Dirty Angels

  I believed him. Underneath the boyish demeanour I saw depth that held anger and malicious intent, a bitterness that marred his true nature. Perhaps the darkness wasn’t for me, but it was there. I had seen that same look on Salvador, only he wore his depravity on the surface. While I had no doubt that Esteban was probably considered the good guy in this whole operation, I told myself to never think he was on my side.

  Without taking my eyes off of his, I slowly stepped back into the room and shut the door in his face. I stood there, waiting on the other side of it, until I heard a shuffle and the door being locked.

  I breathed out a long sigh of relief that rocked through me until I felt like I was too heavy to stand. I leaned back against the door and slowly slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I rested my head back and stared at the window, at the sun that was still shining through.

  I was going to spend my last days in this room unless Salvador came through. But even that would mean a return to a horrible life. There was no winning this game.

  The only thing I had to hold on to was my sense of self. I had let Sal ruin me, day by day, piece by piece. I wouldn’t let that happen here. They could try and carve me up, they could rape me, torture me, try and confuse me with hospitality, but they would not get to me. They would not break my soul. They would not see my pain.

  And at that, a single tear leaked out and ran down my cheek. I swallowed and willed myself to stop. That was for my father and mother who I tried so hard to do right by. That was the only time I would cry from now until my death.

  They would never reach the deepest parts of me.

  I woke up to the sound of the door being unlocked. I had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, my head slumped to the side, my neck aching. It was twilight now and the sun was long gone.

  The door suddenly opened, pushing against my back. Whoever this was, the whole knocking courtesy didn’t extend to them. I quickly rolled out of the way and got to a crouch just as someone stepped in.

  In the dim light, I couldn’t make out who it was, but I knew right away. He stared down at me, and I could see his eyes glinting against his shadowy face.

  “What are you doing down there?” Javier asked in a silky smooth voice.

  I didn’t say anything, I didn’t move.

  He shut the door behind him and cocked his head at me. Even in the low light I could feel his eyes, feel him studying me. “I heard you weren’t too interested in eating today. Este says you told him to go fuck himself. I wish I could have seen that.”

  When I didn’t say anything, he took a step toward me and held out his hand. “Get up,” he said, waiting. His posture stiffened and his voice lowered. “I said get up. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

  It was only then that I noticed he was holding something in his other hand. Two things, it looked like. A folded-up rope and a knife. I waited for the pang of fear to hit me. It was subtle and I didn’t let it show. I also didn’t obey him.

  He quickly reached down and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me up to him until I was pressed against his chest, crushing the front of his suit jacket.

  “You’re a light little thing, aren’t you?” he asked in a bemused voice, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon and tobacco. “Delicate and easy to break.”

  We’d see about that.

  I acted instinctually. With my free hand I jabbed my palm into his nose. He yelped in surprise, maybe even in pain, and momentarily let go of me. That’s all I needed.

  I pushed past him and went for the door. I put my hands on the knob and turned, pulling it toward me. There was a wonderful feeling of freedom for just that one moment where the door opened and the light from the hallway spilled in. The feeling of power that came from fighting back.

  Nothing in my life had felt as good as my hand connecting with his face.

  But the feeling was fleeting. All at once the door slammed shut and Javier was behind me, the rope going around my chest. He hauled me backward into him so that he was holding me tight from behind.

  “Don’t you know it turns me on when you fight back?” he whispered in my ear, his voice ragged. “Though it turns me on when you don’t fight back, too. I guess you can’t win.” He sniffed. “I think you bloodied my nose.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to bloody my face,” I taunted him, my veins on fire with the strange adrenaline that was running through me.

  He sucked in his breath. “No, my darling. I would never do that to your face. Just your back. I have a lot of respect for beautiful things, you know. They are usually the most dangerous.”

  Oh, how I wished I could be dangerous to him, to anyone.

  “You know, Luisa,” he said, holding me tighter now. I could feel his erection pressing into my ass. “We’re going to be doing this dance with each other until we give you back to your husband. You could make things easier on yourself. I don’t like to play rough with you.”

  “No,” I said quietly. “You just want to cut me up.”

  “I’m merely branding you,” he said. “Don’t make it sound so ugly.” He lifted his arm so that the knife was shining in front of my face. I could almost see my warped reflection staring back at me. “My penmanship with a knife is very delicate. A hard-earned skill. If your husband’s name was Javier, I think you would be quite pleased with the finished result.”

  The man was completely crazy. He planned to carve his name in my back, as if he was doing me a favor.

  “Come on,” he said, and quickly wrapped the rope around me so my arms were held tight to my sides. He made a few knots and then shuffled me over to the bed before he pushed me onto it, face down. I turned my head to breathe and he pressed down on the side of it, to keep me in place. “Now stay.”

  He straddled me, legs on either side of my waist, and his hands stroked softly along the back of my neck until he grabbed my collar. “My shirt looks good on you,” he commented. “But it looks better off.” He reached underneath me, grabbing me by my collarbone, and ripped the shirt open before pushing it to the side and sliding most of it off until one shoulder was bare.

  “He’s not going to want me when he sees what you’ve done,” I managed to say.

  “He’s not going to see what I’ve done until I have what I want. What your marriage can and cannot handle is not my problem and none of my business.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “I’m many things but disgusting isn’t one of them.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “Well, there’s no argument there. Good or bad, there is great power in knowing who you are and owning it. So, tell me, my beauty queen … who are you?”

  He leaned down so those blazing eyes of his were visible to mine.

  “No one you will ever know,” I told him, relieved at how strong I sounded.

  “We shall see about that.”

  He adjusted himself on my back, and I felt him press the dull side of the blade into my shoulder. The cold threatened to make me shiver, but I suppressed it.

  “You know what I am going to do to you and yet you are not afraid. Why is that?” His voice was lower now, wispy like smoke.

  He wouldn’t be interested in the truth. “Why do you want me to be afraid?”

  Silence thickened the room. He didn’t answer. I knew now that I had spurred him on to try and do his worst. It would hurt me dearly, but as long as I never showed it, never gave in, I would be the one who would win in the end. I could beat Javier Bernal at his own twisted game.

  “There are some things in life you should be afraid of,” he finally said.

  “Like you?”

  His eyes burned into me but I didn’t look away. He straightened up and turned the knife over. He dug the blade in, and it pierced me with a sharp, nauseating blast of pain. “Like me,” he said quietly.

  I bit down on my lip as he carved the A right beside the still tender J. I didn’t know what his penmanship looked like, nor did I care, but he was very quick, I had to give him that. He
could have drawn it out a lot longer. The pain was sharp but brief.

  “Now that that’s done for today,” he said, his voice still soft as he removed the knife, “can I get you anything?”

  It was as if my back wasn’t bleeding from his torture. I didn’t even know what to say so I didn’t say anything. I just pressed my teeth together and prayed he would go away.

  “You really should eat something,” he said, still straddling me. “I happen to be a good cook.” He waited, and when he didn’t get a response, he leaned down and gently blew on my fresh wound. “I can get you fresh clothes, I have a whole selection put aside for you. Perhaps they will be a bit long, I had no idea how short you were.”

  I kept my mouth shut and my face emotionless, giving him nothing. But inside, I couldn’t quite comprehend what a psychopath this man was. He and Salvador were so much the same and yet so different.

  “All right,” he said, straightening up. “If you wish to be stubborn, then I’ll leave you.” He gracefully eased himself off of me, and I heard him walk over to the door and open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luisa Reyes.”

  The door shut behind him and I could hear it being locked. It was only then that I realized he’d left me on the bed, still tied up and unable to move my arms.

  I spent all of two seconds trying to figure out how to free myself before the pain and exhaustion overtook me and pulled me off to sleep.

  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 si
ngle 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.