The Ranch Ch. 09

Greg, intelligent as he was dangerous, sensed the conflict raging within Dom. Laughing heartily, he relaxed in his seat and leaned back to survey the flurry of landscape through the window.

"Where now, boss?" he asked mockingly.

"As far as fucking possible," Dom brusquely replied, in no mood for Greg's usual banter. Greg always made light of unfortunate circumstances. Dom found this relatively amusing, but only when those circumstances were suffered by someone other than him.

**********************************************

Samson was bulky, with watery light-blue eyes and thick, wavy blonde hair cropped at the neck. Despite his wealth, he dressed quite plainly. There was no extravagance about his appearance, no designer logos on his clothes or gold chains about his neck. Thickset with a slight paunch, he wore a red cotton t-shirt which stretched around his torso and loose board shorts. Of the two of them, Alex looked the part of a high-flying trafficker, and Samson could have been an unemployed surfer.

Mark and Cory sat together several metres away, both in black suits. Mark's dark, lush hair and deep blue gaze sharply contrasted to Cory's short, ash-brown buzz-cut and light brown eyes. Accustomed to corporate life, Mark had no issue with the outfit, but Cory complained constantly about being dressed as what he argued was a gigolo getup.

"So, what's your price?" Samson drawled, tapping the end of his car key on the table.

Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "Negotiable."

Samson leaned across the small, round bar table. "This really isn't your field, Alex," he smiled knowingly, before leaning back in his seat. "But a favour is a favour, and I am a businessman. Tell me about her."

"She's young, 19. Latino. A virgin."

Samson's eyebrows shot upwards and he paused lighting his cigarette. "Where on earth did you procure this friendless virgin?"

Alex jerked his head in Mark's direction. "He killed her father."

Mark stiffened, taking offence.

"Hmm," Samson finished lighting up and took a long, contemplative draw. "Interesting." Smoke spurted from his nostrils. "How was she verified?"

"You can check her, if you want to buy," Alex said shortly. "We'll talk first. Then I'll bring her out, but not before. She spooks very easily."

Samson showed his teeth in a wide, nasty grin. "Aren't those just the best?"

"What have you been up to since I bailed you out?" Alex turned the conversation, and signalled for service.

"Business as usual," Samson answered, waiting for the bartender to retreat. "I don't drink when I'm working."

"No problem." Alex poured himself a whiskey.

"I heard you got in a fix yourself," Samson remarked, drawing on the cigarette.

In the background, Mark and Cory tensed. It wouldn't be long before Alex's clash with the Castillos would be known, but the question was how fast news travelled.

"I'm always in trouble," Alex said wryly, peering into his glass. "What did you hear?"

"Supplier problem. Is that why you're on my turf?"

"Nope." Alex tossed the glass, relieved. "I just see a one-off opportunity for extra cash."

"If you're thinking about coming in, it better be through me." Samson spoke lightly, but the threatening undertone was clear.

"I just have a girl to get rid of."

"Good."

"How are things on your end? You still supply to the Castillos?"

"Mmmph." Samson nodded, lighting another smoke. "But they're retreating. Weird shit. I stay out of it."

Alex casually poured himself another whiskey, and only by a slight tilt of his head did Mark express disapproval. "Retreating? What'd you hear?"

"Are we here to deal, or gossip like girls?" Samson complained, coughing. "It's a fucking soap opera. First, they slow their buys. Then, they start fussing over some princess."

Unnoticed, Mark and Cory exchanged a quick glance.

"And the psycho I dealt with, he's in the shit. Living on borrowed time. Big surprise. Didn't need a crystal ball to see that coming." He stubbed out the cigarette. "Enough. Show me the girl."

"You haven't made an offer."

The cloud of smoke around Samson dispersed in a swirl as he gestured scornfully. "You expect me to offer on what I never laid eyes on? Am I fucking naïve?"

Alex raised his chin, considering punching Samson in the face. Remembering he was there for a purpose, he turned to Mark and Cory.

Mark slowly stood and went into a back room.

"So, must be some princess," Alex continued conversationally. "Where was she from?"

Samson shrugged. "Who knows. Heaven, by the sounds. Wow. Ok."

Whistling, Samson pushed his seat back as Mark re-emerged with Rosa. Cory stiffened as Samson openly leered at the girl.

"Come here, honey. I won't bite," Samson teased. Leaning back in his seat, he picked a little instant camera from his pocket and snapped a photo of Rosa. A small, white-bordered slip of film popped out. Samson dropped the Polaroid on the table and shifted his attention back to Rosa.

Steeled for the worst, Rosa slightly resisted Mark's grip on her arm as she was reluctantly brought before Samson.

"You have my attention. This hot, and a virgin?" Samson shook his head. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Samson clicked his fingers, and another man emerged from the shadows of the underground pub. "I don't want to throw numbers around needlessly, let's check her now."

"Now?" Alex's voice tremored slightly. "But how-"

"He does this all the time," Samson said reassuringly, settling in his seat. "And I like to watch." He craned up at Mark's height and impatiently tapped his finger on the table before him. "Bend her over, Goliath."

"Better on her back," the newcomer muttered, pulling a thin plastic glove down one hand with a definitive snap.

Samson shrugged.

Rosa looked beseechingly up at Mark, but didn't fight. Mark looked sharply at Alex, and Cory had slowly risen from the background, ready to intervene.

"I'm not a fucking butcher," Samson snapped, misinterpreting the nervous hesitancy around him. "We won't pop her, give me some fucking credit. Jesus Christ."

Rosa's face was initially white as a sheet, but her cheeks filled with colour as Mark hitched her skirt up, his large hands sliding up her bare thighs. Hooking his fingers over the edges of her panties, Mark glanced to Alex for help. But Alex calmly stared at a spot on the floor, seemingly bored, though gripping his glass rather tightly.

"Aw, you adorable blusher," Samson gushed, as though offering praise. "They're usually drugged and pale as fuck," he said in an aside to Mark, his eyes still fixed on Rosa's pretty face with a predatory gleam.

Unable to stall any longer, Mark took a breath and pulled Rosa's panties down over her ankles and gently lifted her onto the table. He averted his eyes from her nakedness, and quickly moved to stand behind her. Under the pretence of preventing her escape, he firmly placed his hands on her shoulders, knowing she would be grateful for the support. Samson leaned forward eagerly.

"Finger-licking good," he grinned, smacking his lips. Rosa flinched as Samson's coarse fingertips traced down her pussy and spread her open. Holding her more exposed than she'd ever imagined possible, Samson beckoned his associate.

The gloved man wasted no time. Spitting on his fingers, he stood between Rosa's legs and carefully inserted two fingers into her pussy. Already nervous and tense, Rosa jumped and whimpered at the intrusion, but the man's other hand gripped her hip and held her steady. Mark gently pressed her shoulders, and Rosa relaxed a little.

"Yep," the man confirmed, withdrawing his hand and discarding the glove without ceremony.

"You sure?" Samson asked, clearly disappointed by the efficiency. "You should check again."

They all jumped as Alex's fist hit the table.

"You're not the only businessman in the room," he said levelly. "I don't cut corners, and I don't tamper. You can do what you want with her, when she's yours. Make an offer."

Samson eyed Alex with new respect, while Mark briskly redressed Rosa and brought her to Cory. Rosa complied with Mark in a daze, and Cory's jaw tightened at the tears streaming down her face, but said nothing as he quietly led her from the room.

"Didn't seem so spooked," Samson complained. Lighting up again, he contemplatively drew on the cigarette. "Young girls are a dime a dozen, but they're no virgins. She has potential," he said musingly, more to himself than Alex. He ran a finger down the Polaroid on the table. "I did fancy that demure blush. So will customers. Could pass for younger. Is she educated?"

"She can speak English, and Spanish," Alex confirmed. "Educated to her year," he added clumsily, furious with himself for failing to anticipate the question.

"Doesn't matter. She's good stock. Hey, where's your lackey, Bert?" Samson asked, looking at Mark.

"Out of the country. He's not my keeper. He doesn't condone this business."

"No cut for him, huh? His loss," Samson chuckled, beckoning the bartender. "I'll admit, I reckoned this would be a waste of time. You always surprise me, Al. In a good way." His grin grew wider as his glass filled with alcohol. "I know this isn't your thing, but I hope you'll consider this deal an enticer. I could use your muscle in my operation."

Alex slowly straightened in his seat, as the change in Samson made sense with startling clarity. The mood had switched to a positive note after Rosa was shown, and Samson was already celebrating a done deal without negotiating numbers.

Mark narrowed his eyes at Alex's subtle change, sensing his barely discernible uneasiness. Transferring his gaze to Samson, who seemed practically jovial, he wondered what had happened to worry Alex. As far as Mark could see, the trafficker was more sociable than ever. But by the distinct difference in Alex's body language, something was definitely wrong.

Under the guise of casual converse, Alex glanced about the room, noting the rooms occupants, and the exits. Mark's fears heightened as he saw Alex shift in his seat, flicking his shirt so the gun under his waistband was close by his palm.

When Samson's phone rang, Alex took the opportunity to saunter over to Mark.

"Get Rosa in the car, now," he softly ordered.

"What's going on?" Mark murmured, carefully maintaining a relaxed stance.

"He wants her."

"So?"

"You don't understand," Alex grinned for the benefit of anyone watching. "He wants her. There is no negotiation. He has money to throw around, and I won't be in a position to refuse. If I do, it won't make sense. It will look very suspicious. Understand?"

Mark grimaced.

"Wipe that fucking look off your face, and get both of them out of here," Alex slapped Mark's shoulder as though they'd shared a joke.

"Hey, ladies!" Samson called, still in a good mood. "Let's drink to a bargain. Actually-" he coughed, stubbing out the cigarette. "I wanna test the girl's cocksucking skills. Bring her out."

Alex straightened, but before he could reply, Mark abruptly left the room.

"He's keen," Samson commented, chuckling.

"Yeah." Alex looked toward the door, hoping Mark got Rosa and Cory a good distance before things turned ugly. "So, I'm curious about the Castillos-"

"Oh yeah. That girl," Samson leaned forward confidingly, now completely at ease. "From what I heard, she would sell for a price that would fund my retirement."

"Wow." Alex shook his head, playing impressed. "Must be under lock and key."

"There's an understatement. The Vinehouse, about five hours drive from here. Fronts as a winery, but not open for business, know what I mean? Out in the fucking sticks," Samson pulled a face, not a fan of fresh air and nature.

"I know the place," Alex remarked. It was true, The Vinehouse was beyond the borders of the city. A very private property perfect for coordinating all kinds of unsavoury exchanges.

Shaking his head, Samson contemplated the Castillos. "They're good-looking, with money. But I never heard of a female spending time with them willingly." He broke off and chuckled.

"Then again, they don't all come out alive, do they?" He laughed harder as though he'd made a clever joke, before glaring toward the door Mark exited. "My cock isn't gonna suck itself. Where the fuck is she?"

Before Samson drew another breath, Alex's fist ploughed into his face. Samson's neck snapped to the side as his chair toppled backward, taking the small table down with him. Alex stood and looked down at his unconscious associate, before drawing his gun and shooting the bartender before he reached whatever weapon was stored beneath the counter. Taking aim at the startled 'virginity checker', Alex's blue-green eyes flared malevolently.

"I-I'm not armed!" the man stuttered, rushing forward with both hands raised.

Looking at the man's long fingers, it only took a split second for Alex to contemplate how many girls were invasively inspected before enslavement.

"Sorry, not sorry," Alex quipped, and pulled the trigger. Moving forward to check for cameras, he remembered Samson would never conduct business under surveillance.

After a lifetime of criminal activity, it took less than a minute to wipe the glass and table clean of his prints. Wiping the gun, he bent to press it into Samson's hand, before dropping it by his palm.

Praying Mark wasn't joking about helping in the aftermath, Alex cast one last glace about the enclosed room before bolting out the door.

**********************************************

Mark paused outside Rosa's room, eyes narrowed as he heard her voice raised in anger.

"If I knew you would be this way, I wouldn't have called!" she said heatedly. "At least I am doing something! You just want to hide away as if nothing happened!"

Mark abruptly opened the door and pointed at the phone. "Turn that off. Now."

"It's my mum," Rosa explained, still shocked by his sudden intrusion.

Mark's jaw clenched. "Now!" he growled.

Rosa handed the phone to him. "Tell her I'm safe."

Marks blue eyes blazed with fury as reluctantly raised the phone to his ear.

"This is Mark Benedict. Your daughter is safe-" he began bluntly, preparing to end the call. But the woman on the other side cut in.

"Mark, you don't understand. You have to bring her back-"

"She won't listen-"

"You must bring her back!" the woman interrupted again, her voice on the edge of hysteria. "She can't be there. Please!"

"I promise we'll take care of her," Mark said heavily, closing his eyes as he made the one guarantee he was determined to never give.

"How can I make you understand?" the woman screamed in his ear, all civility gone. "She is not safe! You forget her sisters!"

"She is safe! You have my word!" Mark hung up, exasperated. Stiff with fury, he slowly turned to Rosa, who stared at the floor a little sheepishly.

"We were clear about calls." His voice quivered with anger. "What part of that confused you? What did you tell her?"

"I just wanted her to know I was ok..." Rosa feebly explained, cowering as Mark angrily stepped toward her.

Mark didn't trust himself to speak. Not only had Rosa blatantly broken a rule which could see their plans undone, he was burdened - forced to make a promise to a parent, that he wasn't entirely sure he could keep.

Looking down at the phone in his shaking hand, he suddenly punched it with enough force to crack the screen. Rosa gasped with fright but didn't say a word as Mark stormed past, slamming the door behind him.

**********************************************

"Enough is enough. She has to go," Mark stated with fierce determination. Large arms crossed, he sat at the small work-desk in Cory's room.

Cory lounged against the door, also with his arms crossed. "She'll be safer with us."

Mark stared at him, the blue in his eyes brightened with barely-controlled ferocity. "This has dragged out long enough. We've been lucky so far with such a liability."

Cory dropped his gaze to the floor and moved to pack away his clothes, scattered untidily across the bed.

Recognising Cory's stubborn mood and anticipating the battle in store, Mark raised his chin and leaned back in his seat. "Ok, convince me. Why should we keep her?"

"We-" Cory paused, his eyes momentarily startled. "She's been through a lot," he continued shortly. Beginning to shove clothes into his bag, he hoped Mark wasn't his usual perceptive self.

"We?" Mark immediately queried, too sharp to miss Cory's slip up. "Explain, Cory."

"It was nothing. It's nothing," Cory said quickly, knowing he'd stepped right into it. "Something minor I'd like to forget."

"'Minor'. Right. Of course, now that makes me both worried AND curious." Mark grimly shook his head. "Since when did you keep secrets? I thought I was the snake."

There was an awkward pause, as both remembered the last time they physically fought over Katie.

"The other night, Rosa came into my room when I was asleep," Cory explained. "I woke up and she was on the bed and...arghh-" he broke off, his expression pained. There was no way to word it delicately. "Her mouth was on my cock."

Registering Mark's speechless outrage, he raised both palms. "I didn't fuck her! As soon as I came to, she left. Ran, if I remember correctly."

"What the fuck, Cory?" Mark breathed. "Did you encourage her?"

"What, in my fucking sleep?"

"How could you sleep through that?"

"I didn't!" Cory exhaled angrily. "You can't blame me for being a heavy sleeper."

Mark relaxed, remembering the unpleasant nights he'd overheard Cory's screaming nightmares. He was the one to suggest supplements.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you," Cory snapped, resuming his packing. "I didn't do anything, except embarrass the poor girl."

Mark took a breath to make a sarcastic remark about 'poor girl', but he remembered what she went through with Samson and kept his mouth shut.

"Ok. I'll drop it," Mark relented.

Suffering a moment's wishful thinking, Mark thought back to the time when life was so easy. Back to their bromance vacation at the Ranch, back to when Katie joined them as an impromptu guest. But they couldn't have anticipated her strange predicament, and the trouble that would follow. It was too late for fanciful 'what if's.

"There's only one valid reason to keep her around," Mark continued the topic of Rosa. "And it's because of the trouble she can cause if we get rid of her. Don't forget she threatened us in the beginning."

"She was bluffing," Cory scoffed, firmly zipping his duffle bag.

"A reckless teen runaway, whose father has been murdered? Would you take the risk?"

Cory deeply inhaled to stop himself shouting. "I don't want to fight," he ground out, getting to his feet. "This is the best lead we've had since we left the ranch. My focus is on finding Katie."

Mark ran a fist through his dark hair, setting the normally smooth waves on end. "You think I don't want the same thing?"

Both hesitated again, as the intended meaning of Mark's words raised a more complicated matter; the obvious fact they both wanted Katie.

"I know we both want what's right," Cory said quietly.

"Agreed," Mark replied stiffly. Now and again, he recollected his last moments with Katie, when she'd whispered for Cory in her sleep. The memory pained him, though he'd never admit it.

Cory shrugged tiredly. "For all we know she's already been moved and we're going to drive several hours right into a death-trap."

"That's the spirit," Mark said wryly. "I've had a look at the location. It's the perfect place to keep a captive, so I'll bet on her being there. It's fairly remote, not sure if that's a good or bad thing just yet."

Noting Cory's confusion, he continued. "We don't want crowds and cops. But if it's too quiet, they'll know we're coming from a mile away."

"I prefer remote. We'll just have to park more than a mile away."