Dirty Angels 01 (8 page)

Luisa Reyes.

She was mine.

After we made quick work of the cigar and the meal, The Doctor and I headed down into the basement to get everything set up for her arrival. We had the chair and the ropes, and chains if we needed them. We had the digital camera set up and ready to record our ransom note which would then be uploaded and emailed directly to Salvador’s account, thanks to Este’s expertise. We even had bottles of water and carafes of hot tea and coffee—for us, of course. I liked for my men to be hydrated and have a clear head at our most crucial times, and this was most definitely one of those times.

With the safe house being much closer to Salvador’s compound, The Doctor and I only had to wait a few hours for them to arrive. We drank our tea and discussed local politics to pass the time and smoked another cigar—anything to calm the nerves. I didn’t even know why I was so nervous; it was very unlike me. If things went wrong with our hostage, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d die and that would be that. There would always be another card to play.

I suppose, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted more than just to get the shipping lane into the Baja, the one Salvador controlled. I wanted to humiliate him, to prove that I was as big of a player as he was. All my life I struggled to get ahead and be the best, but my personal best no longer mattered. Each step I took, the higher and higher I went, the more power I had, it never satisfied me. I wanted more, always more.

I wanted Salvador to fear me, to be looking over his shoulder for me. Perhaps he already did—I’d been known to commit some unsavory and highly publicized acts over the years—but I wanted him to feel that fear firsthand. And what fear is greater than the fear of feeling stupid?

I got up from my seat and picked up a knife I had placed on the table earlier.

“Is that for show?” The Doctor asked, raising a neatly trimmed white eyebrow. He sipped his tea carefully.

I shook my head. “No. It will be put to use. Every day.”

“On the girl?”

I nodded. “Yes. On her. One letter a day. When she goes back to Salvador in a week, I want him to see my name on her back.”

He crossed his legs and gave me small smile. “You’re getting more twisted and snarled the older you get. Like a root over the years. Are you sure you’re only thirty-five?”

I managed a grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’m only thirty-two.”

“Wouldn’t know it.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Guess Salvador might not want his wife after you give her back with your name carved into her. Ever think of that?”

I let my fingers slide around the blade. “That’s not my problem, is it?” I picked up a nearby stool and placed it in front of Luisa’s empty chair. I put the knife on top of it with reverence. “As long as I get what I want, what Salvador does with his wife afterward is none of my business.”

“And your indifference is what will get you far in this world.”

“Indifference,” I said with a dry laugh. “I’ve heard worse.”

At that I heard the faint sound of a car a door slamming shut. There were two ways into the basement—one from inside the house and the other leading to the driveway. My eyes flew over to the latter just as the door opened. Feet appeared first on the steps, followed by long legs. Este. Behind him were Juanito and Franco, holding on to the girl.

In person, Luisa Reyes was a lot smaller and more delicate than I imagined. She looked like I could pick her up and carry her in the palm of my hand, the same hand that I could so easily crush her with. Her legs were bare, short, and splattered in mud, but they had soft curves that I wanted to run my hands over. Her hips were full, her waist tiny, even in a loose blouse that was achingly low-cut over her perfect breasts. I couldn’t see her face because of the black canvas bag they had placed over her head, so I focused instead on her collarbone. I wanted to nip it with my teeth.

I bit down on my lip instead.

I needed a moment to get back in the game.

They took her over to the chair and immediately bound her hands behind it. I watched, trying to steady my breathing, and took in every detail of her that I could. The more I could deduce about her character, the better. Her shorts were jean cut-offs, her shoes were Adidas runners. She had on no jewelry. She wasn’t at all what a typical narco-wife looked like. She looked … normal.

I had to make sure that wouldn’t be a problem for me.

I nodded at The Doctor who got the ball rolling. He walked over to the video camera on the tripod and lined it up with Luisa’s hooded figure.

“Is everything ready?” Este asked him.

“It’s all set up,” he said, and walked toward Luisa, peering down at her. “How drugged is she?”

“Not badly,” Este said, shooting me a nervous glance. I didn’t like that glance. “She’s somewhat coherent.”

“You didn’t gag her?”

“No, but she shut up when she needed to.”

“It’s lucky she was out there.”

“Yes. It was,” The Doctor said. There was a pause and everyone looked at me.

Waiting.

I took in a deep breath through my nose.

“Gentleman,” I announced as I slowly walked toward her, “remove the bag.”

Este leaned over her and quickly pulled it off her head.

She immediately put her face to the side, her eyes shut tight, trying to avoid my gaze or perhaps the overhead light. All it did was highlight a red and purple bruise that marred her beautiful cheek.

A curious bit of rage simmered in my stomach. “Who did this?” I asked, my hands going for her ruined face while my eyes immediately went to Franco. “Who did this?” I repeated. Luisa flinched under my touch, perhaps from pain, perhaps from revulsion. She still didn’t look at me.

“Sorry,” Franco mumbled, not sorry at all. “It was the only way to quiet her.”

I sucked in my breath and tried to bury the fire inside. The man was such a sorry excuse for a human being. He got the job done, but he often went overboard while doing it. He was a messy, sloppy fuck with beady eyes that showed what little intelligence he had in his thick skull. If Luisa was going to suffer any pain—and she would—it would not be at the hands of this brute, a man who had no finesse in his actions, no respect for violence. It would be from me. I was the one in charge of her.

When I was calm and air was flowing through my lungs with ease, I took my hands off her soft, swollen skin and bent down in front of her. Now I wanted her to see me. She couldn’t avoid this forever.

“Look at me, Luisa Reyes.” She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. Her chest heaved, but I kept my eyes on hers. “Darling, aren’t you curious as to where you are?”

For a moment there I started to wonder if I had the wrong girl. With the bruise and the pain in her wincing expression, I wondered if I’d captured a woman who was already broken. There was no challenge in that, only pity.

“My name is Luisa
Chavez
,” she said. She straightened her head and her eyes flew open, staring right at me. “And I know where I am. I know who you are. You are Javier Bernal.”

I had nothing to worry about. She was not broken at all. Those deep brown eyes burned with strength.

I raised my brow and nodded, exceedingly pleased and terribly turned on. The fact that she knew my name made my dick twitch.

“You know why you’re here,” I said, straightening up. I walked over to the stool, eager to begin, and glanced at her over my shoulder. “Don’t you?”

She was staring at me, a bit of fear coming off of her, making her look even younger. My god her lips looked so full and juicy as they quivered before me.

“What is the knife for?” she croaked.

“You’ll find out after,” I said. “It is for your husband. For your Salvador.” I stepped to the side and waved my arm at the camera. “And this is also for him.”

I eyed The Doctor who was standing behind her now, duct tape in hand. He quickly ripped off a piece and placed it over those lips while Este dimmed the lights in the room. I went behind the video camera and focused the light on her. She looked like a ghost, lit up against the darkness. So hauntingly dramatic.

I cleared my throat and hit record on the camera. “This is Luisa Reyes,” I said, making sure my words were clear enough for the recording. “Former beauty queen of the Baja State and property of Salvador Reyes. Salvador, we have your wife, and we have a long list of demands—demands which I know you can meet. I expect full cooperation in this matter or she dies in the next seven days. If she’s lucky. I’ll give you some time to think about what you’re willing to give up for her. Then we’ll be contacting you. Goodbye.”

At that, I switched off the camera light and hit stop. The room remained dim. It was romantic.

“I hope your husband checks his emails often,” I told her, picking up the knife. “It would be a shame to have to put this on YouTube.”

I walked over to her and then held up the knife, making sure she could see it well. “I think it’s only going to hurt the first time,” I said truthfully, hoping that would make her feel better about what was going to happen. It was the only courtesy I could offer.

While Franco held her still, I ordered Este to rip apart her blouse and push her down, exposing her back. That’s when she passed out, her chin down to her chest, her shoulders slumping.

In an instant, The Doctor had a syringe in his hand, filled with lidocaine, ready to be injected into her heart. “Shall I keep her awake?”

I quickly shook my head. “No. I’ll grant her this mercy.” After all, she never asked for this. I guess it wouldn’t hurt the first time after all.

Only the second.

With careful precision I carved the letter J into her shoulder blade. It bled, bright crimson on her creamy skin, but only a little—the cut was deep enough to leave a light scar but not so deep to cause damage.

I wasn’t a savage.

Luisa

W
hen I woke up, I could have sworn for one moment I was back at my old house in San Jose del Cabo. Something about the way the light slanted in through the window and onto my face.

For that one little moment I was happy again.

It only took me a second though to realize that I couldn’t have been farther from home. The events from last night came flooding into my mind like rancid garbage. I’d finally done it. I’d finally escaped.

And I’d only gotten a few minutes away before I was captured.

By Javier Bernal.

I groaned quietly, afraid that I wasn’t alone, and opened my eyes wider, trying to take in what I could. To my surprise, I wasn’t locked up in some cage in the dingy basement. Instead I was lying under the thin covers of a soft bed in what looked like a bedroom. There was one bare window from which the light streamed through, and through a door I got a glimpse of a dark bathroom. The rest of the room was empty, the walls covered with faded, yellowing wallpaper.

Once I realized I was alone, I slowly sat up in the bed. I was wearing a man’s linen shirt that smelled like spicy tea. The smell hit me like a hammer and I suddenly wished I was naked. To be undressed was one thing, but the fact that I was dressed again was another, something far more intimate than I wanted to think about.

Suddenly the image of a blade flashed through my mind. I gasped, and in a panic, started feeling over every inch of my body, making sure everything was intact.

As far as I could tell, I was in one piece. But when I moved, the shirt stretched over my back and made my skin sting. I felt along my shoulder blade and winced. There was a curved cut there, just in that one spot. Why? What were they trying to do?

I stared down at my hands, turning them over, studying them. I needed to ground myself, to bring myself into this new reality. These were my hands and I was still Luisa Chavez. I was free from Salvador but imprisoned by another danger.

And yet, as I sat there on that bed in that small room with the sunlit walls, in some house in some location I’d probably never learn, I didn’t feel any fear. I had no idea what they were going to do to me. Perhaps I should have been more afraid. I was just … sad. Sad that my life had to go this way, sad that I could never catch a break. Sad that I’d probably never see my parents again.

I swallowed painfully. I knew Javier would kill me. That was what he did, just as it was what Sal did. There was no difference between the men in that regard. I knew that Sal would never do what Javier was going to ask of him; I wasn’t important enough to negotiate for. He’d just find another woman to rape, another woman to hit, to kick, to beat on a daily basis.

The last seven weeks had been pure, unadulterated hell. Now I was in another hell, but this time around I couldn’t find the energy to dance with fear.

But, perhaps I could find the energy to escape once again. I looked around the room, searching for cameras. Salvador had cameras in every room of our house, and I had no doubt that Javier or one of his men were watching my every move. Still, I couldn’t see them, though that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

I carefully got out of bed, feeling sore all over, and checked out the bathroom. It was plain, just a toilet and sink and one roll of toilet paper. I walked over to the window. There wasn’t anything except forest for miles. It looked a lot like the woods surrounding Salvador’s, which made me wonder if we were still in the Sierra Madre Occidental. Thought it was blindingly sunny, there were dark grey clouds hanging above distant green peaks.

There was a knock at the door and I quickly spun around. My instincts told me to cover myself up—the linen shirt barely covered my underwear—and to grab the nearest weapon. There was nothing I could do for either of those. I was practically indecent and completely defenseless.

The knock came again, followed by the sound of the door being unlocked. Why didn’t they just come inside the room, why put up the faux-polite pretenses? If they were doing it to confuse me, it was working.

I waited, my breath in my mouth, and watched the doorknob. When nothing happened, I swallowed my courage and walked toward the door. With my hand on the knob I waited a beat before flinging the door open.

Standing on the other side was a man holding a tray of food and a pot of coffee. I recognized him from last night, I think his name was Esteban. The one who didn’t hit me in the face, though possibly the one who carved something into my back.

He smiled at me, a lopsided grin that made him look innocent even though he was anything but. His hair had a bit of a curl to it, brown with lighter streaks, which reminded me of some of the surfer hippies we had in Los Cabos. He was even dressed like them—board shorts and a wife-beater tank top that showed off his muscles. The only thing that reminded me of his line of business was the scarring on the side of his face. However, it didn’t make him ugly, just dangerous. It kept me on my toes.

I eyed the tray in his hand with suspicion. “What is this?”

“Your breakfast,” he said, nodding down at it. “Tortilla, eggs, salsa, fresh mango juice. Coffee.”

“All laced with drugs to knock me out,” I said, not trusting him for a second.

His smile straightened out, looking playfully amused. “You’re free to do whatever you want with the food. Eat it, don’t eat, we really don’t care. We just want to make sure we’re a good host.”

I could have laughed until I realized he was serious. “You want to be a good host? Let me go free then.” I looked down the hallway and noticed a man stationed at the end of it, standing guard. For a moment I thought I could throw the food in Este’s face, perhaps smash the coffee pot into the other cheek and scar that one up too. But I wouldn’t get far. Where there was one guard there were more guards.

“I’m afraid we can’t let you go until Salvador pays the ransom,” Esteban said. “That’s how these things work.”

“Too bad for you he’ll never pay any amount for me,” I told him.

At that Esteban looked completely surprised. The look vanished when he said, “It’s not money we are after. We have more than enough. We want a certain shipping lane going into the Baja.”

I gave him an incredulous look and shook my head slightly. Was he for real? They had absolutely no idea about me and Salvador’s relationship. They were going to have a rude awakening when they realized he wasn’t going to give them anything. And I was going to die.

When I didn’t say anything he gestured to the room behind me. “May I come in?”

“If I say no, will you do something about it?”

He frowned. “You’re a bit of a feisty one, aren’t you? You do realize what has happened to you, don’t you? Javier Bernal is not a nice man and you’re his prisoner.”

“I’m being treated fairly well for a prisoner,” I countered.

He raised his brows. “We like to extend some courtesies when we can. So I take it you don’t want your food?”

“You and your food can go fuck yourself,” I said, feeling a rush of hot blood go through me. I wasn’t used to swearing or talking back. If it was possible, my newfound fearlessness scared me.

I was so certain that Esteban was going to throw the coffee in my face or strike me, force me into the room and brutalize me. But that never came.

He only gave me a stiff smile. “I’m only trying to make things more comfortable for you. The others aren’t as nice as me.” His look darkened. “But I can be the bad guy if you want me to.”

I believed him. Underneath the boyish demeanour I saw depth that held anger and malicious intent, a bitterness that marred his true nature. Perhaps the darkness wasn’t for me, but it was there. I had seen that same look on Salvador, only he wore his depravity on the surface. While I had no doubt that Esteban was probably considered the good guy in this whole operation, I told myself to never think he was on my side.

Without taking my eyes off of his, I slowly stepped back into the room and shut the door in his face. I stood there, waiting on the other side of it, until I heard a shuffle and the door being locked.

I breathed out a long sigh of relief that rocked through me until I felt like I was too heavy to stand. I leaned back against the door and slowly slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I rested my head back and stared at the window, at the sun that was still shining through.

I was going to spend my last days in this room unless Salvador came through. But even that would mean a return to a horrible life. There was no winning this game.

The only thing I had to hold on to was my sense of self. I had let Sal ruin me, day by day, piece by piece. I wouldn’t let that happen here. They could try and carve me up, they could rape me, torture me, try and confuse me with hospitality, but they would not get to me. They would not break my soul. They would not see my pain.

And at that, a single tear leaked out and ran down my cheek. I swallowed and willed myself to stop. That was for my father and mother who I tried so hard to do right by. That was the only time I would cry from now until my death.

They would never reach the deepest parts of me.

I woke up to the sound of the door being unlocked. I had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, my head slumped to the side, my neck aching. It was twilight now and the sun was long gone.

The door suddenly opened, pushing against my back. Whoever this was, the whole knocking courtesy didn’t extend to them. I quickly rolled out of the way and got to a crouch just as someone stepped in.

In the dim light, I couldn’t make out who it was, but I knew right away. He stared down at me, and I could see his eyes glinting against his shadowy face.

“What are you doing down there?” Javier asked in a silky smooth voice.

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t move.

He shut the door behind him and cocked his head at me. Even in the low light I could feel his eyes, feel him studying me. “I heard you weren’t too interested in eating today. Este says you told him to go fuck himself. I wish I could have seen that.”

When I didn’t say anything, he took a step toward me and held out his hand. “Get up,” he said, waiting. His posture stiffened and his voice lowered. “I said get up. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

It was only then that I noticed he was holding something in his other hand. Two things, it looked like. A folded-up rope and a knife. I waited for the pang of fear to hit me. It was subtle and I didn’t let it show. I also didn’t obey him.

He quickly reached down and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me up to him until I was pressed against his chest, crushing the front of his suit jacket.

“You’re a light little thing, aren’t you?” he asked in a bemused voice, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon and tobacco. “Delicate and easy to break.”

We’d see about that.

I acted instinctually. With my free hand I jabbed my palm into his nose. He yelped in surprise, maybe even in pain, and momentarily let go of me. That’s all I needed.

I pushed past him and went for the door. I put my hands on the knob and turned, pulling it toward me. There was a wonderful feeling of freedom for just that one moment where the door opened and the light from the hallway spilled in. The feeling of power that came from fighting back.

Nothing in my life had felt as good as my hand connecting with his face.

But the feeling was fleeting. All at once the door slammed shut and Javier was behind me, the rope going around my chest. He hauled me backward into him so that he was holding me tight from behind.

“Don’t you know it turns me on when you fight back?” he whispered in my ear, his voice ragged. “Though it turns me on when you don’t fight back, too. I guess you can’t win.” He sniffed. “I think you bloodied my nose.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to bloody my face,” I taunted him, my veins on fire with the strange adrenaline that was running through me.

He sucked in his breath. “No, my darling. I would never do that to your face. Just your back. I have a lot of respect for beautiful things, you know. They are usually the most dangerous.”

Oh, how I wished I could be dangerous to him, to anyone.

“You know, Luisa,” he said, holding me tighter now. I could feel his erection pressing into my ass. “We’re going to be doing this dance with each other until we give you back to your husband. You could make things easier on yourself. I don’t like to play rough with you.”