“What’s the meaning of this?” General Gustavo Mijares asks, his hand flailing. “Do you know who I am? What I can do to you without repercussion?”
Emiliano pulls a knife from his back pocket and grabs it from the tip; a flick of the wrist and it embeds itself into the military man’s arm. His scream rends the air while the man beside him seems to have gone mute. “Watch the tone.”
“Gentlemen, can’t we talk this out?” Gino asks, his hands up. “Let’s all relax and have a drink. No need for violence.”
“I’ll accept your drink, but it comes with a condition.” I walk over and pull up a chair right across from him. “Everything in life comes with a price.”
“Of course, but first we drink.”
“Do we drink to Francis or my mother?” Both men pale, but Gino’s hand on the bottle tightens, knuckles turning white. “A loving woman or a piece-of-shit thief?”
“Javier, we’ve both lost.” A shot is poured, and he pushes it in my direction. “It’s time to let go and move on. We’re even.”
“Did you hear, primos? We’re even.”
“We heard.” They each follow my lead and take a seat, weapons now atop the table. “Seems worthy of a celebration…don’t you think, Gustavo?”
“Yes.” His tone is nervous. He doesn’t trust us.
“Great!” Gino picks up a small mirror beside him and without pause does another line, wiping his hand across his nose to dust off the excess. “Do you two want a shot?”
“We do.” Then they empty every single bullet inside of Gustavo. Two guns. One clip each. And as the general begins to fall face forward, I lean across the table and fist his hair in my hands.
He’s breathing is near nonexistent. Gustavo’s body is heavy as his last seconds draw close, and I take the blade on the table, holding the sharp end to his neck, and slice it across. One quick pull from right to left and his neck is open, nearly chopped-off, as the blood rushes out from the large wound.
“Say hello to the devil for me.” His eyes are wide with horror. His lips are bloody, a trickle of red sliding down the corner of his mouth before there’s an infinite nothing.
The general is dead, and his accomplice pisses his pants. “Please don’t.” Pathetic.
“I think it’s time I collect my favor.”
“W-what can I do for you?” he stutters, body shaking so hard his teeth rattle as the reality sets in. As his fear begins to dominate.
“We’re going for a ride.”
The road we’re driving down an hour later is deserted. Barren. And I spend my time just watching Gino; the way tears roll down his cheeks and his chin quivers. The low prayer that slips past his lips and burns my skin.
A man who killed an innocent woman will never receive the pardon he begs for.
He’s unworthy of forgiveness.
We’re in his car, an older model full-sized van with two captain’s chairs and a large sliding door beside my seat. The vehicle is spacious. Somewhat clean.
“Javier, please. Let’s be reasonable.” His hands are clenching, body racking with sobs. “We both made mistakes here. Let’s forgive and forget.”
“Silence.”
“Come on, parce—”
“Fucking idiot.” I kick him in the mouth, my combat boot knocking out a few front teeth and I rub the sole against his mouth, making him swallow back the red substance. “Die with dignity.”
“I don’t want to die!” He wails, now fighting me. His weak attempts only make this sweeter.
“Did you know my mother was supposed to fly out in two weeks to Chicago? We’d planned it, but it’d become difficult when she caught a small cold and we decided to push it back.” This time my foot kicks his chest and he falls over, trying to breathe through the burn. “She was supposed to meet my girl and love her as much as I do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your apologies mean shit,” I snarl, lip curling up in disgust. In pure hatred for this piece of shit not worthy of breath. Gino coughs when I remove my foot, but his reprieve is short lived when I lean forward and land the first punch to his face. I don’t stop after one and rain down blow after blow to his mouth, nose, and the corner of his left eye.
The skin becomes red, his flesh breaking just above his orb and still, it’s not enough.
My fist doesn’t pause. My anger won’t simmer.
“Por favor. No more.”
“I’ll only stop when you’re dead.” The car picks up speed then and I look up, catching Alejandro’s eyes in the rear view mirror. He nods and Emiliano turns in his seat, reaching back to open the van’s door. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, I will.” Then I’m leaning the bitch over and smirk as his screams rend the open road. He’s cursing, crying, but nothing fills my heart with peace like the sound of flesh rubbing off on asphalt. His face leaves behind a bloody streak from one end to the other, and back again when we make a circle back. Gino’s body convulses in pain, fighting and squirming, and the scent of his piss infiltrates my senses when he soils himself again.
I pull him up, and half his face and scalp is gone. His eyeball is missing.
“...” he slurs, but it’s unintelligible and I scrunch up my face in mock concern.
“What was that?” His head lulls back, and spit mixed with blood dribbles down his chin. So nasty. “You want more?”
Head shaking, a few tears roll down his good eye. “No.”
“Si.”
“Please…compassion.”
For a second, I nod. Give him false hope before elbowing him in the one eye he has left and lowering him a final time out of the van’s door. I’m holding him a little above the moving asphalt. His squinting eye is trying to focus on me, his body no longer fighting.
“Javi, I—”
“Thank me.”
It takes him a moment, but he does. It’s low and weak and I shoot him twice in the head before dumping his body over.
It bounces off the paved road, lying still and waiting for the birds to arrive. They don’t take long; the scavengers wait nearby on trees and watch—wait for opportunities to present themselves.
“Are you heading straight to the airport from here?” Emiliano says as the sight of Gino’s corpse becomes distant, and I turn my face to meet his eyes. “Or are you picking anything up? We can handle the cleanup alone.”
“I'm taking Chulo. She loves him.”
“Then I’ll text Lourdes to have him and your bags ready. Let's get you back to Mariah.”
Closing my eyes, I nod and sit back. Relax a bit knowing I'm going home.
I miss you, Muñeca.
25
It's almost two in the afternoon and I'm restless. Unable to sit still while this invisible pressure weighs on my chest. What is wrong with me?
Something inside me is unable to rest, and for a Friday afternoon that makes no sense. Not when I have the weekend off and Malcolm demands I disconnect from work.
No phone calls. No helping with last-minute demands from clients.
My eyes flick to my cell phone, and I glare at the screen. Javier hasn’t called in days, and I’m fearing the worst while hoping for the best. This uncertainty is gnawing at my gut, and I’m going to punch him in the mouth before kissing him stupid the next time I see him.
No contact in days is unacceptable. You go silent when hunting. One of the few lessons my father imparted that I understand. Distractions can get you killed, and while I hate it—loathe the silence—I understand the why.
Touching someone’s mother is forbidden, and when that line is crossed you act swiftly and without humanity. No conscious thought.
I’m still going to give him hell for making me—
“You look like you need a coffee break,” my cousin asks, standing in front of my desk with a cup of coffee from my favorite shop, but all it does is make me miss Javier more. Wish that he were here bugging me instead; pushing me and taking my body as he did the night before I flew
back.
I'll never forget that cabin deep in the jungle. The way he fucked me, then loved me and fed me a delicious dinner in bed afterward.
I want that man again. The side of him that only I'll see when the day is over and we no longer have to respond to titles and expectations.
I miss him. I love him.
“Thanks.” Grabbing the cup, I bring it to my lips and take a sip. My brows furrow and head tilts to the side; the brew is too perfect. Just the right temp and sugar versus caffeine ratio. It also reminds me of every cup Javier has brought me thus far.
Of his smiles when I’d grumble.
Of his knowing eyes when I’d bite back a caffeinated moan.
“Nice to see you smile.”
“Unless you have some kind of cake behind your back, shut it.” And the gloating jerk only nods toward my desk and the open light pink box that sits there. They’re from the same bakery as my drink, and containing the baked goods I’ve been craving for the past seven days of this week. “How?”
“Just thought you’d need a pick-me-up. You’ve been off for days.” He’s staring at me pointedly, and I feel a twinge of shame. This isn’t a life I don’t understand, I know to expect the unpredictability, but it doesn’t negate that when someone you love is involved, things change.
“That bad?” I ask sheepishly, giving him innocent eyes that he sees through.
“Do you want the truth or a bullshit-praising deviation of reality?”
“Touché.” Taking another sip, I breathe in deep and let it out slowly. “Has he contacted you?”
“Not in days, but we both know he’s fine.” The concern in his tone catches me off guard, and I raise a brow. “Just because I don’t cry into my cereal doesn’t mean I don’t like the guy, Mariah. He’s good to and for you. That’s enough for me.”
“So, you approve?”
“Do you need my approval?”
“No.” He laughs at my response while bringing his wrist up, checking the time on his watch. “Shut everything off; we have somewhere to be.”
On instinct, I check the notepad to my right and don’t see anything scheduled for this afternoon. “We don’t have—”
“Shut it down and gather your things. We’re cutting out early.”
“Sure thing, boss. Let me jump into action,” I say with false elation laced with sarcasm.
“Good. And hurry.” And to be a jerk, he takes my box of goodies because he knows I’ll follow.
I’m half tempted to flip him off but choose instead to roll my eyes and do as he says. There’s not much to do and I log off, tear the page off my notepad, and store the items no longer needed. Clear space, clear head.
“Where are we going?” I ask a few minutes later as we head down to the main floor and then exit through the back. The employees we pass smile at us—some have a knowing look, but no one stops or asks questions. “Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”
“Keep walking, Mariah. No more questions.”
“Malcolm—”
“Trust me.” And he hits right where I’ll never argue. He’s like my brother and has never lied to or hurt me.
“Okay.” We walk down a private stretch of sidewalk that leads to the company garage in silence. It's quiet out, the sole noise coming from the distant horn or a street vendor calling out to sell his hot food items.
He doesn't pause at the door on this side of the building, just turns the handle without inputting the code. I'm surprised but don't voice it, choosing instead to bide my time.
“Keys?”
“Sure.” Digging them out from my purse, I hand them over and hear the click of my alarm a few seconds later. I don’t park far from the entrance and we make it to the vehicle within a minute or two. “Can I have them back now or are you driving?”
He doesn’t answer and once again checks his watch. “Give me a sec.”
“Malcolm, this is getting weird. Even for you.”
“Hush, nerd.”
“Suck it, donkey face.” I’m smiling at the end of our exchange, more so because we haven’t used these nicknames since high school. He was as much a jerk then as he is now. “But seriously, cousin. What’s going on?”
“Always so many questions, Muñeca.” My entire being freezes, eyes closing as his voice wraps around me and the drink in my hand crashes to the ground. I don’t turn to look around for him, I don’t so much as breathe, but then he’s there. Right behind me. His warmth seeping into my pores. “Aren’t you going to welcome me home?”
“You’ve rendered her speechless, Lucas.”
“I should do it more often. Look at that—no arguing.”
“I’m going to kick both your...oh shit!” I’m whirled around before I can finish my threat and his lips meet mine, breathing life back into my body. At once I’m hot and needy and I whimper into his mouth, gripping his dress shirt to keep him where he is.
Where he should always be. With me. Touching me.
A sense of relief so profound fills my lungs, and I breathe right for the first time since leaving Colombia. Javier is home and I’m drawing in his taste, clinging to him like the needy woman he’s made me.
Our tongues twine, a loving caress and I moan. “When.”
“A few hours ago,” he growls into my mouth, his kisses desperate. Hungry. “Had to pick up Chulo first, but I’m here. I came back for you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, beautiful.”
“And I’m taking the dog home. I don’t want to see either of you until next Tuesday.” Turning my head, I meet my cousin’s stare and there’s a warmth there that surprises me. “Go be happy.”
Stepping out of Javier’s arms, ignoring his protest, I walk over to Malcolm and hug him tight. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes just as hard, and then steps back, grabbing the leash my man’s holding.
Oh shit! Chulo is here!
“He’s already in Malcolm’s car with Carmelo. We’ll see him in a few days.”
“Really?” I’m smiling so big and I know we have so much to discuss, but just having him here, makes my life brighter. Everything can wait. Right now, I just need him. To be us for a few hours, and then I’ll talk him into picking up my dog.
Because I’m claiming him. Chulo is mine.
“Yes, linda. He’s comfy and warm and getting ready to be spoiled by you.”
“That dog is brilliant.” Turning my head back in the direction of Malcolm, I find the area empty. “Where did he—”
“He’s gone, babe. Now kiss me.” Javier doesn't wait for me. His mouth slants over mine and I give in to his taste. The softness of his lips is a contrast to his aggressiveness—as if he can’t help himself—and Javier devours me. And I lose myself to him, to the feel of his cock hard and thick against my abdomen. Of the coolness of my car as the metal meets my back, his body covering my front while hands wander.
He’s gripping my right thigh with one hand and palming the back of my neck with the other. Dominating my senses. Controlling and pulling moans from deep within my chest.
I don’t know how long we stand there kissing and don’t care. Either way, this is what I’ve been missing. That is until we hear the click of a gun and freeze.
“Isn’t this sweet,” a voice says from behind him, and a quick flash of fear runs through me. Mildred tsks when we don’t disengage and turn to face her, but I feel the gun in Javi’s jacket and finger the cold metal, gripping it tight right before he turns.
His back is against my front, his muscles coiled tight. “Leave, Ms. Frederick. Killing so soon after being gone so long isn’t on my agenda for the day.”
“Step aside.”
“Last warning.”
“Why do you defend the whore?” she spits out, and I take in her appearance. The hell happened to her? Mildred is dressed all in black and her lip is busted, a large bruise forming at her jaw. “It’s because of her that I’ve lost it all.”
“I thought you were pulling my strings.
That I’d be the one to lose it all?”
“You took him from me.” Tears fall and leave mascaraed tracks down her cheeks while her hand shakes. She looks unstable. “Had you kept out of my business—had you left Lane alone—I’d be a happy bride right now with a kid on the way. Instead, I’m alone on our anniversary and you’ll end up dead by my hands.”
“You mean, with you going to jail?”
“With your father burying his child.” Something about the way she says father catches my attention. It’s full of hurt and bitterness.
“Did he leave you? Is that why you’re pulling the dramatic act?” Antagonizing her isn’t ideal, but right now I’m seeing red. Seething at this bitch for interrupting our sweet reunion and I step from behind my love, standing shoulder to shoulder while keeping his Glock out of sight. “Or is he sleeping with someone else?”
Fury flashes in her eyes, but she tamps it down with a fake smile. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, and then I’ll end your mother.”
“Mildred, this is your final chance. Walk.” Javi reaches for my hand, trying to grip the gun. She’s too busy glaring to see the exchange, but he doesn’t miss the way I hold on tighter. This kill is mine; I’m not backing down.
“I want her dead,” Mildred sneers and lifts her shaking hand with the barrel pointing at my head.
“The feeling is mutual.” Still, I hold my ground without showing my weapon. Showing your hand before it’s time can be a costly mistake. “But I’m going to give you the opportunity I never offered Lane. Walk, run...leave Chicago and never come back.”
The mention of his name cuts her deep; I’ve come to understand within the last few weeks that she did love him, just had a shitty way of showing it.
“Fuck you,” she screeches and the gun in her hand goes off, the bullet aimed at me while I return fire with a quick flick of my wrist. It all happens so fast. One second she’s standing, while the next, her vacant eyes watch us with three bullet holes decorating her head.
“I keep warning people that my shot is better than most.” Her discharge never touched me and I smile, until I look over and catch the sight of red on Javier’s shirt and the sudden buckling of his knees. “Baby?”
Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4) Page 19