Rebel

by Callie Hart

  “Carnie, not carne,” my boy says, emphasizing the difference between his nickname and the Spanish word for meat. “I’m fucking vegan.”

  “You don’t eat meat?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t eat anything that used to have eyes. That’s fucking wrong, man.”

  Rico runs his tongue over his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Carnie. He makes a low humming sound in the back of his throat—I don’t think he’s impressed by my prospect. “Men were bred to hunt and kill, my friend. They learned to do that to survive. To feed their families. To assert their dominance over weaker, less intelligent men. That’s the natural way of things, huh?”

  Oh boy. I’ve heard people have this conversation with Carnie before. It never ends well. He folds his arms across his chest, flexing his muscles. “Actually prehistoric man survived mostly off things he foraged from the land. Meat was an infrequent substitute to his diet. He survived where other species failed and suffered extinction because he was smart. Because he had a bigger fucking brain than any of the other animals. And look at me, man. You think I have any problems asserting my dominance over weaker, less intelligent men? Do you?” Pulling up to his full height, Carnie leans back, giving Rico a less-than-friendly smile.

  The click of heels on tiles breaks the silence. “Are you boys done measuring dicks?” Maria Rosa appears behind Rico, as beautiful and deadly as ever. I always wonder whether it’s possible to catch the woman without a full face of makeup and her hair done. I’ve dated enough girls, really girly girls, to know that even they have their down time. Days when they don’t feel like sucking in their bellies and getting dressed up to the nines. Days when all they wanna do is lounge around on the couch in a T-shirt and tracksuit pants, eating Ben and Jerry’s from the tub.

  Maria Rosa is always perfect, though. Always. And she doesn’t look Colombian, either. Bleached blonde hair, green eyes, light olive skin—she looks like Penny from The Big Bang Theory. That’s no mistake. She’s obsessed with the show, addicted, or she used to be. It doesn’t look like much has changed since the last time we met.

  “Rebel,” she says, holding out her hand. “What a pleasant surprise.” I take her hand and kiss the back of it, knowing that she’s lying. My visit is about as pleasant as a rough enema.

  “Beautiful as always, Mother. So good to see you, too.” I lay it on thick, giving her no reason to suspect there are about a million other places I’d rather be than right here, right now, with her. “How long are you staying in the country for?”

  She pouts, resting her weight over one hip. If I didn’t know her already, the extraordinarily tight red dress she’s wearing would have me thinking she is just on her way out to a nightclub. She’s not, though. It’s just how she dresses, even at ten in the morning. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just checking on a few new business enterprises I’ve invested in. After that…I could stay a week. I could stay a month. Depends on whether I have any reason to hang around.” She strokes a taloned finger down my cheek, tracing her nail along my jawbone and down underneath my chin. She’s a notorious flirt. I know better than to even consider going there, though. Cade did and it nearly cost him his life.

  I smirk at her, playing the game. Letting my eyes rest on her cleavage a little longer than I should because I know she likes to be appreciated. “Are you going to spend a few days with me here, baby?” she asks, stepping closer to me so that her chest is pushed up against mine. Her tits are almost spilling out of her dress, skin soft and golden and smooth, and it’s really fucking easy to see how men get caught up by her. She’s sexy, she’s powerful and she has stones. I don’t know a guy who hasn’t been given a boner by the Bitch of Colombia. I’m hardly innocent, myself. I am sensible, though.

  I take hold of her wrist and kiss her lightly again, on the wrist this time. “I wish I could. We have to be heading back to New Mexico right away, though. I’ve come here strictly on business.”

  “Is that why you’ve brought this one with you instead of that coward Cade Preston?” She actually sounds pissed that Cade isn’t here.

  I laugh, but it takes serious effort. I can’t put a foot wrong here. I can’t say the wrong damn thing. If I do, my balls will be forfeit and Carnie will probably end up dead.

  “Forgive me for saying so, Mother, but I didn’t think you were all that fond of my vice president these days?”

  She flicks her wrist at me, making a derisive sound at the back of her throat. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I love him. Mateo, everything is fine. You can head back downstairs.”

  I didn’t even realize that the guard—Mateo—was still behind us, loitering in the doorway. He gives her a short bow. “Yes, Mother. I’ll be available if you need anything.”

  I don’t like the way he says that, like he thinks she might want us brutally murdered in about half an hour or so, and he’ll be ready to oblige her. Mateo leaves, pulling the door closed behind him, leaving the four of us behind in the entrance of Maria Rosa’s suite. To say things are a little tense would be an understatement. Rico and Carnie are still utterly unimpressed by one another, and Maria Rosa remains irritated that Cade’s nowhere to be seen. She pivots on her skyscraper heels and struts back into the main area of the suite, grumbling under her breath.

  “Fucking men. Wouldn’t know what to do with…too much to handle. It’s his fucking loss, anyway. I wouldn’t…” She carries on muttering, the sound of her voice carrying as she vanishes. Rico gestures for us to follow after her, and we do. Inside the suite, a wall of glass stretches from the floor to the ceiling, displaying a panoramic view of the strip, the major artery that supplies the beating heart of the city. It’s an ugly, beautiful thing, all at once.

  Maria Rosa clucks her tongue, lowering herself gracefully to seat herself at a large glass desk, covered in papers. “So tell me. Why have you come here this morning? I have to say, I’m accustomed to people waiting until they’re supplied with an invitation to call upon me.” She glances down at her papers, sifting through them, apparently looking for something, and I see it now: she’s pissed. I knew she would be. She’s just hidden it well until now.

  “We’ve come to discuss a matter of mutual interest with you,” I say. Her hand stills on her papers, but she doesn’t look at me. She’s like a wild animal, aware of our presence, frozen solid, ready to bolt at any moment. Except in this instance, her bolting means her losing her temper and ordering one or both of our deaths. Not only do I have to pick my words carefully here, but I have to say them the right way, too. She needs to be handled with such caution. I’ve seen guys get their fucking tongues cut out for muttering a sentence she hasn’t liked. Thank god Carnie knows to keep his goddamn mouth shut altogether, otherwise I’d be leaving here with a mute prospect.

  “What could you possibly have to discuss with me that could be to our mutual benefit, Rebel? You run a small-time club for boys on their bicycles. I run an international business.”

  “I know, of course. Your organization is in a completely different league to mine, but still, we share common grievances every once in a while. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

  She does know what I’m talking about. It’s well documented that Los Oscuros have been a thorn in my side for years. However, the Mexican cartel has been an equally big thorn in Maria Rosa’s side for just as long. Longer. It would be easier for her to ship her drugs up through Mexico and across the border into the states than to fly them direct from Colombia. US border patrol have a keen eye to the sky at all times. It’s hard to bribe an air traffic controller at a small airfield, because there are more people to witness a single prop coming in to land. If she were to send her drugs by road, bribing a single border control officer would be a piece of cake. Only problem is, Hector’s got all the border control officers on his payroll. And his men protect their investments fiercely against trafficking from outside sources.

  He would rather have all-out war in the streets of Mexico than allow one of Maria Rosa’s trucks to pass throug
h his turf. In fact, it’s come down to that on more than one occasion.

  Maria Rosa slips her feet from her heels and holds them out in front of her. Rico reacts instantly, taking a seat so he can lift her feet into his lap. He begins massaging them, mumbling softly to her in Spanish as he works his thumbs into the arches of her soles. “I assume you’re talking about the Ramirez dog? Take a seat, please.” She jerks her head toward the plush couch a couple of feet away from the table where she’s sitting. Carnie and I do as we’re invited to and sit down. Carnie lifts an eyebrow in response to the scene playing out in front of us.

  He gives me a look I can read all too well—what the hell is this all about?

  Rico’s getting more and more aggressive as he massages Maria Rosa’s feet. She lets her head to fall back, one hand rising to touch the skin at the base of her throat. Her eyes slowly close, full lips parting. The whole thing is sexual. Really fucking sexual. I’m used to this kind of bullshit around Maria Rosa, but I didn’t exactly give Carnie a heads up.

  “So,” she whispers. “I heard about your open declaration of war against Los Oscuros. I have to say, I’m very intrigued as to why you would do such a thing. Hector has more men than you. More weapons. And you have, what? A death wish?”

  “I have men and guns enough, Mother. Don’t you worry about me. As to the why, Hector had someone murdered. Someone I care deeply about. I won’t allow that to go unanswered.”

  Maria Rosa’s head lolls, rolling so that she’s finally looking at me. Her eyes are burning, filled with the promise of sex. “A woman? Did he snuff out one of your pretty women, Rebel? How cruel.”

  “Someone of consequence,” I say. I refuse to tell her who I wish to avenge. Since he was my uncle, she’ll be able to figure out who I am if she discovers Ryan’s name, and I can’t have that. That information has been well guarded, protected, since the day I founded the Widow Makers, and I don’t want that changing any time soon.

  Maria Rosa groans, eyes shuttering as Rico reaches what must clearly be a very sensitive spot on her feet. Her back arches off her chair, giving her body an inviting curve to it—the kind of curve that begs a man to touch. Carnie clears his throat, throwing his left ankle up to rest on his right knee. He’s clearly trying to hide something, probably the fact that his dick is getting hard, knowing him. I’m immune to this crap now.

  “So Ramirez murders someone of consequence and you declare war. And then you show up on my doorstep, looking so good, bringing me some eye candy to enjoy, and I’m not supposed be suspicious, Rebel? Come on.” Rico raises her foot up even higher from his lap and licks at her toes, making her gasp. “You think…you think I don’t know what you want from…me? Ahh!”

  “Fuck. Me,” Carnie groans.

  “You’re a smart woman, Mother. I have no doubt you know why I’m here. And because you’re smart, I know you’ll also see the wisdom in providing support to the Widow Makers. We take down Hector, you get his business. You can ship through Mexico. You strengthen ties to the Widowers, who can then provide extra protection to you while you’re in this country.”

  “And…” Rico traces his tongue across the bridge of Maria Rosa’s foot, making her breath catch in her throat. Her whole body shivers. “And you’ll contract to run my products for me when I need you to.”

  This isn’t a question. This is a statement that I don’t really know I should be agreeing to. Providing protection is one thing. Running drugs is another entirely. The Widowers aren’t strangers to transporting the odd key of weed or blow from one spot to another, but what Maria Rosa’s talking about is something else entirely. She’s talking huge quantities, across long distances. “Our outfit’s too small to take on distribution of your operation, Mother. You just said so yourself—we’re a small concern compared to the empire you’ve built for yourself. But I’d be happy to organize local shipments. Share my contacts with you in the east. Set up an expanded network of trusted people who would be happy to work with you.”

  “I already know people in the east. I don’t need more people in the east. I need you.” Rico’s working on her calves now, rotating his thumbs into her flesh, making her squirm in her chair. Unfortunately, I know what’s coming next. I doubt it’s avoidable at this stage, no matter what I say. I’ve lost count of the times when I’ve been witness to Maria Rosa getting fucked. It’s all just part of her madness. Should be a treat for Carnie, though.

  “I can help you where I can, Mother. That goes without saying, of course.”

  Her mouth pulls back into a lazy smile, as Rico’s hands climb higher and higher up her legs. “You’re a sneaky bastard, Rebel. Don’t take me for a fool. I need something from you and you’re dancing around it, like you always do.”

  I just smile. There’s nothing else I can do, bar agree to something that will mean I am her employee and no longer her equal. She grins back, just as Rico reaches the apex of her thighs. His hand disappears underneath the skirt of her dress. Her whole body tenses for a moment, then she stretches languorously, like a cat. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear her fucking purring.

  “All right, Rebel,” she says, her voice tight under the pressure of what’s happening between her legs. “I’ll help you. But you’ll need to sweeten the deal a little first, since you won’t give me what I truly want.”

  This is how it is with her. Always something she needs in payment, regardless of whatever she may already be gaining. “What do you want, Mother?” I prepare for her to ask for my first-born son. Good job I don’t plan on having any kids.

  “Hector Ramirez isn’t the only problem I’ve been encountering recently. A few of my shipments have been seized out at Baker. The DEA have been ramping up their interest in my business transactions the past couple of months. It’s very—ahh!—inconvenient.”

  I keep my eyes up, front and center, careful not to let myself get sidetracked. “And you want the Widowers to lean on a couple of people? Get the DEA to turn their attention elsewhere?”

  She shivers again. Rico’s hand is quickening under her dress, working faster. He grins at me, though with his lower lip fastened between his teeth, the action looks more like a grimace. Maria Rosa groans, rocking her hips upward. Carnie curls his hands into fists, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses.

  I ignore him. “So you want us to lean on someone for you?”

  “I don’t…I don’t want you to lean on anyone,” Maria Rosa gasps. “I want you to bring me the agent’s fucking head in a…fucking bag.”

  So it’s murder, then. There’s no love lost between the Widowers and the DEA, that’s for sure, but murder? That will draw all the wrong kinds of attention.

  “Well?” Maria Rosa demands.

  “I’ll need to assess the situation first,” I tell her.

  “Ha!” She grinds her hips up into Rico’s hands, her eyes closing completely now. “You’re such a fucking pussy, Rebel. Don’t go shy on me now.”

  The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. I’m hardly shy. I’m sitting here, conducting a conversation with her about murdering a member of a federal agency while she gets finger fucked by her bodyguard. “I’ll give you one day to think on it,” she says. “And if your answer’s no then you can either…agree to ship,”—she’s growing breathless now—“my fucking drugs, or you can handle your problems on your own. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “In the meantime, there’s one more…thing that I want from you.”

  “Which is?”

  She opens her eyes, lazily glancing from me to Carnie. “Him. I want him to come assist Rico over here.”

  Carnie’s cheeks flush. Of all the Widow Makers, he’s the most highly sexed, most fucking reckless when it comes to women. He has a different woman stumbling out of his room every single goddamn morning, and yet right now it looks like Maria Rosa has caught him off guard. “You want me to…you want me to fuck you?” he asks.

  “I want you to stick you dick inside
my mouth while Rico fucks me,” she informs him. “Now.”

  Carnie looks to me, as though I’ll be able to clarify whether this is some kind of trick or not. I simply shrug. “Better give the woman what she wants.” I hold back from pointing out there’s a strong chance she’ll bite his cock off. Carnie’s a reasonably intelligent guy. He should be able to figure out the odds of something really fucking bad happening all by himself. He shrugs back at me, breaking into grin. “This is one royally fucked-up situation,” he says under his breath, but that doesn’t stop him from getting to his feet.

  The next fifteen minutes are interesting, to say the least. Carnie pulls his dick out—already hard, no surprises there—and Maria Rosa bends over, hitching up her tight red dress. Rico slides himself inside her, pulling the top of her dress down so he can palm her tits. She’s practically naked, her long, toned body on show apart from the small section of her stomach that’s obscured by her bunched-up dress. Just like she said she would, she blows Carnie while she lets Rico screw her.

  Most people would find this situation very graphic. Confronting even. But I know this woman. Her head is perhaps the most twisted place on the face of the entire planet. Because while she’s bent over, letting two people penetrate her body, letting them screw her, she’s screwing with me. She didn’t ask to suck my dick. She wants me to watch. The whole time she’s getting reamed she’s staring at me—she doesn’t look away once.

  So I just sit there and watch. This is my life.

  Fucked-up shit like this happens to me all the time.

  ALEXIS

  I end up sleeping most of the day. Maybe it’s because I feel kind of safe with Cade, but I let my guard down. I can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve rested. Even when I have dozed, it hasn’t been proper sleep. It’s been like dipping my big toe into a vast and deep lake, too afraid to submerge myself for fear of drowning. Or in my case, being raped. So I pass out in the car and I sleep the sleep of the dead, barely waking properly to eat or stumble zombie-like to the bathroom when we stop.