A Bomb in the Barbies

EROS

For a kid being kidnapped twice, Yuca is pretty chill about the whole thing. She barely makes a peep when I drive us both back to the safe house where Stitch and Scarlett are camped out. Hours ago, Stitch's contact at the border reported back that Kan himself had somehow gotten into the country with a whole entourage at his side. As if we didn't have enough on our plates, there's now the whole mess with the DEA thanks to Providence. It's a shit show with four million moving pieces and parts, but this thing is my shit show to run.

First things first: get Kan's ass where I can find him. So far, the only interest he has shown in anything is this little girl. I figure that I get her back to where I can keep an eye on her and wait for one of Kan's important guys to show up. The rest would just involve torturing Kan's location out of the guy then hunting him down without mercy. The DEA situation can be remedied if only temporarily by pulling all of our street soldiers off the streets and sending everyone else home. As for Stitch and Scarlett, they're going to hop on a private plane and get out of dodge for a bit until I can deal with the rest of it. I only need to meet up with them long enough to figure out details before they are off again and I'm left with no one to worry about protecting.

To his credit, Kan might be onto something. When you send a girl into foreign territory with nothing to losing, the only thing she really has to worry about is killing who ya gotta kill. There's none of this protecting people shit that gets in the way. He had a point. I'll give him that.

"You doing okay, little one?" I ask the poor girl. For a girl who is being kidnapped twice in one day and who is currently tied up in my passenger seat, she's a real trooper.

"Mmmm." I hope that's a yes.

"Good, we're almost there."

I get that much out before the silence gets to be weird. Forgive me if I'm just really in the mood to hear myself talk. For some reason, turning on the radio seems like it would be rude, whereas monologuing dramatically does not have nearly the same connotation.

"Forgive me for this, but I have to ask: Providence, really? Why would you want to be fucking that scruffy fucker? You can do so much better."

"Mmm." If Yuca's little noise is agreement or outrage, there is really no way to make the distinction.

"Though is it true about you and that footballer too? If it is, I gotta hand it to you, girl. I'm impressed." I actually was. Don't get me wrong: slut shaming is not a word that has ever existed in my vocabulary. "What is it about them? Does Providence bring some excitement to it because he has ropes and toys and knows what he's doing? Then you gotta go back to your boy because Providence might be mysterious and sexy but he's also scary. You get your adventure then go back to the guy who you know is supposed to be everything you want. Don't worry, no judgement here. I know the feeling. Aw, to be young again."

"Mmmmmmm." I would have hopes that Yuca's next sound there was something along the lines of telling me that I'm not old. If that's the case, it certainly makes me seem like a bitch for keeping the poor girl's mouth taped shut.

The idea was to avoid any screaming. There are fewer things more difficult than manhandling screaming girls to where you want them. Even when the girl in question is an itty bitty little thing. At least, I don't have to keep her like this for much longer. The truck tires hit the bump of an unpaved pothole as I steer the car into the suburbs where no one would think to look for a pair of drug lords hiding behind a white picket fence. This four bedroom house with a literal white picket fence is actually Scar and Stitch's first home, back when they were first married and hoping for little, mini versions of themselves to be running around. Needless to say, that did not happen. Now the place works just as well for a get away.