El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

  “We’ve never talked about any of this.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  “Is your family still there? In Cuba?”

  “What is this, a goddamn therapy session? Should I lay down and confess my deepest, darkest secrets now? What I do with my free time is none of your business. End of fucking story time.”

  “Here I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends is a term I use loosely.”

  “I’m just—”

  “Daddy! Daddy! Look at my pretty dress!” a little girl excitedly shouted, barging into his office.

  “Muñeca! You know you’re not allowed to come in here without knocking first. Where is your mother?”

  I couldn’t help but grimace when I heard his term of endearment for his daughter. She immediately bowed her head, pouting the same way Amira used to when I reprimanded her.

  “I forgot, Daddy,” she murmured barely above a whisper, hugging her doll closer to her chest.

  “Please excuse my baby girl’s manners, she knows better. I’m going to go find her mother. I’ll be right back.” He left, leaving us alone.

  She stared at the floor, fidgeting with the seam of her dress. Before I knew what I was doing, I crouched down in front of her to be at her eye level. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked softly, taking in the pigtails sitting high on the sides of her head.

  “Teresa,” she whispered into her doll, unsure of my presence.

  I winced again, hearing her name. “How old are you?”

  “Nine, sir.”

  “Does your doll have a name?” If Yuly came out of her mouth, I would have lost my shit.

  But she replied, “Emmy.”

  “That’s a beautiful name for a such a pretty doll, Muñeca,” I blurted, unable to stop myself.

  She shyly lifted her chin, locking eyes with me. It was like looking into Amira’s gaze. Big brown eyes that held so much emotion, causing me to swallow hard.

  She smiled as if she saw something familiar in my gaze as well. “What’s your name?”

  “Damien.”

  She smiled wider, grabbing the ends of my hair the same way Amira would. “I like your hair. Do you ever wear it up?”

  “When I’m in the courtroom with your daddy. I’m a attorney.”

  “I like it this way better.”

  So did Amira. I thought to myself.

  She acted fast, holding the skirt of her dress out, swaying side to side. Shuffling her feet on the wood floor, twirling around. Peeking up at me through her lashes, trying to act all cute.

  She muttered in the sweetest voice, “Do you like my dress?”

  I nodded, touching the end of her nose.

  She giggled at my gesture, her eyes lighting up. “Mommy says I need to be extra careful not to get it dirty because it’s white. I just wanted to show my daddy my new dress for our New Year’s Eve party. Are you coming?”

  Her responses were enough to send my mind spiraling to the past as if it was Amira in front of me and not this little girl I had only just met.

  I walked into Rosarío's house fifteen minutes before the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve. She was throwing her annual party to ring in the new year, surrounded by all her friends who were more like family. I’d known them probably as long as I’d known Rosarío, but I wasn’t there for them.

  I made my way through the crowd of people who were dancing around the room, celebrating the impending arrival of another year. They were laughing and cheering, counting down the minutes exactly how I was, but for entirely different reasons. I tried to be discreet and go undetected as I eagerly made my way to the back of the house. Though it didn’t take long for me to find her, I knew exactly where she’d be.

  The second I stepped foot out into the backyard I jerked back, caught off guard by how beautifully grown up she looked under the pale moonlight.

  “Jesus, Muñeca! What the fuck are you wearing?” I blurted, causing her to abruptly turn around and look at me.

  “Damien!” She smiled, immediately peering down at the ground. Wiping away a tear, hoping it would go unnoticed. Fully aware that I always noticed everything.

  Especially when it came to her.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

  “I’m here for you,” I simply stated the truth, not realizing what that could have meant to an almost fifteen-year-old girl.

  There was sadness in her eyes as she replied, “Mama Rosa bought me this dress today. You don’t like it?”

  I inadvertently eyed her up and down, taking in the young woman standing in front of me. No longer the little girl I once saved. “No, Amira, I don’t. Where has the time gone?” I asked, thinking out loud. Nodding to her, I added, “Why are you crying?”

  She locked eyes with me. “Couldn’t just let that go, huh?”

  “Do I ever?”

  She chuckled, turning back around to look at her Mariposa garden. “We walked past a doll store today while we were shopping. I saw my doll Yuly in the window, along with the price tag on her wrist.” She wrapped her arms around her torso as I watched the way her white dress flowed in the soft breeze of the night. “I was too young to realize it back then, but we were poor, Damien. There’s no way my father could afford that doll.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing where she was going with this.

  “He stole it for me because he knew how much I wanted a doll and now, here I am almost six years later and I have an arsenal of them… because of you.” When she turned to face me again I was standing right behind her, instinctively placing my jacket on her shoulders. Providing her with any comfort I could before I wiped away another one of her tears.

  I grabbed her chin to look at me. “And here we are, Muñeca. Almost six years ago I had no one and now I have you. Let’s count the small blessings that we do have, eh?”

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven,” we overheard the party inside chanting until they screamed out, “One!”

  I touched the end of her nose. “Happy New Year, Amira.”

  She didn’t hesitate, throwing her arms around me and repeating, “Happy New Year, Damien." Except she added, "I love you.”

  I abruptly stood, needing to get the hell out of there. The little girl, the white dress, the doll, her name was all too fucking much. I walked out of the office, leaving the little girl behind, not looking back. Running into McClain and his wife on the way out.

  “Damien, you remember my wife Mar…”

  “Fuck off,” I uttered under my breath, brushing past them, not giving a flying fuck I was being rude. I’d apologize in the morning, right now my thoughts were spiraling back to the dark depths of my mind where the little girl I saved always lived. I knew right then and there that it didn't matter where I went, who I was with, or what the fuck I was doing.

  I would see her beautiful goddamn face everywhere I was…

  FIVE

  DAMIEN

  Two years later

  Oak fucking Island…

  How I ended up here was beyond me. Talk about a cushy fucking city, there was nothing to this Pleasantville state of mind but beaches and families. Southern living and hospitality at its finest, and my goddamn nightmare. I was used to a fast-paced lifestyle, and this was the complete opposite of that. This was bullshit wrapped up in a pretty red bow.

  I nodded to the receptionist behind the counter at the Brunswick County Precinct. “Is he in?”

  “Yes, he’s in his office. I’ll tell him you’re—”

  “Don’t bother, he’s expecting me,” I chimed in, flashing her a cunning grin.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh yes, you’re Damien Montero.”

  “The one and only.”

  She smiled, flipping her brunette hair to the side. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Montero. Or should I call you, El Santo?” she questioned in a sultry tone, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I hear you’re quite the attorney down in Miami. I mean, you’re all over the
news and making headlines. Especially with your involvement in bringing down all those criminals in the wake of Alejandro Martinez’s death. How did you single-handedly do it?”

  I eyed her up and down. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” I winked.

  She playfully giggled, placing her hand on her chest and blushing. If there was one thing I learned about women in this lifetime, it didn’t matter what you said to them. All that mattered was how you said it, and this chick was no different. Case in point, I just told her I’d have to kill her and she thought it was funny, all because I put on the charm.

  Worked every time.

  I was only thirty-four-years-old but felt much older. I guess it was to be expected from the way I lived my life thus far.

  The same life I was still presently living.

  Six years in America and the only thing that changed since Cuba was my freedom to be as bad as I wanted to be.

  And I was fucking ruthless.

  My name sat at the top of the District Attorney ballot, all thanks to a man everyone thought was gunned down a year ago. His story wasn’t mine to tell, although it explained why I was in Oak Island.

  “His office is down the hallway, the last door on the left.” She pointed toward it.

  I walked down the long corridor, going about my business and taking in my surroundings like I did everywhere I went. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard, “But, Daddy!” coming from Detective McGraw’s office. Stopping my knuckles from connecting with the door.

  “Don’t ‘but, Daddy’ me, Giselle. That shit is not going to work this time. You don’t need to move across the country to follow your career in fashion,” McGraw replied.

  “I’m not saying I want to permanently move. I’m just saying I want to maybe go explore my options for a minute.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to? I know all this moving talk has to do with Mason and his—”

  “This has nothing to do with Mason,” she cut him off in a stern tone. “That’s a pretty low blow even for you. I can’t believe you’d even bring that up.”

  I would be lying if I said it didn’t pique my interest, hearing the tenacity in her voice as she spoke to her old man.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t think you would be happy away from your family, your friends, your life here. You’re barely twenty-five-years-old, Giselle. I know he’s put you through a lot of shit these last few years and I know he’s still—”

  “I’m not here to talk about Mason, and I don’t have to ask for your permission to leave, Dad. I think you tend to forget I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m only here because I love you and respect you. I wanted to rationally and calmly talk to you about me leaving town for a while. Mom knows, she’s the one who suggested I come here and talk to you. She fully supports my need to spread my wings a little. She thinks it would be good for me, and I have to agree. Plus, you are well aware I want to pursue my career in fashion and there’s not much going on here in Oak Island, no offense. There is no market here unless I make swimsuits and board shorts. I’m talking high-end fashion, Daddy.”

  I knocked on the door, interrupting their father- daughter moment that could wait. I, on the other hand, had no patience, and I’d overheard enough.

  “Come in,” he stated, sounding irritated. “Montero,” he acknowledged as soon as I opened the door.

  “McGraw,” I mocked, nodding to him.

  He looked down at his watch. “I didn’t realize the time. The day must have gotten away from me.”

  My eyes gravitated toward the luscious blonde with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the bookcase in the back of his office. She was right about one thing, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. I scanned her body from her long legs to her small waist, to her voluptuous tits. She was a living, breathing Barbie doll.

  All I thought when my eyes reached her pouty little mouth was how much I wanted to fuck her face. And the fact that she was the detective’s daughter… well, that only made her even more enticing. I always wanted what I couldn’t have, and she just became a challenge. The detective cleared his throat, snapping my attention away from the dirty thoughts of what I’d do to his daughter if we were alone.

  She smiled, her mischievous hazel eyes meeting mine as if she knew what I was thinking. “I’m Giselle,” she introduced herself, walking toward me. Extending out her hand once we were a foot apart.

  I shook it. “Damien.”

  “I know. Everyone knows who you are.”

  Her hand lingered in mine.

  “Giselle, we’ll finish this conversation later. Dinner at the house around six o’clock, don’t be late,” McGraw interfered in a rigid tone and I let her go.

  Over her shoulder, she peered at him. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” Looking back at me. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  I wanted to respond, but I couldn’t say what I was thinking with her father standing there, cock blocking me. So I simply grinned, stepping aside to let her walk by. Trying like hell not to stare at her ass, swaying side to side with each step.

  “All the documents are signed and sealed,” McGraw stated when she shut the door behind her. Once again bringing my attention back to him.

  I leaned against the wood frame crossing my arms over my chest.

  “My daughter’s ass isn’t yours to stare at,” he added in a menacing voice.

  “I was just appreciating the view.” I surrendered my hands in the air in a sarcastic gesture. “A man should appreciate a work of art when he sees one. You remember what that was like, don’t you? From what I hear, you were quite the ladies’ man.”

  “Stay away from my daughter.”

  “That won’t guarantee she will stay away from me.” I smiled.

  “I can guaran-fucking-tee it.” He placed his hand on his gun, trying to scare me.

  “I’ll see your one,” I replied, slightly opening my suit jacket to reveal my holstered guns at my sides. “And raise you two.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, disclosing a trace of respect behind his protective fatherly stare.

  “Are we done with the pissing contest now? Because I’d like to get down to business.” I nodded, pushing off the door to take a look around his office. Showcasing the countless pictures of his family and friends enjoying life.

  He hesitated for a second, watching me before he declared, “You can put Alejandro Martinez to rest, for good.”

  I turned, walking back toward him. “And here I thought you were a law-abiding citizen. Feels fucking good to be bad, eh?”

  He shoved the documents into my chest. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. Briggs is Martinez’s niece and her husband Austin, is like a brother to me. Besides, your name’s on the election ballot and what? All it took was a year? We all got what we wanted. Understood?” he threatened in a Southern accent I didn’t appreciate.

  “Don’t get it twisted, Detective McGraw. You guys brought me into this.”

  “Martinez brought you into this.”

  “And now he’s dead. Your family is happy, my name is on the ballot, and we’re still breaking the law. Does that sum it up enough for you? Or do you need me to provide evidence and not bullshit documents I could wipe my ass with.”

  He jerked back.

  “It’s alright, McGraw. We all need a little sin in our lives. Builds fucking character.” I reached for the doorknob. “Now, how about you point me in the direction of some food. I’m fucking starving.”

  Like I told you before, it was never about what you said, it always came down to how you said it. The best way to win an argument was by asking questions and allowing the person to see the truth and errors in their reasoning and rationalization. It was simply human nature to seek justification for our sins, but it doesn’t change the fact you’re still a sinner. I told you I was a damn good attorney.

  It only took him a few more seconds to give in. “There’s a restaurant a few miles up the road on the
beach. It’s the best one around.”

  I opened the door, nodding to him again. “We good here?”

  “Tell them I sent you,” he answered, blowing off my question.

  I left without saying another word, because what else was there left to say?

  It didn’t take long to find the restaurant just a short drive away from the precinct. I pulled into the parking lot just after twelve, taking the only empty spot available next to a motorcycle. As soon as I got out of my rental car, I immediately inhaled the scent of salt from the ocean breeze, reminding me of Cuba. I resided in downtown Miami and had only possibly seen the beach a handful of times. The crystal blue water was one of the few things I missed about my home, besides Rosarío and Amira of course. Even after all these years apart, they still wore heavy on my mind.

  Last year, I spent almost a month and a fuckload of money and threats, trying to find them. But there wasn’t much information I could pull about two women in Cuba from American soil, especially when Amira’s last name wasn’t real. All her documents were falsified because of me, including her birth certificate. It was the only way I could keep her hidden from Salazar, which only came back to bite me in the ass.

  I ended up hiding her from myself as well.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell I could go back to Cuba and try to find them either. Knowing Emilio, he wanted my head. Offering whatever it took for the first bidder to take me the fuck out. I just wanted to make sure they were safe and well taken care of. I would’ve loved to have been able to send them money, clothes, anything…

  Everything.

  Not that either of them would accept it at this point. I’m sure Rosarío was as livid as Amira was with my actions and then disappearing. They both probably hated me, thinking I betrayed them. Maybe in some ways I had. I wish I could have taken the two most important people in my life with me. Given them the life they deserved, but the risk was far greater than the reward. I didn’t know what I was going to face when I arrived in the States, their promises could have been complete and utter bullshit. I could take that chance for me but not my girls.

  Sometimes the evil you knew was better than the evil you didn’t.