All Sales Final

Hector continued. "Not the same anymore, though. You got rapper pussies getting them now. It's a fucking fashion statement. You know what it's like though? It's like in the old West, when they took scalps. Or like serial killers who take a memento. It's a trophy. Every time they see it or feel it, it brings them back to that initial rush. What are they call it? Endorphins?"

"Uhm, yeah, Hector. I think that's it."

"Wally... Where's my sister?"

Wally's foot started tapping and he put his wringing hands under his thighs. "She, uh, I'm not sure. We, uh, went on a cruise and when we got off the ship one time, we got separated. I, uh, haven't seen her since. I don't know if she ran out on me, or what."

"Where did this happen?"

"Mexico."

"Mexico? That's a fucking dangerous place. What did you do? How long did you stay down there?"

"I, uh, I waited for her for a while and reported it to the ship. They could, you know, talk to the local cops. See what they could do."

"Well, you just get back? I mean you must of been spending all your time down there, searching and shit, right?"

"Ah, no, not really. Listen, we weren't really getting along too good, you know? I think she just took off. I mean she had money and everything and she had been pretty pissed off lately, and things had been pretty bad for a while. I came back here because I thought she might cool off and come home and I wanted to be here for her."

"Yeah? That's real nice. Real nice, Wally. Good thinking. Hey, that computer kid I was telling you about? It's a fucking crazy what he can do. If you download a program from this site? He's got this master program from the same site, and if you give him a number from your computer, he can take it over and work it from wherever he is. He can control the whole damn thing. Crazy, right?"

You've been back from your cruise for what, 38 days? Remember what I was saying about trophies, and shit? It seems that you visited the same webpage 114 times in those 38 days."

Hector reached to his side, grabbed Wally's laptop, and hurled it at him. Striking a glancing blow on his brow, blood started leaking down his face immediately.

"You want to explain to me how a Mexican whore-house has a website with a photo of my sister listed as 'American MILF'? You wanna FUCKING EXPLAIN THAT?"

Wally started crying. "She was cheating on me! She was fucking some guy on the side. Everybody knew it. She was humiliating me! A friend of mine, someone I knew since we were kids told me. He had pictures, Hec! He had pictures. You have any idea how humiliating that is? She's, she's gonna be fine. Two years and they let her go. I couldn't... I just couldn't... It was like she was rubbing my nose in it."

"You stupid, stupid fuck. You know who she was with? Arnie Coleman. You know how many times? Once. That name should ring a bell. He works for Northtown Billy, the fucking bookie you were into. It took me less than a day to find out that she was with that piece of crap to buy you time. They were coming to kill you, Wally. She sold herself to buy you two weeks and to stop the vig.

"What were you... How could... What the fuck? What sort of piece of shit would sell a woman to a whore-house? I don't care what the fuck she did. She piss you off? She humiliates you? She cheats on you? Fine. Leave her. Take all the money. Send photos of her getting laid to her family. Burn the fucking house down. But sell a human being to a whore-house?

"It takes a lot to rattle me. I've seen and done a lot of fucked up shit, but... You're not even a person. You're a fucking cockroach. What sort of subhuman thinks that is okay? You tell your friends? You small-dicked losers sit around a table in a dark room thinking about what you did to my sister and laugh? They all clap you on the back, like you're some sort of fucking hero? Bunch of pussy losers kissing ass to the king loser. That was what was going on?"

Hector slowly stood up. "You sold my sister to a whore-house for the crime of saving your life. I hope you enjoyed the last month, 'cause that's all she bought you. You ever hear of a curb stomp, Wally? Were gonna have some fun for the next hour, you and I."

Within two hours, Hector was driving back south, leaving the corpse behind in the home for which his sister had paid the bills.

Hector drove with one hand manipulating his Samsung Galaxy. Getting his large fingers to press the right prompts, he placed the phone on the seat next to him and began.

"Hey, Ann. I guess this is another message I'm never going to send to you. Was thinking about Jim tonight. You know how he always had that thing? How he could always see what was right and what was wrong? And then fuck it if it was difficult, he did the right thing anyway? I'm not sure, but I think I had one of those nights tonight.

"It's sort of hard for me to tell, but I think I did the right thing. Jim was always my, I don't know, conscience or something. He'd laugh if he heard that. Anyway, I've been keeping my head down and staying under the radar for the past few years but some shit came up and some people that have been looking for me may be coming around.

"I know what you're thinking. What would you care what happens to me? I get it. I should've looked out for you or at least taken care of things after the fact if Jim wasn't around. I didn't and I gotta carry that shit with me. Anyway, Jim was my friend and he would've loved your son to death. Probably been his godfather or something. So, I've got a little over 22 grand saved up for your boy for college or something. If shit goes wrong for me, I have some people that will make sure you get the money.

"If I live through this, I'll just keep throwing more cash in when I can. You know, I can't talk to Jim. I tried. A bunch of times. Tried to do it at a church. I thought that was a good choice. Chickened out there. Went down to a high school football field around midnight with a six-pack and set my fat ass on the 50 yard line. Couldn't do it there either.

"It's good though. What does he need to hear from me for, huh? He's up there talking to the good people and hanging with your mom and grandma and his pop and I'm down here. I think we both know I'll be headed in the opposite direction. I just woulda liked to have told him I was sorry, ya know?

"Anyway, calling you is out of the fucking question. I know where I stand with you, and I get it. I'm no good at writing, so letters are out. These messages seem to help. Maybe one day I'll get the balls to actually send them to you. You deserved better, Ann.

"I'm trying to be a better man. I'm trying to be like Jim, even if it's too fucking late. I'm really trying Ann."

After wiping his eyes he leaned over and turned off the recording program.

Two hours later he was back in San Diego. Hector went directly to his shop and slept for a few hours on the couch in his office. The smell of coffee pulled him from his sleep and he slowly got up, stretched and audibly cracked his back. Opening the door, he called out to the office manager.

"Angelina! Got a minute?"

She was in his office by the time he was behind his desk and sitting down. "You look like crap, boss."

"Thanks. Morning to you too. When Pedro gets in, I need you to quietly tell him I need to speak to him. It's personal stuff, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. You okay?"

"Sure. All good."

"All right. There's one of those travel toothbrushes in the drawer to your left. You might want to use it."

"Okay, thanks. Angie? I appreciate the help."

There was an extra twitch in her hips as she walked out of the office. "That's why you pay me the big bucks, Teddy."

Pedro was one of the men he had hired from prison. Hector knew he had spent some time in Mexico and had relatives in the Yucatán. Within a few hours, Pedro had some leads for his employer.

Hector quickly met with Phil, a quiet older man who lacked ambition but knew the business better than anyone else he knew. Phil and Angie would keep an eye on the place until he got back. Angie booked him a flight leaving that evening for Manuel Crescencio Rejon International Airport.

It was time to dress for the party. Hector knew one, but he knew what to look for by experience. His Spanish was serviceable, and he hailed a cab. Cab drivers were always a good source of information.

"Estoy buscando un cierto tipo de Club nocturne," he said. Likely, a nightclub or bar would be the best chance at a contact.

"Qué clase de Club nocturne? Buscas para una dama?"

Hector laughed. He was looking for a lady, but not there and not for entertainment.

"No, necesito algunas herramientas." he said. " He didn't want to spell it out, but he needed the driver to get the idea.

"Quieres un arma?" the driver asked. Well, that had escalated quickly. Evidently the driver had no problems with Hector wanting a gun.

"Sí, tal vez varias armas." Hector said.

"No, problema. Roberto conoce a alguien." Of course, cab drivers always knew someone.

"Cien dólares, dólares americanos, para que me presents," Hector said.

It was a twenty minute drive, and the cab pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. There was a sign outside advertising auto-body work. Roberto got out and held Hector's door. They went inside and Roberto spoke briefly with a man at the desk. The man got on the phone and spoke a few words. He got up and led them down a hall and opened a door at the end. Hector was unprepared for what was inside.

It began with the rich mahogany paneling and woodwork, included the leather furnishings and concluded at the woman behind the desk. She was stunning. She stood, and Hector found her eyes almost on his level. As she moved around the desk he could see the platform sandals, but she was still tall. There was a mane of dark curls sweeping down her back, almost to her waist, highlighted with auburn tints. She was slender but muscular, and the white sheath dress she was filling to perfection set off her dusky complexion perfectly. It was her eyes that captivated him the most. They were dark, almost black pools, liquid and mesmerizing. He was tongue-tied as introductions were made. She was Ms. Flores, and her handshake was firm and cool.

Roberto and the man from the front desk left Hector and Ms. Flores alone. They both took seats, she behind her desk and he in a very comfortable chair.

"No sé por dónde empezar," Hector said.

She laughed and it sent a thrill through him. "Why not start at the beginning," she said. "I speak English, Mr. Whitebread." Her eyebrows rose at the use of the name he had offered.

"Whew! That's good," he wiped his brow. "My Spanish hasn't been out of storage for a while."

"I understand," she said. Hector loved hearing her voice. It was low and just a little husky, sounding like she should be singing old jazz.

"Okay, the beginning," he said. "I have a sister..." Hector held nothing back, giving her the whole story. For some reason, maybe because of that breath-takingly beautiful vision she made, he felt like she was someone he could trust.

"What are your plans?" she asked. "Are you going in like an avenging angel? I know this place. They specialize in Anglo women, most held against their will. There are many guards, armed ones. How tough are you, Mr. Whitebread?"

"Please, it's just Hector," he said.

"Héctor," she said, as if tasting the word. "Me, I am Jacin. How tough are you, Héctor?"

"She's my sister, Jacin. As tough as I need to be," he said.

"Good, because you are going to need to be very tough," she said. "What do you want from me?"

"Well, I didn't expect a hell of a lot when I came in here," Hector said. "Now, I think I need to reevaluate. I need weapons, any information I can get on the place and the organization, whatever support you'll let me pay you to give."

She steepled her fingers, placed her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her fingers. She appeared to be thinking, and Hector didn't want to disturb her.

She sighed and settled back in her chair. "No, I cannot risk it," she said.

"Can't risk what?" he asked.

Jacin looked at him. "I have my own reasons for... como se dice... wishing these people harm. I have done so for a long time. They are quite powerful, though, and taking them down will not be easy. I have no idea how capable you are, but I know how capable my men are and how capable their men are."

"Tell me how capable they are. I'll tell you how fuc... capable I am."

She smiled at his slip. "I know many swear words," she said. We call them palabras sucias."

He laughed. "Dirty words, huh? Well, I use a lot of them, but I try to keep it in check around people I don't know, and especially ladies I don't know."

She shrugged and it was a motion he wanted to see again. "Me, I have class, but I swear a little." She flashed him a mischievous smile. God, she was beautiful!

"Well, Ms. Class, I can only tell you that I was once the president of an MC. You know what that is? Like the movies and shit, but real?" he said. "I've been in wars, had more fights than I can remember, and I've got the scars to show for it. I gave that up and I'm not a violent person anymore, but I'm ready to get that way. Do you know who John Wick is?"

She flashed him another of those blinding smiles. "Si, the movie character. But you have no dog, Héctor."

He felt the belly laugh rumble out. "You're a hell of a lady," he finally managed. He got serious. "I have a sister. I love her and I'd die for her. I'm going to get her out, Jacin. I'm going to maim and kill and destroy anyone who gets in my way, and I'm not going to stop."

"This thing, Mr. Héctor Whitebread, it will take considerable money. You can pay up, as they say?"

He offered a grim smile. "That won't be a problem. I have a good chunk of what the brothel paid my capullo brother-in-law. They'll be paying for the weapons and services used against them."

"Ah. I see. Well, no discounts then. Brothel pays full price."

She looked into his eyes. He didn't know what she was searching for, but she seemed to make up her mind. "I will help you," she said.

"You will?"

She nodded. "I, too, have a sister. She is many years older than I. She had a daughter, my niece, not so much younger than me. She was... taken by those people. Not the same ones, but like them. I could do nothing. It was then that I began this business. My niece, she did not come back. I loved her very much. I can now protect myself and those I love. I have done many evil things to get in this position, and I will help you."

"What kind of weapons do you have?" he asked.

"Many," she said. "I will show you. They are not here. Will you have dinner with me, Héctor?"

"Believe me, Jacin, you're a beautiful woman, and under normal circumstances I'd like nothing better. Hell, I would never ask you out. You're way out of my league, lady, but if you asked me, I'd be all over it. This isn't a normal circumstance."

Her obsidian eyes flashed at him. "I decide what class I am in," she said. "You do not tell me!"

"Whoa, sorry," Hector held up his hands. "Yes, God yes, I'll go to dinner with you."

"This is good," she relaxed in her chair. "It is necessary."

That remark seemed cryptic until after dinner. She took him to a restaurant and most of the food was delicious. She took great delight in his expression of pain as he sampled one dish that had him breathing fire. She ate it like candy, but he sweated in misery after one bite, gulping his water, then beer, in an attempt to put out the flames in his mouth.

They finished, and she slid out of her chair, standing and waiting for him to get up. She took his hand, leading him back into the kitchen area, through and down a corridor to a set of stairs leading down into a basement. No one objected to them passing through the kitchen and she smiled at his apprehension. "I own the restaurant," she explained.

There was a heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairs and a very tough looking armed man outside. He nodded at Jacin, took keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

They walked inside. The room was climate controlled and he could hear the swish of air-conditioning. What greeted him was row upon row of shiny metal, lining the walls and in racks around the room. Guns: as she had said, many guns.

"Holy shit, Jacin! You could outfit an army!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, perhaps," she said. "I do not have an army. This is, como se dice, merchandise. I have five good men. One may hire not-so-good men, but they are just street criminals. Do you see anything you like, Héctor?"

He walked down the rows. She had quality weapons. The rifles were mostly AK47s and AR15s. Both had advantages, but Hector was interested in the AKs. The 7.62x39 round just packed a bigger whollop. She had several from Arsenal, in the SLR series and he picked one of the SLR107Rs with the fixed stock.

"Nice," he said. "How much do you sell this bad boy for?"

"That one is about $1300, American," she said.

"Nice little profit, but I gotta say, you aren't breaking the bank."

"I try to deliver a good product at a good price," she said.

There were rows of hand-guns across the room, and Hector looked them over. They all seemed to be chambered for the 9x19 Parabellum, except one, and he picked up an FN Five Seven. It felt good.

"Good choice," Jacin said. "This weapon will pierce a standard CRISAT vest at 100 meters."

"You think the bastards are gonna be wearing vests?" he asked.

"No, but it is possible," she said. "I do not have this information. I will try to get it."

"Do you sell vests?" he asked.

"Si." She nodded. "I have the IBA vests."

"Damn, lady, you know your shit," Hector said. This was a hell of an impressive woman.

"Yes." She flashed one of those smiles. "I know my shit."

"Let's go back up and have a drink," Hector said.

She motioned for him to precede her, and they went back upstairs, sitting at the bar, and they ordered. It was crowded, but there were four stools separating them from their nearest neighbor. If they spoke quietly, no one would overhear.

They discussed what he needed to know, mostly how many security personnel he would need to be aware of, where they might be, how soon law enforcement might arrive, where the women would be held at different times and they came up with a plan. She agreed to let him hire three of her "good" men and outfit him.

Their business over, Hector realized that he didn't want the night to end. "Jacin, you, uh, you wanna go find a place with music and dance a little?" he asked.

She looked startled. "No, Héctor, I have much to do for you tomorrow, and I believe I should sleep," she said.

She seemed to sense his disappointment. "Héctor, it is not that I do not wish to go dancing," she said. "Jacin very much likes dancing, and I would love to go with you on another occasion, but this is bad time, no? You should rest, make your mind sharp, prepare yourself. I will do the same. It is good?"

He sighed. "Yeah, you're right, of course. I got a little carried away there."

She dazzled him with that smile. "Yes, I, too, could become carried away. Let us go."

She got the bartender to get Hector a cab, they walked outside and she waited with him until it arrived.

He thought he should say something. "Jacin, I've never met anyone like you before. You're just so damn beautiful, and you're helping me, and shit. I just want you to know I think you're pretty special, and I'm grateful you're helping me like this. I never dreamed when I climbed into that cab I could be this lucky. Thanks."

He extended his hand and she took in in a strong grip. "You are most welcome, Héctor. Hasta mañana."

She stepped toward him, her lips brushing his, and then she was gone, that mane of hair swirling around her and the tilt of her hips fascinating as she walked away toward her car.