My kidnapper, for that’s what I’d begun to think of her, got another phone call. The classical music tune. She listened for less than a minute then tapped the end button and turned to me.
“This is what’s going to happen,” she said. “You’re working for me as of now. If you say no, I’m handcuffing you and driving you straight to the nearest station where you’ll be arrested for grand theft auto, breaking and entering, theft, and whatever else I can think of to throw at you. Are you in?”
“I’m in,” I said. My fists clenched and if I ground my teeth any more they’d be nubs, but what was my alternative? I’d spent time in the slammer before. Not fun.
“OK. We’re intercepting a van full of young girls who’ve been smuggled into the country by a coyote that works for Jimar. They’ll have a fender bender, the police will arrive, a search will ensue, and the girls will not be prostitutes next week unless they make the choice to become hookers on their own.”
“So Jimar won’t get his merchandise. He won’t be a happy man,” I said. I could imagine him kicking a kitten over something similar.
“That’s where you come in.”
“You’re going to happen to be available when he needs help.”
“What can I possibly do to help him?” I asked. I couldn’t think of a single weapon in my arsenal that would come in handy. It didn’t help that the first couple of guys my captor had been ogling came running by our window again. I decided I needed to take up jogging soon. She snapped her fingers in...