Cartel

by Lili St. Germain

  ‘A show of good faith,’ he murmured, one finger tracing my lips. ‘Something to hope for.’

  ‘You just said hope was a useless emotion. And besides, I have nothing left to hope for.’

  ‘But you do,’ he countered, his hand palming my breast. He was already hard as steel against my thigh, but now he pressed against me with more urgency.

  He dipped his lips to mine and kissed me gently; a contradiction for such a man. He was testing me, I realised. Seeing if I’d kiss him back.

  And I so badly wanted to kiss him back. I wanted to melt into him until all of the pain and horror was a distant memory.

  I opened my mouth wider, inviting him in. I had nothing left in this world anymore, nothing except pain and loneliness. Pain and loneliness and him. He pushed my legs further apart, until they were as wide as they could go in the small confines of the back seat. Unconsciously, my hand went to his belt and unbuckled the clasp, popping the top button of his jeans and slowly sliding his zipper down. He reared his head back and stared at me, panting, as I wrapped my hand around him and squeezed.

  What am I doing? I screamed at myself.

  I don’t want to be alone, I answered myself. I cannot bear to be alone. He has to want me. He has to come to love me. And then he will protect me from the rest of them. I am a ghost. Without him, I am nothing.

  ‘What do I have left to hope for?’ I asked, as he pulled my panties aside and dipped his finger into me, making me shiver. ‘That you’ll let me go?’

  He shifted above me. He pushed my hand away and reached into his jeans. His cock bounced out, and he held it between us, his eyes questioning me. I nodded minutely, kissing him deeply once more, giving him permission. Yes.

  I drew in a sharp breath as he gripped himself and pushed into me, tenderness and pleasure merging into one. I moaned at the feeling of fullness, from being stretched slowly as he continued to push himself deeper.

  ‘No,’ he said, pushing my top up around my neck and pulling my bra down to expose my breasts. ‘I’m never letting you go.’

  Grief and pleasure overwhelmed me as he began to rock his hips back and forth, sliding in and out with a pressure that was as devastating as it was utterly pleasurable.

  More tears tracked down the sides of my face as he continued to fuck me. It was raw, it was primal and it was the only thing I had left in this sorry world.

  He stroked my sensitive nub and my legs jerked open wider in response.

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Everything inside me was on edge, and in that moment, my body betrayed me. Rationally, I wanted to push him away, but instead, I drew him closer. Deeper.

  He was nothing. He was everything. He was the only thing I had.

  ‘You hate me?’ he asked, his voice strained, his pace unrelenting.

  ‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘I fucking hate you!’

  He grinned. ‘One day, you’ll love me. I promise.’

  I was afraid that he was right.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Mariana

  I burned with shame as Dornan drove home. I had just willingly had sex — again — with the man who was holding me captive. Had sucked his dick and let him inside me twice now, and it was so goddamn confusing.

  And my family thought that I was dead.

  ‘Are you thinking about them?’ Dornan asked suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

  ‘No,’ I answered. ‘I was thinking about you.’

  He frowned for a moment, then glanced at me before looking back to the road ahead. It was almost dusk, and the sun had moved low and grown golden-orange in the Californian sky.

  ‘Thinking of how much you hate me?’ he asked seriously.

  I shook my head. ‘No.’

  He didn’t ask me anything else after that.

  Back outside the apartment, I stared at the car door. I wanted to open it, but I couldn’t figure out how.

  I’m in shock. The thought came from nowhere, struck me as odd, and I dismissed it.

  Dornan understood. He helped me out of the car and supported me as we walked as one up the stairs to his apartment. To my apartment? It didn’t sound right. But this was where he had brought me, and this was where he wanted me to be.

  Once inside, he ran me a bath. Undressed me, with slow fingers that took the opportunity to slide against my flesh, dropping my clothes on the stark bathroom tiles until I was naked before him. I didn’t push his hands away. He might be a monster, but this was a good touch. I would rather he caress me than kick me.

  I would rather he fuck me than kill me.

  He held my hand as I stepped into the deep bathtub and sank into the water. It was bliss. He’d filled the tub with a fragrant lotion of some kind, something that smelled of sandalwood and orange, but not the kind that bubbled.

  I knew why.

  Bubbles would obscure the view.

  I laid back in the tub, my feet burning as water rushed into every crack and crevice caused by the rough terrain I’d had to walk on barefoot. I pressed them against the far end of the tub, hoping the pressure might ease the pain a little.

  I slumped down in the tub, took a breath, and let myself slip under the water. Surfacing a moment later, I rubbed drops of water from my eyes and smoothed my hair back.

  ‘Better?’ he asked me from his spot on the edge.

  I nodded.

  He left the room, returning a moment later with a glass of amber-coloured liquid.

  He sat on the edge again and held the tumbler out to me. I took it wordlessly, tossing it back. It burned on the way down, but I no longer cared.

  I no longer cared about anything.

  Dornan pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket and lit up, taking a deep breath. I stared at the tip of the cigarette, hypnotised by the way it burned bright, leaving grey ash in the wake of fire.

  Dornan must have noticed I was transfixed on his cigarette, because he took one more drag and offered it to me. I took it. Why the hell not? I’d never been much of a smoker, other than a few stolen moments as an experimenting teenager, but I already had a death sentence. Maybe a little lung cancer would get me out of this shitty world a fraction quicker.

  I closed my eyes, letting my arm hang loosely over the side of the tub. Every now and then, I’d take a drag or a sip of whiskey, but mostly, I just lay there and prayed the warm water would wash away my terrible sins.

  There were so many. So many sins. I should have tried harder to yell. To scream. Just one scream could have gotten their attention. Hell, for all I knew the car that passed ours while we were screwing in the back seat was Karina and Pablo and my father.

  A lump formed in my throat that all the cigarettes in the world wouldn’t be able to burn away. The whiskey dulled it slightly but didn’t take it away for more than a second.

  Something brushed against my cheek and I opened my eyes to see Dornan stroking my face.

  I began to weep as I remembered how I had pulled him deeper. Harder. How I had kissed his mouth with a passion and a desperation I’d never experienced before. The way he’d made me tighten around him, despite the horror I’d just witnessed.

  ‘What are you thinking now?’ he asked. His tone held no malice, only casual interest.

  ‘I’m thinking about what a bad person I am,’ I said despondently. I took another drag of the cigarette and tilted my head back, blowing a cloud of smoke above me. It resembled how I felt: as if a grey cloud hung above my head, colouring everything in darkness.

  ‘Why?’ he pressed. ‘Because they’re alive, and they think you’re dead?’

  I looked at the ceiling, tapping ash into the water where I heard it sizzle faintly.

  ‘Because I’m alive, and my boyfriend is dead,’ I whispered. ‘And even though your people killed him, I’m still somehow drawn to you.’

  He nodded. ‘Did you love him?’

  I stiffened, looking at him worriedly. Did I say yes? Did I say no? He’d warned me not to lie to him. I weighed up the cost of a lie over the c
ost of the truth. And finally, I just held my hands up in confusion.

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. If I say I don’t, I’m lying. If I say I do, will you hurt me?’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘I won’t hurt you. Tell me about him. Tell me how you met.’

  I eyed him cautiously. ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. As I told him the story of Este and I, I remembered to leave out the details of my accidental pregnancy. Of our son. I would hold that card close to my heart until it was prised from my cold, dead hands.

  Or until Murphy voiced it for me. The reality that he knew about Luis, and that he could use it against me at any moment, was terrifying.

  After I’d finished, I realised I had gotten rather carried away with telling the story. I must have been talking for fifteen minutes or more. Dornan hadn’t interrupted, other than to get more whiskey and light fresh cigarettes for both of us. So, by the time I was finished, I was exhausted, tipsy, and my throat felt numb from all the nicotine.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘I don’t want to make you mad.’

  ‘I enjoyed your story very much,’ he said, in that deep, throaty way of his.

  Tears filled my eyes and a strange ache took up residence in my chest, as I looked up at this frightening, beautiful man who ruled my entire existence. ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because,’ he said, tucking wet hair behind my ear, ‘you loved him. I like hearing the way you speak of him. It’s … tender.’

  That couldn’t be it, though. He was far more diabolical than that.

  ‘And?’ I pressed him.

  ‘And,’ he said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. ‘One day, you’re going to speak about me like that.’

  I didn’t respond.

  I didn’t know what the hell to say to that.

  Afterwards, when I was wrinkled to prune status and the water had turned cold, he hoisted me out of the tub and wrapped me in a fluffy white towel, carrying me to the bedroom.

  He laid me down and pressed himself into my back, his body hugging around mine like a protective cocoon. It was comforting, in the strangest way.

  ‘Why did you save me?’ I asked him in the dark.

  I heard the breath hitch in his throat. ‘You know why.’

  I shuffled around so I was facing him and put a tentative hand out, searching in the darkness until I found his cheek. I brushed my thumb along his jaw, enjoying the way his stubble tickled my hand.

  ‘But why me?’ I pressed. ‘Why not some other girl?’

  ‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘You’re not afraid of me.’

  I drew breath sharply. ‘Yes, I am,’ I whispered. My lips trembled as those words slipped out. Of course I was afraid of him.

  He ran a hand over my shoulder, down to my waist, then back up to the skin and bone that shielded my heart. He left his hand there. The weight of it felt oddly reassuring. ‘There’s something here,’ he finally murmured. ‘Something that’s on fire.’

  So he felt it, too. It wasn’t just me.

  ‘So you don’t go saving every girl your father takes possession of?’

  He chuckled. ‘No. You’re definitely the first and last.’

  Something about that resonated with me deeply. Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. God, I was so confused. Part of me was screaming in protest — why was I thanking Emilio’s son? His men killed Este.

  But Dornan had saved me. He had stopped me from being auctioned like a head of cattle or a piece of furniture; stopped me from enduring even more horrific punishments.

  ‘You know,’ I said, resting a hand on his chest, ‘I don’t really know anything about you.’

  He laughed. ‘I’m an open book. What do you wanna know?’

  I bit my lip as I thought. ‘How long have you been married?’ I asked. Might as well get the worst question out of the way first.

  He stiffened momentarily. ‘Too fucking long,’ he said. ‘Marriage is overrated. I know. I’ve done it twice.’

  ‘Twice!’ I pushed his chest lightly.

  ‘I have six kids,’ he said quietly. ‘All boys.’

  My heart leapt into my mouth. He was a father. I hadn’t realised that.

  ‘And you’re here with me?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t you be with them?’

  His gripped my wrist tightly. Maybe I’d asked the wrong question, pried too deeply.

  ‘I’ll go home to them,’ he said, ‘soon. Right now, I’m here with you.’

  ‘What are their names?’ I asked, as I thought of my own son. Maybe I could tell him. Maybe it would be all right.

  ‘Chad’s the oldest,’ Dornan said quietly, his expression softening. Pride. It wrapped itself around his features and clung tight as he rattled off another five names. A proud father.

  Este would never be a proud father because he was dead.

  I suddenly felt awful. If Este could see what I’d become …

  ‘Does your wife know you sleep with other women?’ I asked.

  Another chuckle. ‘I’ve never asked her. But yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ sure she knows.’

  I opened my mouth to ask another question but he pressed a finger to my lips.

  ‘My turn,’ he said. ‘Tell me something about you, Ana.’

  I squirmed. ‘I just spent forever telling you all about me in the bath.’

  ‘No you didn’t. You told me all about Esteban. You told me nothing of you. What you think. What you feel in here,’ he took his finger from my lips and tapped it against my chest.

  His question affected me more than I could’ve anticipated. I swallowed, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

  ‘My dad is a disaster,’ I said, almost fondly. ‘He used to get drunk and think he was Muhammad Ali or something. Only, he’d hit me and my brother and sister and my mama.’

  Dornan moved his hand to my arm and squeezed tightly. ‘What did he do to you?’ he asked, and I heard the thinly veiled rage in his voice.

  I laughed. ‘What did I do to him, you mean? He was such a clumsy drunk. I broke his nose once. He never could finish what he started.’

  Dornan’s grip loosened, and I heard him release his breath. ‘He sounds like an asshole.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It could be worse.’

  ‘How?’ Dornan asked.

  Without thinking, I replied, ‘He could be your father.’

  Dornan breathed out. ‘Pretty and smart. What else is in that pretty head? Something you’ve never told anyone before. Anything.’

  I thought about that for a moment, mentally cataloguing all of my dark secrets before selecting one of the more ambiguous ones. A safer one.

  ‘Sometimes I’m so lonely,’ I whispered, and I was. ‘Sometimes, I’m so lonely, it hurts.’

  He wrapped his big arms around me and drew me into his chest, almost crushing me with the intensity of his embrace.

  We lay there like that for a long time, while my head whirred and tilted painfully. I was dizzy with it all.

  ‘What was her name?’ I whispered. ‘The girl — the girl you loved? The one who disappeared?’

  He tensed, letting out a sigh. ‘No. You don’t get to ask me that.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Mariana

  The next day was a Monday, and it marked a change in my life.

  I woke naked and alone, to the sounds of the coffee machine and the smell of bacon.

  ‘It’s a big day today,’ Dornan told me, as I slid onto a seat at the breakfast bar.

  I cocked an eyebrow. My eyes still felt puffy from all the crying I’d done the night before, and I was beginning to wonder if I was going crazy. It wasn’t right to feel attached to my captor.

  ‘Work, baby. You didn’t think spreading your legs was going to pay off your debt, did you?’

  The words affronted me. Of course I hadn’t thought that.

  He winked at me as he jammed thick slices of bread into the toaster. He was ha
ving a dig at me. ‘Time to show us those laundering skills.’

  I’d assumed we would be going to the biker headquarters, or compound, or clubhouse. Whatever they called it. I couldn’t keep the terms straight in my head. I needed another coffee just to get through the day without collapsing in a grief-induced coma.

  Pablo. Karina. My parents. Este. Este.

  They filled my every thought, plagued my mind, until I found myself actually shaking my head from side to side to try and rid myself of their ghosts.

  Thinking about them wouldn’t help me. I had to act like they didn’t exist.

  Our destination wasn’t the Gypsy Brothers clubhouse, but a burlesque club.

  I’d referred to it as a strip joint, but Dornan assured me it was more upmarket than that. The girls wore glitter-encrusted circles pasted onto their nipples and performed routines that didn’t involve humping a pole. Somehow that made it different, though I wasn’t entirely sure how.

  I was ushered into a small, windowless room on the second floor of the club and almost choked when I saw who was waiting for us.

  ‘Good morning, cholita,’ Emilio greeted me. His smile looked more like a grimace, especially with his gold tooth glinting under the fluorescent office light, and I had to fight to compose myself. What I wanted to do was scream and run away, but that would only earn me a beating, or quite possibly a bullet.

  ‘Sounds like you had quite the weekend,’ Emilio said, playing with a toothpick between his teeth.

  Was he talking to me? I wasn’t sure. I stared at the ground and tried to appear docile. I was kind of hungover, and no amount of concealer had been able to cover up the after effects of last night’s tears.

  ‘Answer him.’ Dornan snapped his fingers in front of my face. I jumped at the foreign tone in his voice, and focused on not shrinking away.

  ‘Tell him how you were used and abused,’ Dornan said jovially, ‘by one Gypsy Brother after another.’

  Oh. He was lying for me.

  Wait. He was lying for me?

  Emilio snickered, turning away to pick up his briefcase from the ground. As he did, I glared at Dornan. A question in my eyes that I knew he understood.