“I don’t like repeating myself, Hector. Con rapidez.”
“Sofía. Her name is Sofía, but—” Finally, he offers what I need.
“That is all, Hector,” I bite out. The sweet little Sofía Montero will be brought to me, and I’ll keep her as payment for what her father took from me.
“Please, Mr—”
“Bueno. You’ve pleased me today. I will allow you to live, for now.” I stalk closer, lifting my foot. I place one shiny black sole on the chair between his legs, causing him to cower in fear. “I’ll pay a visit to your home, ensure your daughter is taken care of.”
“Please, don’t hurt her, Victor, Mr. Cordero,” he pleads tearfully. His face is contorted in agony as I press the toe of my shoe against his crotch, which is shriveled from the cold.
“You stole from me, Hector, which means only one thing.” I allow my sentence to hang in the air between us. I don’t have to tell him what I plan to do because it’s obvious.
“No, please, por favor.” His voice cracks, and I know there’s no wife to speak of, because if there was, he’d have mentioned her.
“Where is she?” He stares at me dumbstruck. Even if he refuses to tell me, I’ll find her. “Hector, you know I have contacts, I’ll find her.”
“Señor, por favor, por favor.” He repeats his plea, only making me angrier with each passing second. My shoe makes contact with his dick, pressing down harder, causing him to cry out in agony when I feel the flesh give way under the pressure.
“Put him in a holding cell down at the dock, I want to find the girl first.” Turning, I leave my men to clean up the mess and the stench that’s been burning through my nostrils for the past ten minutes. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hit dial on the number of one of my contacts who I sent earlier to Hector’s house.
“Sir.”
“Have you found anything?”
“The house is empty, doesn’t look like anyone has lived here for a few days. And there’s no sign of a girl.” Shaking my head, I hang up without responding to him. I pull out a packet of cigarettes, tapping one out, before lighting it with the silver Zippo with the crest of my organization emblazoned on the side.
As we make our way to the black SUV, I turn to my right. “Javier, I want the best man for this job. The girl is my payment from Hector, and I would like to ensure my payment arrives safely,” I tell the only man I trust with my life.
“I’ll call Díago,” he tells me, with an efficient nod, while pulling out his cell phone.
Díago is an expert in making a kill. I’ve heard whispers about him, and I’m certain he’s heard about me. Today, I will ask for his help in collecting the girl, and his payment will be substantial. What he’s best known for is slicing men from head to toe, but today, he’ll work for the king of Colombia.
6
Sofía
The moment I step into the house, I wonder why my father isn’t home. It’s almost eight, and he never stays out this late. Setting my purse on the table, I pull out my cell phone and hit dial on his number. It rings a few times before going to voicemail. I try once more finding it going directly to the messages this time which sets unease coiling in my stomach.
“Papá, where are you? Call me.”
I hang up, resigned to making ramen noodles for dinner. Even though my father works late at times, he never, and I mean never allows his phone to go to voicemail. An eerie feeling overtakes me and a cold shiver trickles down my spine.
If my father doesn’t come home soon, I’ll have to call his work. I’ve never needed to call the number that’s pinned to the fridge, but if I have to, I will.
Sighing, I grab the pot from the sink and give it a quick wash before filling it and setting it on the cooker. My phone vibrates, and I’m sure it’s papá, but when I glance at the screen, I notice it’s the reminder to take my medication. The same medicine that’s running out. I should lower my dosage to make sure I have some left until we can afford more, but my head is spinning from the heat and not having eaten, so I open my purse and find the tablets.
Swallowing two tablets, I gulp them down with a swig of water from the bottle I keep in the fridge. I should’ve eaten first. They make me drowsy, and the water is only just boiling now. In five minutes, I’ll be almost passed out on the sofa if I’m not careful.
There’s nothing I can do to stop this sickness that’s eating away at me. The doctors did tests, but we ran out of money before they could offer me any advice as to what they can do. I’ve read up on it, and I know there’s a surgery to halt it in its tracks, but with the cost of my mother’s funeral, and the expenses of my father’s car, the house, and school, there’s no money left for my medication.