Adriana had memorized the location of the rendezvous before leaving Tijuana, but just to be sure, she’d also stored it in her phone. Based on what she’d learned, the city of Ameca was small, with a main square and a few other major buildings downtown before it thinned into the suburbs and eventually the farms of the surrounding area.
The sun was creeping its way below the mountains on the horizon when Adriana passed a sign indicating she was only fifteen miles from Ameca. Behind her, a few of the stars were already peeking through the dark blanket above. The moon would follow shortly.
She squinted as something caught her attention on the road ahead. About half a mile away, it looked as if a car had stopped on the road. She let off the gas pedal, anticipating that someone was in need of help then realized as she drew closer that it wasn’t a broken-down vehicle. Two pickup trucks were blocking the lanes in both directions. She’d noticed them too late to turn off road and go around. They’d seen her. And while this sort of problem was why she’d requested the SUV, she didn’t want to have to use it just yet.
A hundred yards away,she tapped on the brakes and slowed down. From her vantage point, Adriana could see a man in the back of each truck holding an assault rifle. There were two men on the road as well, both holding similar weapons. She was sure to keep the low beams on, and when she was forty yards away, the light revealed they were AK-47s. Unsurprising. Those were the weapons of choice for most people who didn’t have the money or patience to get something more accurate, or more reliable. The guns were intimidating weapons — and deadly in the right hands — but too problematic for Adriana’s tastes.
She had her suspicions when realizing it was a roadblock, but her hopes were that it was just a rural police department running a DUI checkpoint or looking for a specific criminal. Now it was clear these were no police, no federales. These guys were part of the drug ring, possibly Espinoza’s. She’d heard how people were sometimes stopped in their cars outside the cities. Usually, they were asked for a toll of some kind to pass through. The underlings of the drug trade used it as a means to collect extra income, a kind of tax that the cartel leadership allowed as long as they didn’t do anything too stupid. Occasionally, a stop like this one resulted in a murder, or worse. Multiple scenarios ran through Adriana’s mind. Her rucksack was in the passenger seat, and she reached over, unzipped it, and stuck her hand inside as the truck rolled down the road.
Twenty yards away, one of the men standing on the road, wearing a white undershirt and a long gold chain, put up a hand, signaling her to stop. He stepped forward as she slowed the Land Cruiser to a halt. The lights from the other trucks shone brightly through her windshield, making it easier for the gunmen to see into any approaching vehicles. It also served to blind the oncoming driver, the man approaching her SUV appearing only as a silhouette until he stepped around the mirror. His assault rifle dangled loosely from a shoulder strap. Adriana could now see he had a pistol in one hand.
“Open the door,” he ordered in Spanish, raising the weapon and pointing it directly at her face.
She stared out at him for a moment. I don’t have time for this. Her face displayed a look of fear and confusion, but inside, Adriana was assessing the situation. The two men in the back of the trucks were almost invisible due to the headlights. The only thing that kept them in sight was the fading orange sunlight spread across the sky behind them. The other guy on the road stood with his legs apart and his weapon at his side, aimed at her SUV.
Adriana opened the door slowly and slid out of the driver’s seat, careful to stay facing the man. The cold ceramic and metal against her lower back had to remain hidden until she could get them closer together. As things stood, winning a shootout with the four men was highly unlikely.
The man’s face eased a little as she stepped away from the door and slammed it shut. He kept the weapon aimed at her but lowered it slightly as his eyes wandered from her face to her chest and then down to her legs. “What are you doing out here all alone? It’s dangerous for a pretty girl like you.” He spoke loud enough for the other three to hear. The one in the truck bed on the right laughed.
She smiled sheepishly, careful to still appear somewhat frightened. She tilted her head down a little to enhance the effect. “I’m driving to Ameca to see my mother,” she said. It was difficult for her to use the regional accent, but she pulled it off, ensuring she sounded as local as possible.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you traveling this late in the day? Doesn’t your mother go to sleep early if she’s an old woman?”
Adriana stared at the pavement. “My sister takes care of her during the day. I have to take care of her during the night. She sleeps, mostly, but sometimes I have to help her use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
The man stared at her intensely, seeking the truth in her story. His weapon remained pointed at her chest. “What’s your mother’s name? How come I’ve never seen you here before?”
“There are many people I’ve never seen before in Ameca and in Guadalajara. Have you seen everyone?” She looked into his eyes as she spoke, the smallest of flames burning in her pupils.
He grinned. “You do have some spirit in you, uh? That’s good.” He waved to the other men with his pistol for a second and brought it back to her. “We work for Jorge Sanchez. Do you know him?”
Adriana recalled something about Sanchez in her research with Espinoza. Locals called him the bloody hand of Francisco Espinoza. Other than that, she didn’t find much. One cruel drug dealer was the same as any other.
“I have heard of him.”
His eyes searched her for truth once more. He cocked his head to the side. “We collect tolls on this road. It’s like a convenience tax.” He laughed, and the other three laughed with him.
She knew exactly what to say next and led the conversation. “But I don’t have any money. My family is poor. I had to move to Guadalajara to find work as a waitress. Please, I need to get home to my mother.”
The man’s lips creased into a sinister smile. “That’s okay, pretty girl. There are other ways you can pay us. Right, boys?” The other three laughed again. Two of them howled like dogs. “Move the trucks off to the side over there. We’re going to have some fun with this one.”
He stepped close and pressed the gun to her heaving chest, pulling the tank top down until he could see the top of her breasts and the white bra covering them. “Don’t worry. We’ll let you go to your mother when we’re finished. As long as you do as you’re told, you won’t get hurt.”
Adriana swallowed hard, pretending to be terrified. She shook her head. A tear formed in the corner of one eye. “Please. Don’t. I can get you some money when I get to Ameca. It’s not much but—”
“Shhh,” he said and ran the cold steel of his weapon down the side of her face, stopping at her chin. “There are some things that pay better than money.” With his free hand, he ran a finger down her chest, across her tight stomach, and stopped at the button on her shorts. “Don’t worry,” he nodded his head sideways at the other men who hurriedly hopped out of the truck beds and started up the motors to move the trucks to the side of the road, “they won’t take long. I, on the other hand, might be a while. Who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy it.”