Cartel

  ‘How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?’ I whispered.

  He sneered, and the shift in his expression made his lip weep fresh blood. ‘Here’s the thing,’ he said, crowding me against the counter so that I was trapped once more. He tucked a hair behind my ear and the gesture revolted me. ‘Either way, I’m getting what I want. So you can either cooperate,’ he pulled my hair, exposing my neck, ‘or you can fight. Both would be a lot of fun for me.’ He snaked out his tongue and licked my neck, making me shudder.

  ‘Do we have a deal?’

  My shoulders slumped. He had the photo that I desperately wanted, and I had nothing to lose except my mind. I couldn’t let Dornan and Emilio know about the son Este and I shared. Luis deserved better than that. I wouldn’t pile my sins on him the way my father had piled his on me.

  Did it really matter? This was my existence now. Owned by powerful men, used and abused until I would become a rotting, hollow shell. It was exactly as I’d expected when I’d signed on, but somehow, the reality was still shocking enough to take my breath away. I couldn’t give in.

  ‘No,’ I said blankly.

  I would never say yes to a man like Murphy.

  But as he grabbed something behind me and held it to my throat, I stilled. A knife. He had a knife at my throat.

  ‘Then I guess we do this the hard way,’ he sneered.

  ‘You want to rape me on the kitchen floor?’ I asked, throwing him a look of disbelief.

  He tutted. ‘We’ll start in the kitchen,’ he said, ‘but honey, we’ve got an entire apartment to work with here.’

  I swallowed down my disgust and eyed the sharp butcher’s knife in his hand, the one I’d been silly enough to think I had a chance of using on him.

  He flashed a wide smile and pointed to his pants. ‘Well then,’ he said, tipping his head to one side and fixing those weird blue eyes on me, ‘I suggest you get on the floor and get naked.’

  I gritted my teeth and stared as he squeezed his cock through his pants, then started to stroke it slowly, as much as the material would allow. He didn’t take his eyes from mine the entire time.

  He looked at me in mock despair, using his free hand to gesture down to his hard-on. ‘Well, come on,’ he said. ‘I don’t think it’s going to suck itself, Annie.’

  My skin crawled as he used that name again. Swallowing back tears and screams, I took one tiny step back.

  ‘I’m not putting my mouth anywhere near that,’ I said emphatically. He grinned, placing a hand on my chest, between my breasts.

  ‘You think you’re too good for me, you little Mexican bitch?’

  I looked at the ceiling momentarily, trying to bite my tongue. ‘Colombia,’ I said, taking a deep breath.

  ‘What?’ he responded, running a hand over my breasts.

  My veins began to sizzle as anger poured through them. I stared at him, so fucking angry at Emilio, at Dornan, at my father. Because of them, I was here, trying to save myself from a man I despised. I pictured my father at a blackjack table, gambling away my future, and it made me want to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger myself.

  ‘I said, I’m from Colombia,’ I repeated, louder and more pissed off this time. Murphy stopped stroking my breasts and turned his full attention to my face.

  ‘My apologies,’ he said gleefully, not apologetic at all. ‘But time’s a wasting, and this photo seems to be burning a hole in my pocket, so I suggest you lay down now.’

  I set my jaw stubbornly and shook my head. He looked angry, suddenly pressing the knife to my throat again, hard enough that I felt my skin break apart. I stayed as still as possible, imagining what would happen if he slipped and I drowned to death in a pool of my own blood.

  Once I was still, he circled around me slowly, pressing himself into my back as he hiked my dress up roughly with his free hand. The other still held the knife at my throat, the little serrations on the blade pulled at my skin every time I shivered.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as he reached between my legs and pushed my panties aside roughly, sliding his bare hand over me. Shame and rage rose hot and red in my cheeks as he chuckled. ‘Looks like you’re already ready for me,’ he exclaimed.

  Motherfucker.

  Before he could pull me closer, I balled my hand into a fist and brought it up over my shoulder, slamming it into the side of Murphy’s smug face. His head snapped back and to the side, and I gritted my teeth, ducking down and away before he had a chance to draw the blade across my neck.

  It had been a daring move, but I couldn’t just stand there while he violated me.

  He looked pissed, bringing the knife up as if to stab me in the face. I drew my own throbbing fist back again and waited, my expression a silent challenge.

  Before I could swing, he feinted to the left, before changing direction and coming at me like a freight train. As he tackled me we fell together, landing hard on the tiles. Stars swam in my vision and I groaned, reaching up to see if my throbbing head was bleeding.

  Murphy’s blue eyes glimmered as he hovered above me, taunting me silently as I was pinned by his weight.

  ‘I knew you’d like this,’ he said, pinching my nipple through thin cotton. ‘All this banter. All this tension. It’s fun.’ He widened his eyes for effect when he said ‘fun’, drawing his fist back and slamming it into my cheek. My eyes watered and the side of my face throbbed. What a fucking life, I thought. I’m finally here in the goddamn land of the free.

  But I was not free. I was just a possession. Not even a treasured one.

  ‘You have to rape me because you know I’d never choose someone like you,’ I said, keenly aware that his hardness was still pressed up against my stomach. ‘And that kills you inside, you pathetic bastard.’

  His smile was instantly replaced by a look of utter scorn. He was about to reply when I spied something out of the corner of my eye. He’d emptied his pants pockets onto the counter when he’d first arrived and taunted me with the photograph, but I’d been too busy keeping him in my line of sight to look at what he’d put on the counter besides the photo. But now, I saw. And it terrified me.

  A syringe. It was capped and half-full with something clear. Oh, Jesus, I thought as he thrust his hips, dry humping me through the thin cotton that separated us. This is going to happen. This man is going to rape me.

  ‘You were going to drug me?’ I whispered shakily.

  I was about to say something more when a fist caught me hard on the mouth, stunning me. I brought my hand up to my face and my fingers came away wet and red. I slowly turned my gaze to Murphy’s.

  He tutted, grabbing my wrists and squeezing until I thought they would snap in two. ‘Shut up and lie still,’ he said.

  Screw that. I wasn’t lying still. I struggled and fought as he continued to pin me down; my strength no match for his.

  ‘You’re a firecracker,’ Murphy hissed, choking me with one hand as he rolled one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger with the other. The knife now lay beside his knee, out of my immediate reach. ‘And right now I’m going to fu—’

  He was cut off by the front door crashing open. His eyes grew wide for a brief second and when I tried to push him away, he held my hips tightly.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he asked me, ignoring whoever was standing at the door.

  ‘Let me go,’ I whispered urgently, turning my head to see who had arrived.

  Dornan wasn’t alone. I didn’t know whether to be relieved, or horrified.

  I was a little of both.

  ‘Gypsy Brothers,’ Murphy said, as he forced his thumb into my mouth. My eyes watered as I looked to John and Dornan with a pleading stare.

  Dornan’s eyes locked with mine, that unmistakable current passing between us once more. He looked like he was ready to beat Murphy to death with his bare hands. ‘Motherfucker!’ he roared, charging towards us.

  ‘Uh-uh,’ Murphy tutted, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. The knife was
back in his hand, back at my throat. I hadn’t even seen him pick it up.

  ‘It’s rude to interrupt, guys,’ Murphy drawled, seemingly delighted at the disgust written all over my face. ‘You should probably wait outside. I don’t want to slip and cut her pretty little head off by accident.’

  ‘Let go of her,’ John ordered, one hand behind his back. He was going for his gun, I realised. Jesus Christ. I hoped he was a good aim.

  A vein was pulsing in Dornan’s forehead. He was going to explode.

  ‘I’m not raping her,’ Murphy said, looking to me. ‘Tell him. Tell him how much you want it.’

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Tell him who you want to be with,’ he said, reaching with one hand for the photograph that sat above him on the counter. Fuck! If he took that back, he’d hold it over me and do something worse next time.

  ‘Let go of her,’ John said. Murphy sneered at him, still gripping me tightly, and then his smile vanished as John aimed his gun at Murphy’s head.

  ‘You don’t want me to ask a third time,’ John warned. Murphy dropped my wrist and the knife, and held his hands in the air in surrender. ‘John,’ he hastened, ‘you don’t want to shoot a federal marshal. We were just having some fun. It’s not my fault the girl’s crazy.’

  ‘Get up,’ John ordered. Before Murphy was even on his feet, Dornan had him in a chokehold, dragging him into the living room.

  I shuddered as a strong arm scooped me up and set me on shaky feet. I pulled my dress down, humiliated and sickened.

  John crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. He looked impressively scary in his full leathers. He rocked the prez patch on the back of his leather cut, and the gun he held so casually in one of his hands, with two intertwined snakes engraved down the silver barrel, looked different from the rest I’d seen.

  ‘What’s the photo of, sweetheart,’ he asked me. I froze, opening my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My son. My son.

  John saw that I was having some kind of emotional seizure and looked over to the living room, where Dornan was beating the shit out of Murphy. He looked like he was going to kill him. Without missing a beat, Dornan drew his gun and cocked it. Inside the apartment, the sound of the metal click was as foreboding as it was terrifying.

  ‘D,’ John said slowly.

  Dornan pressed the tip of his gun to Murphy’s forehead and applied pressure to the trigger.

  ‘Did he hurt you, Ana?’ Dornan asked, his voice dangerously calm. ‘Did he rape you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘No. He punched me. He didn’t get to — I mean, you guys stopped him before … that.’

  ‘D, do not shoot that motherfucker,’ John urged. ‘I want to, you want to, we all want him dead. But killing a cop is gonna rain down a whole world of trouble on us. Think, brother.’

  Dornan flexed his jaw angrily, every muscle in his body poised and ready to destroy the worthless piece of shit in front of him. And, scarily enough, part of me wanted him to shoot Murphy in the face.

  John approached Dornan, his hand out. ‘Give me your gun,’ he said.

  Dornan turned and looked at John as if to say, are you fucking kidding me? He raised his gun above Murphy’s head, bringing it down onto his skull with such force that he was knocked out cold. John huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  ‘Tie him up,’ John said. ‘I’ll get Viper to pick his sorry ass up.’

  John came back to stand by me, his eyes landing on the photograph. I snatched it up in my hand and curled my fist tightly shut, glancing over at Dornan, who was lost in a world of his own as he threw rope around Murphy’s limbs and pulled tight.

  When John looked at me, his eyes were kind. He suddenly seemed so different from anyone else I’d encountered since the night I’d left my father’s house. His smile was genuine, and it reached all the way up to his hazel eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. He glanced at Dornan, who was dragging Murphy out the front door by his bound feet. A moment later, I heard him yelling instructions at someone over the phone.

  I nodded at John, swallowing again. I’d suddenly become a mute.

  He took my balled fist gently and brought it up in between us, softly unfurling my fingers one by one. He took the photograph from me as if it were a precious thing and studied it.

  ‘Is this your baby?’ he asked quietly.

  I dissolved. I put my hands to my mouth to stifle a scream, as tears rained down my face. I couldn’t stop shaking my head. I couldn’t stop crying.

  John looked sympathetic. He held the photo out to me and I took it quickly, gratefully. He waited patiently as I wiped my cheeks and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm myself.

  ‘Is this going to be a problem?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No problem. I swear.’

  ‘You’d better find a better hiding spot for that,’ he said, pointing to the photo.

  I nodded, looking around. I couldn’t find anywhere. John plucked it from my hand and shoved it in his top pocket, just as Dornan re-entered the room.

  I could tell Dornan wanted to crush me in his embrace, judging by the way he held his arms, the way his fists were balled up tight. But he couldn’t; we were a secret so forbidden, he couldn’t even embrace me in front of his best friend.

  And now that friend held an even darker secret in his pocket. A piece of my past. My son.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Mariana

  John and Dornan had let me compose myself and then driven me to the Gypsy Brothers clubhouse, an impressive compound in the heart of Los Angeles. Six-foot fences topped with razor wire blocked the view from outside. The place looked like a goddamn prison, and I was terrified that once I went in, I might not get back out.

  Suddenly, my little apartment on the beach seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  John and Dornan walked me up to a small bedroom and left me alone, with the door locked from the outside.

  I sat on a double bed that smelled like old sweat and sex and stared at the phone on the nightstand.

  Mama. Papa. Karina. Pablo. Luis. Este.

  I recited their names to the pounding of my heart.

  I stared at the phone. I’d overheard Dornan saying that all of the burlesque club’s numbers were unlisted. Untraceable.

  Would it be the same here?

  Could I risk it?

  I dialled the number I had learned off by heart as a young girl. My heart pounded and I watched the door as the line rang with agonising slowness. One ring. Two rings. I was about to chicken out and hang up when a female voice answered.

  It was Mama. I clapped a hand over my mouth, tears springing to my eyes. I muffled a sob as she repeated the same greeting, probably thinking she was about to be connected to a call centre.

  The door swung open. Fuck! Dornan rushed at me as I slammed the phone down and jumped to my feet, backing as far away as I could get.

  His face was full of barely controlled rage. ‘Who was that?’ he ground out.

  I hit the wall behind me. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ I stammered. ‘I swear, Dornan —’

  He rounded the bed and grabbed at me, even as I foolishly tried to push him away.

  ‘WHO WAS IT?’ he roared, two hands going around my neck and squeezing.

  I panicked, scratching at his hands with my fingernails. He didn’t budge an inch.

  ‘Was it your father?’ he asked through tightly gritted teeth.

  I couldn’t talk, because he was strangling me to death, so I just nodded as best I could.

  He loosened his grip and looked away from me for a moment, appearing to be in thought. He nodded finally, licking his lips.

  He pressed me against the wall, his entire body covering me like a heavy blanket, and he shook me roughly.

  ‘I fucking told you, Ana,’ he breathed in my ear. ‘I warned you about contacting anyone. And you chose to disobey me? After everything?’

&n
bsp; I was trying to apologise, but his hands were still around my neck. I wheezed and bucked as tears rolled down my cheeks.

  He nodded again, as if affirming a thought to himself. ‘I’ll show you what happens to people who disobey, shall I? Your first and final warning, baby.’

  He released me and I fell to the floor, a crumpled heap of arms and legs that had no strength anymore. I managed to push myself up to my hands and knees as I hacked up a lung. My throat felt raw, bruised. I’d have a nice handprint there in the morning, no doubt. Add that to the hickey Murphy had branded me with, and I was a freaking sideshow of bruises and abuse.

  I coughed and spluttered, screaming hoassly as a hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled upwards. ‘Get up,’ he roared. I scrambled to my feet, stumbling blindly as he led me out of the room. My heart was beating so fast I thought I was about to pass out, but there was no time for that. I was being led deeper into the clubhouse, past men dressed in leather who averted their eyes when they saw their VP dragging a girl who was probably about to be slaughtered.

  I sobbed as he continued to drag me. Down stairs and up hallways, until it seemed like we were going in circles. We were in the basement, judging by the lack of windows. Dornan stopped at a door, his hand resting on the knob as his other hand continued to pull at my hair.

  ‘Remember,’ he said, his voice low, ‘when people lie to us, we kill them. But if you betray me, Ana, I won’t just kill you fast. I’ll make it last for days, you hear me?’

  I nodded. ‘Please,’ I whispered, ‘let’s just go. I promise I won’t do it again.’ Somehow I knew there was something awful beyond that door, and it was something that wouldn’t be able to be unseen.

  Dornan appeared to calm down momentarily. I heard a scream on the other side of the door — a woman’s scream. Whoever was in there was in pain.

  He seemed to think twice, the woman’s scream apparently shaking him out of his stupor.

  ‘Promise me,’ he said gruffly, shaking me by my hair.