Semi-Hard Read Free

facilities.   He had updated the buildings years ago, so that everything was powered by windmills and solar panels.   A deep well provided the water and, as far as Dillon knew, other than the yearly property taxes, his property was off the grid.
    The land was barren, and the plots around him had never been developed.   His nearest neighbor was twenty miles away, and the small road passing in the distance in front of his land led absolutely nowhere.   It dead-ended into desert a few miles past his driveway, and Dillon had only seen one small car travel the road in three years.   Within minutes it had turned around and was speeding back towards civilization.
    Just before he turned out the lamp to catch a few hours of sleep, he swiveled the light towards the frightened girl’s face.   Dillon pushed her hair out of her eyes, and he realized that she was not bad looking.   On top of that, she was blonde… a favorite south of the border… and he figured that it might be worth spending a little extra time on her training, after all.
    So far, he had only turned one girl over to a cartel at the suggestion of the brothel he dealt with.   They had decided that the girl could bring high dollars from the mercenaries who regulated the area.   The brothels preferred not to deal directly with the dangerous groups, and they would not tell Dillon a contact number until he agreed to split the money he received for the slave.   Now that he had the information, Dillon could contact them himself when he had an exceptional trade, and cut out the payment to the brothel acting as the middleman.
    Dillon was satisfied that the girl could be turned into a compliant lucrative asset, and he reached out and gently stroked her wet cheeks.   “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
     
    Three months later, he had received a very good price for the girl, ending in an association that changed his strategy.   Dillon usually dropped the girls off at the brothels, to be moved to whichever establishment was shorthanded.   This time, he had contacted the cartel directly, and after he assured them that the girl was of equal quality to the last slave they had purchased from him, they gave him the location of an auction to be held that afternoon.
    Dillon was surprised when they invited him to watch, and he stuffed the money they gave him into his pocket and followed the men through a courtyard to the main house.   The estate reminded him of a cleaned up, expensive version of the prison where he had worked.   Armed guards scanned the outside of the twelve foot walls through rectangular holes carved out of the stucco, and the light sienna square building had heavy wooden doors with ornate iron fittings locking them closed.
    There would be no admission to the house, and an arrangement of chairs around the courtyard formed a half circle around a post with chains currently securing a young Mexican woman.   She was gagged, and her wide eyes sought Dillon out, pleading to him.   He walked back to the shadows under the alcove, and a waiter handed him a potent, heavy tasting beer.   Damn, it was hot, and he felt sweat trickle down his neck as he leaned back against a support and crossed his ankles.
    He was halfway through his second beer, sipping slowly until the bottle was warm.   The last thing he wanted to do was become impaired around this group.   His attention was caught by one of the heavy doors to his side opening, and a group of men exited the house.   By costume alone, he could see several Arabs, some European styled men, and perhaps two Americans.   Dillon figured that they must be the buyers, and several had bodyguards by their sides.   This surprised the cowboy, because he thought that the women he brought them stayed in Mexico.
    His thoughts turned to just how lucrative this business must be, when a heavy set man with dark hair that was just beginning to streak with silver at the temples, turned towards him.   Their eyes met for a moment, and then