Dirty Angels 01 (15 page)

“I brought you dinner,” I said, once I was able to gather some of my wits.

“You sounded concerned,” she said, her voice chilled on ice, her eyes avoiding mine.

“I was,” I admitted as I stepped closer to her. I crouched down so I was at her level, one of my hands on the rim of the bathtub. “I was afraid something had happened to my greatest asset. Without you, I have nothing to trade.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Right. Well I’m alive, as you can see.”

I noticed the way she was laying there, her head taking off most of the pressure from her back. “Are you in pain?”

The smile vanished but she said nothing. I knew she was.

“Lean forward,” I told her.

“Why?”

“I want to admire my handiwork.”

She finally looked over at me and my eyes locked with hers. “You’d rather admire your handiwork than admire my body?”

I swallowed hard but managed to give her an easy smile. “I can do both. Your back is just as beautiful as the rest of you. Perhaps even more so.”

But that was a lie. I knew it as soon as she leaned forward. I reached over and lifted her dark, heavy wet hair from her back, placing it over one shoulder. Her back looked ugly now, the Taser wounds plus that deep gash of the I all ragged and crude, her flesh flayed and puffy from the water.

She looked so small and pure and helpless in the bath, those letters such a contrast, that I was hit with an unwelcome jolt of shame. It nearly knocked me off balance and I found myself gripping the edge of the bathtub harder than I wanted to.

Unfortunately, she noticed that too. Her eyes flew to my hand.

I had to remedy this right away. She was just a woman, a woman of no consequence. I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me. She never
would
know me. She’d be dead or gone in two days’ time—having feelings of shame or remorse over what I’d done and was about to do was useless, ridiculous, and dangerous. So fucking dangerous.

“You almost took my breath away,” I told her, giving her my most leering smile. “Such beauty in such pain.”

“I am in no pain,” she said. “If you’ve come to give me another letter, shoot another video, then do it. Don’t pretend you’re here under the guise of giving me dinner.”

I took a long, sweet look at her body and let the sight of her cause a spike in my cravings. “Perhaps I am here for other things.”

I waited to see fear in her eyes but there was none. There was something else though, something I’d only seen once or twice in her face, hovering around the surface. It was curiosity. For good or for bad, it was as if she was interested in seeing just what else I could do to her. Or perhaps, for her.

She looked away, breaking our heated gaze, and hugged her knees tighter to her chest. “Well, if you are here for other things, then do them.”

I clucked my tongue. “You are a strange one, Luisa. You should know better by now than to tempt the devil.” I reached forward and traced an invisible E on her back with my finger. She flinched at my touch but still let me do it. I wondered now what else she would let me do. I wondered if I reached my hands into the bath and stroked her breasts, if she’d surrender like last time. Or would she fight back? Or would she welcome it, want it?

I could bet she’d never come before, never had an orgasm. I found myself savoring the thought of giving her both pain
and
pleasure.

I traced an invisible R, imagining the finished product, telling myself it would look beautiful. Then I trailed my fingers over to her shoulder and down her arm into the warm bathwater. I gently caressed her nipple, as if by accident, and watched her closely for her reaction. Her nipple reacted exquisitely.

She closed her eyes, and in turn I closed mine, taking in the rich, sweet smell of her wet skin, listening to her breath catch and release.

“Did you like that?” I whispered.

I could hear her swallow hard. “I’m just waiting for the knife,” she said softly.

My eyes snapped open and I stared at her. Of course she couldn’t find anything pleasurable when there was blood to be drawn.

“And you shall get it,” I said quickly. I retracted my hand and waved the bathwater away while I got to my feet. “Especially now since Salvador is working out a strategy to get you back.”

She jolted, as if suddenly shocked, the water splashing around her. She stared up at me with horror, horror that wasn’t meant for me. “You heard from Sal?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I said slowly. I reached for the bath towel and held it out for her. “Come on out of the bath.”

“I’d rather you do it here.”

I frowned. “Your flesh is extra tender. It may hurt more.”

“And I’d rather sit in a pool of my own blood.” Though she said this with a hardened voice, her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she was nearly shaking. The night before I had seen how she reacted to going back to Salvador, but I hadn’t quite realized it was that bad. I had to wonder what the fuck had been done to her.

And then I had to stop myself. It would only make this harder.

“Very well,” I said. I folded the towel and placed it neatly on the sink, then whisked the knife out of my boot. “You sure you don’t want to have your dinner first? I made it. Fresh produce from town and everything.”

“I prefer the blade,” she said. Then she leaned forward even further, gathering her hair tight to her side, making sure her back was completely clear. What I was doing had no effect on her, it was as if she wanted it. I was getting further and further away from breaking her and deeper and deeper into something else, something more troubling.

I leaned over her, and with one hand at her small, delicate neck to steady myself, I began to cut the E. I didn’t do it nearly as deep as the I and it took much longer. I kept hesitating, something I knew she was recognizing, but it couldn’t be helped. When it was finally over and the last cut was made, I watched the blood run down her back, like it was crying crimson tears, and the water around her waist became tinged with pink.

Before I knew what I was doing, I placed my lips on the wound, tasting the salt of her blood, the purity of her veins. I wanted to soothe the damage I had just created and feel the vitality of her existence pulse beneath my skin.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch. She let me kiss her back and take my time doing so. She let me be a vampire, high on her blood and after her soul.

“I wanted to break you,” I murmured against the blood. “I wanted to destroy you, ruin you. But you would not break. You will not break. Why won’t you?” My last words were barely a whisper.

She pulled away from me and looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes expressionless even as they gazed at my red-stained lips.

“Give me back to Salvador,” she said, looking deeply at me, “and I promise you, you’ll never be able to piece me together again.”

I could see that she was right. The truth felt like a tiny sliver in my heart.

I swallowed the feeling down and straightened up. I gestured to the towel. “Dry yourself off. Your dinner is getting cold. I’ll be waiting out there to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

I left her in the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Once I was alone in the room, I put my hands over my face and breathed in deeply, trying to get a grip. Things were happening and unravelling at a breakneck pace and I had absolutely everything on the line. Whatever fucked up
…
feelings
I was having for Luisa weren’t real; they couldn’t be. Feelings never got you anywhere, only instinct did. And my instinct was telling me to run, to distance myself, to get ready to pull the plug on her because either way, even with my name on her back, she wasn’t mine. She was either Salvador’s or she was dead, and in the end, they were the same thing.

It didn’t take long for Luisa to emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, looking angelic and breathtaking. She stared at me curiously, and I wondered what she could see on my face, if anything. I couldn’t let her see anymore.

She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, eyeing her cold food with little interest. I knew better than to try and make her eat it. In fact, the best course of action was just for me to go.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” I told her brusquely as I turned on my heel and headed for the door. I wondered what she’d think about my hasty departure, then I had to remind myself that I couldn’t care.

“Why do you want to break me so badly?” she asked quietly, just as my hand went to the doorknob.

I paused and thought about the truth. Without looking back at her I said, “Because I want to destroy beautiful things before they can destroy me.”

There was silence to that. But when I opened the door, she let out a low chuckle. I paused and turned around to look at her.

“Wow,” she said dryly, her mouth quirked up in an amused smile. “She really did a number on you. Ellie,” she added, as if I didn’t know who she was talking about. As if there would ever be another
she
.

I slammed the door shut in front of me, wincing at the discomfort that radiated out from my chest. I turned to face her and managed to keep my expression still, my voice flat and cool. “Don’t say her name.”

Luisa frowned. It felt like a kick to my gut.

“Don’t look at me like that either,” I added.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like you pity me.” It shamed me to say it.

“But I do pity you, Javier Bernal,” she said, her voice dripping with superiority. “I pity you a great deal. Such a cruel, tough man still licking his wounds.”

I was across the room and at her bedside in one second. I grabbed her arm and yanked her close to me until my lips were grazing her earlobe. “The only wounds I’ve licked,” I whispered harshly, “are yours.”

Then I released her from my grip and got the fuck out of there before further damage could be done.

Luisa

I
t’s funny what time can do to a person. It’s funny what a childhood, a few years, a couple of months, a week, can do to a person. My childhood made me believe in the people that loved me, that The Beatles were right and love was all we needed. My few years at the bar made me realize life wasn’t fair and that the world was full of cruel people who preyed on the weak. A couple of months of marriage made me see how fucked my life was, how I was trapped in the famed golden prison put forth by the country’s narcos, how there would be no escape. And a week as a hostage let me know just how damn fed up I was with every moment of time that had passed before it.

I had changed this past week, in ways I wasn’t even able to understand. Without realizing it, I was starting to relate to Javier Bernal instead of fearing him. I saw his desire to make me break and I felt that same desire, to make others break, the ones that hurt me all this time. He was getting his revenge on the woman who had left him, whether it was by becoming more successful or by humiliating and overpowering me. I understood now the vengeance that rocked through him, because the need for it was starting to rock through me. That anger deep in my belly continued to uncoil, threatening to be let loose. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I set it free—probably nothing helpful since I was but a woman in a man’s game—but if I could have that rare chance to be part of the game, I felt like nothing would be able to stop me.

After he left me in the bedroom, my thoughts kept sweeping over our conversation. I saw he had the ability to hurt, and I saw his even greater ability to lie. While he acted callous and cruel, I could see deep into those golden eyes of his and know when he was hesitant, when he felt bad or ashamed. I could see his feelings, emotions, buried so far beneath his dirt that they almost didn’t exist.

But they were there.

The truth was, however, as much as Javier may have felt something over his quest to ruin me, I also knew reality would trump emotion. When tomorrow came and Salvador got in touch with him, I knew that Javier would hand me over. And if he didn’t, I knew that he would have to kill me. Oh, I figured he wouldn’t do it himself—his emotions wouldn’t let that happen. But Este would do it. Or The Doctor. Or Franco. I would be killed, possibly in the most horrific way, because that was the way things went. Whatever Javier might have felt for me, he was no idiot. He was cunning, manipulative, and he had his pride. A lot of pride. Cartel leaders did not let hostages go because of bleeding hearts.

He would have me killed because he had to. Then he would go on with his life, looking for another opportunity to get ahead, to bury the ghosts of his own past. I would be a memory in a week. Some other form of revenge would take my place.

In the other scenario, at least I could keep my parents safe. If Salvador bargained for me, that meant he really wanted me as his wife. To have and to hold and to rape and to abuse, but he’d still have me there, and in turn I would take it and have my parents stay alive. I would put up with whatever I could for as long as I could.

Then, maybe one day, I’d get them far away and safe, before I killed Salvador. I would definitely die in the process, but I would die with a smile on my face.

I fell asleep with those thoughts. When I woke up, I was surprised to see Javier bringing me my breakfast. I thought he would have avoided me again like he did before, but there he was at my door, bringing me a tray of food, like a butler with a taste for blood.

My blood. I remembered the shivery sensation of his lips as they kissed my wounded back, both soothed and revved up by the strange feeling. Now he was standing before me, and I couldn’t help but feel my skin thrum like an electric fence.

Javier usually looked elegant but today he was dressed down, as down as one can go. He was wearing black lounge pants that were tight at his hips and loose in the leg, and a damp white tank top that clung to his upper body through sweat. His longish shaggy hair curled at the ends from being wet, his charismatic face covered in a light sheen.

I’d never seen Javier look this worn and raw, though his confidence still shined through, just as that watch never left his wrist. Oh, to be that woman who destroyed him so thoroughly. I found myself envying this Ellie woman and wondering what kind of a man he was with her. Their relationship obviously never began with a knife. He had broken her heart just as she had broken his, which meant at some point there was love to give and love to take. It was nearly impossible to think of this man being capable of love.

But not completely impossible.

He came over to the table and put the tray of food—fruit, this time—down on it. I found myself studying his body, starting to understand how Ellie must have become enraptured with him. If I had met him under other circumstances, perhaps I could have felt the same. It could have just as easily been Javier who waltzed into the bar, looking for a wife, for a conquest.

Then again, that didn’t seem like something Javier would do. He would have seen that as too … desperate. He had intelligence, good looks, and charm, whereas Salvador did not.

“What have you been doing?” I asked him after he gave me a dry “good morning.”

“Boxing,” he said, looking down at himself, as if he had just remembered he was half-dressed.

Was that the truth, or had he wanted me to see him like this? There was something so lithe yet masculine about his body. He was the complete opposite of Salvador in every way, and I couldn’t help but admire it, the sharp V of his hip bones as they disappeared into his pants, the taut flatness of his stomach, the firmness of his chest, shoulders, and arms. He looked every bit the boxer, someone who worked hard for his body, who possessed skill that begged to be tested. Since he always moved like a panther or a snake, easy and controlled, I’m not sure why his athleticism surprised me, but it did.

When I looked up at him, his lips were stretched into a wry smile and his eyes sparked with amusement.

“Do you have interest in boxing?” he asked. “Or just in me?”

I quickly looked away, ashamed that he caught me ogling him so blatantly. He must have thought I was quite the fool. Still, my eyes went back to him, this time focused on the tattoos he had on the inside of his biceps. One said Maria. The other said Beatriz and Violetta.

“Who are those women?” I asked cautiously.

His eyes became vindictive slits. “No business of yours.”

I ignored him. “People you killed? People you know? Ex-wives?”

He sucked in a deep breath before he sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his thighs, and stared down at the floor with a dreamy look in his eyes. “You know, once I went fishing with my father.”

Okay. This was unexpected.

“We were in La Cruz, just north of Nuevo Vallarta. Nice town, you know? Marlin fishing was really big there, still is, I’m sure. My father was a marine mechanic, so we had free use of his clients’ boats whenever we wanted. Well, I’d always wanted to go fishing. Hell, I suppose I just wanted to spend time with him since we never ever saw him. Occasionally, he’d give me and my sisters money to get ice cream and candy, but other than that, he was never around. I always questioned that, you see. Even at a young age.”

He cleared his throat. I didn’t dare move or make a sound in case he stopped talking. I needed to know more.

With a shake of his head, he went on. “I was an idiot when I was a boy. Ignorant. Anyway, we went out. It was a stunning day, calm seas. We didn’t go quite far enough to get the big fish—my father said he wanted to be close to shore in case he was needed for something. But it didn’t matter, I enjoyed being out there more than anything on earth. He was even kinder to me than normal. I remember he wiped sunscreen on my nose, tousled my hair, you know, like a real father would do. It was the best day that I could ever remember, better than when my neighbor, Simone, showed me her tits. Better than that. And then I ruined everything.”

“How?” I found myself asking.

“I asked too many questions,” he said, giving me a poignant look. “I asked why my father worked so hard for being a marine mechanic. I asked why he was never home, what he was really doing, if this was really his job. I got a whack across the face. He had never hit me before and he never hit me again, but I’ll always remember that feeling. The shock. Then he turned the boat around and we went back home, empty-handed. He didn’t say a single word to me for days. Whatever closeness, love, I had felt for that brief time on the water, that was gone forever.” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Years later, when I was sixteen, he was shot. See, I had always suspected on some level that my father worked for a cartel. I just never had the proof until he was killed. I figured perhaps he asked too many questions, too.”

I felt my heart throb with compassion. He probably didn’t deserve it, but my heart knew no different. “What about the rest of your family? You said you had sisters? How many?”

He gave me a sad smile. “I had four sisters, Alana, Marguerite, Violetta and Beatriz. Now I have two. I also had a mother, Maria. Now I have none.”

“All related to the cartels?”

“To live and die in Mexico,” he said, getting to his feet. “That is the way.”

“Violetta, Beatriz, and Maria…” I stated.

“They are the reasons why family gets you killed,” he finished, his voice hard. “As does love. And as does asking too many questions. Do you understand?”

I swallowed thickly but nodded.

“Good,” he said, flashing me an insincere grin. “Now, since this is your last day in our beautiful safe house, I figured I’d ask you what you wanted to do today.”

“Do today?” I repeated incredulously. “Are my choices eat food, get Tasered, or become a human carving board?”

“I was thinking maybe you wanted to do something else for a change.”

As strange as it was to think it, the idea of change scared me. Things were bad for me, but I always knew they could be worse. In fact, tomorrow they would most definitely be worse and I was in no hurry to experience that already.

The look in his eyes softened as he held out his hand for mine. “Come with me,” he said. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Only you,” I pointed out.

“Only me.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me smile, but it did. I was starting to fear I was becoming as sick and twisted as he was. Then I realized that perhaps that was nothing to fear.

I put my hand out and he grasped it, his palm warm and soft, his fingers strong. He pulled me up to my feet, and I realized I was only wearing a long t-shirt and no underwear. I don’t know why I was suddenly self-conscious, considering the way I was yesterday, considering I’d had my ass in his face a few days ago, but I was.

“I need to get changed,” I said, looking away. He had brought me close to him and I could feel those eyes of his tracing my skin, from my toes to my lips.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” he asked. “Because I’m afraid I’ve already seen everything. In every way possible.”

I ignored that and pulled away from him, reaching for a pair of shorts, the shorts I had been captured in. I slipped them on, revelling in their familiarity, then knotted the t-shirt above my waist. Like hell I was going to bother with a bra.

“Low maintenance,” Javier commented.

“It’s easy when you’re held hostage. I’m surprised I’m still brushing my teeth.”

“Well, you don’t want to turn into a savage.”

I gave him a funny look. It was times like this that I could almost pretend I wasn’t his captive at all, like my fate didn’t hang in the balance of tomorrow.

I put on a hard face. “So, where are you taking me? Aren’t you going to, well, look more appropriate?”

He shrugged. “We’re just going for a ride. Tomorrow is a day for suits. Today is a day to
… relax.” I tapped my foot and he went on. “I’ve heard there’s a beautiful waterfall here at the end of the road. Apparently you can see the Pacific from the heights. I thought we could go there.”

I couldn’t figure out just how sincere he was. “You’re just going to take me on a car ride?”

“Don’t look so concerned,” he said. “You won’t be able to escape.”

I figured that much. He opened the door and we stepped out into the hall. Immediately, the repulsive pig that was Franco was at our side. Javier seemed on edge around him, his eyes burning into him like a warning, while Franco handed over a pair of handcuffs.

Franco then went down the stairs, and Javier slipped one cuff over my wrist and held on to the other one before taking me outside into the sunshine. There was a black SUV—the narcos’ car of choice—running in the driveway. Franco climbed into the driver’s seat and Javier put us both in the back, making sure the other end of the handcuff was fastened to the handle above the door. There would be no escaping from this vehicle, not unless I wanted to be dragged to my death.

We rode in silence for the first bit, the only sounds the crunch of rock beneath the wheels and my heart pounding loudly in my chest. It was jarring being out in the real world, so much so that I had a hard time taking it all in. It wasn’t until Javier put down my window and the fresh mountain air came pouring into my lungs, that I remembered I was alive, even if only a short time. Lush, tropical foliage covered the road on both sides, and birds squawked happily from the trees. It was beautiful outside, and I realized that this was indeed a gift for me.