by Raine Miller
He was one of those rare people who radiated power and confidence. It flowed off him like water, royalty. This guy had to be Sir something or other, Your Grace, the Duke of Fuck-me-running. I knew he was a Spaniard because Lia knew it, but from him I read absolutely nothing – utter mental silence.
He was a no one, a blank slate. If I closed my eyes I wouldn’t even know he stood in the room with me. It felt very disorienting. I always knew who stood nearby. I place people by their thoughts and emotions. I’d never encountered anyone with a mind so completely blocked. I felt blinded.
As he walked towards us with that flowing grace, he and Lia communicated silently about me. I picked it up through Lia’s mind, the weirdest thing I’d ever heard.
{{She’s a telepath. I can’t compel or control her. She knows what I am, we have to eliminate her. She’s fully aware I bit her three times. We can’t let her live with what she knows.}}
It all poured out in a whiny stream of puke. She projected her anxiety about me straight at him. And then shit really got weird. He spoke to her, not out loud, but directly into her mind. I did a double-take to verify his mouth hadn’t moved. I could hardly believe it.
{{You think she is a threat to us?}} His lips hadn’t moved.
{{She knows too much. Who knows for sure how much. She’s probably listening to us at this very moment.}} Her lips didn’t move.
They both turned to me simultaneously, staring, digging into me with their freakishly intent, accusing gazes. I looked away, doing my best ‘who me’ act. He looked back at her, unhappy.
{{Perhaps she is, but who would she tell? Who would believe tales of vampires?}}
My blood froze. Vampires – for real?
{{It’s not for me to make suppositions. I acted on the potential threat.}}
{{She wasn’t truly a problem until you brought her here. Now you have exposed us both. But you already know this. You think me so foolish I cannot see your manipulations? You think to force my hand by creating a threat I must act upon.}}
{{I simply wanted to contain the situation.}}
{{Of course, a situation you created and made a hundred-fold worse by bringing her here to my door-step. I will not be manipulated. You hoped to sate your sick desires on her, and you wish my permission. Let’s not couch it in lies.}}
Their mental back and forth moved so quickly it gave me a headache. I could barely keep up with the flow of words so much faster than anything spoken.
{{Yes Master, I want to kill her. If you’d allow me to kill at my discretion I wouldn’t have exposed you. I could’ve taken care of it discreetly with no one the wiser.}} Lia sounded snipish, as if it was all his fault that she brought me here.
{{Your discretion is ever flawed. You prove the necessity for my limitations with your foolish actions.}}
{{I beg forgiveness.}}
{{No you don’t, you are begging permission to kill.}}
{{Yes.}}
{{And how did you find her? Walking the streets? I think not. You used the escort service, and they have the call records and financial payment records of the reservation fee. Is that your definition of discretion? The police investigation would lead to us in a matter of hours.}}
The entire ten second conversation ended abruptly when the Spaniard smacked her hard, a whip-crack backhand. Her feet left the ground as she flew across the room. The sound of it echoed in the open space, breaking the uncomfortable silence with sudden violence.
It scared the shit out of me. I actually gave out a girly squeak. Lia picked herself up off the floor about eight feet from where she’d been standing and straightened her skirt like it was no big deal. Tough little bitch.
The Master stared me down for a moment, then introduced himself in a cool calm voice. “My name is Enrique de la Riguera. But I suspect you already know that.”
He watched me intensely, looking down on me from that imposing Spaniard beak. I had that same over powering feeling I’d experienced earlier with Lia. I returned his stare, refusing to be intimidated. His features reminded me of something I saw on the History channel, Spain had been overrun by Arabs at one point. As a result, the Spaniards had a heavy blend of Arabic genetics. He had that Arabian hooked nose. An imposing nose, especially when he stared down it at me, ready to piss myself.
I didn’t fall for his ruse. I never admit I know more than I should. I tried to still my shaking hands and played it off. “My name is Hope. I don’t have a clue what’s going on here, but I’d really like to go home now. The people I work for are gonna be very upset if I’m not returned soon.”
He stared at me unblinking, unfazed, unperturbed. He drove me nuts with his mental silence. It felt so wrong to be cut off from his thoughts, like I was missing something vital. He could lie and I’d never know it. No one could lie to me. Never stopped them from trying, but still, it’s a point of pride. He robbed me of my one advantage, which I really needed now more than ever. How unnerving.
“And who do you work for?”
It’s a rare occasion I admit openly I work for the cartel. But they had me in a real situation, my life on the line. A little name dropping might prove useful. I opened my mouth, but Lia interrupted.
“She works with an internet-based escort service. She doesn’t have a pimp, she’s lying.”
I whipped out my expired Visa from my purse and shoved it at Enrique. “Wrong. I’m Colombian. I work for Faustino Vasquez. I’m under his protection. If you don’t let me go right now there will be hell to pay!”
I’d really gotten into the role. I played my trump card to the fullest. I had no idea the ramifications of my words, how much more danger my connection to Faustino created.
Enrique sneered at me, at Lia, and looked at my Visa. He flipped the card over, and flipped it again to study my four year old photograph. He nodded to himself in confirmation and calmly handed it back to me. No sooner had I taken my Visa from his hand than he turned on Lia snarling in rage.
“You ignorant bitch! You brought a telepathic prostitute who works for EL Tiburon into my home!” His lips moved on that one.
The fact he knew Faustino’s nickname spoke volumes. I began to realize I might have made a mistake. Then he did it again.
I never even saw him move. He smacked Lia across the room. I jumped and squeaked this time, very girly. He was so damn powerful. I’ve never seen a grown person tossed around like a rag doll.
It came to me then, just how dangerous Enrique was. I’ve seen quite a few fights in my time. Colombians brawl over anything. But I’ve never seen what I watched Enrique do twice in the past five minutes. He immediately graduated to the scariest person I’d ever met.
Although I couldn’t read anything from Enrique, Lia’s mind supplied me with plenty of information. Enough to know I was dead meat. As she picked herself back up off the floor again, I read it all. Enrique had occasional dealings with Faustino, which made me a liability. I might compromise his business with the cartel. Add they thought I knew their secret, that they were vampires. Either of those reasons would get me killed. The combination created a synergistic blend virtually guaranteeing my death and dismemberment. Lia thought they should feed my corpse to pigs to dispose of the physical evidence.
I turned and ran for the door, terror driving me. I ran like an animal being hunted. I ran for my life.
***
CHAPTER 4
Terror is an emotion in a class all its own. Few people ever know true terror. The run or die, run till your heart bursts kind of terror. I’d certainly never experienced it before. It robbed me of all sense, all reasoning capacity. All I could do was run.
I made it about twenty feet. I had begun to think I might just make it out of there. I wrenched to a painfully abrupt halt by a set of immensely strong iron-sinewy arms. Felt like being hooked by a waist high steel bar.
Enrique snatched me up and lifted me off the floor like my hundred and fifteen pounds was nothing. When the intense instinct of flight is denied, all that’s left is fight.<
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I fought with all my strength and spitfire and heart. I kicked and clawed. I screamed obscenities in multiple languages. I flailed, pummeled, elbowed, bit and scratched. Nothing seemed to do any real damage until my flailing right knee caught him square in the groin.
That changed things.
He grunted in pain and promptly smacked me into next week. A real whopper. Felt like he hit me with a cast iron skillet. I went flying, sprawled out flat on my back on the beautiful gleaming hardwood floors.
I saw stars, and the landing knocked the wind out of me good. I lay there spread eagle, dazed, mostly naked. My robe had come loose and fallen to the floor in our struggle. I like to think that’s what saved my life, my nudity and vulnerability. That and a little begging. When terrified of being murdered and fed to pigs, begging is not out of the question. In fact, I highly recommend it.
He scooped me up off the floor. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything to anyone. I’m not even legal. You saw my Visa, it’s expired. I won’t go to the cops!”
He didn’t say a word, and Lia’s mind remained firmly set on my death, so I kept at it.
“I’ll work for you. I can make two thousand a week. I do guys and girls and even group sex! You can have me for free all you want, every day, three times a day if you want. I give the best blow job you’ve ever had.”
Somewhere in the mix, begging, naked in his arms, attesting with all sincerity to my superior blow job skills, I saw a change in his face and attitude. Anger morphed to pity. Pity was good. I could live with pity. Pity meant he might not kill me. I sensed the difference and pressed the advantage.
“I’ll never tell a soul, I promise. I swear on my mother’s grave. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it right now. I can go all night long. I’m like the energizer bunny.” I reached into his pants to demonstrate my willingness to service him right there and then. He stared at me with something like pity, maybe even sympathy.
“Stop!” he yelled. “Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I felt so relieved to hear those words. But the bitch was still planning my death. I didn’t think I’d fully convinced him yet.
“I’m serious! I’ll do anything you want. We can have a threesome right now. I do anal sex too. Whatever you like. You guys into kinky stuff? You can tie me up, it’s okay.”
I had my hand in his pants by then, pulling on his cock. I tried to pull it completely out to suck him, but he spoke with undeniable authority.
“Stop now! I’m not going to hurt you. We are not having sex. Kindly remove your hands.”
No mistaking his command, he didn’t want me in his pants. I’d lost my initiative. My only bargaining chip gone. I wondered if he was gay. That would be so ironic, killed by a gay man who had no appreciation for my offer. If I couldn’t seduce him, how would I make it out of this alive? Lia glared at me with one of those looks, her I’m-gonna-enjoy-peeling-your-skin-off look.
“But … she … she wants me dead.” I whined to Enrique pointing at Lia.
He looked at me funny – then it hit me. I’d basically admitted I knew what she was thinking. I had opened the lid to Pandora’s Box. He smiled down at me.
“You are a telepath, how interesting.” He looked towards Lia and back down at me. “I’ve tried repeatedly to teach Lia to block her mind from this kind of intrusion, but it would seem she lacks the aptitude for it.”
He addressed Lia. “You understand you’re broadcasting your every sick thought to this poor girl and she’s mistakenly assumed we are of the same mind.”
Lia glared at me with vitriol potent enough to poison the New York City water reservoirs. She imagined new horrors committed against my flesh: impalings, severing of limbs, flaying the muscles from my bones. She hissed like a reptile. I flinched away from all that malice and horror. I leaned into Enrique’s embrace, the very same guy who I’d been fighting with a moment ago.
“I’m not a mind reader. It’s obvious she wants me dead. I mean … just look at her.” I tried to play the denial game.
Enrique shook his head in disappointment. “No lies. We know what you are. It cannot be hidden from us.”
I tried again. He interrupted me. “Ahht! No lies Esperanza. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Do you trust my promise?”
I wanted to so bad. But she still wanted me dead, and I couldn’t get into his mind. I nodded yes, but how could I trust a man I couldn’t read?
“Okay then. No more lies. You must not lie to me. Ever. You are what you are. And for this reason I must decide what to do with you.”
“Please let me go home …”
“Ahht! Shush. No more drama. I have made you a promise. I’ll not harm you, and neither will Lia.” She shot daggers of pure hate at Enrique holding my naked body snuggly in his protective arms.
He glared hard at Lia. “You’ll not harm Esperanza. I forbid you to hurt her.” It seemed like his voice had changed, a strange tone of command.
Lia growled in frustration, literally grooowwled like an animal. She most definitely hated me. I’d never seen such focused hatred before. A fanatical, maniacal kind of hate. Very disturbing.
Enrique looked back down at me, almost nose to nose as I huddled in his steel-cable arms. “We’ll speak more of this later. I think you need some clothes and a rest.” He used that intense gaze. I felt pretty certain he tried to hypnotize me. Not happening.
“That Jedi mind trick crap doesn’t work on me.” I blurted it out, like a fool.
But I did feel tired, worn out, sore. I’d probably have some good bruises shortly.
“Yes, and therein lies the problem.”
He carried me through the hallways of his mansion-like penthouse to a monstrous bedroom with an awesome view of Central Park and a ginormous king-size four-poster bed. It was an orgy bed. Four or more people could fit in it comfortably. As he dumped me on the bedcovers, reality settled in. Though alive and well, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Please let me go home.” I grabbed his hand as he stepped away from the bed. “Please! Faustino will be looking for me. He’ll hunt me down. You don’t understand. I really need to go home.”
“No. I’m very sorry, but that life is over now. I’ve yet to decide the role you’ll fulfill here, but your former life as a prostitute is finished. Think about it for a while. You’ll no longer be required to sell your body. You may find this a change for the better. I’ll bring you some food and clothing shortly. You can wash up in the restroom.” He handed me the remains of my torn bathrobe.
“How wonderful. I get my very own bathroom for the first time ever, but I’m a god damn prisoner.”
He tried to get away scot free, dump me in my cell and just walk away. I put it back on him. “I’ve had some asshole telling me what to do my entire life. This is just more of the same. So I don’t have to sell my body, you still have me here. Might as well have my body, it’s the same. Either way you look at it I’m not free to live as I please.”
He studied me. A momentary glimpse of emotion crossed his features, perhaps sympathy. Then he nodded and locked the door from the outside leaving me alone, caged, contemplating the new mess I’d made of my life.
In the luxurious bathroom, I stood in front of the mirror assessing the damage. I looked like shit. My left cheek was red and swollen, my lips puffy and bleeding, and my left eye had begun to change color. It wasn’t the first black eye I’d been given by a man, and probably wouldn’t be the last. My elbows were raw from my landing on the hardwood floors, I’d broken a nail on my right hand, and my arms had bruises from where he held onto me too tightly as we fought. Standing there butt naked, seeing how horrible I looked, I started to cry.
I exhausted my tears with some cursing and a heavy dose of self-pity. A hot bath sounded good. Sometime during my relaxing bubble bath, a care package had been magically delivered. A bathrobe, nightgown, and a very expensive cocktail dress hung on the bathroom door. The bedroom revealed a whole four course meal from Chang Wo’s Chinese
Restaurant.
The food smelled heavenly. I hadn’t really eaten much since I woke up, and it was already past midnight. I downed the spicy szechuan beef, mu shu pork, and sweet-n-sour chicken with rice. The awesome meal went a long way towards soothing my frazzled nerves. I’m such a simple creature when you break it down. Food, clothes, and shelter. That’s really all I needed. But this deal also came with a bottle of red wine on ice. I don’t think you’re supposed to drink red wine with Chinese food, but I didn’t give a shit.
It was good wine, not that I know anything about wine, but any spirits were welcome at the moment. I had worked my way through most of the bottle by the time my new master let himself into the room.
I slurred. “1998 was a very good year.” I held my bottle up in salute. I had grown attached to my bottle, reluctant to let go. It would serve as a decent bludgeon if that psycho bitch came anywhere near me.
“So it would seem.” Enrique sat next to me on the plush cream colored sofa I was camping out on in my new terry cloth bathrobe. “What are you watching?”
On the forty inch flat screen I viewed a rerun of ‘twelve corazones’, a dating show on one of the Spanish channels. I liked seeing all those young attractive people from all parts of Latin America smiling on TV, happy, doing whatever they wanted, with nice shiny new Visas. I aspired to be like them someday, just a normal person enjoying life in America. Isn’t this supposed to be the land of the free?
My attitude creeped out from under my drunken smile. “It’s gay porn – what do you care?”