“Here we go,” I breathe out, stepping out of the car. A man and two others get out of the van and greet my father as I approach, their small talk so quiet I can barely hear what’s being said.
“I promise you my product is the best, you won’t find any better,” the man says with a cheesy smile, his accent so thick the English he does speak is choppy and hard to understand. The glow from the headlights dance around his face show stubble and thick lips, his skin golden dark. He’s wearing a long tan coat with a scarf around his neck, the men behind him in dark slacks and white button-ups. I’ve never seen them around before, and I don’t remember Kieran ever mentioning them. I look to the van, curious what they’re hauling. Drugs, guns?
Taking a step away from the man and his sales pitch, I tread lightly to the van and cup my hands around my face and peer inside the glass window. Something moves, dainty chatter from inside making my eyes widen. My brows furrow, and my mouth parts. What the fuck is in there? There’s people inside, and judging from the movement I saw, quite a few. Is Dad buying men to work for us? My mind races with what’s inside, and I do what no man should ever do in a trade.
I head to the other side of the van and jerk the doors open, finding a slew of women.
Their faces frightened, the smell of body odor strong, and sounds of light cries make my skin crawl.
NO!
I’m not being a part of this. Taking advantage of women is not something I wish to participate in. I don’t know, maybe it’s because of my mother I refuse to see a woman as an object. Either way, I simply can’t do this. My stomach rolls, and the urge to puke has me swallowing twice.
“Hey! Hey!” The man points at me, rounding the van. The one trying to sell these women. I ignore him.
“Do you know what the fuck he’s trying to sell you?” I look to my dad, who follows the man around the van. He glances at the women, his face seeming unaffected by their terror. He knew about this?
“I’m not doing this. I won’t be a part of this,” I tell him, shaking my head. I’ll kill, rob, beat the shit out of, and even bury someone alive, but I won’t have any part in trafficking women.
“Problem?” the guy asks, looking to my father and then to me. I run my hands through my hair, stepping away from the van as if it’s holding a ticking bomb.
“Yeah, there’s a problem. We won’t be buying,” I sneer, my hair falling back into my eyes.
“Romeo,” Father warns me, as if I’m embarrassing him.
“This is good, these are good!” the man shouts, his face pulling into anger.
“Are you kidding me?” My head tilts to the side with disbelief.
“You can do whatever you want with them. Sex, drugs, anything you—”
I pull my gun from its holster ready to kill this guy and do the world a favor. His two men draw their guns, aiming right at me.
Tony and Leo pull theirs from their holsters and point them as well and it’s instantly a giant shitshow. Maybe I could have pulled my father to the side and told him what I thought of this exchange, been more collected and cool about the whole thing but… fuck that. I knew my father was going to bring me into the worst possible situation, and he did.
The man reaches inside the van, jerking a woman out until she falls on her feet. He takes a gun from one of his men and points it at her.
She weeps, her long hair covering her face like a dark curtain of mud and tangles. Her fingers digging into the ground as her knees shake with terror.
“You take one, or I kill her!” he threatens. My eyes pop to his. “You disrespect me, and my product. You take one.” He pulls the chamber back and aims back at her, women inside of the van scream and hold on to one another. “Or I kill her!” he repeats.
My heart races inside my chest, my palm sweaty and finger caressing the trigger. If I shoot him he’d still manage to shoot her, and one of his men will shoot me, or the man would shoot me and his other goon shoot one of my uncles or father. Either way, someone is getting shot and killed if I don’t accept this woman.
I lower my gun, my lips pressed into a fine line. I can’t say it. I won’t say I’ll take her.
“Sold,” my father says, reaching out and pressing his hand on the man’s gun, lowering its aim to the ground.
The man lifts his shoulders as a way to relax himself and hands the gun to his goon.
“Good.” He smiles and looks to my father.
“You’ll see, you will like and you will contact me for more,” the man says, in short words. His English shit.
Dad pulls out his phone, the screen lighting up his face like a ghost in the night. One that hunts under bridges and buys innocent women.
“The money has been wired. Now I think you’d better leave before I lose my temper for your disrespect at my son,” Father says with a sharp tongue, his nostrils flaring. Shock has my mouth parting, he’s standing up for me instead of being angry. This is a first. I was sure he’d tell the guy to just go ahead and kill me.
The man gives a curt
