Even though we live in Cuba, we learned English from a very early age. Our wealthy parents always told us it would come in handy. If only they could see us now.
Ivy wipes a tear from under her eye. “Eva, we don’t know why they took us, where we’re going… what the hell they’re going to do to us.” Her big, brown, doe-like eyes stare back at me.
The praying woman prays louder as footsteps and muffled talking resonate outside the container.
I take a deep breath, gripping her hands. “No, we don’t, but I promise you, Ivy, I’m going to do everything I can to keep us together, even if it means fighting them with every part of me I have. We already lost our parents. I won’t lose you too.”
Heavy thumping pounds on the door making us jump and reverberates through the inside of the container. I stand in front of the five other women in some sort of protective stance. My chest heaves. Ivy grips onto me for dear life, and I hold her behind me. The sobbing and praying continue as I back us all to the rear of the container.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” I tell them, not for one second believing my words.
The doors fly open, the hinges creaking and moaning.
I’m going to hyperventilate.
A glow from the lamps on the dock lights up the night sky as eight men stand at the doorway, blocking any chance of escape. My body shudders. Their faces are shadowed in darkness, but I don’t mistake the leather vests most of them wear.
Bikers. Why the hell are bikers involved?
“We don’t have a lot of time, so let’s make this easy on all of us. Come forward, don’t fight, and we can move this process along.” His accent is broad. Gruff. American. This man holds authority. I can’t see his face. Even as he steps closer, he’s shrouded in darkness.
“What do you want?” I call out.
I’m not going to roll over and simply let him take us. Not without a damn fight.
He exhales loudly. “Great, a feisty one. Look, chiquita, just do as you’re told. No need to make a scene.”
I stand taller, puffing out my chest. “No. You tell me right now what the hell you want—”
“Or what? You’re backed into a shipping container with nowhere to go. You’re shit out of luck. Do as I say, or I’ll make you. I’d hate to mark that pretty face of yours.”
Ivy clings to me tighter, pulling on my arm a little. I can tell she wants me to stop, to back down, but there’s something about this man that’s pushing all my buttons. So, I step forward. The light from the dock now reflects a little more on his face. His bearded chin shows off his chiseled cheekbones, his hair flopping into his eyes as he stares me down. He appears haunted. The look suits him. I don’t miss the myriad of tattoos lining his arms or the way his body is toned, as if he works out for half the day, every day. This guy is crazy good-looking, but I can’t let that distract me.
“You think I’m scared of you? I’ve had worse come after me and mine. Whatever you have in store for us, it can’t compare to what we’ve already survived.”
The men chuckle as the ringleader shakes his head. “Chiquita, you have no idea what you’re in for. We’re simply the delivery service. Once you leave us, you’re in for a whole other level of torment. Until then, maybe we should prepare you a little for the kind of treatment you’re in for. Boys, get the cargo and move out.”
My muscles tense as the men storm toward us. The other girls scream, but I stand my ground, my arms out in some sort of lame attempt at defending them all.
“Stop!” I yell, mustering all the bravery I can, and surprisingly, they do.
The main guy strides up in front of me, his gaze focused squarely on mine as he stands two steps away. Our eyes lock, and a moment passes between us.
This close, I can see him.
All of him.
He’s tall—more than a head taller than me, even in my heels—with broad shoulders. In this light, I can’t tell where his irises start and his pupils end. His eyes are so dark brown they’re almost black. It’s like looking into the eyes of El Diablo. His face remains expressionless as he peruses my body. The girls whimper behind me, clinging to me for any kind of comfort they can get. The other men hesitate, waiting for his order.
“You want to be their savior, chiquita? You believe standing in front of them is going to stop us from taking you all to the buyers? You can’t fathom how wrong you are.” He lunges at me with outstretched arms, his hands wrapping around my waist. Before I have a second to think, he hoists me over his shoulder.
I let out a scream and feel my grip on Ivy break as she is torn away from me. Shaking and shuddering, I kick my legs, slamming my palms into his back with as much force as I can muster, but it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. He keeps walking as I yell at him. “No. No. My sister… Ivy, Ivy!” I scream. Another strong man yanks her along as she struggles in his grasp. I can’t help it—the dam wall breaks.
Tears I am not used to crying roll down my cheeks. I’m supposed to protect Ivy. I’m supposed to always be by her side. But how can I when I can’t get away from this bruto?
“Ivy!” I call out again as we reach a black van. Fear cripples me as the man slides me down his body, holding me close. While I know he’s made of flesh and bone, he’s as unmovable as a wall, and his gaze is just as cold. Every part of me shakes as he stares into my eyes.
“Don’t worry, chiquita, this will all be over soon.”