Blaire's World: Volume One

by Box Set

  My mind whirls as I consider the possibilities in this humble home. How I might decorate it if given the opportunity. I frown and shake my head. No, I must not think that way. This isn’t my true home and it never will be. Although it has promise as a cute little vacation cottage if Andres will allow me to make some major changes.

  “Luna!”

  I jump as I hear him come through the door, shouting my name. I drop the cloth I was using to dust and hurry to meet him in the kitchen. I frown when I see the amount of groceries he’s carrying.

  “You can start putting these away,” he tells me without looking up as he dumps them on the table. “I’ll get the rest and then start working on the electrical problem, see if I can get the lights working.”

  My mouth goes dry and I stare after him as he shoves the door open. “The rest?” I say faintly. How long are we staying here?

  I automatically reach for the nearest bag and pull it toward me. Tears fill my eyes as I start to empty the bags. It becomes quickly apparent what Andres has done. He’s bought enough food for an army. An army of one. A single person who loves strawberries, avocadoes, taco fixings, burritos, beef stew, beans, apple pie… all canned and frozen.

  My breathing grows shallow and black dots swim across my vision as realization strikes. He intends to leave me here. Alone. I lift my eyes to meet his as he kicks the back door open. He stops in his tracks, his face reflecting my discovery. I can see the truth written there and I know I’m right.

  “Luna…” he says, his voice pleading as my knees give out and I hit the floor.

  I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I can’t seem to stay standing. I reach out and grab one of the table legs so I’m holding on to something as he drops whatever he was holding and rounds the table, reaching for me. “Don’t touch me!” I snap as his hands land on my shoulders.

  He ignores me, pulling me away from the table and curving me against his chest. “Luna, baby, I’m sorry,” he says against my hair.

  His words break me and I start crying. I don’t want to cry. I want to be angry at him. I want to stand up. I want to shout and throw groceries at him. Toss cans of beans and peas at his head while screaming how much I hate him; then he’ll say he’s sorry and we’ll have passionate make-up sex underneath the table. That’s what the old Luna would have done. But I don’t do that, because I know this scenario won’t end that way. Andres won’t take me home. Because he can’t.

  I soak his T-shirt with my misery as I cry for my children. I hurl insults at him, tell him I hate him for what he’s doing, call him a monster for separating a mother from her children. Then I switch tactics and start begging. I lose all dignity and promise him anything and everything if he’ll just take me home. His arms tighten in sympathy but I know he won’t weaken.

  “My babies!” I scream as I beat my fist against his shoulder. “You fucking bastard.”

  I can feel his tears landing on my head and I know he’s hurting as badly as I am. We cry together until I run out of tears. I curl on the floor with Andres at my back, his arms firmly around me. I don’t want his touch right now but I’m too weak in heart and body to shove him away. For the first time in my life I think I understand the lure of drugs. I would do anything to feel numb. As my sobs turn to slight catches he speaks, tries to explain his plan to me.

  “You betrayed me, Luna. And by betraying me, you betrayed the cartel,” he says, kissing the back of my neck. “This is an undeniable fact. I may forgive your action, I may understand why you did what you did, but it won’t ever go away. You can’t go back to your life the way it was. You should be dead right now.” A tiny sob escapes my throat before I can call it back. I tip my head into the floor pressing my cheek against the wood. He keeps touching me though I don’t want him to. “I can’t kill you and I won’t allow anyone else to do it. So I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll keep you here, hidden away, forever.”

  “My babies…” I croak, my voice breaking.

  “Dead to you,” he says, his hand tightening on my waist. “You made your choice knowing what would happen if you were caught.”

  The tears begin to fall again, sliding steadily down my face, soaking the floor, though no sound escapes me now. The pain is so great I feel as though my heart will explode. “No,” I gasp. “I won’t do it. This is worse than death!”

  He tangles his fingers in my hair and forces my head back. “You don’t have a choice, Luna. It’s this or death and I won’t fucking kill you.”

  “Then I’ll kill myself!” I scream out jerking violently in his arms, trying to hit him. He refuses to let me up. “The second you leave me alone I’ll slash my wrists! I refuse to live here alone, without my children… without you.”

  He holds me against him, his arm tight around my waist, his hand still in my hair. He speaks in my ear, trying to make me listen to sense, but I won’t hear it. “You’ll have me, when I can come out here, a few times a year,” he says, his voice aching with grief. “Just not the children.”

  “No!” I scream, struggling, throwing an elbow into his stomach. I hear him grunt. “Fuck you! I swear Andres, if you leave me here I’ll kill myself the second you leave!”

  He goes rigid beneath me and for a split second I believe that I’ve won, that he won’t leave me. That he’ll take me with him when he leaves, that he’ll think of a way to take me home to my family. Then he’s flipping me onto my stomach with him on my back. I screech in pain as he lands heavily on top of me, my ribcage slamming into the unyielding floor, the breath whooshing out of me.

  “Andres!” I yell, choking on my own tears.

  He grips my hair in a fist and yanks my head back while I try uselessly to crawl out from underneath him. He places his lips against the shell of my ear and growls, “You won’t hurt yourself if you have a child.”

  I freeze as my brain scrambles to understand his meaning. Will he bring me my children? No, his family won’t allow it. Take me to them? But that doesn’t make sense, he said he won’t do that. Then he quickly follows his words with terrifying action, until I know exactly what he means. He tears my shirt from my body, heedless of the welts he raises on the skin of my shoulders. His anger is so great that his actions are both passionate and violently angry.

  “No one fucking hurts you,” he shouts as he rises over my back. “Not you, not my men, no one but me.”

  I yelp in shock as he yanks the little white shorts right off my hips without unbuttoning or unzipping them. My body jerks in reaction and I curl underneath him, breathless in anticipation, eyes wide in wonder. One moment I’m crying my face off with heartbreaking loss, the next I’m being mauled on the kitchen floor. Only moments ago I wanted a drug to numb my mind and body… well this is it. And I don’t have to do a thing.

  I feel my bra snap as Andres tears the strap from my back, pulling it away from me. I cry out in reaction, but not in denial. If I could I think I would roll over and embrace him, take him in my arms, wrap my legs around him and beg him to fuck me. But he’s too heavy. He’s right on top of me, holding me down, pinning me to the floor, grunting his pain and anger in my ear as he shoves my legs apart with his rough jean clad thighs. I cry out as my tender skin drags across the floor, but I savour the sensations too.

  “I’ll give you a child, Luna,” he says, dragging me to my knees.

  Then I realize exactly what he means. He doesn’t mean my children. Not my Sola or my Cristo. He means a new child, a different child. And it’s a possibility, I haven’t taken my pill in two days, not since running from Cuba. I scream and cry out, try to lunge away from him, but he’s holding me too tight. I try to twist around, to strike out at him. I manage to hit him in the side of the head as he’s unbuckling his belt and readying himself. I drag my fingernails down his tattooed arm and am gratified to hear him swear viciously. He clamps the same arm tight around my middle, dragging me back against him until I can barely breath.

  “I hate you!” I scream, hitting the floor with my fists.


  “I know,” he grunts as he enters me, sending me soaring.

  I cry out as I’m flooded with feelings; relief, pleasure, pain, terror, they all crash through me in a maelstrom of emotional and physical sensations. I’m bombarded, I’m wrecked. I can do nothing but hang on as Andres slams into me, violently, ruthlessly, relentlessly. Soon I’m sobbing as he takes me higher and higher. Instead of fighting I’m clinging to his arm like it’s a lifeline instead of a bind. Tears are coursing down my face, hitting the floor. My cries have turned to passion, his hoarse grunts mingling to fill the air. We’re in tune once more, though we’ve never been farther apart than in this moment.

  I can feel him flaring wide within me, lighting up every pleasure centre with fire until I feel as though I’ll become an inferno. I widen my legs, inviting him to touch. He knows, understands my invitation. He reaches beneath me and rubs hard, flicks and then pinches my clit. I throw my head back and scream as he bites down on my shoulder, marking me. Incredible, unending, blissful pleasure rushes through me as he empties himself inside with each thrust.

  We collapse together, him on top, pinning me to the floor once more, his hand tangles in my hair. His head is on top of mine and our breaths mingle together while we struggle to come down from that explosive high. Tears fill my eyes once more and my shoulders start to shake. I think he senses rather than sees my emotion.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers against me.

  He’s going to leave me here.

  17

  Andres

  I look down at my sleeping wife where her head rests next to my hip and take another sip of my tequila. I skipped the shot glass and poured myself a nice big tumbler after Luna cried herself to sleep. She refused to allow me to hold her, offer her comfort. Only after she fell asleep did I cover her with a blanket and sit next to her, smoothing my hand over her lush curves. She’s so exhausted she doesn’t even notice my touch as she slumbers.

  I wish there was another way, but I know there isn’t. She’s too much of a loose cannon. She can’t be trusted. She’s fucked up too many times. If she does anything else stupid, does it around Charlie, Nic or the Los Zetas, her life really will be forfeit. Which means my life would be forfeit as well. Because this moment in our lives, this desperate snapshot, has taught me that Luna really is my anchor to this life. I am nothing without her. If she dies, then so do I.

  I’ll go to my brother, tell him she betrayed me, stole my children, fucked me over and ran away with that pendejo, Pedro. It kills me to dirty her name like that, but I’ll have to make my family believe that I killed her. Believe that I was angry enough to destroy her. Won’t demand her body as proof.

  I use my finger to swipe the hair away from her face. I want to see the gorgeous features that I fell in love with and stayed in love with over these past years. She is everything to me. She has held my heart in the palm of her small hand since the first moment she lifted those bottomless moon-filled eyes and looked into mine. She pierced me that day and every day after. Even the days we weren’t together, she was still in my heart, still stabbing away at me, reminding me that she was always there. I was never alone.

  I can’t stand the thought that I’ll leave her here. Alone. She’ll hate it. Luna is a social creature. She’s bright, she’s fun, she’s everything that I never was until I met her. She made me so much more. And now I’m forced to let her go. Because she made the right decision. Because she wanted better for our children than the life of the cartel. And she failed.

  I drain my tequila and stand, dropping the empty glass on the dresser. I pull my T-shirt over my head and toss it in the corner, then take the phone from my pocket and set the perimeter alarm before climbing in beside Luna and allowing exhaustion to claim me. I haven’t slept in days, maybe even weeks. Perhaps things will seem better tomorrow. After all, I still have my wife, she’ll live, even if she’s not happy.

  18

  Luna

  I wake up feeling warm, surrounded by the familiar scent of my husband. For a moment, just a single moment, I think we’re back home at The Site, our children just down the hall in their rooms, the nanny in hers, the cook about to prepare breakfast. As realization hits, a spike of pain pierces me and it’s everything I can do not to throw Andres’ arms from my body. I try to keep my breathing even so I don’t wake him up.

  My mind is racing. He intends to keep me here, forever. He wants to take me away from our children. I understand why. Or at least I’m trying to, but it hurts so much. He thinks giving me a new child, one that his family doesn’t know about, will solve everything. I don’t want a secret child. I want Cristo and Sola. I want my babies. They fill my mind until they’re all I can think about; their sound, their smell, everything about them. I lay next to Andres obsessing about my babies until I become consumed by my thoughts.

  I think hard, trying to figure out what to do. I’m not stupid, but sometimes I make bad decisions. That’s what got me into this mess. Think, Luna, think! How can you get your babies back without putting a bullet in your skull or getting yourself stranded in this fucking bullshit badly decorated, dusty cabin in God knows where?

  Then it hits me. When he dropped the groceries, he also dropped the car keys. After he fucked me on the kitchen floor we both picked up the groceries, but I grabbed the keys and tossed them on the counter next to the coffee pot. At the time I was too numb, too emotionally drained to think anything of it.

  My heart picks up as I turn my head on the pillow and look at my husband. His sharp features are clearly outlined by the moonlight filtering in through the window. For the first time in over a week I can feel the anger, fear and anxiety draining from me as I see my next course of action clearly outlined before me. It’ll probably end in my death, but seeing my babies one more time, holding them in my arms, kissing them, is worth my life.

  I touch Andres, skimming my fingertips over his slumbering features. He doesn’t move, doesn’t sigh, nothing. I touch his mouth, his firm but gentle lips. They’ve given me so much pleasure, both in words and actions. I twist around and press my lips to his, hoping I won’t wake him. As I pull away my eyes fall to the angel stamped across his shoulder, her hands lifted in prayer. I send a quick thought her way, asking her for guidance, begging her to send me safely back to my children as I slip from the bed.

  I don’t bother with a sweater or shoes… nothing. I wear only a long, thigh-length T-shirt and panties as I run swiftly through the house expecting him to wake up and come after me, grab hold of me and drag me back at any moment. Follow through on his threat to keep me here, impregnate me to keep from committing suicide, never let me see Sola and Cristo again. I slap a hand over my mouth to cover a sob as I make my way down the darkened hallway, clinging to the wall when I trip over the edge of the rug.

  I nearly cry out as I slam into the kitchen table, bruising my hips against the wood. “Ay, dios mio!” I whisper savagely into the darkness, screwing my eyes shut against the pain. I suck in a breath and listen for movement in the hall indicating I’d woken Andres with my clumsiness.

  When long seconds pass and I hear nothing, I feel my way around the table to the counter where I know I tossed the keys earlier. My heart leaps into my throat as I feel around. I’m forced to blink tears from my eyes as I squint, trying to see in the dim moonlight as I search. Fuck, I can’t find a damn thing! As I’m about to give up, decide that they aren’t here, my fingers land on them, right next to the sink. They must’ve been shuffled over somehow. Maybe when we were unpacking the last of the groceries.

  I grab them and lurch toward the back door, my hand landing on the handle. The breath catches in my chest and I stop, my fingers freezing in the motion of pulling the handle. I bow my head, thoughts flying at lightning speed. I didn’t think I had any tears left but I was wrong, they splash down my face as I stand motionless until I’m driven to my knees.

  I see everything in a flash of images, like a photo album, or a movie, playing through my head. My marriage, a hasty
event, just me, Andres, one of his brothers and my mama. But I was so fucking happy. Because I knew I loved him, that I was going to love him forever. Then there’s Cristo… I tried to hang on, tried not to let anyone know how close I was to the birth. I knew Andres wanted to be there, but he was away on business. And then he wasn’t, then he was there, right there with me, by my side through the whole thing as I gave birth to our son.

  Next our daughter. Sola was just as hard as Cristo. Fuck anyone that says the second child is easier. They’re wrong. Andres refused to leave me for that whole last month of my pregnancy, wouldn’t leave my side. Told his family and anyone that would listen to fuck off if they dared to talk to him while I was so close to birth. Every time she kicked he was rushing the doctor to me, convinced I was about to pop. When Sola finally came, he was on his knees by my bedside begging the good Lord to spare me the pain, then he was on his feet threatening my doctor if both me and the child didn’t come through the delivery okay. It was everything I could do to convince him to shut up, calm down and hold his newborn daughter once she finally came into the world. In her own time, like her mama.

  And now we’re here, a broken family, not something I ever imagined a possibility. But I refuse to go out of this life without ever seeing my babies again. They came from my body, they belong to me. I will touch them once more… after that Andres and his family can decide what to do with me. I refuse to stay here, isolated, living a lonely life. Wondering, imagining, hoping, aching, for my loved ones. Impossible.