Dirty Angels

CHAPTER EIGHT

Javier

“Need a sparring partner?”

I hadn’t even noticed that Este was behind me, but my right hook never faltered and it delivered the blow head on. The heavyweight bag swung and I stepped out of the way, wiping the sweat from my brow as I looked to him standing in the doorway. They all called me self-indulgent when I insisted all the safe houses be equipped with a small gym and heavyweight bags, but if I wasn’t staying in shape by boxing, I wasn’t myself.

“Do you remember the last time I sparred with you?” I asked him, grabbing a bottle of water and having a sip.

He shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t embarrassed. Este always had this way of trying to prove something to me, to one-up me. The last time we had a sparring session, he turned it into a full-fledged fight. Naturally, I knocked him down with just a blow. All my training hadn’t been for nothing. I had hoped I knocked his ego down, too, but that wasn’t the case.

He pointed at me and wiggled his fingers. “Were you sparring with someone else? Your nose looks more crooked than normal.”

I raised my brow. “You were right about her being feisty.”

He smiled. “I see. But I guess you still got your way.”

“When don’t I?”

He casually jammed his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Oh, I can think of a few times.”

That was enough. “What do you want, Este?” I asked pointedly.

He nodded, smiling to himself, knowing he got to me for just that one second. “I was going to go check on the girl, bring her some breakfast. Just letting you know that Doc’s cooked up a feast. Do you think it’s too soon to let her eat with us?”

I grabbed a towel and started wiping the sweat off my arms and chest. “I’d like to see if you can convince her to eat, let alone eat with us. But you never know—I did leave her in a rather vulnerable position.”

He frowned and sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I don’t think she realizes what a vulnerable position she’s actually in.”

“I was being literal, but I agree,” I told him, stretching my arms above my head. “So she really thinks that Salvador won’t give a shit about her life?”

“I’ve been checking my phone, my emails all morning,” he said. “There’s nothing from him yet.”

“Maybe he hasn’t seen the video yet.” I went over to the bench and picked up my watch that I removed only for boxing. I didn’t like the way my wrist looked without it. I quickly strapped it on and felt an immediate sense of relief when it covered up the tattoo that resided on my veins.

“Javi, he’s seen it. I can tell.”

“Then he’s waiting for us to tell him what we want. He’s not a stupid man, not entirely. He won’t act rash right away.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. “Otherwise, this was a lot of effort for nothing.”

I glared at him. “That’s not for you to ever question or worry about.”

He raised his palm at me. “It’s all cool, hey.”

I gave him a disgusted look. Everything was always so fucking cool to him, like the cartel was one big frat party where he could coast along, screwing chicks and trying to be the big man on campus. He took all the wrong things seriously.

I watched as he left the room, and then I turned back to the bag. Despite the watch being on my wrist, I started punching again, harder. I hated to admit it, but there was this tiny thread of doubt that Este had placed in my head, wriggling around like a maggot.

Even if Salvador didn’t love his wife, he still had pride, and that was what I was banking on. I could only hope that his pride was worth part of his empire. I had built my own empire—or siphoned it, depending on who you asked—and I knew how much it was worth to me. But my pride, my image, was worth just as much.

Then there was the other piece in the game, the lovely, stubborn Luisa who so bravely dared to defy me last night. After I had left her tied on the bed, it took all my willpower not to go in there and make her see how serious I was. She hadn’t been afraid—she didn’t even make a sound when the blade cut her beautiful skin—and it was driving me mad. I couldn’t tell if she just didn’t realize the danger she was in, or she just didn’t care. If it was the latter, that made her more dangerous than I wanted to admit. She needed to appreciate the art of violence, the beauty in fear, the fragility of her own life.

I had to make her care. If all went well, I only had her for four more days, and in that time I would make her care, make her cry, make her realize just who I was and what I could do to her.

Luisa

I’m not sure how I slept the whole night through with my arms bound to my sides, face down on the bed, but I did. I didn’t wake until I heard knocking at my door. I knew who it was—Esteban knocked, Javier didn’t—and hoped that he would just go away. But I guess his politeness didn’t extend that far.

The door opened and I heard Esteban say, “Wow, he wasn’t kidding.”

It closed behind him and he walked over until I felt him hovering over me. I stiffened, wondering what would come next.

Esteban placed his hand on the small of my back. “Would you like me to untie you?”

Again, I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to beg or ask for anything.

“Well, I’m going to,” he said. He started undoing the rope and soon it loosened my arms falling beside me, my muscles screaming from the pain.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured. “Let me help you up.”

He reached for me, but with what strength I had, I sat up and swatted him away.

“Don’t you touch me,” I scowled.

He raised his palms at me. “All right. Just trying to help.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, sliding the shirt back to normal and making sure I was decent.

He nodded at it. “I have something here for you.”

I looked down at his hands and noticed him carrying a piece of fabric in hot pink.

“It’s a dress,” he said. “You know, if you don’t feel like wearing Javier’s shirt for the rest of the week. Or, you know, you can go naked. If you want.” He gave me a cocky grin and I wished I could do the same to his face as I had done to Javier’s. I just wasn’t sure I had the strength. My arms felt weak from being tied all night and I was absolutely starving.

When I didn’t move or say anything, he threw the dress on my lap. “Put it on,” he said. “I promise to turn around. I won’t look.”

“I don’t care if you do look,” I told him, raising my chin. I didn’t want to do a single thing Esteban or anyone told me to do, but I also wanted to get out of this shirt.

He raised his brows but slowly turned around anyway.

I quickly slipped off the shirt, wincing as it brushed against the cuts on my back, and pulled on the dress. It was strapless and had a smocked bust and waist that conformed to my body perfectly. To what little credit Esteban had, he didn’t turn around for quite some time.

“You look very fresh,” he commented, looking me over. There was a strange look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. It was as if he were devious, but at the same time, it wasn’t lustful or sexual. “Are you ready to eat, or do you still want to be stubborn about it?”

I wanted to say yes to both those questions. “I’m fine.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, hey,” he said. Before I could move, he reached over and grabbed my arm, yanking me straight out of bed. My wrist twisted painfully, and his fingers pressed into me with startling ferocity; enough that I couldn’t help the yelp that escaped from my lips.

“You’re hurting me,” I managed to say, staring up at him, at the highlighted hair that fell in his hazel eyes.

“You’re being an idiot,” he said back, smiling, the scars looking unsettling on his face. “Now come on. You’re having breakfast with us and you’re going to behave. A big smile for the boss.”

He let go and grabbed my upper arm, not as tightly as before, but I obviously wouldn’t be escaping. He led me out of the room and down the carpeted hallway to a set of stairs where a guard was standing watch. I stared at the guard while he took me past. He winked at me in response.

Downstairs the house was a bit more modern. Light pierced through the slats in the blinds. I noticed all the windows were covered, and the furniture in the living room was bare yet still tastefully decorated. I’d never been in Salvador’s torture houses, but I assumed they weren’t as nice as this. It could almost be a middle-class home if only I didn’t know its purpose.

“Right in here,” Este said, leading me through a doorway and into a black-and-white tiled kitchen that smelled of fried pork. At a round table sat an older man with grey, slicked back hair and a mustache. He was dressed all in white and was wearing small round glasses as he looked over the newspaper. He didn’t even glance up at me.

Beside him, sipping on a mug of tea and staring at me with vague surprise, was Javier. This was the first time I was able to get a good look at him in daylight. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. A gold watch glinted from his wrist while his elbows rested on the table.

In some ways Javier was an unusual looking man. He wasn’t movie star handsome—or even Telemundo handsome. His mouth was a little too wide, his nose was a bit crooked, perhaps a tad puffy from last night. He wasn’t terribly tall, and his body was sleek with an athletic build, not as muscled as Esteban. But he had sensual lips, dark, expressive brows, and high cheekbones. His hair was dark, shiny and thick enough to make any man or woman envious, a shaggy and slightly long cut. Then there were his eyes, that stark, golden gaze that cut you from the inside out. You couldn’t help but get sucked into them, swirling into whatever darkness lurked below. They were relentless, terrifying, and oddly beautiful, just like the man himself.

Javier took his eyes off of me and fixed them on Esteban. “I wasn’t expecting her.”

Esteban let go of my arm and nudged me toward the table. “She wanted to come. I told you I could convince her.”

I swallowed hard as Javier looked back at me, searching my face. I wasn’t sure why Esteban lied—he had certainly not convinced me of anything—but I wasn’t about to call attention to it either.

“Well then,” Javier said, nodding at the empty seat across from him. “Sit down. Eat Este’s breakfast.”

I didn’t want to move, but Esteban nudged me again, harder this time, until I practically fell into the chair. The mugs and glasses of juice on the table rattled, spilling over slightly, and Javier briefly shot Esteban a deadly look, though I couldn’t tell if it was for my unceremonious treatment or the spilled drinks. Most likely the latter.

“I got her to wear the dress too,” Este added, standing behind me and resting his hands on the back of my chair.

Javier’s gaze slid over my body before resting on my face, looking remotely suspicious. “So I see. I hope you like it, Luisa. If you don’t, there’s more where it came from.”

I could only stare blankly at him, too overwhelmed by the situation.

“Oh, and where are my manners?” He looked over at the grey-haired man. “Luisa, this is The Doctor. Doc, this is our dear houseguest, Luisa Reyes.”

The Doctor eyed me dryly before turning back to the paper. “Yes, I met her the other night.”

“Ah, but the other night was so … chaotic, don’t you think?” Javier folded his hands in front of him. “Perhaps proper introductions are still needed. You know who I am, so you say. The man behind you is Esteban Mendoza. Another partner of ours, Franco, is running errands. I’m afraid you don’t want to get on his bad side—again.” He gestured to my cheek which was still tender, thanks to the hit it took the other night. I’d made a note not to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, but I knew it was deeply bruised.

“There are a few more people you’ll see milling about, but their names aren’t important. They won’t have much to do with you unless you make trouble for yourself. It seems as if that’s something you like to do—I recommend you don’t. We don’t want to do any harm to you. That said, we’re not completely against it either.”

I snorted and gave him the most disgusted look I could muster.

It made him smile, cunning and cruel. “So you know how to find humor in life. That will go a long way, my darling. But you should also know when I’m serious. We’ve given the demands to your husband. The ball is in his court.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that sneaked angrily across my face. “He’ll never make a deal with you. You’ll see.”

“I think you underestimate your worth,” Javier said earnestly.

“And I think you overestimate my husband,” I said. “You would have been better off just killing him instead of taking me. That was your biggest mistake.”

His jaw flexed very lightly, as if he were biting something back.

“There was no mistake,” he said carefully. He paused. “So you would have preferred we kill your dear Salvador?”

“If you killed him, I wouldn’t be here right now, wearing a whore’s dress and being forced to eat your shitty food.”

A genuine smile spread across Javier’s face, lighting his eyes up like citron stones. There was a beauty to it that shocked me, making me momentarily forget who I was dealing with.

He laughed, nodding his head. “You are something, aren’t you? You know, by the time you leave, I think the two of us will get to know each other very well. I might even end up liking you.”

I didn’t return the smile. No, you won’t, I thought. Because I won’t give you what you want.

It was all for show now, all of this, the banter, the pretenses that this could be a cordial experience. It didn’t fool me for a second. After all, there was a V that needed to be carved into my back.

“I’ll have you know,” The Doctor said, slowly getting to his feet, “that the food is only shitty when Este is cooking.”

“Hey,” Este said from behind me, sounding hurt.

The smile suddenly departed Javier’s face. He looked to Este and The Doctor. “Do you mind giving us some privacy? Luisa and I need to talk. Alone.”

I felt Esteban hesitate at my back, but he and The Doctor left the room by way of the kitchen door. Sunlight, heat, and birdsong streamed inside for a moment. I breathed in deeply, trying both to find my courage to face Javier alone again and to take in the smell of the surrounding mountains. It smelled clean, like sunbaked leaves and dry air. It reminded me that life was going on outside this house, and that it could be beautiful.

“What are you thinking?” Javier asked me in a low voice, sounding genuinely interested.

I would not let him in. I looked at him point blank. “About how you’re going to kill me.”

He raised his brow. “And how do you think I’m going to kill you?”

I shrugged, pretending that even talking about it didn’t scare me. “You’ll probably slice my head off. That’s what Salvador does … when he’s in a good mood.”

He stared at me intently. “It wouldn’t be the first time for me. But the blood is starting to be a real pain to clean up.”

“Then how will you do it?”

His brow furrowed. “You really think I’m going to kill you?”

“If Salvador doesn’t give you want you want, then yes. But before that, you’ll start sending him my body parts. My fingers and toes first. Perhaps my ears. A tit.”

He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, looking disturbed. “You are a morbid little woman.”

“I didn’t used to be. Then I became the wife of a drug lord.”

He licked his lips, looking me over. “You’re very good at pretending not to be afraid. But I am very good at seeking the truth in people. You can’t go far in this business without becoming somewhat of a mind reader.” He folded his hands behind his head, looking utterly casual. “And I can sense your fear, buried beneath all your bravado. I can smell it.”

I ignored him and looked up at his wrist. His watch had moved over an inch and I could see the word “wish” tattooed beneath it in English.

“What does your tattoo mean?” I asked.

His face froze for a moment then relaxed. “It’s English.”

“I know how to read English,” I told him. “I worked at a bar in Cabo San Lucas for the last three years.”

Oh damn, big mistake. He didn’t need to know anything else about me.

“So I heard,” he said. When he noted my expression he added, “Don’t look so surprised. I had people researching you for some time. I know a lot of things about you, Luisa Reyes.”

“I’d rather you call me Chavez,” I told him. “The Reyes name means nothing to me.”

“Apparently. So why did you marry him then? Money?”

“What does the tattoo mean? You tell me something, I’ll tell you something.”

He pursed his lips for a moment and then nodded sharply. “All right. The tattoo is for a Nine Inch Nails’ song. I got it when I was young and stupid and living in America.”

That couldn’t be all there was to the story, but his face was completely unreadable.

“So you married him for money?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded. There was no chance of me telling him the real reason. As long as my parents were alive, this monster would never know about them. “He took an interest in me, and of course I said yes to him.”

“Of course,” he said slowly, a hint of disappointment on his brow. “Well, Luisa, I hope it was worth your life.”

My heart thumped uncomfortably. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

He gave me a small smile. “I never said that. I only asked why you thought I was. If Salvador does not comply, we probably will have to start sending him little pieces of you. Or we may just chop your head right off and send him that.”

It was hard to ignore the fear now. I don’t know why it suddenly felt so real. I guess sitting across from him, looking at Javier Bernal, made it hard to ignore. Still, I straightened up in my seat. “You’ll have all that blood to clean up.”

He shrugged lazily. “True, but that’s what Este is for, after all.” Suddenly the look in his eyes darkened. “You like him, don’t you?”

I frowned, totally confused. “Like him?”

He gave me a dismissive wave and got out of his chair. I could see now he had on dark blue jeans with a hand-tooled leather belt. That, combined with his pristine white shirt, made him seem so elegantly casual.

So elegantly dangerous.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, coming around the table. “Get up. Take off your dress.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

He kicked at the leg of the chair, moving me back a few inches. “Do it. Please. Or I will do it for you. Would you like that?” He reached out for me and I balked from his touch. “Because I think I would.”

I didn’t know what to do. I felt frozen, stuck to the chair, unable to move.

He didn’t wait for me. He quickly reached down and put his hands around my waist, lifting me straight out of the chair. He was deceptively strong, and he placed me on my feet with grace, as if we were a figure skating pair.

He held me close to him, hands still cupped around my waist, staring down at me like he was trying to hypnotize me with his eyes. “You are my enigma,” he said gruffly. “But I never leave anything unsolved.”

Before I could say anything to that, he pulled the dress right over my head and tossed it on the ground behind him. There I was, standing stark naked in his kitchen, still dirty from my escape. I felt like the dirt was in every corner of my soul while I stood there and he looked me over with an unmeasurable smile.

He stepped back and I did what I could to cover myself. He quickly swatted my arms away. “No, no, Luisa. You just stand right there until I tell you otherwise.” He slowly walked to the side of me, pushing the table out of the way. “You were a beauty queen, this should be nothing but second nature to you.”

“I was never a whore,” I managed to say, keeping my eyes focused on a blank spot on the wall. I wondered if Esteban and The Doctor knew what was going on, wondered if one of Javier’s guards would come sauntering in here. I tried to push the memories of Salvador and the humiliating things he had made me do out of my head. It was all I could do to stay strong.

“You’re right,” he said softly, stopping behind me. “I can see you were never a whore. Your purity shines through you. It’s intoxicating.” I felt him step closer, his breath at the back of my neck. He breathed in. “More intoxicating than the finest liquor.” He breathed out, slowly, blowing a few strands of hair. “And this is why I refuse to believe that Salvador won’t give me what I want, not for as long as I have you.”

I closed my eyes, knowing I couldn’t change his mind, not now.

He pressed close to me.

“I will break you,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot. He ran his hands down my sides, then reached around my breasts, finding the nipples. I steeled myself against him, not allowing myself to feel anything. Though his touch was soft and gentle, his intentions were not. The intentions of men never were.

I swallowed hard and said as steadily as I could muster, “Then do your worst. And you will see that the worst has already been done.”

He sucked in his breath, just for a moment. Then he said, “Is that so?”

“You’ve only stripped me naked.”

“Are you asking for more?” he asked softly, his lips now at my other ear, my nipples finally starting to pucker under the rhythmic teasing of his thumbs. My body was responding in a way it shouldn’t, in a way I never thought possible. “I’m not done with your back, you know. There are more letters in my name.”

One of his hands traced the letters J and A. I winced from even that light pressure on the wounds but quickly buried the pain. Thankfully, his fingers didn’t linger there. His hands began to drift down my bare back. They swept over my ass, sliding his finger underneath my cheeks, in the soft spot where they met the thigh. It nearly tickled me and brought out a low groan from him.

I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here, I chanted to myself.

Javier walked around me, keeping his hands at my waist, until his face was right in front of mine. I opened my eyes to see that perpetual smirk twisting the ends of his lips. “I am far from done with you, Miss Chavez, the beauty queen.”

He then crouched down, his hands sliding down my hips, the sides of my thighs. His touch was so gentle and so deceiving. I sucked in my breath, doing what I could to ignore the goose bumps of pleasure.

“You’re doing this for revenge,” I said, staring down at him, refusing to look away, refusing my body’s betrayal.

He smirked and started running his hands up my inner thighs. “On Salvador? Well, I suppose that is pretty obvious, my beauty.”

“No,” I told him. “This is your revenge on women.” His hands paused at that, gripping my skin. “Because a woman broke you.”

His eyes slowly trailed up to mine, simmering in a golden fury that belied his cold exterior. He straightened up, and that look of anger, of pain … was gone. The hypnotizing, handsome mask was back.

“I don’t know what you are referring to,” he said with ease.

I couldn’t help but smirk right back at him. I had found his sore spot. Someone had broken his heart. “No. Perhaps you don’t.” The tattoo had tipped me off. If it really had just been about a band, I would never have seen that look of fear pass through his eyes. Now I was thrilled I had something to go on, some way to get to him. “Perhaps you don’t want to talk about it.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” This time he said it a little too easily. His voice grew husky. “Now, give me your hands.”

He grasped both my wrists and brought them behind my back. Before I could look over my shoulder, I felt them being bound together with rope. Did he keep a length of rope on him at all times? Probably. That and a knife.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

“Here?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.

“Yes,” he said. He leaned in and said into my ear, “Here. Now.”

I wondered what would happen if I refused. One moment he acted as if he would never hurt me, the next moment there was this dark malice in his soul, the part of him that chopped people’s heads off.

Either way, the only choice I had was to be as unaffected as possible. So I did as he said. I dropped to my knees, carefully, with my hands bound behind me.

“Good. Now put your face on the floor. Keep your gorgeous ass in the air.”

I complied, leaning over until my cheek was pressed against the cold tiles. I couldn’t have felt more vulnerable, more humiliated, if I tried.

And it seemed like Javier was a person to try. I heard him unzip his jeans, the sound seeming to echo off the kitchen walls, so simple and so terrifying.

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself. As I had done with Salvador or whatever man he’d made me have sex with, I removed a part of myself from the situation. I swallowed the fear and the feelings, and I became a blank slate, a void that wouldn’t feel any pain, wouldn’t process any emotion.

Javier could do his worst. I was ready for him. Ready to feel nothing.

But the pain never came. I didn’t know if this was part of the game, but he never touched me. Was he waiting to pounce when I least expected it? Was he taking his time?

I opened my eyes, and though I didn’t dare look over my shoulder, I caught sight of him in my peripheral. He was standing there, right behind me. But he wasn’t just standing there. He was moving ever so slightly.

I heard a small moan escape from his lips and finally realized what he was doing—he was pleasuring himself.

I felt a jolt of revulsion mingled with perverse curiosity. A part of me wanted a better look, wanted to see him in the act. Another part of me—the better part—wanted to pretend none of this was happening.

So I closed my eyes again and tried to pretend I wasn’t there, but I could hear his palm sliding up and down on himself, skin on skin, his breath as it hitched in pleasure. I couldn’t shut it out of my mind. The more worked up he got, the more it teased me, taunting me to look. I could barely imagine a man like Javier wrapped up in the vulnerability of release, and yet it was happening right behind me. It was happening because of me.

And yet he hadn’t laid a finger on me, not yet. He was getting off on just the sight of me, the bare sight of me before him. I didn’t know whether to feel humiliated or flattered.

He is only making fun of you, I told myself. Just because he’s not forcing himself on you doesn’t make him any different from Salvador.

Then how come I was tricking myself into thinking this was … better?

“You’re so complicit,” I heard him moan from behind me, his voice low, rough, caught up in his own passion. “So good. Why do I feel there’s a bad girl in you that needs to come out?”

I didn’t say anything. The sound of his breathing, his stroking, intensified.

“Perhaps if I come all over your beautiful back,” he whispered, pausing to catch his breath. “Come onto my letters. Rub myself into your skin, into your blood. Will the bad girl come out? Will I awaken the true Luisa?” He let out a deep groan that reverberated into my bones. “We’ll see, won’t we, my darling?”

At that he sucked in his breath and groaned even louder. “Fuck,” he cried out, gasping over the words. “Fuck.”

Hot fluid spurted onto my back, making me flinch, catching me by surprise. For a moment I could only hear his heavy breathing and I waited, not knowing how literal he was going to be.

I heard his zipper go back up and felt his shadow looming over me.

“I look good on your skin,” he murmured. He pressed his hands on my back and began to rub the sticky fluid into my back, into the wound. I bit my lip and held back a cry as it stung like crazy, making my eyes water.

“Finally,” he whispered, and I could feel his yellow eyes observing me closely. But he didn’t say anything else. He kept rubbing until my skin had absorbed all of him, just as he wanted. He then undid the rope around my wrists and stepped back.

I put my hands on the ground, and he walked around so I was facing his leather boots. He crouched down until we were almost eye to eye and he held up my dress in his hands.

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile, his eyes glazed with lazy exaltation. Then he grabbed me by my arms and hoisted me to my feet. Quickly, he slipped the dress on over my head and pulled it down until I was covered again. “You’re free to go,” he said.

I stared at him in surprise which brought out another smile from him.

“To your room, of course,” he said. Suddenly, he was turning around and snapping his fingers. “Tito,” he barked, and the guard who had winked at me earlier appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Take her to her room.”

I felt my cheeks flare from embarrassment—had the man seen the whole thing? If he had, Javier definitely didn’t care who saw him come all over me.

Javier reached down to the table and handed me the plate of uneaten food that had been for Esteban. “Almost forgot your breakfast.”

And at that he turned around and walked down the hall, disappearing into one of the rooms.

I stared at him, bewildered, clutching the plate of food in my hand.

Tito pointed the way toward the staircase, gesturing as if he were being polite. I barely took in his youthful but menacing appearance before I walked numbly up the stairs and back into my room. He shut the door behind me, locking it, and I was left alone again, with food that I didn’t want but needed, and thoughts that I didn’t need but wanted.