by K. L Mann
“How did you know my name?” I finally ask.
My arms are folded over my chest, not because of my angst, because I’m freezing. Whenever my body gets too hot and then I go somewhere cold, it’s like I’m turned into a popsicle. He’s typing something on a blackberry like the other men and then he sits down across from me. He was talking with the pilot before.
We must be taking off soon.
“I didn’t say you could ask questions, Angel.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
He says Angel like he’s insulting me, like he doesn’t actually think I’m good in any way.
“I’m cold.” I complain quietly.
He didn’t say I couldn’t make statements.
I unfold my arms from my chest and rub my hands together to try and heat them up.
“I can see that.”
What?
I look down and realize what he’s looking at. My nipples are poking at the fabric of my blouse and he’s staring at them. I can feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I fold my arms back over myself quickly and look away from him.
I can hear him laugh darkly, deep in his throat.
He likes that I’m embarrassed. The blush in my cheeks burns. The man stands up and grabs something black from an overhead compartment.
“Here.”
He tosses the black fur blanket into my lap and I’m immediately more comfortable. I drape it over myself and I finally feel myself calming down.
“What do I call you?” I ask despite being told not to ask questions.
“Lorenzo.”
I nod.
“What did my husband do?” I ask. I should shut up, but I can’t.
He looks up from his phone, finally.
“You don’t want to know.” He assures me. “But, between you and me, if you knew, you probably wouldn’t have traded your life for his.” He says this like it's a test, like he believes I might actually know.
I don’t reply. I don’t know how to respond to that statement.
What the hell did James get himself into?
“Why did you take me Lorenzo?”
Why did you let him? I ask myself.
“You asked me too, Kate.” He’s holding eye contact with me and its tense. I didn’t even notice the plane had taken flight until I felt my ears pop.
“Where are you taking me?” I’m pushing my luck and I can feel it, but as long as he keeps answering I need to keep asking.
“Your new home.”
Ominace.
“Am I going to work for you? Like a servant or something?” My ears start popping, I hate flying.
“Or something.” Lorenzo smirks.
Chapter 2: Insanity
"You want to have sex with me?” I guess out loud. I can feel that face is puzzled; my mouth still open.
“I didn’t say that, it seems you’re the only one with sex on the brain.” Lorenzo talks like he’s interrogating me. “Though, I imagine we will fuck. We’ll fuck a lot actually, I bet you’ll beg me for it, Katie.”
Lorenzo places his ankle to his opposite knee and uses his leg to set an elbow on. His hand is sat under his chin and he still won’t stop looking into my soul.
Katie? No one calls me that. And what the fuck did he just say? I’ll beg for it? Why would I do that? Of course, he’s hot and he knows he's hot. But he just made me kill a man for him. He took me away from my husband and my work and my life.
“Why would I do that?” I scoff.
“Because you want me. You killed a man at my instruction and I bet you're soaking wet because of it too. You like being scared; you like that I scare you.” Lorenzo insists.
“Are you insane? I am not–”
I am about to say wet when my blanket is thrown off of me. Lorenzo’s hand is moving up my skirt, forcing my thighs apart. I gasp and I try to speak as his other hand clasps around my mouth. I try to squirm but he’s made it all the way up. I feel his fingers against my panties and I’m stunned.
A small whimper escapes my lips. I am wet and I can feel it now with his fingers invading my space. I hadn’t registered the fact earlier.
“Now see… look at that.” Lorenzo teases his fingers around some more before bringing the shiny tips to my face to show me my shame. “Soaking wet.”
Lorenzo brings his finger tips to his mouth and tastes me. My stomach flips as he does, I feel like I should be appalled but I feel nothing but heat. He lets go of my mouth but I don’t know what to say. Pools of heat are fluttering in my stomach and I can’t believe my body is betraying me.
“It’s just because I’m nervous.” I lie. I don’t know why I’m wet, and I don’t know why I want him to put his hand back.
His fingers leave his lips and he smiles. “You don’t taste nervous.”
Lorenzo sits back down and I hear low chuckles from the men behind me.
I have no idea what that means.
My legs are starting to get cold again.
“Can I have the blanket back?” He nods but doesn’t give it to me. I have to stand to get it myself. It’s closer to his seat than it is to mine. I retrieve it slowly and let myself breathe again after I’ve sat back down. “How much longer are we flying?” I try to ask politely. My ears are pounding and my stomach hurts. I hate flying, I need to sleep, I can’t sleep.
“Hours.”
“Fuck.” I mumble quietly.
I put my head back against the leather rest and try to close my eyes. I move my hands to my ears to try and make them stop whatever they are doing to me.
“Drink this.” A woman’s voice instructs. “It’ll help your ears.” A feminine hand appears from behind me with a glass of something dark. I look to Lorenzo for instruction. I didn’t even see a woman on the plane when I boarded. “Don’t worry, I already asked him for permission.” She insists and Lorenzo gives me a weak nod.
My hand shakes a bit as I take the glass from her.
“Thank you.” I smell it before I allow myself to try it.
It’s bourbon and I only know because it’s James’ go-to drink. I don’t love it, but I know it will cool the pressure in my head. It’s a double and it’s cold. Whiskey shouldn’t be chilled. James always says that.
I drink it quickly, in two shots. It’s pretty much disgusting, but whiskey is meant to be sipped and savored so its taste is partially my fault. My throat burns but I keep my face still.
“You don’t look like you’re a whiskey person.” Lorenzo tells me.
I lick the taste of it off of my lips and set my glass on the table between us.
“I’m not. It’s fine though, I’m used to it.” The warmness of the liquor is traveling down my stomach and it takes the focus from my ears away.
“You like white wine, rum, sometimes vodka and the occasional beer.” He tells me. He’s right but it doesn’t make any sense.
“How could you possibly know that?” I ask, short-tempered.
I’ve never seen this man before, why does he know so much about me?
“You have a public Instagram account Kate.”
“Oh, well I drink more than I post, trust me.” I mumble, playing with my fingers and avoiding his eyes. I’m still embarrassed. I feel so confused and overwhelmed but the drink is making the feelings go dull. “You looked me up on Instagram? Why?”
“You have a lot of questions.” Lorenzo is given a drink by the man with blonde hair. Not the woman whose face I haven’t seen yet. The man says nothing, but nods and returns to his seat, he’s handsome. “I needed to figure you out, more than the normal paper trail was telling me. I learned a lot researching your idiot husband.” He pauses. “I wanted to know how a woman like you… has dated Gustavo Hernandez.”
I’m stunned, I feel my heart skip then it pounds.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” I lie, it’s my first and only defense when I hear his name. A name I had to wash off of my body for years before I recovered.
“Lying isn’t your best look.” Lorenzo sips a gl
ass of something brown but lighter in color than mine was. “I was pretty surprised when I walked in and saw you dressed like you are. You looked too innocent, too normal, to have been a jefe’s woman. His fiancé if I remember correctly, right?”
“I don’t understand, this is about Gustavo?” My voice is shaky and I feel my palms start to sweat.
“No.” He takes another sip. “But I do find it interesting how you went from high school sweethearts with a fucking Hernandez to married to the honorable James Manner.” Lorenzo uses honorable in a sarcastic tone.
“I don’t want to talk about Gus.” Memories are making their way back to my mind and I’m terrified.
“What I don’t get, is how you managed to be let go? The leader of the Hernandez cartel… just let you walk away?” Lorenzo is pushing me and it’s killing me. I can’t pull my eyes away from his interrogating gaze, I can’t give him that power. I want to, but my body won’t let me.
“I didn’t just get to walk away.” My anger slips through my teeth now. “I’m gonna need about four more of whatever the fuck I just drank if you are going to keep asking about him.”
Shit. I need to stay calm. I don’t know what he wants or what he’ll do.
“As you wish.” He’s smiling, actually smiling and it’s making my stomach hurt. “Isabella, altri quattro.” He confirms my suspicions, he’s Italian.
“Fottuto inferno.” I mumble under my breath.
Lorenzo cocks his head at me as I say it.
‘Fucking hell’ is about all I remember from the one semester of Italian I took in undergrad. Of course, that wasn’t in the curriculum but my professor was cool.
Moments later, I’m handed two full glasses, probably five ounces in each. I’ve drank more than this before, but not this quickly and not in a long time. I set one down, and pour the other down my throat. My glass is empty and my mouth doesn’t thank me for it.
“I didn’t just get to leave. Deals were made, people died.” I wince thinking about it. “People I cared about suffered and I would have died too. Gus made me a shit deal and it was my only option, so I ran like hell.” I leave it at that, I need my other glass. I drink the next one way too quickly and I’m dizzy. I want to gag; vodka would have been so much easier.
“Why did you want to leave to begin with? You didn’t love him?” Lorenzo pushes me further.
“Of course, I loved him. He was my first... everything. His love was all consuming and he’s all I thought about for years. But the Gustavo I wanted to marry wasn’t the Gustavo who took over after Señor Hernandez died. It was like he flipped a switch in his head overnight. Nothing I did was acceptable and he didn’t want me to touch him unless he initiated it; and when he did it was different. He became cold and crass and awful. It wasn’t the sexy kind of dominance; it was the kind that genuinely made you fear you might die if you mess up.” I stop talking, feeling like I might vomit thinking of Gus’s hands on me.
My head is spinning and I am too warm for the blanket now. I toss it into the empty chair across from me and take a deep breath.
“You’re warm now.” Lorenzo tells me.
“Yes.”
“What did you have to do to leave?”
Lorenzo will not stop pestering me. I sigh, in pain.
“More than I’m willing to admit, to anyone.” My ears don’t hurt at all anymore. I close my eyes briefly; it feels good to let them rest.
Metal strokes my thigh, it’s cool and harsh. I force my eyes open. Lorenzo is on a knee in front of me, and pushing my own gun up my skirt.
“Anything, means anything, love.”
I pause, his eyes lock on mine and I know I’m going to have to talk. I don’t tell this to anyone, even James only knows bits and pieces.
“I had to give him up, okay!" I huff, exhaustively. "Gustavo has our son, I had to leave him there and promise to never come back.” I want to bite my tongue to stop myself from spilling my tragedies. “My father tried to get him back for me. He’s dead now, and I can’t go back or I’ll die just as quickly. Gustavo loves Pedro and he would never hurt him. He is his blood, I’m not, so I had to leave. I had to leave before the offer was revoked.”
Tears are falling down my face when I finish speaking. His eyes feel like they are burning holes into mine. I drown myself in work, drink too much, run miles a day and do anything that keeps me from thinking about this every day. I had Pedro when I was seventeen. I only got to raise my son for eight months. I can’t think about him without breaking down.
“Gustavo Hernandez is the reason that Diego Garcia is dead?” Lorenzo presses the gun further up my skirt and I twitch at the coolness of it.
“You know who my dad is?”
Was.
No one knows who my dad was, my last name hasn’t been Garcia since I was two. I barely saw him as a kid, he made me and my mom stay under the radar until I met Gus. The Garcia and Hernandez cartels worked together from time to time. Our marriage was going to be a sort of merger.
“Why do you know who my dad is?”
Was.
“You’re saying that Gustavo Hernandez killed your dad?”
His face is hard and his jaw tightens as he finishes his question.
“Yes! I watched Gus shoot him, I screamed as his buddies held me in place and my father bled out in front of me.” I sob. “Why do you know who my dad is?”
The gun pulls away from my skin and my face finally relaxes.
“My father worked with him for a long time. I’ve met him a few times.” Lorenzo sits back down in his seat and finishes his glass.
“That’s vague.” I point out, trying to collect myself.
“How’d you end up with the Manner dumbass?”
He keeps calling James dumb but won’t explain why.
“Dinner party, we talked, he was nice.” I am getting too sleepy to give detailed answers. “What did he even do anyways? I know Price always got him into trouble but there’s never been a mob hit on him before. That I know of anyway.” I yawn and cover my mouth to hide it.
“You think his friend is the only one who did anything wrong?” Lorenzo scoffs.
“I don’t know, because you won’t tell me.” I retort.
“Sleep Kate.”
I’m angry with him but I’m exhausted. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off.
Chapter 3: Fottuto Inferno
The Texas sun is always hotter at the Hernandez estate. I can’t explain it, but everything feels stuffy. The air, the blood under my skin and this frilly dress. It’s even worse with this damn belly. I love this baby growing inside of me, but boy is the stomach stretching exhausting. Despite only being engaged, everyone is really excited for Gus and I. This baby shower is one of the most extravagant things anyone has ever done for me. There are blue decorations everywhere, kids running around playing in the pool and adults drinking champagne and smiling. I’ve never opened so many gifts in my life. The little blue socks are my favorite. I can’t help but picture my baby's tiny little feet in them, making me coo.
I’ve also never seen Señor Hernandez smile so much in one day. Everyone is laughing and smiling, touching my belly to feel Pedro’s kicks. Gus and I have already decided that will be his name. Pedro Ángel Hernandez, after his uncle who passed away recently and my great grandmother Angelicia. I never wanted kids, but when we found out, I wasn’t even scared. There was nothing to be scared of, we’re in love. Gus was thrilled and twirled me around in his arms. He told his father like it was his proudest achievement, like he’d never been so happy.
Now he’s holding my hand, smiling at every little piece of baby clothes and fanning me when my face turns too red. He’s nearly 18 now, and I just turned 17. We’re young but the support we’ve received makes every worry about being teenage parents wash away. His family is ridiculously wealthy and they aren’t afraid to throw money around to help us. His father cleared out their guest house a few weeks ago for us and started building a massive nursery with every detail perfected
into place.
Bird’s chirp in a melody and a small cloud covers the sun giving my skin a moment's rest from the heat. I’ve never felt safer or more in love. Even my father has been around more, making nice, making deals and spending time with me. This isn’t the life he wanted for me, but he isn’t disappointed. He’s excited to have a grandchild. My mother is even more thrilled, talking Gus’s family's ears off about how beautiful our baby will be.
“You alright kitty?” Gus squeezes my hand, pulling me out of my own thoughts.
“I’m just happy.” I smile, squeezing his hand back. “It’s all happening so fast.”
“Do you think he’ll have your eyes?” Gus smiles, planting a kiss on the back of my hand.
“He’ll look like you, every beautiful part of you; I know it.” I reply with a sigh.
“He’ll have your humor though, it’s infectious. He’ll be smart like you too, getting letters from big fancy colleges like you. He won’t have to live my life, not if we can help it.” Gus whispers his promise.
“I know you’ll protect him. No matter what.” I giggle, feeling his niece latch on to my leg and smile up at me. She’s obsessed with feeling auntie Katherine’s baby belly.
Everything is still, and perfect. Too perfect.
“Shit.” I wince awake feeling the plane landing making my feet vibrate.
I yawn and pull my fingers through my thick dark brown curls and grimace.
I must look ridiculous. I forgot I was even on a plane. I forgot my life wasn’t still simple. I remembered the time that I would have died for Gus and now I’m back in reality where he’d rather kill me than love me ever again.
Lorenzo's shirt sleeves are rolled further up than they were before and more of his chest is peeking through the v made by unclasped buttons. He’s typing away on his phone again and only stands when the plane rolls to a stop. When he stands over me, it’s like looking up at the devil himself. He doesn’t seem especially mean or horrifying, but eerie. He’s done bad things and I know just by being in his presence.