Merciless Love: A Dark Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “This will do.” He raised one hand and snapped his fingers. “Pronto! Let him have the boy and see that he leaves us. Thirty seconds. No more.”

  One more squeeze and Evan's hand was gone. It was Borzia's turn to reach out and grab me. I held in a gasp.

  He didn't have anything close to Evan's strength, but he knew how to make it hurt. His fingernails were just a little too long, and he pushed them deep against a nerve in my wrist, as if to say welcome, bitch.

  “Daddy...you came!” The little boy's astonishment boomed behind me.

  “Yeah. Sorry as shit I'm late, big guy. Come on. Your aunt's waiting in the truck.”

  Evan groaned, and I knew he was picking up his long lost son. I didn't dare look back. The reunion would've killed me, and Borzia seemed like the kind of man who'd attack at any little sniffle – especially if it was a happy one.

  He released my hand when we were at the car door. I jerked it away and rubbed it, noticing the sharp impressions he left on my wrist.

  “Get in, puta. You're my property now.”

  I ducked to do as he asked. The AC was all the way up, and the car's the frigid interior stung my face. Apparently, I hadn't moved fast enough. Borzia lifted one leg and kicked at my butt. Hard.

  I went flying forward and squealed in surprise as I crashed across the padded leather seats. Didn't have time to straighten up before he was on me, dragging me across his lap while one of his men slammed the door shut.

  Lunatic hands tore at my hair, fisting it, one jerk away from ripping it off my scalp. My breath came heavy and hot.

  I wanted to spit in this bastard's face.

  “A few ground rules before we get to my house, whore. Number one: you are my property, and property has no rights. I don't care what he had to say to break you and bring you here. Forget anything that conflicts with my word. You'll only listen to the words that come from the lips of your new master.” His free hand slid down my neck, as if he were trying to decide whether to enjoy my skin or choke me. “Two: I will hurt you. Cole had limits on what he could do to prevent you from becoming damaged goods. I have none.”

  One more jerk and I was up in the seat, jagged but upright. Borzia cleared his throat.

  How many other girls had to suffer through this script? It was an act, well rehearsed abuse meant to make me breakdown and cry. Evan warned he'd probably do something like this.

  I was amazed because I was ready. I gave him nothing, and the nasty little smile he wore curled with disappointment. I tried to hide the hatred in my eyes, but I wouldn't give him fear, none of what he wanted most.

  “You're not fully broken, are you, bitch?” The English slur sounded strange on his evil lips. “I should've known he wouldn't do his job like a man. A real man wouldn't have ended up crawling on his hands and knees for me in the first place...”

  The car was rumbling along on the gravel road now, toward the palace he had tucked back in the country. I bobbed gently in my seat, just staring, trying to hold a few inches of precious space between us.

  Just a little longer. I pursed my lips, imaginary heat from the poison licking them.

  As soon as he let his guard down, I'd try to kiss him, but not before we were inside. I needed to be alone with him, well and truly alone. And Evan needed a solid hour to get to me.

  My eyes flicked to the cheap silver watch he'd given me before we departed. If there was one thing Borzia couldn't stand, it was being ignored.

  “Fucking bitch! Are you mute?”

  He backhanded my face in one brute jerk. The whole world exploded in white hot pain. For the first time, I whimpered.

  When my head stopped spinning, I turned toward him, and sickly realized I was clutching at the leather seat, as far from him as I could get.

  Oh, God. My instincts weren't going to allow me to suffer with a brave face. Anger flooded my veins, mostly aimed at myself.

  I forced myself to look at him, though I had a damned good idea what I'd find. No surprise: he was smiling, pushing his shallow breath through cracked lips around his small sharp teeth.

  “No man ever hit you like that, did he?” Borzia laughed. “Sweet mindless thing...now you're beginning to understand! I'm going to tear you to fucking pieces, and mercy is a word I don't understand. You, puta, are going to scream bloody murder in my arms like all the others. Your wretched flesh is nothing but a symphony to me, and I am the conductor.”

  Arrogant. Condescending. Psychopath.

  After living in Beacon Grove and then in Evan and Izzy's bipolar home, separating the crazies from sound minds wasn't easy. But my stomach twisted when I studied his face. Deep down inside, I knew I was looking at a psycho with way more power than any diseased mind like his should ever have.

  Hell of a kink in our plan. Everything about him was irrational and unpredictable. I didn't have a clue how I was ever going to get my lips on his...

  “Speak to me, bitch,” he growled. “Cry. Beg. Let out all the torture eating you up inside. I can see it in your shiny little eyes. You want to hurt.”

  Just one way out of this: you have to exhaust him. If he's tired and uncoordinated, unable to run on his monstrous energy, he'll let his guard down.

  I closed my eyes. I couldn't see him anymore, but I felt his sinister smile waning, turning to an irate frown.

  I wouldn't give in, wouldn't give him what he wanted if I could help it.

  The second time he hit me, the stars exploded around me again, whirling hard as brimstone. His whole fist crashed into my temple, rattling my brain.

  I thought about Evan and hoped he'd have a good life with his son if I didn't make it. If I couldn't stop this monster, then at least I'd turned one into a man again.

  My fingers clenched tight, remembering the last iron squeeze he gave me. It was too much.

  My brain overloaded, pain and grief surging, filling my skull. Then I blacked out and didn't feel anything at all.

  “Get your worthless ass up! Your stomach's growling, whore, and that's a good thing.”

  I blinked. New pain blistered in my head as I sat up. It was noticeably warmer, and something bounced beneath me – a sofa or a mattress.

  Opening my eyes, there was...nothing.

  I heard Borzia, but I didn't see him, much less anything else. Panic hit me when the green veil across my vision refused to lift.

  I'm blind! I screamed inwardly. Somehow, I kept it in. No use screaming when there was nobody in earshot who'd care. Screams would only encourage the monster in the room with me and stroke his appetite for more.

  “Your gringo trainer should've fed you a stricter diet. I like bones in my flesh, whore, brittle bones to grind and break. Full figured? No. You are fat, bitch.” He was right at my ear now, growling his threats. “Don't get too comfortable here. You're going to starve that weight off. You'll have water and nothing else for the next week and –“

  He stopped. I heard him inhale sharply, felt his eyes burning my skin. They were there, sure as the hot sun behind heavy fog.

  “What the hell's wrong with you, puta? Your eyes are open and it's like they can't see.”

  I swallowed. I didn't need this monster tormenting me with the obvious.

  Jesus, I couldn't understand what he'd done to me. I might never see again!

  I exploded, pushed against him. He grunted in surprise as I kneed him in the stomach and clawed at his chest, shouting as I felt up his body, trying to rake his face.

  My fingernails hooked on something soft. Borzia screamed. Had I gotten the corner of his eye?

  Hopefully. A little payback would be nice for once.

  “Joder! La madre que te pario!”

  I didn't have a clue what he was saying. None of it sounded nice. Growling, he covered me and rolled. We both hit the floor hard, and I lost my balance. I scratched at his face and missed, catching his short hair instead.

  “Stupid fucking bitch!” he snarled. “He hasn't broken a damned thing. You've come to kill me. Did you think it was so eas
y?”

  He grabbed at my neck. His grip was tight, brutal, and my shaken screams died in his hands.

  “You're a stupid cunt, and so is Cole. I'm going to kill you much sooner than I intended, and him too. I'll track him to the ends of the earth and flay his brat in front of him. I'll...fuck!”

  I jerked my head and touched his hand with my nose. My teeth sank into his flesh, biting as hard as I could.

  Borzia wriggled away, shoving me across the floor. I slid, my butt trampling over some kind of long rug in the process, and hit the nearest wall.

  Silence. Footsteps. I couldn't see a damned thing with my eyes, but my brain imagined his neat, polished shoes clacking across the wooden floor toward me.

  “Fucking puta. You are trash to me now. I'll get one good fuck out of you,” he growled, kneeling near my ear. “I'll melt your whore face off while I shove my cock up your ass. Dead or alive, I'll make you understand that you are nothing before I send you to hell. Any woman who draws my blood is worse than a worm.”

  The brain does strange things under crazy stress. I'd read about the traumas soldiers experienced in combat in my father's beat up war magazines. When it came, it hit harder than any pain, an idea that almost made me pass out.

  I knew what I had to do.

  He snarled again, shuffling against the floor. I heard his clothes rubbing together, and then the scratch of nails on flesh. “Whore! You...you really made me bleed. Unforgivable!”

  Borzia slapped me across the face, not as hard as before. Whatever I'd done, he was shaken. He didn't have the confidence to break my face.

  Damn, why couldn't I see? Why now!

  I wanted to see this bastard hurt. But I wanted him dead even more.

  “Wait, wait, wait...” The words squeaked out my throat as I twisted in his grip. “It's not his fault. This is a game, sir. He told me you like it rough. Don't I please you? Master?”

  Saying it tasted like pure venom on my lips. His hands relaxed, if only a tiny bit. They weren't pinching my flesh to my shoulder bones anymore.

  Borzia jerked, as if throwing his head backward, and laughed. A high, whiny, maniacal laugh that echoed off the high ceiling above us. Anything less obnoxious coming from a man this awful would've surprised me.

  “Ah, Cole...you may have just saved your worthless life, and this bitch's too. For a little while.” He cleared his throat, regaining his senses. “I do love a challenge. So you want to be ripped to pieces and made to behave, do you, puta?”

  I nodded.

  “Lay still. Don't move a muscle. You push back this time, and I will haul you off to the basement and give you something to cry about. Let's hope this is pain you can handle like a good girl instead of an insolent slut.”

  His hands moved against the top of my dress. My blind eyes bulged when he ripped it hard, tearing at the thin fabric, smoothing his disgusting hand up my bare shoulder. His fingers stopped near my neck, circling it, testing a place for his lips to land.

  When he kissed me there, it was gentle, but no less revolting. The mildness lasted no more than five seconds.

  His mouth opened, and he sucked at my flesh, brutally sinking his teeth in.

  “Oh!” It took all my willpower to keep my hands flattened to the floor.

  He was biting, burning me, drinking my blood like a sadistic vampire. I thought he was going to chew a hole in my neck and swallow my flesh, but he began to move up, stamping the same awful kisses and dog bites below my jaw, and then on my cheek.

  Higher...higher...just a little bit more...

  When he was near my ear, pinching tender flesh between his teeth, I began to turn. My lips found his. Borzia hesitated a moment, as if disgusted I'd even try to kiss him.

  Then he opened wide and sank his teeth on my lips. I pushed them into his mouth, deep as they would go, sucking and smacking at his vile tongue.

  His teeth began sinking into my lips when the reaction started.

  The weight of his body on top of me convulsed. He jerked, flopped, and rolled off me, wheezing like he had something lodged in his throat. Fists or hands beat the floor – I couldn't tell which.

  All I knew was he was dying, and that was all that mattered. He grabbed for my leg as I tried to stand up. I kicked at his leg, feeling for the wall. Blood rushed into my head.

  The green fog in my vision lifted, and I could see again, if only in a haze. Thank God.

  I was in a huge room that looked like a king's master bedroom, and the brutal man sneered at me from the ground. Gasping terribly, he worked his hand, snapping his fingers to claw at my ankle.

  He caught me and pulled with surprising strength. I went down. Damn!

  I kicked hard, grateful to have my sight back. If only I could get away from him and leave him to die there, I'd be okay. Evan would come for me. I just knew it.

  Hold on. Only a little bit longer...

  The door burst open and two of those stone faced guards rushed in, shouting in Spanish. One of them made a direct line for their boss. The other took one look at Borzia's pale, twitching face and rushed me.

  “The puta,” Borzia croaked. “She...she poisoned me.”

  His palms came out, hit me in the chest, and I rocked back on the bed.

  The whole world blurred and went dark again.

  Jesus, no. Am I too late? Is Evan coming for me at all?

  XII: Monstrous Designs (Evan)

  I waited on a little hill overlooking the villa. The autumn sun was hotter than hell down here, blazing on my dusty back, rifle in hand. It was the closest I could get to snipe assholes without running into the cameras and sensors I'd personally seen installed.

  Izzy was long gone with my boy. Waiting the full agonizing half-hour gave them a damned good head start, but they'd need luck too if this got fucked up. If Borzia lived, he wouldn't content himself with killing Cassie and me. He'd make sure he came back for my son and anybody I shared a drop of blood with, snuffing out the Cole line forever.

  I gripped the rifle in my hands. Cold, cold steel, icy and hard as my bloodthirsty heart.

  Peeking at my watch, the minutes ticked on. If nothing happened in the next half-hour, I had to go in shooting, straight to certain death. All I could do was wait and hope like hell that mother chaos threw me a fucking bone.

  I heard the rumble behind me about five minutes later. The ambulance came tearing down the unpaved road, leaving heavy dust in its wake. In the distance, the house's huge door was thrown open, and two stern faced Mexican guards came storming out to greet the screaming vehicle.

  The gate was open! And there wasn't a shred of doubt more than half his men were occupied with...whatever the fuck was going down inside.

  One thing was for sure: Borzia was hurt. The bastards wouldn't have called an ambulance for my girl, but had she survived poisoning his twisted ass?

  Only one way to find out.

  I hauled myself up and ran, half-bent, the same way I'd done in the deserts and jungles dodging enemy fire. By the time I was through the gates and had a clear shot, the Mexicans noticed me.

  A man with thick eyebrows drew his gun and screamed. It was too late, too fucking late.

  My rifle went up. I fired once, and then two more times, never sparing a micro-second when their faces filled my scope.

  Three heads exploded in gory fireworks. Brutal perfection.

  I ran, pumping my legs across the big courtyard. The paramedics abandoned their stretcher and high tailed it back inside the ambulance, ready to drive their asses to safety. I hoped like hell they were in too much of a panic to scream for backup.

  “No! Please don't hurt us!” A big man in a blue and white uniform screamed as my fist went through the window. I grabbed him by the throat before he could floor it.

  The barrel of my gun went right through the broken window. In the passenger seat, the other medic screamed, clawing at the door to get out. He was so damned scared he didn't realize it was locked.

  “Nobody's gonna get hurt if you open
up and come outside. Get out!” I roared, releasing the man's throat.

  He complied, and I gave him just enough space to step out onto the ground. “Get your friend out here too.”

  “Hector!” The medic turned and yelled. “Just do what he says...”

  I waited until his partner was next to him, keeping my gun trained on them. No, there was no need to hurt these assholes doing their jobs. In fact, they were tickets to my girl.

  “Hector, huh?” The other man trembled slightly when I said his name. “You see that gate? You run right through it and keep on going. Don't fucking stop 'til you hit the Mexican border, or hitch a ride, whatever comes first. Go!”

  He took off like a desert rat. The other man looked at me with huge eyes, begging permission.

  “Not so fucking fast. You take off too, but I need your clothes first. You got your shit together better than he does. Strip! And then get the fuck out of my sight.”

  Not entirely true. Honestly, his shit looked like it would fit far better than the other dude's. I flicked my gun, telling him to hurry the fuck up. Finally, the clothes were on the ground, and he took off buck naked, stripped of everything except his shoes.

  I threw my gun down and changed. Must've beaten all my old records in the Marines plus the constant drills I gave myself over the years.

  The rifle had to go. I reached into my pants and drew the magnum instead, plus an extra clip. I'd have two seconds if I was lucky from the time these assholes looked at me to the point where they decided I wasn't a gringo paramedic and tried to blow my brains out.

  The uniform was a tight fit. I began to move, scuttling through the open doors. The mansion hadn't changed a wink since I worked for the cartel.

  Something moved just as I was about to start up the long winding staircase. A maid looked at me with huge eyes. She recognized my face, threw her hands up, and crumpled to the ground, trembling and pleading for mercy in broken Spanglish.

  Fuck. The girl was too stunned to be a hazard, but I had to fucking move. Her squawking could easily alert somebody else. I took the stairs three at a time, leapfrogging past the second and third floor, straight to the top level where Borzia kept his personal space.