El Santo

  I growled, roughly swinging open the backdoor, barging in on the act. “What. The. Fuck!”

  Amira screeched, “Damien!” Her dress was bunching at her waist, her bra straps were hanging down her arms, and one of her breasts was exposed. If she didn’t have any panties on, I was going to do much more damage than just having it out with her.

  The piece of shit’s hand moved from in between her legs, turning to see who was behind him. I didn’t give him the chance. I gripped onto his hair, crudely yanking him backward out of the car. His hand immediately went toward my vicious hold, trying to pry me off.

  “Damien, no!”

  I didn’t waver, slamming him face first onto the trunk of his car. His body jolted as he stumbled around to face me.

  “Fuck, man! I’m her boyfriend!” he reasoned.

  “I don’t give of a fuck if you’re Jesus! You don’t fucking touch her!” I seethed. Using his momentum, my fist connected with his jaw before he even saw it coming.

  His face snapped back, taking half his body with him. I was over to him in one stride, grabbing ahold of his collar and punching his fucking face repeatedly. Delivering a blow to his stomach, then his ribs. Hearing a hasty crack in my fist’s wake. Letting go, he fell to the ground, covered in blood and whimpering in pain.

  “Damien, please stop!” she shouted from the backseat, franticly trying to fix her dress to cover herself up. Only fueling my fury.

  “Get up!” I snarled, kicking him repeatedly in the side. Making him recoil in more of the agony I was vivaciously delivering.

  I ignored her pathetic pleas, continuing my assault on this motherfucker’s face and body. I hit him until my knuckles felt raw.

  Amira flew out of the car, her dress still barely covering her. Her tit still out on display. “Oh my God, Damien, enough!”

  I hovered above him, panting. My chest rising and falling, ready to let him up. He rolled over onto his back, and it was then I noticed his fucking belt and pants were undone.

  Amira saw where my glare went, and she immediately argued, “It’s not what you think.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to explain. I leaned forward, grabbed his belt buckle and whipped it out of the loops of his jeans, pulling it off of him. Her eyes immediately widened, knowing what I was about to do. I snapped the belt back and it whizzed in the air, landing right on his cock.

  Knocking him the fuck out.

  “Holy fuck,” she breathed out, instantly falling to her knees on the pavement to tend to him. I halted her attempt, clutching onto her wrists. Roughly yanking her to her feet, turning her to face me instead.

  She didn’t back down, using all her strength to shove me away. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Don’t you have a fiancée you should be making babies with?”

  “Enough!” I ordered, barely wavering from her futile attempts.

  “Fuck you! I can’t believe you just did that! He’s my boyfriend! We weren’t doing anything that you’ve never done! In front of me! I hate you, Damien! I fucking hate you so much!” she seethed, tears falling down the sides of her face as she started to slam her fists into my chest.

  I let her take her aggression out on me. I allowed her to scream, hit me, and do whatever the fuck she needed to calm her ass down. It was no secret in Rosarío’s neighborhood of who I was. Every last one of them feared Emilio, which meant they feared me. No one would dare call the police, knowing the consequences would end in death. The police were null and void. Emilio owned them.

  “Why? Why do you keep doing this to me? What have I ever done to you, to make you treat me like this! I’m not your fucking doormat, Damien! Stop treating me like one!”

  I immediately let her go, her words hitting me as hard as the beating that motherfucker on the ground just took. She stumbled, trying to catch her footing. Surprised I released her.

  “Jesus Christ, Amira! I didn’t protect you all these years so you could become a whore. Fucking random guys in the backseat of their cars!”

  She cold-cocked me, punching me right in the jaw. Screaming out from the pain it caused her, “You bastard! I wasn’t fucking him! We were just fooling around.”

  I cocked my head to the side, moving my jaw from side-to-side. “So you’re pissed that I didn’t let you get off?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. He gets me off plenty already.”

  I scoffed, “I bet your papi’s proud of the whore you’ve become.”

  She stood taller, stepping up into my face. “I’d rather be his whore than yours, any day.”

  I jerked back, stunned by her bluntness. She didn’t hesitate. “We’re done here.” Turning around once again, returning to the piece of trash. Choosing him over me.

  “I never wanted you to find out I was engaged that way,” I honestly spoke, needing her to finally hear my truths. Stopping her dead in her tracks. “I never wanted to hurt you, Muñeca.”

  Even though her back was to me, I knew she grimaced. I hadn’t called her that in probably close to two years, when it was all I used to address her by. She took a deep breath before turning around to stare me deep in the eyes, stating, “All you’ve done over the last two years is hurt me, Damien.”

  “I know.”

  “Why? When you know you love me. I mean, look at him.” She gestured to the son of a bitch on the ground. “You beat my boyfriend senseless because you can’t stand the thought of another man in my life. Who does that? For over two years all, you’ve wanted is to push me away and make me move on. And when I finally do… you try to kill him. Where in your head does that even make sense? How do you even rationalize that? You’re engaged! Do you know what that means? You’re getting married. You’re going to have a family, a future. A life. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and just watch? How selfish is that?”

  “If I was truly selfish, Amira. I’d still be in your life.”

  She shook her head, scowling. “You can’t have it both ways. Remember that little fact when you go home to your luz.”

  I pulled my hair back away from my face, wanting to tear it the fuck out. “What do you want me to say? Eh? That I love you? That I’ve always loved you? Is that what you need to hear?”

  “No, Damien. Not anymore. You wanted me out of your life. Well, guess what? Now I want you out of mine. You’ve been telling me since day one that you’re not the man I thought you were, and you’re right. You’re not. I don’t know who you are, and I never did.” She pointed to her boyfriend again. “This. This was my breaking point. You don’t want me to be happy. All you want is for me to burn in the darkness with you. Well, I can’t do that anymore.”

  “Do you think it’s been easy for me to push you away? That I haven’t wanted to make you mine when I know no matter what, you always will be. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you and keep you safe. Even if it cost me having you in my life.”

  She walked over, stopping a few inches from me. Placing her hand over my heart. “I’m safe, okay? You got what you wanted. I let you go. Please, Damien, now it’s your turn to do the same.”

  I held my head up higher, maintaining my strong composure. Knowing it was what she needed. When all I wanted to do was fall apart. For the first time, I watched her turn her back on me and walk away. Conscious of the fact that this turn in events was what it was going to take for her to truly not be in my life.

  She needed to leave me because I would’ve never been able to leave her.

  And that was the reality of our love story.

  I picked Evita up, carrying her over the threshold of our honeymoon suite.

  “Damien! Put me down!” she laughed, loving every second of our sacred day.

  We were married at six o’clock in the evening at the Cathedral of San Cristóbal, Havana. Where there couldn’t have been more than twenty people in attendance. Emilio and Rosarío were of course, sitting front and center on the groom’s side for the nuptials. My father was on guard with Pedro and a few others at the entrances, much to my disapproval.
I didn’t invite the fucking bastard. Amongst the guests were some acquaintances of mine from school that I made throughout almost six years. The bride’s side included a few of Evita’s friends and some other random patrons. The rest of the pews were occupied with colleagues of Emilio’s, whom he insisted needed to be invited for negotiating tactics. How my wedding turned into a political debate was beyond me.

  During the ceremony, my eyes kept shifting to the first pew. Waiting for the one person I truly wanted to see appear. Even though I knew she couldn’t be there for obvious reasons, something told me she wouldn’t have come even if she could have. I hadn’t seen Amira since the last time she walked away from me, well over a year ago. I respected her request and officially let her go. Making sure I kept my distance at all costs, but continued to make sure she stayed off Emilio’s radar. I still stopped by Rosarío’s every once in a while, to catch up with her. Doing my best to avoid the times when Amira was around every time I showed up. I stopped asking about her after a few months, having no idea what she was up to, other than she still lived with Rosarío, and as far as I knew, she had no intentions of moving out. Even though it had been over half a year since she legally became an adult, turning eighteen.

  She was never far from my mind, and I knew she never would be. One day while shopping, I couldn’t fucking help myself, I bought her a doll for old time’s sake with a card on her birthday that said, “This reminded me of better times. Happy birthday, Muñeca.” She didn’t thank me for it, not that I expected her to.

  I couldn’t believe I was almost twenty-eight years old and married to a woman who’d become such a huge part of my life. I threw my new bride on the bed, hovering above her. She watched me with a greedy stare as I removed my suit jacket and loosened my tie. Throwing them both on the bed next to her. She grabbed the long piece of silk I had just removed, holding it out in front of her and arching an eyebrow. Her eyes followed the movement of my hands while I was unbuttoning my dress shirt, pulling it out from my slacks to wear it open. I placed my hands in my pockets, not ready to give her what she wanted.

  At least, not until she begged for it.

  “Who said that was yours?” I asked, grinning.

  “I thought what yours is mine now. Isn’t that the way marriage goes?”

  “You mean, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine. Including you.”

  She sat up on her knees, throwing my tie around my neck. “Does that mean you’re not mine then?”

  “I’m yours.” I leaned forward, slowly running my lips against hers. Tempting her with my tongue.

  “I love you, Damien.”

  “I know.” Even after all this time it was still hard for me to tell her I loved her, but she knew it though.

  She pecked my lips. “What do we do now?”

  “You bring your ass over here.” I kissed her.

  “What’s wrong with my ass?”

  “It’s not on my fucking cock.”

  She smiled wide against my lips. “Oh, it’s going to be that kind of night.”

  “We both know how this night is going to end. With my tongue on your clit and your pussy sliding down my dick.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then let me slip into something a little more comfortable, I bought for tonight.”

  I suddenly shoved her backward onto the bed, crawling my way up her body. “Try to leave. I fucking dare you.”

  I spent the next few hours fucking my wife. Consummating our marriage on every surface in the suite. Making a mental note to leave the cleaning service a hefty tip for the cleanup. She was lucky I took mercy upon her, allowing her a break to go shower. I heard the water running, and I resisted the urge to go fuck her in there too. Instead, I went and grabbed our bags from my car, setting hers on the floor in the bathroom when I returned. She said some shit about wanting to slip into something she knew I would supposedly like.

  I threw my bag on the bed, wanting to change into something other than this stuffy fucking tuxedo. But first I wanted a drink. I walked over to the mini-bar and poured myself a glass of bourbon and my bride a flute of champagne. After twenty minutes of waiting for Evita to emerge, I decided to get some work done. Grabbing the files Emilio gave me just after the ceremony and taking a seat at the table directly in front of the bathroom, I opened the documents one by one.

  Each file put together a piece of a puzzle I never knew I was a part of. Completely understanding why Emilio was so insistent that I go over the folder as soon as possible. I had no fucking idea my wedding night would turn into this, but with that said, I didn’t regret looking. Not for one fucking second. There was no way I could protect her from this, the images alone were enough to send me to my goddamn knees. Spinning the wheels in motion. Picture after picture of her small frame, her brown eyes, her beautiful smile. The way her hair was always cascading down her back, framing her gorgeous fucking face.

  I shuffled through a few more photos, coming across the documents that I read closely. Rereading them over and over again in the little window of time I had. Forever memorizing each and every detail. Only confirming what the images already proved. Phone conversations translated onto paper, numbers, dates. One in particular standing out amongst the rest. It was all blatantly in front of me, clear as fucking day. There weren’t any misconceptions or false accusations, the proof was fucking blinding me. There was no room for error or gray area.

  It was all written out in black and white.

  Fighting, battling, toying with my need to protect her and love her like I always had. For the first time since I met her all those years ago, it was now a raging war between…

  She and I.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening and Evita walking out brought my attention up to her. She looked like a fucking goddess, wearing a silk white matching bra and panty set with fuck me heels. I leaned back into my chair, setting my ankle over my knee. Taking in the vision in front of me, not believing my eyes. I made a twirling gesture with my fingers, and she understood my silent command. Smiling as she spun in a slow circle, showing me exactly what I wanted to see. Stopping once she was facing me again.

  “Come here,” I demanded, rubbing my lips in a back and forth motion with my index and middle fingers.

  She did, making sure to sway her luscious ass with each step she took in my direction. I nodded toward the table in front of me for her to sit down and spread her fucking legs. She seductively licked her lips with nothing but hunger in her eyes for what was to come. Lifting herself up onto the cool wood surface, doing what I had ordered.

  I eyed her up and down, taking in every last curve of her body, every last inch of silky white skin. Making her pussy clench from the predatory regard of my penetrating glare. There wasn’t one nook of her figure that I didn’t explore with my hands, my tongue, my lips, my fucking cock.

  A nostalgic state of mind fell over me like I never felt before.

  “You want to know what I thought when I first met you?” I questioned in a neutral tone, when I was feeling everything but that.

  She beamed, nodding. Her expression consuming me as much as her beating heart.

  “I thought you looked so goddamn innocent, and all I wanted to do was fuck you.”

  She mischievously smiled, leaning forward to touch me. Instantly stalling when she saw the gun in my hand, resting on my lap. Her eyebrows narrowed. “Why are you holding that?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  “So tell me, Evita. How innocent are you?”

  “Damien, I—” I sharply sat forward, making her jolt back. Away from me.

  “What’s wrong, baby? You scared?” I rasped, placing my gun on her thigh, leisurely moving it up her leg toward her chest. Inch by inch, wanting her to feel the cool metal against her heated skin. I added, “You should be.”

  Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared, causing her face to pale. “I love you,” she muttered, loud enough for me to hear. Her voice was trembling along with her pouty fuck-me lips.

&
nbsp; “Is that right? How much do you love me, Evita? Tell me, baby? Is it enough to die for me? Or enough to kill for me?”

  Her body shivered, creating goose bumps all over her skin. Looking back and forth between the gun that was now near her pussy and the man holding it.

  Me.

  She sucked in a breath, her mouth suddenly dry. “Why are you asking me this?”

  I ignored her question, slowly continuing my calculated descent. Making sure to always have my steady finger over the trigger. Needing her to understand that I would always be the one in control. I purposely moved my gun back and forth over her breasts, letting the end of the barrel linger over her heart. Fucking with her emotions in the same way she fucked with my heart.

  “Did you know who I was from the start?”

  She shook her head, never taking her eyes off my gun. That was currently on top of her rapidly beating heart.

  “No? Want to answer that again? Except this time, I advise you not to lie to my goddamn face.”

  “I’m not lying. Why would I know you?” she let out, blinking her eyes.

  I briefly pulled away the gun. Her hand flew to her chest, and she visibly released the breath I knew she had been holding the second she saw my gun. “Damien, you had me terrified there for a second,” she nervously laughed. “I’m all for role playing, just a little warning next time. Alright?”

  Reaching under my leg, I chucked the files onto her lap. “Open them,” I simply stated.

  “Why?”

  I abruptly stood, causing her to jump out of her skin. Her eyes were glued to every movement of my body as I carelessly waved my gun around in front of me. Letting her know this role playing was far from fucking over.

  “Goddamn it, Evita! You know how much I hate to fucking repeat myself! Now pull your head out of your ass, quit acting like a dumb blonde bitch, and open the fucking folders.”

  Her hands trembled as she grabbed the first file, turning over the cover to look at the first page. If I thought her face was pale before, well now it was bright fucking white. One by one she took in the pictures, the documents, the evidence; she couldn’t decide what to focus on more. Exactly how I had felt for what seemed like hours ago.