Dirty Angels

CHAPTER TEN

Javier

“What the fuck are you doing?” I bellowed at Este and started sprinting down the driveway toward them.

One moment I was about to berate Este for taking Luisa out of the house, the next moment she had bashed his face in and was making a run for it before he took out a motherfucking Taser gun and fired on her. I don’t even know when the fuck he got the Taser, I thought I left that back home.

He looked over at me in surprise though he was still firing the gun, the wires connected to Luisa’s fallen, twitching body twenty feet away. I yanked it out of his hands and immediately the electricity stopped jolting through the wires.

“She tried to get away,” Este said unapologetically.

“I can see that,” I sniped at him. I looked at her, now motionless on the ground. “Jesus Christ.”

I ran over to her, dislodging the cartridge from the gun and tossing it to the ground. I crouched down beside her and gently put my hand on her neck, shaking her back and forth. “Luisa?” I said.

There was no answer or movement from her, but I could see her breathing in and out, which was a relief. I removed the darts from her back, blood trickling out of the holes. It looked so cheap and brutal below my letters.

I turned and glared over at Esteban who was watching me from a distance. “You’re a fuck, you know that? What if you accidently killed her? The Taser isn’t supposed to knock her out, just bring her down. And why the fuck did you put yourself in this position in the first place? You were supposed to give her breakfast, give her clothes, and that was it.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t worried, Javi. I figured she may try something but thought I’d let her see who she’s dealing with here. If she ran, I’d Tase her. She’d learn not to do it again.”

“I’m who she’s dealing with here,” I said, the anger simmering in my blood. “Not you. She’s not yours to touch, not yours to go on walks with, and not yours to fucking brutalize.”

He laughed. “I think Luisa was right. Maybe you should question yourself more often. You should hear the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

I wished I could reuse Taser cartridges because there’s no doubt I’d be delivering all those volts right to his miniscule balls. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to regain my cool. There was no point losing it here and now.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here,” I told him. “Go check on Juanito. Perhaps he has word from Salvador.”

Esteban hesitated, as if he was going to argue with me, but his brain kicked into gear and he turned and walked back toward the house with his wide-legged, frat boy stroll. Fucking degenerate.

I looked down at Luisa, realizing she was wearing the skirt I gave her as a dress. The color was stunning on her smooth, tan skin; her long hair was extra shiny in the sunshine, cascading into the earth around her. I reached over and ran a strand through my fingers—soft and wet, probably just out of the shower. Now she was dirty again.

The sight of her lying unconscious and broken should have made me smile. It should have soothed something inside of me. After all, this was what I wanted. But it wasn’t the same. This was unplanned and without merit. She may have looked weak, but I still did nothing to break her. If she were conscious, she’d be fighting me with her body and heart and mind.

I’d come to appreciate the fight in her.

I picked her up under her arms and hauled her to her feet, her head hanging down, creating a curtain of hair that masked her face. It took little effort to scoop her up, one arm under her arms, the other under her knees. I carried her back toward the house, and her head rolled back, exposing her fine collarbone, her fragile neck, her beautiful, sleeping features.

She really was light as air in my arms, just this helpless, submissive creature. As I approached the door where Franco was standing watch, I felt a pulse of possessiveness run through me. It wasn’t just that while she was here, I thought she was mine. I also felt like I needed to protect her. If I didn’t, no one would. Esteban had Tasered her without care, and Franco was staring at her with such ugly lust that I made a mental note to never let her near him. I knew his appetite for destruction was large and unceremonious.

“What happened to her?” Franco said, licking his lips as he looked her over. “Este looked pissed off.”

He reached over and grabbed a few strands of her hair. I automatically stopped walking and shot him a steady, deadly look.

“Don’t touch her,” I said, my tone both hard and calm. “Don’t you ever touch her. Do you understand?”

Franco slowly brought his eyes to mine. They were mildly defiant for a moment as a snarl appeared on his face. Then it melted into a sloppy smile. “Sure thing, boss.”

I went inside and took her to her room, kicking the door shut behind us, and laid her down on the bed on her back. I wasn’t about to leave her, not with her being unconscious. I had never been Tasered before, but I knew that sometimes there were complications. Sometimes people died. I had the Taser gun for torture, for the purpose of pain. After all, we shoot to kill in Mexico, and if we want to stop someone, a bullet works pretty well. A Taser though, that doesn’t kill…that prolongs. But I had no idea of the effects of a Taser on a woman.

The morning light was streaming in through the window, illuminating her like an angel, but a dirty one. Feeling strangely remorseful, I brushed some of the dust off of her. I ran my hands over her legs, her hips, across her stomach, her breasts, her chest, her arms. I rubbed the earth from her face, carefully running my thumb along her cheekbones, her skin so devastatingly soft. Though I needed to wake her up to make sure she was okay, I also wanted her to keep sleeping. I went to the end of the bed and pulled off her shoes, letting them fall to the floor, then put a pillow under her head. I stood there for a few minutes, just taking in the sight of her, my sleeping beauty.

The impulses that sporadically ran through me were hard to fight. I wanted to keep feeling her, that effortless glide of my palms against her skin. I wanted to caress her breasts, lick at her nipples, make her wet with my fingers. I wanted to take out my cock and rub the head against her slightly open lips. Then I wanted to flip her over and finish carving my name. Today I would do the I.

But I wanted her awake for all of it. It would be wrong otherwise.

I must have stood there for an hour, having this fight between my body and my mind, before she finally stirred. Her head moved to the side and she let out a small moan, stretching her limbs for a second. I sucked in my breath in anticipation as her eyes slowly blinked open, staring at the ceiling.

She carefully lifted her head and looked straight at me, having sensed I was there. Disappointment was etched into her face.

“You didn’t quite get away,” I said in a low voice.

She stared at me for a beat or two before looking down at her body in alarm, her hands smoothing over the dress.

“I didn’t touch you,” I told her, examining my fingernails, making sure they were clean. “Don’t worry.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “I was knocked out.”

I grimaced. “Yes. That was Este. He had a Taser. But you tried to run.” I flicked my eyes to her. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re actually sorry I was Tasered?” There was a bite to her voice. The fight was back, and it was making me hard.

I gave her a soothing smile. “I am. I had no wish to see that happen.” I paused. “What did it feel like?”

She glared at me. “Like when you hit your funny bone, but more intense and all over your body until you think you’re going to die.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It was,” she seethed.

I took steps closer so I was leaning right over her, my eyes fixed on hers. They were so impossibly lush and dark, I nearly felt a little lost. I cleared my throat. “So next time, maybe don’t try to run. At least not around Este.”

She stared up at me and swallowed—I could see her throat bobbing. So delicate. “What if I try and run from you?”

“You won’t want to run from me. You don’t want to know what happens when I catch up with you.”

I watched her closely, waiting for fear, waiting for ambivalence, waiting for apathy. But I saw nothing in her except this fire that burned deep within her eyes. I wanted to taste that fire on my lips, I wanted to fuck it with my dick. I wanted to feel it in every way I could. I wanted to bring the fire out of her.

But she kept it inside, out of reach. She was utterly fascinating because she was not broken and refused to break. No matter how hard I tried, she refused to break.

Though I wasn’t done with her yet.

“I’ll come back for you later,” I said to her, and turned to leave the room. I heard her breathe a sigh of relief in my wake and I couldn’t help but smile. At least the sight of me leaving meant something to her.

For the rest of the day, Este acted like he had this giant chip on his shoulder. Of course he did. He always did. He was usually better at hiding it under that surfer boy persona. It was enough that I hesitated after dinner when he asked if I wanted him to bring Luisa her food. At least he did ask—his manners hadn’t all gone to shit.

When he’d come back to the kitchen, The Doctor and I had lit up our cigars. We kept the kitchen door open, the screen keeping out the mosquitoes, and watched the breeze pull our smoke outside. It was a hot night, sticky, and I was feeling all out of sorts. I felt as if I was starting to lose my control of the situation.

The fact was, we hadn’t heard from Salvador. Juanito had left earlier in the day, on a mission to Culiacán to gather information. People talked. He’d know right away if Luisa’s disappearance was gossip or not. Este had been scanning websites for any mention of Luisa being taken, in either casual blogs or newspapers, but so far there had been nothing. It was as if she wasn’t upstairs in that room and we weren’t here figuring out what to do with her.

“How did it go?” I asked Este between puffs. I let the smoke fall out of my mouth and watched it drift away to the door.

“She’s eating,” he said. “She’s kind of being a bitch.”

The Doctor snorted with mild amusement.

I narrowed my eyes briefly at Este. “She has every right to be a bitch.”

Este grinned at me and pulled out a chair and sat down. “Well, look at Mr. Bernal empathizing with his own captive.”

“Don’t mistake understanding for empathy, my friend,” I replied.

“Don’t mistake collateral for something you can keep,” he said. “Once Sal does the deal, back she goes.”

“Javier is not an idiot,” The Doctor said thoughtfully as he blew smoke through his nose. “She goes back when Sal comes through. If he doesn’t come through, she dies. Slowly. And painfully. Until our point has been made.” He gave me a pointed glance. “Isn’t that right?”

“Of course.” I nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Anything less than that,” The Doctor went on, “and well, news travels fast, doesn’t it? No cartel that has gotten this far has ever shown that kind of weakness. We’re all about preserving the empire. Javier’s empire.” He gave me a kind smile, the type that an elder would bestow on someone younger that they were proud of. Only I knew the type of man The Doctor was. He didn’t have a lot of kindness for me, just tolerance. I doubted you could become so revered in the art of torture and negotiations and still have a kind bone in your body.

It was at that moment that I realized what we all must have looked like. A bunch of sharks sitting around a table, giving each other our razorblade grins and winking with black eyes. If we stopped eating, stopped swimming, we died.

“There is no question of what will happen to Luisa if Salvador doesn’t come through,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But I do believe Salvador will come through.”

“Why don’t we make another video?” Este suggested with a wag of his eyebrows. “A warning.”

“Yes,” said The Doctor. “That couldn’t hurt, could it?”

It wouldn’t hurt us, no.

I gave him a quick smile and tapped my fingers on the table. “I thought standard procedure was to do that if the ransom was being negotiated or the kidnappers weren’t being taken seriously. Not if he just hasn’t responded.”

“Oh, Javier,” he said. “You’re an odd duck with this code of honor and following procedures. You’re a fucking drug lord. You can do whatever the hell you want to do, there is no rulebook. There is no honor. Not here.” He looked at Este. “Tomorrow would work.”

“It has to be tomorrow,” Este said. “Or we’re running out of time. Tonight would be best.”

I felt as if the room had started to tilt. I placed both my palms flat on the table and pressed down, trying to steady myself. “Hold on. Let’s not rush into this. We have to plan this perfectly.”

“You and your planning,” Este scoffed. “I say we go upstairs and smack her around a bit.”

“Losing an appendage is always more effective,” The Doctor added. “I know the right cuts to make.”

My chest tightened. I wasn’t sure why my body was reacting this way. “No,” I said. “No one is doing anything to her except for me. This is my operation and she is my prisoner.”

“So, then you do it,” Este said. “But we have to act fast. Why not start tonight? I can get everything set up in a minute.” He stood up, pushing back his chair and stared down at me. “Or are empathy and understanding confusing themselves again?”

“Sit the fuck down,” I sneered at him, pointing at his seat. “Or have you forgotten your place?”

Our eyes locked in a deadly stare until he finally looked away. He always looked away. He sat back down but his attitude never cleared up. “Have you forgotten your place?”

I was fast with a knife. Always was. Before Este could register it, I pulled the knife out of my boot under the table and threw it at him with an easy flick of my wrist. I heard him scream and knew it had lodged itself into his shin.

He kept yelling and fell off his chair to the floor. I got up and walked over to him. The knife hadn’t gone in very far. I tapped the end of the knife with my boot, driving it a bit further into his leg. Este let out a bloodcurdling scream that only made me grin.

“You’re a fuck,” I said as I leaned over him. His face was contorted in pain but his eyes could see me. “This is your place, right here on the fucking floor. I’d piss on you if I could, but I’m a bit too turned on at the moment.” I straightened up and gave The Doctor a warning look. I was about to turn around, but then I reached down and plucked the knife out of his leg. “Forgot, I’ll be needing this,” I said over his scream.

I took it over to the sink, rinsed it off, and dried it on a faded washcloth and looked back at The Doctor. “Let’s leave Este out of this one, shall we? Though I’m sure his screaming would come in handy. What a fucking pussy.”

He nodded, his brows frozen on his forehead. Seemed I had the ability to surprise him, too. I think I showed them to not ever question how the fuck I did my job.

Together we left Este writhing on the floor and went to get the video camera before bringing it up to Luisa’s room. I don’t know why I felt the need to knock, but I did. She would be expecting me, but not the camera, and not The Doctor.

Good thing she wasn’t in a position where she should ever expect anything.

I unlocked the door and flicked on the lights when I entered.

Luisa was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, hands wrapped around her legs. She was in a pair of jeans and a grey tank top that had belonged to someone else, looking like any young woman out there. Except she wasn’t just any young woman. She was beautiful. She was mine. And she was going to bleed for her husband.

“We’re mixing things up,” I told her, raising the knife in the air as The Doctor shut the door behind him. “The Doctor is going to set up the video and film our little nightly interlude.”

“Why?” she asked softly. “Did Sal not want to negotiate?”

“Your husband hasn’t responded at all. We hope this will be seen. And I’ll come join you in the video, just so he can see who has you, in case he hasn’t realized how fucking serious I am.”

Was that fear I saw in her eyes, or was the light playing tricks on me? I walked over to her and pointed at the bed with the knife. “Lie on your stomach.”

She didn’t move. “Are you going to let him see what you’re carving into me?”

I shook my head. “On the off chance that my name would forever taint you for him, no, I won’t let him see. All he will see is that you will be in a lot of pain.”

She smiled at me, wicked, her eyes smug. “We’ll see about that.”

I wanted to ignore that, but the fact was, she had never given me any reaction before. I needed her to react this time. Otherwise it looked like I wasn’t doing anything to her. I would have to drive the knife in deeper, and as much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t looking forward to that.

I gestured to the bed again. “Lie down, now.”

She did as she was told, and I winced inwardly at the crusted marks on her back where the Taser probes had gone in. She had a hell of a day and it was about to get worse.

I looked to The Doctor. He was watching me, bemused. “Are you ready?” I asked, annoyed by his look.

“Yes,” he said, getting behind the camera. “The light isn’t very good but it’s all ready to go. Aren’t you going to tie her up?”

I looked at her. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“No,” he conceded. “But if you don’t, it looks like she’s complying with you. Letting you. Not exactly the kind of message you want to send to Salvador. She also doesn’t look the slightest bit afraid. I think you need to fix that.”

I didn’t like being told what to do, but he was right. She looked at me, waiting. I smiled back, wolfish, as I took the rope out of my pocket. There was just enough for her wrists, and it wasn’t very strong, but it would do for this situation.

Grabbing her hands, I quickly tied them behind her back. Then I got on the bed and straddled her.

I leaned down so my lips were at her ear. “I’m going to hurt you more than normal,” I told her. “You’ll react this time. If not for me, for the camera.”

She fixed her eye on me, head to the side. “Why? So Salvador will trade with you? I don’t want to go back. It’s a worse hell than here.”

Something in my gut sunk like a stone. I inhaled sharply and said, “This isn’t about what you want.” I looked up at The Doctor who was watching her curiously.

“Interesting,” he said in that slow voice of his. “But Luisa, he is right. It’s not about you. It’s about us. And it’s about other people you may care about.”

At that her head lifted up to look at him.

The corner of his lips twitched at her attention. “You do have parents. They were at your wedding. If Salvador doesn’t think you’re in danger, if he thinks you’d rather die at the hands of a rival cartel than come home, what do you think he’s going to do to your parents?”

I felt her body stiffen beneath me, as if it had just crossed her mind. So this was what she cared most about. Her parents. It killed me that The Doctor knew this and I didn’t.

“Just something to think about, anyway,” The Doctor finished. “I’m about to hit record. Are you speaking to the camera, Javier?”

I nodded, shaking myself into the role, and pressed the knife down on her back, ready to make the slash for the I. I waited for The Doctor’s cue, then looked up at the camera.

“Salvador, we’re a bit disappointed that you haven’t reached out to negotiate the safe return of your wife. My suggestion to you is to at least respond to us, otherwise you won’t be getting Luisa back in one piece.” I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back so he could see her face. To my surprise, she let out a cry of pain. I really had hurt her.

The Doctor was smiling behind the camera at her reaction, and I had no choice but to smile as well. Only difference was, mine was fake.

“You have a very lovely wife,” I went on to say. “Very beautiful. It would be a shame to ignore this because you didn’t think we were serious. I am very serious. You have two days to contact us. After that, she becomes property of my cartel. And I’m sure you know what that means. This is just the start.” I pressed the tip of the blade into her skin. Instead of feeling the thrill I normally felt, I felt my guts twist. But I persevered through the frivolous sentiment and dug the knife in sharply, an inch deep.

She let out a scream. I didn’t know if it was because of the pain or the thought of losing her parents. It was what we wanted though. I slowly dragged the blade down, rivers of crimson pooling around the metal and spilling down her back and onto the bedspread. She screamed again until The Doctor told us we were done.

Then her screaming stopped. She was breathing heavily beneath me, the blood pouring freely, but she wasn’t even whimpering.

The Doctor shook his head slightly and said, “I’ll go upload this and check on Este. There’s been too much blood tonight, even for someone like me.”

He gathered up the camera and left the room. Once we were alone, I felt completely flustered, a feeling that was foreign and terrible. I untied her wrists then got off of her and stared at the blood for a moment before going and getting a towel from the bathroom. I pressed it down on her back and she flinched under my touch.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything.

I kept pressure on the towel and watched as the red monopolized the white. “It is a fairly deep cut this time. Ugly. I don’t like to make ugly marks.”

I expected her to tell me off. I wanted her to tell me off. But she gave me nothing, as usual. It was frustrating beyond belief.

“Interesting thing about your parents,” I told her, searching for that spark.

Her muscles tightened beneath my hand and she looked like she was holding her breath.

My heart danced. There it was. “I had no idea they meant so much to you,” I went on. “Of course, I don’t know anything about them at all, but I’m sure I could find out their names and addresses tomorrow if I wanted to. I’m assuming they weren’t living with you and Salvador. No, my guess is they are back in Los Cabos, completely unprotected.” I leaned in closer. “You know, my darling, most daughters don’t leave their parents behind to go off and marry a drug lord.”

She suddenly sat up, hair in her face, her eyes blazing with fury. I kept the towel pressed against her wound, keeping her close to me. Fuck me, I wanted to put my tongue in her mouth and feel that anger. I wanted to take her fury right here on the bed, let the blood wash over the both of us.

“You don’t know anything about me and my parents,” she hissed at me. “So don’t even try.”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her even closer so she was almost pressed up against me. “Oh, I’ll try. Tell me then how it went? Girl ditches her proud mama and papa for a chance to marry the man of her dreams and become a narco-wife? Bet you regret that little fancy of yours, don’t you?”

She raised her other hand to smack me, but I was quick. I dropped the towel and snatched her by the wrist. I forced her down on her back, holding her hands above her head and pinning her to the bed. She struggled but not for long as I climbed on top of her.

I stared down at her and couldn’t help but smile. She’d be so easy to fuck right now, but I wanted to fuck that pretty little head of hers even more, see what was inside.

“You don’t know anything!” she said. “I was a good daughter. I did this all for them. This was all for them. If I married Salvador, I could pay for someone to take care of them. They’re ill and I struggled every fucking day to provide for them, to make sure they were fed and happy, and it was never a guarantee. I did everything I could to give them the best life I could. We grew up poor but they made sacrifices for me. I had to make sacrifices for them. My life was the biggest sacrifice. So I married him because he asked me, and I knew I could give my parents the life that they deserved. I never expected love, I never expected anything good except knowing that they were going to be okay.”

She wasn’t quite crying, but her eyes were wet. I frowned, a strain of compassion running through me for this strong little woman. She didn’t feel sorry for herself, she rarely got angry, and yet she’d been handed the shit card in life, just as I had.

“You care that much about your parents?” I asked, aware that I was crushing her. “You’d marry Sal just for their happiness? Though I don’t see how any parent could be happy with you marrying that man.”

Her brows knitted together as she stared up at me. “Don’t you care about your parents?”

“My parents are dead,” I said simply.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” And the curious thing, I could see she was.

“I’m not,” I said, not wanting her pity. “Family gets you killed.”

She shook her head. “That is not the Mexican way. Family is everything.”

“Then perhaps that is what is wrong with Mexico.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

True. “And I am a terrible person,” I told her glibly.

“Yes,” she agreed. “You are. But that is nothing to be proud of.”

“And yet here I am, lying on top of you, full of pride for all the terrible things I do. I worked hard to be this way. It’s not easy to have confidence in who you are, to say fuck it, the world thinks I am a monster because I am a monster. And I don’t care.”

She bit her lip and I wanted to do the same. “You’re not a monster.”

“Just a terrible person, then.”

“Yes. There is a difference. I lived with a monster. I know what that feels like.”

I gave her a wry grin and lowered my face so it was just inches away from hers. This close, I could see flecks of gold in the mahogany of her eyes. “Does it feel like a knife in your back?”

She blinked, taken aback, realizing the truth. Monster, terrible person, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t so different from her husband. I was just another man playing the game.

And it had to stay that way.

I got off of her and pulled her to the edge of the bed so she was in a sitting position. I turned her back so I could see the wound. The pressure of being pressed against the bedspread had stifled the bleeding a bit, but now her bed was soaked with blood. “I’ll get you new sheets.”

She stared at me with a dull expression. “Don’t bother. I kind of like it.”

I raised my brow at her. She was nothing if not always keeping me on my toes. “I think the bleeding has stopped. The Doctor may have to give you stitches tomorrow.”

She gave her head a nearly imperceptible shake. “You’re giving a hostage stitches because of the torture you inflicted on them?”

She had a point. A good one.

I couldn’t care about that. I couldn’t care about her pain or her well-being or her past or her feelings. I was holding her for ransom, using her body and life to get what I wanted. I couldn’t care about any of that.

And yet, I think I did.