Dirty

  My almost impossible goal is to find Gio and murder the son of a bitch in cold blood. I don’t know how long it will take, but whatever it is, it is. When my life is free of baggage, I will find Julius and show him I’m no longer a woman to depend on a man, that I don’t need him but want him. That my heart will belong to him no matter what his choices are.

  I will be loyal, to the death. At the moment, loyalty is all I have to give.

  Now, as I lie here, contemplating life’s mysteries, a knock at the door sounds. And I stop breathing.

  Another knock. But still, I don’t rise.

  When the voice sounds, my heart jumps.

  It’s definitely not Wyatt.

  “Jesus. C’mon, Alejandra. I saw you go in there,” the husky feminine voice accuses. “Let me in. It’s fucking cold.”

  I move to slide out of bed but stop, sitting on the edge.

  Her tone harsher, she hisses out, “If I have to guard you like a fucking hawk, I’m going to do it in comfort, bitch. Now let me in.”

  Watch me?

  Well, that has my attention. Could it be that Julius sent her to keep watch over me?

  I’m not brave enough to hope. But I am bold enough to move toward the door. When I stand behind it, I call out, “What do you want, Ling?”

  She lets out a trying growl. “I just told you. Shit. Let me in, will ya?”

  I know it’s a stupid decision, and I roll my eyes as I do it, but I unlock the door and throw it open.

  The attack I expect never comes.

  She strides inside without sparing a glance at me, rubbing her arms then breathing in her hands for warmth. She grunts in annoyance. “It’s so much warmer in here, and he wants me to spend the night in the goddamn car? I don’t think so, boss man.”

  That confirms my initial suspicion. Julius sent her.

  And my heart soars.

  I knew he was acting strange, out of character, and this is why.

  He never wanted to leave me.

  “Ling,” I huff out in irritation. “You can’t stay here. You need to leave.”

  That’s when she turns to look at me. And I’m surprised at her reaction.

  Her face softens as she takes me in, looking me up and down with a shake of her head. “Oh, Ana.” She moves toward me, but history has told me not to trust this woman—not fully, anyway—and I take a step back, away from her.

  Undeterred, she throws me a look of utter sympathy and states, “You’re bleeding.”

  For once, her high heels don’t click, muffled by the soft carpet as she moves closer to me. I don’t move from my spot. When she gets to me, she reaches up, and I try not to flinch. But the slap I think she’s about to deliver never lands at my cheek. Instead, she cups it gently, running her thumb over the corner of my mouth where I’m hurt.

  She holds up her thumb to show me the small bloodstain there then slowly brings it to her red-lipped mouth. Her pink tongue darts out and laves the pad of her thumb, and my heart begins to race.

  I’m uncomfortable with Ling’s sensuality, have been from the beginning.

  Her face lowered, she puts her thumb into her mouth and sucks a moment before letting her arm fall by her side. Then she speaks, “You remember what I told you after the club that night? About what I would do if you took Julius away from me?”

  I think hard, trying desperately to remember her wording.

  “…if you take him from me, what happens as a consequence of that will be your fault, not mine.”

  After a long moment, I nod, because it doesn’t sound like a threat any longer. Now, it sounds like regret.

  Taking a single step closer, she looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry.” When I search her expression, all I see is genuine remorse.

  I open my mouth to respond, to tell her it’s okay, that from now on, we’ll tolerate each other for Julius’s sake. But she stuns me.

  Reaching up, she takes hold of my elbows, gripping them tight in silent apology, then leans forward to place her lips on the corner of mine, kissing me there. I still, unsure what to do. The last thing I want is to offend her. An offended Ling could end my life. A second passes and she pulls back far enough to rest her forehead against my temple. “I’m sorry, Ana.”

  This sorry is different. Colder somehow.

  And when she raises her head and speaks again, my heart stutters. Her eyes glacial, she utters, “But you brought this on yourself.”

  Turning on her heel, she strides out of the motel room, leaving the door wide open.

  The evening breeze is cool and, as it passes over me, chills me to the bone.

  I wrap my arms around myself, rush toward the door, gripping the handle and moving to close it, but I never make it.

  The door swings inward so fast it’s as if a bomb has exploded on the opposite side of it. I’m thrown backward onto the floor, the door hitting my head along the way. Stars dance behind my eyes as I fight to stay conscious. The shirt now gathered around my waist with my ass completely bare, I hear him.

  I hear him and die inside.

  “Hello, Alejandra.”

  Before even having the chance to look up at him, my body begins to tremble in dread as I fight tears of utter terror.

  This is it.

  This is the end.

  He found me.

  I’m screwed now.

  My first reaction is to cover my bare bottom, and as I shuffle around to do just that, Gio laughs, low and rough, as he moves toward me. “No need for that. I’ve all but eaten off of it before.”

  I scuffle backward in a lame attempt to get away from him, but he grips my upper arm and pulls me up with little to no effort at all. I grit my teeth in an attempt to control my breathing, but my chest heaves.

  He looks at me and frowns in confusion, tilting his head in thought and speaking on a whisper. “What does he see in you, I wonder?” He shakes his thoughts off. “Same thing my brother saw in you.” He looks at me from under hooded brows. “Nothing but ass.”

  I bite my bottom lip to silence the whimper threatening to escape.

  He grips my arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “How long did it take before you fucked him? A day? Two?” He looks down at me and chuckles quietly. “I s‘pose I can’t blame you. It’s all you know. Isn’t is, Alejandra?”

  “Please,” I pant, and I feel stupid for it, because I have no idea what I’m pleading for. A quick death maybe.

  His face softens, but only marginally, and he shushes me. “Hey. Quiet now. It’s okay, Ana.” He pulls me close, his front to my back, and locks me in with a firm arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re coming with me. And we’re going home.”

  I can’t fight, not now, not without one of us ending up dead, and that would more than likely be me. I’m smarter than to let pride kill me. So I don’t fight. I let him hold me, and I do it without complaint.

  Gio leans down to place his cheek next to mine, rocking me softly. “I missed you, you know?” His free hand slides down my right side, running over my hip to clutch at my right hand. “So, married again, huh?”

  I nod slowly, submissively, and he brings my hand up to look at it. He turns his head into mine, to gauge my expression. His brows rise. “No ring?”

  I shake my head and stay quiet, although I’m screaming on the inside.

  He releases me a moment to reach into his pocket before bringing his arm up around my shoulders once more, holding me tighter than before. When I spot what he holds in his hand, a petrified sob escapes me. My body trembles so hard that my teeth chatter.

  I await what is coming as icy, cold dread rots like road kill in the pit of my stomach.

  Gio speaks directly into my ear, his breath warming my neck, and I shudder at the feeling. “You know, in the eyes of God, you’re nobody’s bride, Ana. You betrayed your husband, and to be honest, I think He would be livid to know you’ve taken another. I mean, you’ve clearly proven you’re not wife material. Who are you to shit all over the sanctity of marriage?” He
pauses a moment. “When I marry your sister, you better believe what happened to Dino won’t happen to me. I won’t allow it.” I feel his smile stretch at my cheek. “I’ll kill her first.”

  His fingers close around my ring finger on my right hand, and he jerks it upward in front of my face. “Now, I’m going to make sure everyone knows your sins, and if that fucking scimmia Julius ever gives you a ring,” his laugh is pure evil “I’d like to see you try to wear it.”

  The gardening sheers he holds come closer toward my hand, and although I plan not to fight, my body goes into preservation mode, and I lash out, kicking and growling through pleading cries.

  But he’s bigger than me. He’s stronger than me. He’s more of a psycho than I am.

  Nothing will deter him.

  “No, Gio, don’t. Please.” My sobs are pointless. I try to pull my hand out of his hold, gasping out a weak, “Oh, God, no. Please don’t.”

  But the shears inch closer, and I gasp out tired, hopeless cries, knowing what’s coming.

  As he rests the open, shining, polished blades around my finger, I still. And when he squeezes them closed in one swift movement, my ring finger lands on the floor in front of me as thick red blood oozes down my knuckles, coating my hand.

  So I do the only thing I can.

  I raise my head to the heavens, my body quivering in distress, and screech out my agony.

  Two days later…

  My eyes rimmed red, with a four-day growth on my jaw, I speed up the long road to the address I obtained in ways that did not please me.

  This is not a smart move, not in any way, shape or form. In fact, I am almost entirely sure I will be leaving this residence in a body bag. Hell, I even called Tonya before I arrived, just so I could hear her voice one last time.

  What I am doing is reckless. That in itself is so very unlike me, but I am a man mourning.

  Arrangements have been made. My sister will be a very wealthy woman when I pass on.

  Because my wife…

  I look across at the white rectangular jewelry box resting on the passenger seat, and the thought of what it contains makes my chest seize. Again and again, over and over, and it will continue to do so until I get this over with.

  My wife is dead. I’m almost sure of it.

  When Ling went offline, I knew something was wrong. She’d never turn her phone off, not when I needed her. The motel room was trashed, and the owner of The Sunflower Inn, Duane, had been knocked unconscious—his grandson Wyatt had told me.

  Only one thing was found in the room, and I knew then that Alejandra was gone.

  In my soundless grief, I wondered about my partner.

  I know Ling has her issues, but she’s not completely stupid. Ling is reckless, not foolish. She knew abandoning her post would mean I’d kill her, and I’d not hesitate in doing that shit. Not when Alejandra was involved. Now, the situation as it is, in the span of a day, I’ve lost two women I care about deeply.`

  I’ve searched high and low for Ana, not at all courageous enough to hope to find her alive, but to retrieve her body and give her peace through a burial.

  My self-loathing is at a high. This is my fault. Unexpectedly, I may have pulled a Twitch.

  I got too confident. Got too cocky. Started to feel invincible. And it would have been fine if I were the one to suffer, the one to die, but I wasn’t.

  She was.

  Right now, feeling as I am, raw and torn and broken, I understand why Twitch did it. I understand why he stepped in front of that bullet.

  To save my little sparrow, I would have done the same. I would have done anything.

  Yes. It’s my fault. I can’t lay the blame on anyone other than myself.

  Ana was loyal to a fault. She would have never left me to find Gio on my own, and so, in an attempt to keep her out of harm’s way, I cast her out. I had the best of intentions at heart. I left her safe and with protection, and I would come to claim her when the danger had passed. After all the shit she’d been through, she deserved a life filled with love. And that was something I could give her given the right circumstances. But she was a distraction I did not need as I went about my mission and, because of my decision, I am the true cause of her demise.

  It will be something I have to live with until the day I die, which will hopefully be soon enough.

  I never told Alejandra how I felt about her, or even how she made me feel less disconnected, that she made me feel human again. Part of me wishes I had. The other part wishes I’d never met her at all.

  The expectation of love versus the reality is two completely different things.

  The expectation is that it’s all hearts and roses and feelings of warmth, kisses and long-lasting embraces filled with hope that life will be forever beautiful. But beauty doesn’t last. Never does.

  Even roses have thorns.

  The reality of love is being terrified of disappointing your partner, setting yourself on fire to keep your loved one warm and believing you have the ability to prevent bad things from happening to them. And the moment you realize you don’t, your soul leaves you in a most painful way, piece by piece torn from you, and love becomes an eternal enemy.

  It took a day of tailing, but I managed to get my hands on one of Gambino’s boys. I persuaded him to give up details of a certain meet that was happening right now at the house Vito Gambino is sure has been kept a secret. I know Gambino’s man hasn’t told him I’m coming. I know this because he’s currently drugged and locked in the trunk of my car, missing an ear, as well as the tip of his tongue, and smelling of his own piss. He was smart enough to yield when he did. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve kept civil.

  Unlike Eduardo Castillo’s home, this one does not have a monitored front gate. There is no head of security here and bar the eight-foot fence, little from stopping anyone who wanted to enter. We’re out in the greens. Gambino’s next neighbor is miles away.

  I know.

  I checked.

  Vito Gambino’s confidence in his men is admirable. It’s a shame it’s going to be the cause of his expiration.

  When I reach the gate, I dig into my jacket pocket and pull out my cell. I dial the number, and he answers right away. “You sure this the place?”

  My voice is rough from lack of sleep. “This is it.”

  “Righty-oh,” he responds, his tone conveying his lack of confidence. I get it. There are going to be a lot of important people here today. He adds, “Well, I’m here. Ready to go when you are, my friend.”

  “Good,” I say tiredly. “That’s real good.”

  With my car still running, my finger taps the disconnect button, and without another thought, I turn my body to peer backward and throw my car into reverse, backing up a good distance, far enough to take in the property before me.

  I should be thinking about the cost of what I’m doing, not just for me, but for all involved. But I don’t. I don’t give a damn anymore.

  This is the end of the road. The final stop. The last call.

  I’m so tired. But I have a score to settle.

  My hand moves the gear into drive. With a curled lip and a raging mind, I push my foot down on the accelerator, pedal to the metal. The blood roars in my ears as the wheels of my car spin, causing dirt to fly up and around the vehicle. A moment passes, and I jolt as the car begins to move, the sounds of the hard working engine echoing through my body. My chest vibrates with every rev, each one stronger than the next. Closer and closer, my target ascends, and when it’s right there in front of me, I grit my teeth and steel my grip on the steering wheel, anticipating the impact.

  Boom.

  The sound makes my ears bleed as the SUV crashes through the tall wrought iron gates, my car sliding out to the side from the collision. Taking my foot off the accelerator, I steer into the slide and correct the move with no effort at all. Accelerating once again, I make my way down the cobblestone drive all the way down to the main house.

  The commotion has brought men
running out of the house, guns in hand, waiting for a fight. But they won’t get one. Not right now.

  I’m fighting a different way today.

  When the men aim their weapons at me, I raise my arms in surrender, and call out, “I need to see Eduardo Castillo.”

  Just as the name is spoken, he steps out of the house and glares at me. “Julius Carter, the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I need you to vouch for me,” I tell him, watching the horde of agitated-looking men around him. “I need to speak today, and since I wasn’t invited, I need you to vouch for me.”

  His eyes narrow at me harshly. “Why should I? You mock my family by your presence, bringing nothing but trouble, then you marry my daughter without permission.” His lips thin. “Give me a reason to not kill you where you stand, Carter.”

  When I open my mouth, the magic words fly out. “You’re looking for Miguel, right?”

  Castillo’s eyes light and he searches my face a moment, before revealing quietly, “Yes. He’s been missing a week, unreachable. It’s why we’re all gathered here today, to put out a search for him.” He takes in my solemn expression, then asks a hopeful, “You know where he is, yes?”

  I voice my response sensibly. “Yes. He was taken.”

  “By who?” Castillo inches closer to me, eyes wide, desperation lining his question.

  Feeling somewhat like a caged animal, I fight the urge to lash out. My hands still in the air, my dead eyes meet his, and I calmly utter, “Vouch for me.”

  I’m not saying another motherfucking word without a guarantee of some sort.

  He looks at me a long moment before turning to Vito Gambino, and telling the other man, “I vouch for him. He has the right to speak as my guest. Turn him away and show me a grave disrespect.”

  Gambino looks mad as hell, but when his eyes reach mine, with a single look of fury, I silently dare him to say a word against me. Gambino jerks his head back to his men. “Put ‘em away. Let’s hear what Mr. Carter has to say. After all”—he smiles darkly at my wrecked SUV—“he did throw away a hundred grand just to get our attention.”