Michael buries his smile and becomes all business. "Yes, actually. He said a report came back from Julio. A girl matching the description you sent out works out of one of his compounds."
"Works?" I know what that means. Julio is one of the biggest pimps in California. His compounds are known all over the country, hell, all over the world for the depraved shit that goes down there.
Michael nods. "Works."
Shit. I should just unhear this information. Julio’s not a guy to be fucked with, and if Sloan's sister has been based there for the past two years, then she’s definitely not the same girl Sloane remembers. She’ll be someone quite different by now.
"Benji sent me a shot he managed to snap off when he was there yesterday. Wanna check it out?" Michael asks. Benji used to be one of Charlie's boys, young, stupid, before he got sent away in disgrace after royally fucking up an armed robbery he was committing his in own time. Three blocks from where he lived. Charlie thought that was stupid. No shitting where you eat and all that.
"He took a picture? Crazy son of a bitch. Julio’ll kill him if he finds out he has a cell inside his walls."
Michael shrugs. "Kid’s been working for the Mexicans here and there. They trust him marginally more than the other runts they've got running for them." Michael talks as he flicks through his phone. He finds what he's looking for and shows me. On the screen is a blurry shot of a young girl with a mass of chocolate colored hair. She's wearing a loose t-shirt that swamps her small frame and her face is only half turned toward the camera, but I can see that she's Sloane’s sister as soon as I lay eyes on her. I blow out a sharp breath.
"Is it her?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it sure is."
"How'd you want to proceed?"
"Fucking carefully." Charlie and Julio were rivals once upon a time. About three years ago Charlie disappeared for a week, told me to stay home which was weird enough, and when he came back things were roses with the Mexicans. I'd been suspicious as fuck at the time—an accord like that is usually only birthed by business, and Charlie's drugs and guns move south instead of north. I'm not some stupid kid, though. I've learned to keep my trap shut instead of asking dangerous questions. "We go up there, Charlie’s gonna know about it."
Michael considers this. The guy’s more than just muscle—his brain is damn lethal, too. I might not appreciate or like it sometimes but he's always got advice on hand, especially when it comes to stuff like this.
"Tell the old man you’re stopping through. And tell Charlie you’re going up there visiting family. You leave it another three weeks and he'll know you need to get a taste of pussy as if you're missing your monthly treat. It’d make sense that you go see Julio."
I grunt. Charlie knows the only family I have in the world, let alone in California, is the deadbeat wife of the uncle who used to beat my ass raw. But it might work, maybe. If I can spin it the right way.
"You wanna take a team up there with you?"
"Fuck no. If I rock up with a pack of boys, we won't even get through the front door. No, I need to keep this small."
"Could take a girl?"
I arch an eyebrow at him, pressing my knuckles into my lips. "What do you mean, take a girl?"
"He'd be expecting that. Sounds like Charlie sends girls to him all the time. He picks up virgins mostly, but occasionally he collects a girl with a little experience. He sends them over to Julio to pass on for profit up in LA. The clientele have a less discerning taste there. Don’t split hairs over how many dicks have already ridden a chick."
I could say Charlie sent me up there with a girl? I think about that and my stomach twists. The first person that comes to mind is Lacey, but I could never, ever, ever ask her to do that. Ever. She's already fucked up enough as it is. No, the only other option would be Sloane, and that’s just as unacceptable. Even if it's only an act and no one is supposed to touch her, it's too risky. What if it goes wrong? What if Julio wants a taste? That's just something I wouldn't tolerate. We would both fucking die. "Won't work, Michael. We’ll need to find another way."
He doesn't argue the point. We stand in laden silence for a moment before he tucks his hand into his pockets. "Okay then, boss. Anything else for now?"
"Yeah. There is." Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. This is possibly the worst idea I've ever had, but… Nope. I don't even have an excuse. I'm just an idiot. "I need you to go and see someone for me."
"The girl from last night?"
"Yeah. Her. I need you to give something to her." I put together what I want Michael to deliver and he leaves; the moment the door closes behind him I feel like chasing after him and punching the guy in the mouth for not pointing out how moronic I’m being. He is usually good at that, but this time he's just accepted what I've told him and gone. What the hell does that even mean? Instead of chasing after him, I pull out my phone and call him. I watch him down below on the streets as he feels his cell ring. He stops, looks back up at the window, pulling it out of his pocket and answering.