The Butcher
Page 14
As always, my thoughts turned to David. He’d left right after Jorge. Maybe he couldn’t bear having to be around when Lorenzo stopped by to have a little fun with Hector’s doll. I wished he’d stayed, maybe held me a little before all this went down. But that was selfish. Why would I subject him to that sort of pain when I could shoulder it all myself?
Footsteps in the hall had me turning toward the door. No knock this time—so David definitely wasn’t around. Jorge, Hector, and Lorenzo walked in.
Hector beamed and motioned for me to come to him. I stood and did as I was told, even adding a little spin at the end when Hector twirled his finger.
Lorenzo’s eyes lit up, and he clasped his hands in front of him. “She grows more beautiful by the day.”
“That’s my little girl.” Hector wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “I think you’ll be quite satisfied with her. That little outburst from this weekend was no doubt caused by pre-wedding jitters.” He gripped me tight enough to leave bruises. “But we’ve gotten her straightened out now.”
Lorenzo forced a laugh. “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to wake up with a fork in me.”
I glanced at the mirror, re-thinking my decision not to smash it. Maybe I could have used a shard as a weapon, opened Lorenzo’s throat before he even touched me. David was right. I was still the same woman inside—the one who took what she needed and fought back. It was hard to see her beneath the satin and lace, but she was becoming more visible each day.
“Well, we shall leave you two alone to talk.” Hector clapped Lorenzo on the back. “I trust you recall the details of this arrangement. You can take, but not all.”
“I understand.” Lorenzo’s tongue darted to his lips, a lizard readying for a meal.
“Good.” Hector turned to me and grabbed my chin in a hard pinch. “Be my good girl.” Leaning closer, his hot breath raked across my ear. “Or there will be dire consequences.”
“Yes, Daddy.” My voice was mechanical.
“Come Jorge.” Hector left with Jorge at his heels.
When the door closed, Lorenzo stepped in front of me.
I met his gaze, but his eyes dropped the full length of my body. He unclasped his hands and reached for my waist.
My instincts told me to punch him in the fucking throat. But I didn’t move.
He smoothed his hands along my dress, down to my hips, then back up my waist and higher until his palms hovered at the sides of my breasts. “At least you’re a looker. Even in this goddamn costume, you turn heads.” He moved his palms higher until he gripped the low neckline. “Blanco said no marks. He wants to keep you pretty for the wedding.” He finally met my eyes, though his dark pupils told me nothing. It was like staring into a black well. Maybe there was water at the bottom … or decaying bodies.
With a rough yank, he tore my dress down the center. I stumbled forward from the sudden force, and he caught me in his arms and threw me onto the bed.
I landed face first and scrambled to my hands and knees, but he was on me before I could escape. He wrapped one arm around my throat and crushed me to the soft mattress, his full weight on my back and his erection pressing against my ass.
Rage, white hot and sharp as a blade, sliced through me. I pushed against him, trying to buck him off, but he was heavy and the arm around my throat tightened each time I struggled.
“Shh, baby girl.” He ground his hips against me. “Your daddy said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t fuck your tight little pussy or leave marks.”
“Get off!” I howled and fought. This wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it.
“You’re not being a good girl, are you?” He reached down and pulled at my skirt, yanking it up.
I dug my nails into the arm around my throat. “I’ll kill you!” I screamed so hard my lungs burned.
“Jesus.” He laughed and gripped my panties, tugging them down. “Blanco has no idea what a wildcat you are, does he? Got him fooled with this baby girl act. But I’ll tell you one thing—I won’t be letting you get away with that fork bullshit when you’re in my house. Try something like that with me and lose a finger, bitch.”
He was having trouble with my panties and loosened his grip around my throat. I forced my chin down and opened my mouth. Sinking my teeth into him gave me a burst of adrenaline, and I didn’t let go even when he yelled and slammed his fist into my lower back. Blood flowed across my chin as I bore down, but his next hit landed at the back of my head, stunning me. He ripped his arm free.
I crawled away from him and fell off the side of the bed, my panties in a tangle around my knees. Forcing myself up, I crawled over to my vanity, looking for anything I could use as a weapon.
He was on me before I could make it, one of his hands gripping my hair and yanking me onto my back. Streaks of white-hot pain radiated along my scalp, and the force of hitting the floor knocked the wind out of me.
Snarling, he sat on top of me and ripped at my dress, shredding what was left of the material and leaving me bare. “Goddamn whore! I was going to be nice.”
I reached for his face, trying to claw his eyes out. “Fuck you.”
He gripped my wrists, then pinned them over my head with one hand. “I was going to treat you good tonight. But that’s all over. You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He used his free hand to reach into his jacket and pull out a small gun. “And you’ll start by opening your mouth and sucking on this pistol like it’s my cock.” He pushed the barrel against my lips. “Open up. If you do a good job with this, I’ll give you the real thing. A treat. And you’ll swallow everything I have to offer like a good little wifey.”
My lip split from the force of the metal, but I wouldn’t open my mouth. The scent of gun oil filled my nose, and I struggled to catch my breath.
“Dumb bitch.” He bore down harder, the barrel pinning my bloodied lip against my teeth. “Open.”
He was going to have to shoot me. I wouldn’t bend to his sick will. Maybe he read that fact in my eyes, because he reared back with the butt of the gun, ready to pistol whip me.
“I wouldn’t.” A low voice filled with more menace than I’d ever heard in my life cut through the sound of our struggle.
Lorenzo spun. “The fuck?”
I pushed myself away from him, kicking with my feet until my back hit the vanity. Three armed men stood in the room, each of them wearing masks. But I knew the one in front, the one who spoke in low tones, the one my soul would recognize even in the darkest pit of hell. Hope burst inside me, a flash of light in the dark.
Clutching my shredded dress together, I struggled to my feet.
“Put the gun down and push it over here.” David’s control was tight, stretched thin like a rubber band about to break. “If you yell for help, I’ll drop you. If you try anything, I’ll drop you.”
With the other two men pointing their guns at Lorenzo’s head, he didn’t have much of a choice. Slowly, he lowered his gun to the floor and pushed it over to David.
“If you kill us, you won’t make it out of this house alive.” Lorenzo’s voice shook as he put his hands up.
“Look at this guy pissing himself.” One of the men I didn’t know walked up and pressed his gun to Lorenzo’s head. “I could waste you and no one would give two shits. Maybe I should make you suck my gun, you sick fuck. See if you like the taste.”
David walked around them and over to me.
I didn’t dare say his name, not where Lorenzo could hear, and it took every bit of self-control I had not to throw my arms around his neck.
He stared at me through the eyeholes of his mask, then pulled a roll of duct tape from his back waistband.
My eyebrows shot up as he tore off a piece of tape and used it to pull my dress together in the front.
I wanted to say thank you, to tell him every hidden secret of my heart, to give him all the parts of me that I’d stashed away during my years with Blanco. To tell him I loved him. My eyes watered.
The next strip of tape went over my mouth, and then he wrapped my wrists. My heart galloped, and my breathing whistled in and out of my nose. But he put his palm on my cheek, a momentary gentle caress that reassured me he didn’t mean me any harm.
I couldn’t say the same for Lorenzo. The other two men secured him with the duct tape, viciously wrapping it around his head so it stuck to his hair.
“Watch the hai—” Silence fell when they covered his mouth.
The talkative masked man snickered. “Gonna look like Lloyd Christmas when that shit comes off.”
“Good,” the other finally spoke. Peter. His voice was smoother than David’s, but I could feel the same tenor in it. I couldn’t begin to fathom David risking his brother—the only person in the world he cared about other than me—for my sake. For the millionth time, my mind chimed in that I didn’t deserve this man.
They strapped Lorenzo to the bedpost until he resembled a kidnapped heroine in an old black-and-white movie—all that was missing was a railroad and an old steam locomotive bearing down on him.
David finished wrapping my ankles, then rose to his full height. “Fight me,” he whispered. “Make it look good.” With a surprisingly graceful move, he tossed me over his shoulder.
I banged on his back with my duct-taped hands as he strode past Lorenzo. The other men were already in the hallway. A guard lay at their feet, blood oozing into the cream-colored runner in the center of the hallway. I wished it had been Jorge.
One of the masked men leaned over the bannister, but David turned before I could see anything else. Instead, all I could look at was the dead man—his eyes open, a look of almost shock on his pale face. He didn’t have a chance. I tried to work up some pity for him, but anyone who willingly worked for Hector Blanco didn’t deserve any. David began to move before I could think on it too much. He took the stairs with cat-like speed, though his large body made certain steps squeak. I braced myself as best I could, but my hair fell like a curtain, dampening my view.
When we reached the first floor, I couldn’t see the masked men anymore. David turned toward the back of the house, hurrying down the long hallway past the dining room and Hector’s office. Instead of taking the door that led out to the pool, he turned right toward the garage. Picking up speed, he rushed down the back hallway and only slowed when he got to the garage door.
“If anything happens to me, you run. The tape is barely wrapped at your hands and ankles. Easy to tear.”
I couldn’t respond, but I would have told him to stuff it. I wasn’t leaving him. Not now. Not ever.
He took a steadying breath and pushed through the door. The ensuing gunfire shocked me, and both of us crashed to the floor behind Hector’s black Land Rover.
25
David
My arm pulsed with pain, but I managed to break our fall and set Angel down as gently as possible behind the tire of the nearest SUV. Gunfire erupted all around us, and if I didn’t start shooting back, they’d close in. Pulling my Glock, I fired over the hood of the car—wild shots that shattered glass and gave us a brief hint of cover.
I’d expected more resistance in the house, but the garage turned out to be the real trap. A mechanical hum began as more shots rang out, and all six bay doors opened onto the inky night beyond. Were they trying to flush us out? The moment we were in the open, we were dead.
I fired a few more rounds, then hunkered down next to Angel for the return fire. There had to be at least five men in the garage, maybe another lingering outside to take me down. This was it. All my best laid plans led to this. Fuck.
“Come on out, asshole. I’ve got a bullet waiting for you.” That piece of shit Jorge had been waiting for us down here, planning an ambush instead of protecting his men inside the house. “Give up now and I’ll make it quick.”
Bullets showered us with glass and hit the side of the SUV. We were pinned. I had to face facts, and so did my Angel.
I leaned back and looked into her frightened eyes. Hurting her was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but this wasn’t the time to sugarcoat things. “They’re going to kill me, Angel. You’re going to let them and not do a thing about it.”
She shook her head vehemently.
“You didn’t know anything about this, had no idea I was planning on taking you with me. You’re innocent in this. Marry Lorenzo—” I popped up and fired again, then returned to her side. She was crying now, tears streaming down her beautiful face. “And do what you have to do to survive. I know you’ll make it.” Reaching up with her bound hands, she tried to rip the tape off her mouth.
I shook my head. “Can’t change it.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I love you.”
“You Irish fucks came to the wrong house.” Jorge’s voice was closer now, and he fired into the front of the SUV, the tire on the other side whining and deflating.
The crack of a rifle cut through whatever taunt Jorge flung out next.
“The fuck? Masters is down.” A man, somewhere deeper in the garage, began to yell, “Shooter, there’s a—” Another crack and he fell silent. Three more cracks followed in rapid succession, and the familiar sound of bodies hitting the hard floor put a goddamn song in my heart. Con. He was the real fucking deal.
Another shot, and one more body went tumbling.
But Jorge was still kicking. I could hear him reload. Even so, this was as good as it was going to get. Either I made a run for it with Angel now or waited for reinforcements to show up and take me out.
“We have to go.” I reached down and ripped the tape from her ankles. I could still carry her, but having her strapped across my back as Jorge fired at us didn’t seem like the best idea. “Stay ahead of me.” I’d take a bullet for her, no problem.
She nodded. It was strange to see relief on her face when we were about to run for our lives. Ripping the tape off her mouth, she yanked me down to her and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Don’t ever leave me, you big asshole!”
I couldn’t stop the grin that infected my lips. This woman had me tied up in knots—ones I never wanted to untangle.
Replacing my mag with a fresh one, I pointed to the garage door. “Run. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Right now?” She glanced at the night beyond the open bay.
“Now.” I popped up and started firing at Jorge’s position, and had to hope that Angel obeyed my command.
Jorge cowered behind a rolling metal tool box, the drawers taking each slug I fired. Another crack from outside sent up a puff of dust as the bullet lodged in the wall just above the top of the tool box.
I counted each of my shots, holding off when I had only one left in the chamber. I ducked down as Jorge put his barrel out to the side of the drawers and fired wildly. He was trapped.
Peter whistled from outside, the same three notes we used when we were kids. It was time to go. Jorge fired a few more times until his gun clicked empty.
Only a few more steps, and I could end the prick. But yells inside the house told me I didn’t have the time. Peter whistled again, the notes more urgent. Getting Angel out of here was more important than vengeance … for now.
I backed away, then turned and hustled to the waiting car. Angel sat in the back and opened the door for me as I ran and jumped into the car. More gunfire erupted behind me as I slammed the door shut and Peter peeled out toward the front gate. I pushed Angel down and covered her with my body as the back window shattered. Peter gunned it down the drive. The car jolted when he rammed the front gate—it should have still been open, but it seemed Blanco’s reinforcements had arrived quicker than we’d anticipated.
Once on the road, Peter sped away. No one followed. We were too far gone before they could scramble any of the cars.
I sat up and yanked my mask off. “You hurt?”
“No.” She held up her bound hands. “Help?”
I ripped the ta
pe away, and she immediately touched my upper arm. A hiss escaped me.
“He’s shot, Peter!” The terror in her voice affected me like a poison. I wanted her happy. She deserved happiness, not more worry.
“Bad?” Peter blasted up the ramp onto the highway leading toward downtown.
“No.” I shrugged off my jacket. “Just my arm.”
“There’s a lot of blood.” Angel paled as she ripped the fabric of my shirt open to inspect the wound better.
I glanced down at it. “Flesh wound.” Gingerly, I felt along my skin. “An entry and an exit. Not a problem.”
“Not a problem?” She gave me an incredulous look and kept ripping my dress shirt until the bottom half of the sleeve came off, then tied it around the injury.
My arm was on the back burner. It would heal. But I needed to know she would be all right. I pulled her into my lap. “You sure you aren’t hurt?”
She touched her lips and wrinkled her nose. “The duct tape wasn’t your best move, but I suppose it saved me some cash on a lip wax.”
“What about this blood?” I wiped my thumb across some dried crimson along the bottom of her chin.
“Not mine.” She smiled, her top lip re-splitting as she did so.
“Lorenzo’s?”
“I bit the fuck out of his arm. Kind of wish I could have given him rabies or something.”
I pulled her tighter, my warrior woman. “And your lip?”
“It hurts a little, but it’s not like I got shot or anything.” She tried to wriggle around and fuss over my arm some more, but I kept her in place.
“Don’t try to be the tough guy.” She frowned.
“Angel, I am the tough guy.” God, it felt so good to have her in my lap where she belonged. She was safe, and no one would harm her again as long as I had any say in it.