Jerking awake, Mateo's eyes find mine. He must see the devil lurking just under my skin peeking out at him. He struggles to free himself from the ropes binding his arms and legs to the chair I put him in.
Letting out a small whimper, he looks behind me at the few things I have set out. I just hope he doesn't piss himself. I can't stand that shit. Mateo starts to speak, but I silence him by placing my finger to my lips in the universal shhh gesture. Minutes pass, and neither of us speaks. I want him to be scared, he should be.
I reach behind me for the pliers and move toward him. "What do you know about Martin?" I ask, lifting the pliers to his fingers. I don't think he will take much longer to break, but he could surprise me.
"I saw you with him. You were on your knees for him, you were never that way with me!" Mateo screeches.
I put a small amount of pressure on his fingernail to let him know I need more than what he has given me.
Whimpering, Mateo begins to cry, "I told his father's man. I couldn't stand it. Senor De Los Santos said he would handle it. I don't know anything else!"
I don't need him anymore. He isn't going to tell me anything else. Pulling out my gun, I put it next to his face.
"Roman! Please! I've told you everything I know! Don't do this! Don't you care about me at all?!" He cries out pleading for his life.
Cocking the gun, I smile, "Of course I did, I also cared about my father, but that didn't save him either. This is a mercy compared to what I did to him." Pulling the trigger, I wipe the side of my face where brain matter and blood lands.
Chapter Nine
ROMAN
Letting Rosalina know that I killed one of her men and that I'm taking time off is easy compared to what I had envisioned. She doesn't ask questions only lets me know that I did the right thing and to be safe. Packing my bags, I call Nico to see if he has any news. I'm not expecting him to tell me that Amalia, one of the closest people to a daughter, is married to a man that beats and rapes her.
I'm tempted to fly to Brazil instead to murder her husband. Nico has assured me that he is handling it. Driving the short distance to the family airstrip, I board the plane forgoing all small talk. I wanted to be in the air five minutes ago. I plan on getting all the answers I need straight from Fernando De Los Santos himself. The flight is short, which is great since I am not a fan of flying at all. I would rather stay on the ground because being in the air is for the damn birds.
Exiting the plane once we have landed, I am met by two young men, men that work for Fernando. I knew he would be aware the second I left Mexico; the fucker probably knew I would be coming for him. One of the cabrons pulls out a black sack, no doubt to put on my head. That isn't happening. Shaking my head, he drops his hand defeated. It's not my fault he's a pussy sent to do a job he has no clue how to do.
"Vamonos," I command already making my way to the SUV they drove here.
I slide into the passenger seat before the other man ever makes it to his side of the vehicle. I just glare at him and turn against the door. Call me paranoid, but I never turn my back on someone eager to put a knife in me or pull the trigger. Steepling my hands in front of me, I wait for us to arrive at the Cuban gun warehouse. Typical, Fernando acts if I don't know where he lives.
I don't waste time in small talk, once I'm in front of him. I get straight to the point, "Where is Martin?"
Grinning, he looks me up and down, "So, if you are Roman, then that makes my son the bitch in your relationship."
It isn't a question. Fernando doesn't believe his son could be a man. I hate when people don't answer the questions they are asked.
"Once again, where is he?"
His stupid men were too scared to even take my weapon. Not that a gun would be how I kill him. Once I find Martin, I'll let him decide what happens to his father. Fernando pulls a phone from his pocket and tosses it to me. I look at the screen, and I see Martin strung up by chains in what looks like a basement. Snapping the phone shut, I glare at him waiting for whatever he is going to do. The man next to him moves forward with a slip of paper containing an address. It's a Cuban address so at least I know he is in this country.
Laughing, Fernando nods towards the paper, "He's there. He will probably be dead soon, you may want to hurry."
Backing away, I slip outside, and into the driver seat of the vehicle, they brought me here in. No keys. Pulling out my pocket knife, I shove it into the key ignition and twist. It works far better than I would have thought. The place isn't far away which is great. I grab my gun from my holster when I jump from the vehicle and make my way to the shack.
Throwing open the door, I am shocked not to see anyone guarding Martin. He looks almost dead from where I stand. Calling his name, he barely lifts his head. Going closer, I can see that his left eye is swollen shut and his torso is covered in cigarette burns. They beat him until he was near death. Their mistake was they touched him at all.
Untying the ropes from his wrists at his back, I carry him to the waiting car. I won't bother with a hospital, that's just an opening for them to kill him. Driving directly to the airstrip, we take off towards home. I grab the medical kit to clean his wounds the best I can until we are safely in Mexico.
Chapter Ten
ROMAN
Arriving in Mexico, I make the decision that a hospital would just alert the Council to what has happened. That is if they aren't already aware. I didn't think Mateo would go to Fernando, so who knows who else he told.
Taking Martin to my home, I call Anthony. He would want to know what happened and can let me know how to proceed. I won't kill his father without telling him first. It wouldn't change my mind even if he did protest it.
"Get to my house. Now."
He won't need more words than that. Ending the call, I open the door and walk to my bedroom. I lay Martin down. I have the supplies here to start an IV and monitor his heart rate, anything else and I would need a hospital. Call it paranoia, Ricardo and I both took medical courses in our youth for occasions like this.
Martin will live, but because of what they did to him, he won't have use of his right arm for some time, if ever. He stared blankly when I asked what they had done. I think he knows what I have planned. Fernando will die at my hand. He will feel every single thing he inflicted on Martin; I will take out my anger on his body.
"They raped me, you know. One of the men fucking raped me while I was tied down to a table and my father just watched the entire time. I never begged like he wanted. I just took it," Martin finally says.
Clenching my fist, I don't speak. It wouldn't be a good idea, that's how people fuck up; telling someone what they plan to do before it happens. Pounding on the door pulls me back from the dark thoughts plaguing my mind. Tony is finally here. I gently pat Martin's leg as I make my way around the bed to the door. I wish Tony would stop trying to break my door down. Swinging it open, I'm surprised to see Rosalina with him, she was the one trying to knock it off the hinges.
"Where is he? Is he okay?" She asks, tears filling her eyes.
Cocking my head, I take in her form. Rosalina is livid. I would question how she knew Martin was here but nothing gets by her, not when it's her family involved. Nodding, I step back letting them inside. Opening my mouth to speak, I am shoved aside by Tony already heading towards the bedroom.
"Rosalina... About what happened..."
Shaking her head, Rosalina meets my eyes as she speaks, "Don't. I don't need the details just be sure that the fucker suffers. Make him bleed, and make it hurt."
A slight nod is all I can give. Crashing sounds come from my bedroom causing both of us to rush in. Tony is on his knees, not speaking. He doesn't need to. I know what Martin told him just by the scattered mess of the room. Tony swiped all of my belongings off my dresser in rage. I don't blame him.
I meet Martin's gaze, never saying a word, I march over to the side of the bed crashing my mouth to his. I can't tell whether this is goodbye or not. I'm not sure, and I am always confident in m
y actions. Leaving him gasping for air, I turn marching out of the house. I will bring back whatever is left of his father when I'm done.
Chapter Eleven
MARTIN
He left. I knew he would. I could see it in his eyes, his need for blood. Roman is a protector, always has been, it's part of who he is.
I can't stand weeping, people feeling sorry for me has never appealed to me. Tony surprised me though, he isn't giving me pity, Tony is fuming. That is never a good thing when he is quite literally The Angel of Death, The Reaper. Hell, I'd be scared if I caused him to act the way he just did. My father and his men really did fuck me up pretty badly. I haven't told anyone except for Roman what they did. Tony only knows I am lying in this bed unable to move because of our father. He was never around during the times my father beat me in the past.
Going home for a job was a ploy for him to get me alone and unsuspecting. The worst part is the punishment wouldn't have been as severe had someone else not told him about Roman and I. He couldn't stand the way I embarrassed him with my actions. He thought I was "cured" of my illness.
Roman will be back. The question is will he come back with blood on his hands. I don't care if Roman does kill Fernando. He stopped being my father the moment he had me thrown back into that dark room where he had to beat me when I was younger. I was lucky to be alive when Roman found me. I know that I'm glad he came. I had already lost count of how long I had been strung up like an animal.
Chapter Twelve
ROMAN
Tapping my fingers on the oak desk in front of me, I look at the clock again. Fernando and Martin's mother should be home any minute. I've been wandering around his office for almost an hour. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. The clinking of keys lets me know they are finally here. I wonder if Mrs. De Los Santos knows the devil she sleeps next to.
"How the hell did you get in my house, pendejo!" Fernando yells. Maybe it makes him feel superior calling me names, hell if I know.
Grinning, I motion towards the chair in front of the desk, the one where a guest would sit. I don't expect him to comply, but he must possess some survival instincts. Tapping of shoes can be heard in the hallway, so I know she will be joining us soon. I don't mind, but she might not want to stick around.
"Ay Dios Mio!" she screams from the door, her hand clutched to her chest.
She doesn't run but chooses to tentatively make her way over to the other seat. She must be where Tony and Martin get their backbone. Coughing, I clear my throat trying not to think of Martin.
Leaning closer to me, Mrs. De Los Santos grabs my hand, shocking me, "You're him, aren't you? The one who makes my son happy."
Nodding, I wait for her to say something else. Fernando looks ready to murder me for touching his wife.
"Good." Standing she looks at her husband and back to me, "I hope you continue to make him happy then. I never saw you here, I never saw anything. Just come to see me when you are done and be sure to do it here, you look a little thin."
Chuckling, I stand to round the desk. Fernando is speechless at his wife's words. She has literally left him in a shark pool, alone. Tapping my finger against my chin, I grab the letter opener from behind me and throw it down. It lands between his legs, pinning his pants to the seat.
Not looking down at the stainless steel handle, he meets my eyes, "You know, I knew it would be you and not the pussy who calls himself my son."
He's baiting me, I shouldn't let him, but when it comes to Martin, all of my common sense disappears. Crunch. I hear his nose break, the blood running down his face and staining his shirt. I wanted to take my time with him. However, I don't think my anger will allow me to. Reaching out, I grip his throat, causing the chair to tip back with his weight. I could crush his airway like this. Letting go, I watch him fall back, his head hitting the wood floor. Grabbing the handle of the letter opener, I bring it down on his shoulder cutting through the subclavian artery. I'm not done though. As he slowly begins to lose blood, I reach down, tugging his pants down enough that I can finish what I plan. Using my own serrated knife, I swipe it across his nut sack cutting them open.
He can bleed to death for all I care. Turning, I walk out of the room, shutting the light off as I go.
Chapter Thirteen
ROMAN
Walking into the hallway, I follow the smell of food cooking all the way to the large kitchen. The tiny woman is moving around the space grabbing pans and food. Martin's mother is cooking for me even though I have just killed her husband. It makes me uneasy.
"Mijo, have a seat while I finish," she calls to me from the stove.
Pulling the chair out, I sit waiting for the other shoe to drop. Chuckling, she puts a plate in front of me and sits in the chair next to me. Watching me. It would be a shame to have lived this long only to die from eating. Leaning forward, the tiny woman snatches the fork and shoves a mouthful of the rice and beans into her mouth. Glaring at me, she hands me the utensil and stares me down until I finally take a bite.
"How is Martin?" she questions, tears forming in her eyes.
I have to remind myself that she probably didn't have any say in what he went through but my barely contained anger seeps through my words, "He would be better if that sick fuck you call a husband hadn't strung him up like a pinata."
Smack. She hit me with a damn chancla! "Do not use that language in my house."
Rubbing my shoulder, I nod back. "Martin is better than he was. He will be fine once his wounds heal, but he tore some of the muscles in his left arm."
Giving me a sad smile, she runs her hand over the tablecloth, "Take care of him for me. Anthony can manage without me."
I'm confused at her words until I see her shoulders trembling. She will take the blame for what I did. Reaching out I take her small, worn hand in mine. I won't ask her not to because I can tell it's her way of apologizing for turning a blind eye to it over the years.
Nico calls me on the way back to the airport, he has never been the one to call unless it's important.
"Nico, what's wrong?" I answer quickly.
Laughing, he pauses before he speaks, "Amalia and I are getting married today. Be here."
Grabbing a pen, I jot down the address before the click sounds. She may have never been my child by blood, but she was a daughter to me. Informing the pilot of the change, I set about ordering a set of clothes for her wedding. Landing in Brazil, I meet with the woman holding my suit. Quickly checking into a hotel nearby the beach, I shower and dress. When I finally get to the spot Nico sent me, I take in all that is set up and see both Rosalina and Tony already here. Martin isn't though, I know they would have never left him without some kind of protection in case I didn't make it back.
White catches my eye as Amalia exits the black town car; Nico apparently didn't understand that a man shouldn't see his wife in her dress before the wedding. She looks like the princess I knew she always would. Coughing, I finally get her attention. I should in this damn light purple shirt. Nico kisses her on the cheek before he walks towards the man standing at the altar.
"Amalia, I understand if you don't want to, but I would like to walk you down the aisle. You were more of a daughter to me then you will ever know," I mutter.
Grinning like crazy, she grabs onto my arm as I lead her down to Nico. All I can think about is wanting Martin here while Nico talks about dragons and shit. As the ceremony ends, I slip away, heading home. It's nearly dark by the time I get back home, and my home is lit up like an airport. It's strange to have someone in my bed, my house, all while I'm not here. Turning the knob, I walk inside and am met with silence. Someone should be here with Martin, yet there isn't. Grabbing my gun from my holster, I creep towards my bedroom.
Sitting against the headboard is Martin, a bare-chested Martin, looking up from his tablet. I am met with a grin, "You know, I am beginning to think guns are a turn on for you."
Cocky motherfucker. "Where is the person who should be here standing guard?"
Putting the tablet on the side table, he winces at the pain, "I made him leave. I'm not a fucking child."
Stalking over to the side of the bed, I grab his head and crush my lips to his. I'm glad he is apparently feeling better. Hissing in pain, Martin pulls away. I shouldn't have done that, but I needed to touch him.
Taking in my purple shirt, Martin raises an eyebrow, "Where the fuck have you been?"
Standing, I unbutton the front, undressing completely in front of him. Dropping the clothes on the chair behind me, I wait for him to ask about the scars, yet he doesn't. I contemplate telling him about his father. Something tells me if I do then he will be a target for the Council. I don't think they will believe Martin's mother killed him. I won't let her take the blame for my anger, my actions.
"Amalia got married. I went there," I respond, I know he suspects more.
Nodding, he lifts the blanket motioning for me to join him. Lying next to him, I breathe easier. Everyone I love is safe, for now.
Chapter Fourteen
ROMAN
The ringing of my phone pulls me from a deep sleep, moving away from Martin carefully. Rushing to pick up the device before it wakes him, I answer with a groggy, "Bueno?"
"Roman Fuentes?" the voice questions.
Looking at the number that called, I bring the phone back to my ear, "Si, soy Roman Fuentes."
I have no clue who would be calling this early in the morning, it's never good though when someone does. The voice on the other end gives me a location and a time, nothing else. I have a sinking feeling this is the Council's doing. Looking at the date I wrote down, I calculate the time I have before I need to leave. Only two days.
Sliding back into bed next to Martin, I mentally run through all that needs to be done. I will have a busy day come morning, for now, I just want to lay here. The sunlight filters in as I continue to plan everything. It's in my nature to take care of everyone at all times. I am always prepared for the worst.
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