I took pics of what I could, then I stepped out of the car, pulling my jacket tighter. The cold air didn’t help the creepy vibe. Each step toward the building made me question myself more.
The metal door creaked open before I even had a chance to knock.
Two men stepped out.
Both of them were big… both of them were serious… and neither of them smiled.
Before I could even say hello, they grabbed me.
“Hey!” I snapped.
The husky looking guy patted my sides; the other one ran his hands down my legs.
Too slow… too comfortable.
The serious looking one moved behind me, running his hands down my sides.
“Whoa! Hold on!” I demanded, jerking back. “What the hell are y’all doing?!”
Neither of them answered; they kept checking.
The frisky guy gently squeezed my thigh and brushed his hand over my breast.
“Okay, that’s enough!” I bellowed in anger, shoving his arm away. “Get the fuck off of me, pervert!”
That was when Marcos appeared around the corner.
“Marcos, what’s going on?!” I yelled, demanding a reasonable answer.
“My bad,” he apologized quickly, stepping forward, all calm, like what he witnessed was normal. “I meant to warn you.It’s protocol,” he explained. “We have to make sure you’re not wearing any wires, weapons… anything like that.”
“I get all that, but maybe you should hire men who know how to do their job without auditioning for prison!”
He frowned slightly, looking between the guards.
“Yeah… because your boy here, “I pointed dead atFriskobob, “got a little too comfortable. He grabbed my breast and squeezed my inner thigh like he was grocery shopping… andnotin a “protocol” way!”
The room went silent.
Marcos’s expression changed so fast it was like someone flipped a switch.
He turned to the guard who touched me, jaw tight, and snapped in Spanish, “¿En serio? ¿Otra vez? Te he advertido demasiadas veces. Esta vez voy a darte un ejemplo!”
“I—”
The gun went off before Mr. Touchy could get another word out.
PHEW!
The man screamed, clutching his hand as blood poured between his fingers, splattering the floor.
I stumbled back, eyes wide. “Oh, my God!”
Marcos didn’t blink, didn’t flinch… he didn’t even look away.
He stepped closer, pointed the gun at the guy again, and warned in a low, lethal Spanish growl, “Hazlo de nuevo… y pierdes la otra mano también.”
Unbeknownst to them, I understoodeveryword. Vanessa might’ve been a shitty ass mama in a lot of areas, but she made damn sure I learned other languages—Spanish preferably. I knew it just as well as English.