MATEO

by K. L. Savage

  “Mateo. Oh, yes! Mateo, you feel so good. Oh my god, fuck him. Imagine you’re fucking him too!” She surrenders to me at last, her scream an echo I’ll hear in my head for the rest of my life.

  The performer comes too, painting his seed all over the glass, and that’s all it takes for me to fill her with mine.

  If lust wasn’t meant to be acted upon, then why would it exist?

  If desire wasn’t meant to be felt, why do we feel it?

  Because of this moment right here.

  It feels too fucking good not to do what the body is meant to.

  And it meant to orgasm.

  Two more weeks have gone by since he took me out for the first time, and we have been in the voyeur/peepshow hall four more times since that night.

  I’m kind of addicted to it.

  A part of me wonders what having a threesome would be like. I know Mateo would be all about it. I think. Maybe. He’s very possessive, but he is always open about his sexuality and has had time to discover it, while the only time I ever feel sexual is with him. I know if I wanted to experience anything, he would happily show me.

  I’m not ready to even breach the subject with him yet. I want us to be together for a while before that topic even comes up.

  But damn the more I think about it, the hotter I get.

  “Nora!”

  I stop in the middle of the quad, where I’m walking to the Jaguar sitting in the parking lot. My palms start to sweat and my heart races imagining, the worst for Benji. What if there is a sniper somewhere around us that Mateo hired to kill anyone that has interest in me?

  Okay, that might be overkill, but he could be in the car with a finger on a trigger as we speak.

  “Nora, I’ve been calling for you for a few minutes, didn’t you hear me?” Benji asks. He smiles, never once making me feel like an ass for ignoring him.

  “Sorry, I’m thinking about a lot. I tend to zone out.” It isn’t wrong. I’m just not going to tell him what I was thinking about.

  “It’s okay, I get it.”

  A car door slams and when I turn to see where it came from, Mateo is leaning against the hood of his car. The sun shines against his evergreen blazer. He’s the only man I know that pulls off colorful suits like that.

  “I didn’t hear from you…”

  Don’t define a word.

  “Rejection: refusing someone’s proposal or idea.” I slap a hand over my mouth and curse. His eyes frown and he isn’t angry, but I can see the hurt across his face from my stupid mouth. “I am so sorry, Benji. I didn’t mean to say that. I meant to say I’m actually dating someone. You’re a nice guy and if I would have talked to you a few days before meeting him, then I think I would have gone out with you, but I don’t want to lead you on. I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer.”

  He exhales and stares across the campus. “Is that him?”

  I look over my shoulder to see Mateo standing straight and tugging on the lapels of his suit. Under the suit? A gun I know he isn’t afraid to use. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “You’re dating Mateo Moretti? The guy that owns Lussuria? Hell, I don’t stand a chance,” Benji laughs, then it turns to a wistful sigh. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised a woman like you is with a guy like him. You’re really great, Nora. I should have spoke up sooner, but you intimidated me. Friends?” he holds out his hand.

  “Friends.” I give his hand a hard shake, then begin to walk away. “Bye, Benji.”

  “See you around, Nora.” He sounds defeated, but I’m glad he isn’t one of those guys that like to guilt someone for not wanting to be with him. I wish him the best. He’s too good of a guy to be alone. His kindness is something a woman will need one day.

  I turn back and walk over to Mateo.

  “You can unclench your jaw; I took care of it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles, opening the passenger side door for me, then closes it when he grabs me suddenly and smashes his lips against mine.

  I should be angry with the display of affection. I know it is more him showing the whole world I’m his than him actually wanting to kiss me, yet I can’t complain, because his lips always feel so damn good. When he breaks the kiss, he proceeds to open my door again. “You done now?” I tease, sliding into the passenger seat.

  He bends down and pulls the seatbelt over my chest to buckle me in. “Never. If it were up to me, you’d be wearing a ring on your finger. A big one. Maybe then they will get the idea.” He shuts the door, and I can’t take my eyes off him as he holds a hand where the buttons of his blazer meet. Did he just say what I think he did? Do I bring it up? How do I talk to him about this?

  When he gets in the car, he stretches over the middle console and gives me another earth-shattering kiss. He has to stop kissing me like this or I might do something outrageous and let him put a ring on my finger.

  When he pulls away, he takes another piece of my heart with him. “I need to go see a few friends today before we head back to the penthouse. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, of course. As long as I’m back by eight. I really need to study for my test.”

  “It’s so fucking hot how smart you are.”

  The movement of his hand has me looking down and seeing him readjust his hardening cock.

  “Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”

  “Plenty. Everything and everyone else besides you.”

  Oh. Good answer.

  “Sly dog,” I tease, tossing my backpack in the back seat. My pencils fly everywhere because I forgot to close the outside pocket. “Damn it.”

  “Everything okay?” The engine purrs as he pulls out of the parking lot.

  “Yeah, just dropped a few things.” I reach down and pick up my pencils, especially my lucky pen that I put on my desk for every test, and stuff them back in the pocket. When I see a balled-up piece of paper, I think it’s mine too. I unravel it to make sure I didn’t forget to do something or make the mistake of balling up homework.

  I have to reread the letter three times for it to click inside my head that Mateo stole this letter off my desk. I had been looking for it, but figured I lost it. I sit back down in my seat and a tear drips from my eye onto the paper. I don’t say anything. I just hold out the paper so he can see it, and that’s when he pulls the car over on the side of the road.

  “Let me explain, please,” he starts, trying to get a word in before I freak out on him, but I’m not close to yelling at him or being unreasonably angry.

  I’m crying because I’m hurt. Why would he take this? What did he do behind my back? How does he know about this? There is one thing I have not told him about and that is my mother. I never talk about her about to anyone. I never planned on it either. I planned on her dying, and then I’d never have to worry about it again.

  And this letter tells me there is a chance for that not to happen. The last thing I want to do is give that woman a single ounce of kindness so she can get out prison and possibly kill someone else. I’m doing the world a favor by not giving a new testimony.

  “Well? I’m waiting,” I sniffle and don’t bother hiding the impatience I’m feeling.

  He runs his hand over the steering wheel and presses his head against the seat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Please keep in mind I thought I was doing what was best for you. I only ever want to protect you, and if I had to do it over again I would.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t answer anything.” I turn in my seat to angle my body toward him.

  “When you and Natalia came to the resort for your birthday, I ran a background check on you.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure he runs backgrounds on a lot of people.

  “I read about your mother and the more I got to know you, I knew you wouldn’t tell me about her. When I saw the letter, I took it, and read it to make sure you didn’t have to get involved. I went to the prison and I talked—”

  “—You did what?” I hiss. “You visited my mother in
prison? You did that without telling me?” This is where the edge of the knife called betrayal starts to sink in.

  “I’m glad I did. She is the same person she was back then. She doesn’t deserve for you to say anything for her.”

  “And I wasn’t going to! I never had any kind of false hope or expectations. I know who my mother is, and if she were to get out prison, not only do I have my life to worry about, but I have other people to worry about. She can’t be trusted. I’m smart enough to know that. I’ve always been without her love and I don’t want it now. You should have talked to me about this.” I wipe my cheeks with my shirt sleeve and press my head against the window.

  “I’m sorry, Stellina. I didn’t do it with ill intentions.”

  “Let’s just go,” I say, letting the tears fall and the emotion take over. It hits me that in two weeks her execution date is set. I won’t have a mother anymore. Not that I had much of one to begin with, but the realization still shakes me. I drop the letter in my hands and it floats to the floorboard as I double over. I hold my midsection and let go. I cry to the point that I can’t breathe. The tears drip quicker and land from my jaw to my hands. They are warm, full of years of hatred and exhaustion.

  “Stellina, amore. You’re breaking my heart. Seeing you cry drowns my heart. I am so sorry. This is what I didn’t want to happen.” He pulls me to his chest and holds me as I weep. He kisses the top of my head. “I swear, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never hurt you like she did. It’s me and you, Nora. I’m sailing into your heart like it’s the Canale Grande in Venice.”

  I clutch onto the material of his blazer and cry for my dad, for me, and the love I had to miss out on. Not from her, but from my father.

  “I got you, amore. I got you. Let it break, let it come, and let it heal.” He drags his fingers through my hair, gently petting me and it helps me relax.

  I cry until I can’t anymore. I’ve never allowed myself. I’ve had to depend on myself my whole life. Being weak wasn’t going to help me in life, so I bottled it up and locked it deep in my chest.

  “I’m still mad at you,” I say, wiping my nose on his expensive suit, hoping it irks him.

  “I can live with you being mad at me as long as you are with me.”

  I settle back in my seat before Mateo turns the wheel left and pulls onto the road. The ride is silent. I don’t have anything to say. My mind is racing with the reality that I’m the person that is going to allow her mother to die. Not even the sight of the tall, gorgeous mountains in the distance is helping me relax. The desert is a gorgeous, underrated place. It’s vast and almost never ending, dangerous and a murderer, all in its own way.

  The Loneliest Road is a long stretch of asphalt that lasts for hundreds of miles. Luckily, we aren’t traveling the entire way. His blinker clicks, signaling he is about to take a left. When he does, the driveway is terrible and full of potholes. The underneath of the car rattles from the pebbles and rocks hitting the metal.

  “The gate is open. Odd,” Mateo notes, and the engine roars as he presses the gas to enter. “Whatever happens, stay near me, okay?”

  “This is the Ruthless Kings Clubhouse?”

  “Si. The President, Reaper, called me. He’s back from New Orleans and he wants to see me.”

  “Sounds horrible. Why does he want to see you? That can’t be good.” I remember Joanna telling me about the bikers here. Reaper is the President, kind of like how Mateo is the mafia boss.

  “I kidnapped my brother from here after what he did to Natalia, nearly selling her at an auction. He also took another ol’ lady and they wanted retribution, but I felt like it was a family matter. I took advantage of Braveheart, the man usually at the gate. He’s kind, gullible, a bit naïve, and it’s how I got out.”

  “And your brother?”

  His brown eyes swollen with obsidian pools of a tormentor. “He’s in a place where he can’t hurt anyone again, just like the man who drugged you. I’m not a good man, remember? They are alive, for now.”

  “You torture them, don’t you?”

  “To say the least.” He parks the car and gets out, then opens my door. “Does that scare you?”

  “No. It should… but no.”

  “Good. You take news like this well. I don’t know if I’m relieved or worried.”

  “I guess I think they are getting what they deserve. Like my mom.”

  He steals a kiss and takes my hand. “Let’s make this quick so we can leave.”

  If danger wasn’t promised inside, I’d appreciate the land more. It’s beautiful and the houses they have built on it remind me of a compound. The row of expensive bikes is intimidating. I keep my distance from them. Last thing I want to do is accidentally hit one and then have my feet cut off or something. I don’t know what bikers do.

  “Well, well, look what we have here.” A man stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, tattoos from head to toe. He has a screwdriver on top of his ear like a pencil.

  “What?” A guy with wavy, shampoo-commercial-like hair peeks his head out the door and when he sees Mateo, his smile fades.

  “I don’t think they like you,” I whisper, double thinking the entire biker thing. We should go.

  “Tool. Poodle.” Mateo walks up the steps and the chimes hanging above us cling together as the breeze blows by. “This is Nora. She’s mine,” he introduces me, just like a caveman.

  “Nice to meet you, Nora. Sorry for what you’re about to witness,” the man with the screwdriver states. “No one fucking likes you right now, Mateo. Reaper wants you to see this, and then you can leave.”

  “That’s fair, but remember, my doors are always open to you.”

  “Yeah, well, we aren’t walking in them any time soon,” another man with a Scottish accent in a kilt sneers.

  The heavy sound of boots stomping against the floor comes from the other side of the house. The men in room stare down the hallway. When the man appears, I instantly know it’s Reaper, the man Joanna told me about. He exudes the same power Mateo does; it suffocates the room. His hair is long, like he hasn’t gotten it cut in a few months, and he has a tattoo across his chest that says, ‘Long Live The King.’

  And it reminds me of a fight to kill. Whoever wins, lives, and is King.

  I have a feeling that is Reaper.

  “I want you to witness what I have to do,” Reaper states, pointing a knife at Mateo. “Get into Church. And your ol’ lady comes too.”

  “Cazzo,” Mateo curses.

  I’ve learned that means ‘fuck,’ after hearing it so many times.

  “Let’s fucking go, Mateo. I don’t want to wait all day to do this.” Reaper disappears into another room and the dozen other men follow him.

  Mateo’s hand presses against my back and I have no choice but to follow when he walks. We pass a pool table, a big sectional, and a TV that takes up the entire wall. I wish I was able to get the tour, maybe see Joanna.

  When we enter the room, I clasp onto Mateo’s sleeve when I see a man on his knees, shirtless, and young. Maybe just a few years older than me? He’s trembling.

  “I want you to see what your actions did, Mateo. Braveheart should have known not to let you through. He’s too fucking trusting. Maybe after this he will learn not to be.”

  “Reaper, he’s a kid. Don’t do this,” Mateo tries to reason. “It was my fault. I took advantage of his kindness.”

  “I deserve it,” the guy on the floor says. “I shouldn’t have let you through.” He speaks through chattering teeth. It isn’t cold, but I know that happens to me when I get nervous. “Just do it.”

  “After this, we will be even.” Reaper places the tip of the knife against his flawless skin and begins to cut, carving something into his chest.

  Braveheart roars in pain, his face red and the tendons in his body ready to pop from being so tense. Blood dribbles down his chest and abs, and when one half is done, Reaper begins to cut on the other side, dragging the blade to form a heart.

&
nbsp; When he is done, Reaper tosses the knife to Mateo. “Keep it so you remember what you did to a good kid,” Reaper says.

  Mateo has regret plastered on his face as Braveheart lies on the floor, trying to breathe in and out, in and out.

  “You remember the rules, Braveheart?”

  “Yes, Prez.”

  “Third time, I rip out your heart.” On that reminder, Reaper marches away, his lips in a tight line. “Now, get the fuck out of my clubhouse, Mateo.”

  Curse words have never sounded better.

  I’ve been in a funk since Braveheart got a heart carved in his chest, ever since I found out Mateo saw my mom, ever since I found out I could possibly save her. I haven’t wanted to get out of bed, which is a problem because my mom’s execution date is close.

  A week away.

  Mateo’s phone rings and he answers quickly. “Si? Nick, how are you?” a beat passes as he listens to whoever is on the on the other line. “What? You’re sure? How? Cavalo, okay! Okay, grazie.” He hangs up and peers at me over his round muscular shoulder. I don’t like how he is staring at me.

  “What is it?” I ask, pushing myself up. I keep the sheet wrapped around me and yawn. It’s three in the afternoon. I shouldn’t be tired.

  “That was my friend, Warden Greystone. He’s in charge at the prison your mom is at.”

  “I don’t care.” There’s no life in my voice anymore. She’s put me through enough. “Let her die. Maybe then I’ll feel better.”

  “I know, Stellina. I know you feel that way, but he just said they are transferring her to a prison in Florida.”

  “Why? It’s just a few days before her execution here, why would they change it?” I question as I walk away from him and into the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the tub and fill the bath. I need to relax. My mom needs to stop being on my mind. She doesn’t deserve the time and effort it takes to think.

  “Stellina, she wants the chair, and they don’t do that in Nevada. Lethal injection is the only option. Only a few states allow it, so they are flying her there now.”

  I drop the bottle of bubble bath in the bathtub, pouring all of the liquid in the water. Bubbles are already building, but I don’t reach in and fish it out. My brain has frozen.