H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set (67 page)

“Hi there,” she said. “Do you want a
massage?”

“Maybe,” I answered her.

“Why maybe? Aren’t you horny?” Yeah, she was
definitely a madam and they were doing a little more here than just
giving massages. There was no small talk with this woman. She was
direct and to the point.

“Maybe,” I said. “I like girls with
different color hair.”

“Huh?” she seemed confused.

I had a feeling I was sounding like a
weirdo, so I decided to take a different approach. “Do you have any
redheads?” I asked.

She smiled at me and said, “Actually, yes.
We have a brand new girl. Her name is Diane.”

“Diane?” I asked.

“Yes, she is tall and beautiful and she has
bright red hair.”

I heard a car out front and I looked out the
window and I saw a limousine pull up. It was a stretched, white
Cadillac and it was beautiful. It reminded me of something a Texas
oil tycoon would be riding in. It really looked out of place on
this street. The woman noticed the limo also and seemed concerned.
Her eyes lit up. She yelled something in Spanish to the others. I
knew if I was going to lock down Diane, I’d better do it quick.

Everyone in the place seemed really
interested in whoever was in this limousine. I looked out the
window and saw a gray-haired, older Hispanic gentleman who was
dressed really slick make his way out of the limousine. He was a
handsome fellow and looked like he could have been a celebrity. I
really didn’t want this guy to see me, so, I said, “I’ll see
Diane?”

The madam looked at me and nodded. She
seemed preoccupied, but nonetheless, she continued, “Yes, I’ll take
you to the back.” She led me down a long hallway. I followed her to
a room where about seven girls were sitting. There was the
red-headed girl I had seen earlier in the night, she recognized me
instantly.

I stared at her and smiled. “I choose her.”
I walked over to her. She seemed scared and that was the last thing
I wanted her to feel, so, I whispered to her, “Don’t worry Diane.
I’ll protect you. Just go along with it.” I wasn’t sure if she
spoke English well, but I needed to say it. She smiled at me with
uncertainty.

“Do you want the Jacuzzi room?” the madam
asked.

“Sure. How much is one hour?”

“Sixty dollars,” she said. “It’s sixty
dollars for the room and once you’re inside you can negotiate with
the girl for whatever you like.” Oh, there will be negotiating, but
not for sex. I plan on negotiating for her life.

“Okay,” I said.

Diane took my hand and the madam led us to a
room in the back. I passed an open room by the hall that looked
like there was a bar inside. I saw the man who had taken Diane to
this place sitting on a stool at the bar. He was smoking a
cigarette and drinking a bottle of tequila. There was a small bowl
of lime wedges in front of him. I had no idea what his role in this
place was. All I knew was, I wanted to get Diane to the room and
talk to her.

The madam opened the door and let us in. “If
you want to use the Jacuzzi, let me know.” She then said something
to Diane in Spanish and left. Diane walked over to the door and
locked it.

The room was bigger than I thought it would
be. There was a Jacuzzi at one end of the room and a big giant bed
at the other. I sat on the bed and smiled. I patted the bed. Diane
shyly walked over and sat down.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Que?” she asked. I knew ‘que’ meant
‘what?’

“If you speak any English, this is the time
to do so,” I said sternly, with a hint of compassion.

“Who are you?” she said, in reasonably
understandable English.

“You do speak English?” I said,
relieved.

“Yes.”

“Great!” I said, louder than I intended
to.

“Shh! Keep your voice down.”

“Sorry.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a guy who is trying to find someone in
the city and I ran into you. I knew you needed my help.”

“How did you know that?” Diane seemed
excited and scared at the same time. “Are you an angel?”

“Not quite,” I said. “Tell me what’s going
on.”

“I can’t. It could cost me my life.”

“Look, Diane. You can trust me. I won’t let
anyone hurt you.”

“I don’t even know you,” she said, pretty
worried.

She was right. She didn’t know me from Adam.
“All I can tell you is I’m one of the good guys.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

“Maybe so. But this time it’s the truth. I
want nothing from you. Not sex, not money, nothing. I only want to
help you, but only if you want it.” I leaned over and took her hand
and held it. “All I can say is trust your heart.”

“Trust my heart? What does that mean?” Diane
seemed pretty overwhelmed by how serious I had come on, but I knew
I couldn’t waste any time if I was going to help her.

Diane looked me in the eyes. “Your eyes are
bonita.”

“You think my eyes are pretty?” I asked.

“They are kind. They are friendly. I want to
trust you. What is your name?”

“Josiah,” I said.

“That is a very pretty name.”

“It does roll off the tongue. Do you want my
help?”

“Yes, I do, Josiah. Very much.” Tears began
to drip from her eyes.

“Okay, you need to let me know how to help
you.”

“The last person I trusted led me to this
dreadful place.”

“You can trust me.” I put my arm around her
and hugged her. The second I did so, she collapsed in my arms. I
held her there and I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with
her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She leaned back and breathed in deeply. “I’m
a sex slave,” she said. “There’s no other way to put it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You’re not here by
choice?”

“No.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Not long at all. Just the last couple of
days.”

“I’m a bit confused. Please start from the
beginning.”

“The man that you saw me with in the
elevator is forcing me to be here.”

“How can he do that?”

“I don’t have anyone. I once trusted him and
now he makes me do this.”

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“He used to be my boyfriend. He lied to me
about everything.”

“How did he lie to you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I bought an hour. Go for it.”

“You need to understand, Josiah. Anything I
tell you can get me killed.”

I looked into her eyes. “Nothing is going to
happen to you. I will make sure of that.”

She paused. “How? Who are you?”

“I’m Superman,” I said. “Or I might as well
be. Tell me your story.”

She was a bit reluctant, but started to tell
me about herself. “I moved across the border when I was thirteen
years old. I was able to get through Border Patrol on a fake I.D. I
am the spitting image of my cousin who is a U.S. citizen.”

“It’s that easy to get across?” I asked.

“Sometimes. Other times people do everything
right and they still can’t get over.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Eventually my whole family got across; my
mom, dad, and brothers and sisters. Living in the United States was
an amazing time and everyone was so happy.”

“So, what happened?”

“When I turned eighteen, I had a huge party
at our house in Anaheim. I was dumb enough to go out driving when I
was completely wasted and I got a DUI. While at the police station,
they discovered that I wasn’t a U.S. citizen and they sent me back
to Mexico.”

“That sucks.”

“You have no idea. I was all alone. Being
that my entire family was across I wasn’t going to say anything to
the authorities. I wasn’t going to get any of them in trouble. When
I was asked about family, I lied and said they were all still in
Mexico. They released me, right at the border in Tijuana. All I had
on me was $100. That was when I ran into Miguel.”

“That’s the guy you came here with?” I
asked.

“Yes. I met him about a year ago. He lives
in Ensenada. He took me back to his home and treated me really good
for the better part of a year. Everything was great up until two
weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

“He was always shady, a hustler for the
ages. But he turned his hustle on me. He started saying I needed to
start providing, too. I told him I could make jewelry, but he
didn’t want any part of that. He said that if I sold myself for sex
it would be the best way to make good money. He knew the management
here, and apparently he had just been waiting for the right time
when he was finally sick of me to bring me down here. In a way, I
was lucky he didn’t bring me down here earlier.”

I was stunned. There was no luck about this
story. It was heartbreaking. This girl had her eighteenth birthday
in the U.S. and not even a year later, she’d been forced into
prostitution and her family had no idea where she is.

“Wow,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

Tears began rolling down her face.

“Diane,” I said.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not my name, my name is Sarahi.”

“Sarah-ee?” I asked, slowly.

“Yes, it’s Sarah with an ‘i’ at the end.
It’s my middle name.”

“What’s your first name?”

“I don’t want to tell you. I hate it.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s Yomaida.”

“Yomaida? I love that name.”

“I hate it.”

“It’s a beautiful name and that’s what I’m
calling you. Yomaida,” I said. “I am getting you the hell out of
here.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I want
you to go into the bathroom and shut the door. I’ll be back here in
about five minutes and we’re going to walk out of here.”

“How is that possible?”

“Just trust me.”

Yomaida looked terrified but she went into
the bathroom anyway and closed the door. I guess she figured she
had nothing to lose.

Game on.

I composed myself and stepped out of the
room.

“That was quick. You still have 30 minutes,”
the madam said. She was hanging around the door.

I smiled, “I’m thirsty.”

“There’s a bar down the hallway and to the
left.”

“Thanks.” I walked down the hallway I went
into the bar. Miguel, the guy who had made Yomaida’s life a living
hell was still sitting at the bar drinking. There wasn’t anyone
else in the bar, not even a bartender. I walked right up to that
little fucker and looked that piece of shit in the face. He didn’t
even bother to look up at me. I took a seat and sat right beside
him.

“Hey there,” I said.

He finally looked up at me. “Can I help
you?” he asked, in a thick accent.

“Sure can. You can leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“You speak English well, but your accent
sucks.”

“It’s not an accent on this side of the
border, gringo. I’d shut up if I were you.”

“But you’re not me and I like to talk. You
want to know what I like to do more?”

He looked up at me.

“I like to kick motherfucker’s asses who
take advantage of the less fortunate.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

I grabbed him by his head and threw it onto
the table. I pressed down on his skull.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled
out.

“I’m treating you like a little bitch. I
want you to see how it feels to have someone make you do something
you don’t want to do.”

“How do you even know me?”

“I know Yomaida, and guess what? She’s done
working here and she’s done knowing you.” I pressed down on his
skull, crushing it into the bar. He was very weak and he knew he
was in some serious trouble with me. I looked around and there
still wasn’t anyone in the bar.

“Easy man, I’m just making a living like
everyone else.”

“Is that what you call what you do? Making a
living?” I laughed out loud. “You make money on the backs of young
girls you conned into thinking you were going to take care of them.
Instead, you take what you want, and then you toss them to the curb
and all they become is one of your providers.”

“I’m warning you, this isn’t the place for
you to be a hero,” the man said and snapped his fingers while his
head was still pinned to the bar. He was trying to get the
attention of anyone outside.

“It’s always the place for a hero.” I let
his head up off the bar and slapped him in the face.

“What are you doing?”

I slapped him again.

“You have any idea who I am?” he screamed at
me.

He then yelled something in Spanish. I
cocked my hand back and slapped him one more time as hard as I
could, sending him flying into the wall.

The guy got up and brushed himself off. He
was pissed and confused, but most of all he was the thing I wanted
the most to see him; he was scared. “Fuck you, gringo!” He charged
me and I let him get hold of me. I wanted to see how strong he was.
He was weak, very weak. I grabbed him by his scrawny neck and threw
him over the bar. He hit the back wall and crashed into all the
bottles.

Then, as I expected, about ten guys made
their way into the bar. Some had knives in their hands, but none
had guns. I took my time as they came at me. Sometimes they came at
me individually and sometimes in pairs. They were no match for
someone of my skill level, and throw in the fact I had supernatural
powers, this was a walk in the park even though there were ten of
them. These weren’t vampires or werewolves; these were fat,
overweight, humans. All it took was one or two punches and they
were laid out unconscious. I spent about three minutes kicking the
crap out of everyone in the bar until there was no one left to
fight me. When all was said and done, the madam ran into the bar
and looked at me. She was terrified.

“You better get out of here. The police are
coming!” she yelled at me.

“Well,” I said. “If your police are anything
like the ones in the U.S., I could still get a massage before they
get here.” I went into the room and opened the bathroom door.