mats and I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I guess they thought it was thoughtful. A moving blanket was bunched in the corner. The engine roared and we took off without so much as the radio on. My heart kicked into an overdrive of fear living rent free in my head. I shut my eyes and tuned in like my life depended on it. Left turn, stop, long wait, right turn, no honks, no yelling, no sirens.Hmmm,I thought to myself hoping it would help. I didn’t know the Miami streets like I did back home.
The wheels rolled over a huge pothole and my heart began to beat outside of my chest. I started counting again. My phone was obviously gone since they swiped it in the alley, as slick as a creep trying to steal a kiss but they missed the backup phone, in between my breast. The thought of everything made my stomachtwist and it was all my fault for going out back, which I was never supposed to do. I swallowed down that lump and kept breathing slowly through my nose.
When the van halted coming to a stop, I opened my eyes. The two up front were whispering and I did hear Hector’s name a few times. Was Hector dead? I wondered. I swore that’s what it sounded like.
“He’ll want her cleaned up,” said the driver. “He hates…” he stooped himself from talking as if he was being interrupted and decided not to finish.
I twisted my hands against the zip tie, as the burning sensation intensified while my thumb rolled, with joints popping. It was the kind of pain that meant you either fainted or pushed through. I breathed slowly and worked at it. The tie loosened just a little bit. I hid my hands under my thighs, rocking them slowly against the mat for friction. The van moved again and again, I tried to remember the turns. The ride started off bumpy at first but was now smooth which meant we’d hit the highway as the bumps stretched out. We were leaving the city but again I couldn’t tell where because I couldn’t smell the ocean at all and the way they had me positioned was impossible to see.
The van crept and turned, and I could tell that we were in some kind of garage, it had to be. The sounds bounced off of concrete, and I could hear the creaking from a door as well as a beep from another vehicle. The van continued to creep and then it stopped. Somewhere outside, someone whistled a tune that I recognized from back in the day when I was a kid. That was the tune those kinds of men sang when pretending life was good before messing it all up for everyone. It wasn’t a good whistle at all, and my stomach twisted in knots.
“Ready?” the first man asked.
“No,” I said, and they laughed like it was something funny and it wasn’t funny to me at all.
The door slid open, and the light burned my eyes as the heat immediately caused me to sweat. The first man placed his hand under my elbow as if I were a woman being helped from a carriage or something.Eww,I thought.Estúpida.“We can do this easy,” he said. “Or we can do it ugly.”
“Death?” I asked, and he smiled.
“Impatient mamacita, no worries, your day is coming,” he winked.
“Yeah, well the trauma makes the clocks hungrier,” I sarcastically replied, causing him to frown at me for having a slick mouth.
They shoved me out and my feet hit the concrete. I kept my head down best not to look like I’m looking. The air smelled like burnt rubber and burned-out brakes. We passed a column painted yellow with numbers B2, Row E. I did make a mental note of that just in case.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“Home,” he said.
“Whose.”
The first guy didn’t bother answering and the other two just moved, as one fiddled with his hat, while the other scanned the garage. There was a door at the end cracked open just enough to see cheap white tile and someone’s foot scraping against the ground. I risked a quick and careful glance, just as peeked through a crack along with the blue sky Out there was my life, or at least the part of it that hadn’t been robbed from me or zip tied. I rolled my thumb against the plastic tie again, feeling it loosen just a little more. Each time hurt, but at this point I was used to pain. It kind of reminded me that I was still here, even though I’d been kidnapped.
Inside, the humid heat had already begun soaking through my uniform and I hated to sweat unless I was working out or getting worked out. I felt the perspiration building up on myneck and got angry all over again. I kept my head down and tried not to look at their faces too much, but every detail did matter on down to the painted columns, the numbers on the doors, the way their shoes sounded on the concrete and everything. I would count their heartbeats if I could hear them.
“Walk,” the first man said, and something in his voice told me he was done being patient with me.
I walked because there was nothing else to do, and the rough plastic digging into my wrists with every step was pissing me off. The garage felt endless at this point simply echoing with footsteps just awaiting what was coming next. I tried to keep my focus and to keep my head clear with every little detail flashing through my mind with my own voice in my head repeating everything unwilling to shut up. I even memorized the way the first guy flicked his wrist in the direction the cameras pointed, which is how I was even aware that cameras were watching us in the first place.
We finally reached a metal door with a keypad and a blinking red camera at the top of it. The man tapped something on the pad and waited for the buzz that meant we were allowed in. I felt like we were being watched and maybe it was El Blanca himself, or maybe some bored security guy somewhere eating donuts. It could’ve also been no one at all and was there for the theatrics. I didn’t let my face give my emotions away, but my eyes probably showed a different story allowing them to believe whatever they wanted
The lock clicked and the man shoved the door open with his knuckles, revealing another guy waiting inside. He had a tattoo on his right wrist of a black Aguila Negra Eagle, which was something I recognized from too many stories and too many warnings back home. This wasn’t random at all… nope… this was planned and very personal. I felt my pulse pick up and tried not to show it. I was in the middle of something big and ugly,and there was no way to know who was watching or what they wanted from me at the moment, but I would soon find out. I kept moving, because sometimes survival was just a matter of momentum and memory.
“Inside,” the first man said.
I obediently stepped forward with my heart thumping like crazy as the garage noise faded behind us. The room was filled with a dim light and dirty white tile, and while on the other side of the door it smelled polluted, on this side everything smelled way too clean, but with that weird, sweet cologne mixed into the air. The door slammed shut; and I was now locked in, and there was no turning back. I thought of Dom and how he’d always seem to see or know every escape route and warn his people about exits that looked safe but weren’t. His voice echoed in my head, and I knew I shouldn’t try to run unless I actually had somewhere to run. I had it all played out in my head. If I took off, I didn’t know where I was going, but at least I’d still be moving trying to survive even if it felt like a trap. My aching wrist snapped me from my foolish thoughts. I’d been working it loose right up under their noses and they still hadn’t noticed. I did one more wiggle with my thumb until something finally popped but not enough to break free.Shit!
All I needed was some kind of a distraction at the right moment and maybe I’d slip my hand out and cause some real trouble if I was going to die anyway. The first guy put his hand on my backside, all fake and gentle like he was guiding me down the hall at some fancy party as my date or something, except there wasn’t a damn thing fancy here. I kept walking, counting every step, and little every sound, no longer caring about taking in my surroundings memorizing faces, shoes, columns, everything I could in case I ever got the chance to run.
“Victoria,” he called like he knew me. I didn’t know him at all.
I lifted my chin. “My name is Valerie,” I replied, with pride of my new identity.
He smiled the kind of smile they usually always did when they wanted to put fear in people. “Not today.”
The tiny room swallowed us and the moment I heard that second bolt click on the door behind me, I felt every inch of freedom vanish like the world had got the best of me. I’d survived cartel wars, and many more bloody situations but at this point, I had to be cursed simply for being El Blanca’s blood. For a few seconds, it went silent as my heart raced and I scanned every face, looking for an answer. Then, out of nowhere, a phone started ringing loudly interrupting the silence. One of the men glanced down looking annoyed as he answered with a grunt in his voice sounding impatient making my gut scream even more. I wished they’d cut all of the dramatics and kill me already if that was the case. He listened and then hung up.
“El patrón changed the plan,” he finally muttered, sliding his phone back inside of his pocket. His eyes cut to me like I was his worst enemy. “We’re taking you back to the spa.”
