by LP Lovell
She tilts her head even farther, like a damn invite. Her small hand lands on my chest, and it feels like electricity, prickling over my skin, even through my shirt. I’ve fucked countless women, and none have ever driven me mad the way her simple, innocent touch does. None have made me want to claim them. Her hand trails lower, over my stomach, inch by inch. The way she’s looking at me… as if I’m something she’s never seen or felt before. I clench my jaw and fight a groan that sounds more like a growl. Her hand snatches away, but I catch her wrist and bring it back to my chest, holding it there. I don’t know what I’m doing because I don‘t know what she’s doing to me.
She stares at my hand entrapping hers and swallows heavily. My phone dings in my pocket and I take it out, glancing at the screen. There’s a text from Samuel, requesting my presence.
“I have to go and handle something,” I say to her.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back later.”
“Can I co…” she starts and then cuts off, pulling away from me.
“Don’t do that. If you want something, ask.” She says nothing, but I see the fight in her eyes, the war between who she wants to be and who she’s been forced to become. “Would you like to come with me?” I ask, ducking until I’m staring into those blue eyes of hers. She nods. I skim my lips across her cheek, and she trembles as I whisper against her ear. “Then say it, sweet Anna.”
“Please, can I come with you?”
“Yes, but I warn you, you might not like what you see.”
“I know.”
“Put on some clothes, before I change my mind and tear that fucking dress off you.” She lifts a brow, her eyes hardening. “I’ll bring the car around.”
I pull away from the main gate, acutely aware of Anna’s presence next to me. She stares out of the window as I guide the sports car out onto the desert road that leads into the city. I love Juarez, but as soon as I rose above street level, I craved open space and clean air. Juarez seems to live under a cloud of oppression and desperation, filled with men willing to do anything and everything just to survive, and for those really willing to take chances, like me, even thrive.
She turns to face me. “Whose are the horses?” she asks.
I frown. “You went to the stables?”
“I saw two in the paddock.” A small smile touches her lips.
“My grandfather used to have a small farm. He used horses to work the cattle.” She watches me with quiet curiosity. “I breed them. Call it a hobby if you will.”
“How many do you have?” she asks.
I shrug one shoulder. “Twenty maybe.”
She turns back to the window. “You’re full of surprises, Rafael.” She says nothing else for the rest of the drive until I pull up next to an old factory. I own it but haven’t had any use for it yet. One of my Hummers is parked, and I pull up beside it.
“Stay here,” I say to Anna. She glances at me, then at the scene past the windshield. Samuel and Carlos are leaning against the hood of the Hummer, watching as two of Sam’s guys keep hold of a teenager. At her silence, I stare at her, my jaw clenching. “Anna…”
“I’ll stay here,” she says.
I turn on the radio and crank the volume, sending classical music blaring through the speakers, before I get out and slam the door.
Samuel watches me approach and take up position next to him against the hood of the Hummer.
“You okay, boss?” He glances at the car behind me, a smirk working over his lips.
“Fine,” I grumble. I’m not fine. I look like a soft fuck because I have her here with me. The muted tones of violins blasting from inside the car reach us, adding dramatic effect to what’s about to happen. Everyone here is waiting to see what I’ll do. The kid fights the hands pinning him down as he stares at me, fire spitting in his eyes.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask.
“Fuck you. I don’t –“ I pull my gun and have the barrel pressed to his head in a split second.
With my free hand, I slide a cigar from the inside pocket of my jacket. Sam steps forward and lights it for me. I inhale the smoke deep into my lungs until that sweet burn simmers through my chest cavity. “I’m Rafael D’Cruze, kid.”
His eyes go wide. “I didn’t do shit. It’s a free country.” He tries to maintain his bravado, but it’s crumbling under the knowledge that he’s in deep shit. At least he has some semblance of a brain cell.
“That is where you are wrong.” I jab the gun into his forehead, and he swallows heavily. “Juarez is my city. How stupid are you to think that you can just start selling shit on my streets, hey?” In any other situation, I’d actually applaud him. He’s got a whole team of kids working for him, a mini-enterprise, but there’s no room for start-ups around here. Any competition, no matter how small, is damaging.
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s wearing jeans and a jacket, but they’re expensive. Designer. He’s no street rat. “Or maybe you don’t know.” I turn to Samuel, but my gaze drifts to the Mercedes parked beside the hummer. Anna watches me. Her eyebrows pulled into a frown. I don’t want her to see this shit, but she needs to. She needs to stop looking at me like I’m going to fucking save her, and I need to stop thinking I can. This is what I am, and neither she or I can change it. “You get his wallet?” Samuel digs into his pocket and throws me a leather wallet.
I take out the driver’s license and read over the address. “Nice digs, Antony Gastrello.” I smirk. “That name ring any bells, boys?” The kid swallows hard.
“No fucking way,” Samuel groans behind me.
I laugh. “The senator’s son is a dealer.” I tut. “What will daddy say about that?”
“He’s my uncle,” he spits, trying to shrug out from the guys holding him.
I move closer to him and grab him by the throat. His eyes go wide as I squeeze, feeling his carotid artery throb erratically against my fingers. He coughs and squirms, jerking to try and get free. I yank him close. “This is not your private school, you entitled little fuck. This is the cartel.” I release him, and he falls to the floor, choking and crying.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I call Benjamin, placing the call on loudspeaker. “Rafael,” he answers within two rings. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better, Benjamin.” Silence. “I do hate to deal with stupid bullshit, and yet I’m having to. I have one Antony Gastrello here. He any relation to you?” I glance at Antony, and the kid’s gone completely white.
“My nephew.”
“Well, he’s been running a little coke operation. You know how I feel about that, Benjamin. You know how I handle it.”
“Please. He’s…he’s just a stupid kid.” He sighs heavily.
“If I let off every kid that crossed me, I’d look weak. If I let teenagers run riot in my city, then the gangs think it’s ripe for the picking.”
“I know, but…”
“Would you like to speak with him?” I ask, grinning at the kid. I hold the phone toward him, placing it on speaker. “Say hello.”
“Uncle,” he barely whispers.
“What did you do?”
“I’m sorry. Please, just fix it.”
The senator goes quiet. “I’m not sure I can, Antony.”
The kid’s eyes fill with panic. “But you’re the senator!”
“And Rafael D’Cruze is the cartel!” He sighs. “You stupid boy.” The kid starts choking on his sobs, hunching over the dusty desert floor.
“I’ll be in touch, Benjamin,” I say, and hang up. I press the barrel of my gun to his head again and a car door slams.
“Rafael!” That voice—the whisper of an angel with the bite of a warrior. I clench my jaw and resist the urge to turn and face her.
“Samuel, put Anna back in the car.” There’s the shuffling of feet and then a car door slams.
The kid squeezes his eyes shut, and I lift the gun and pull the trigger. The bang echoes around us and a plume of dust kicks up where my bullet buried itself in
the earth an inch from the kid’s knee. He opens his eyes and sucks in a deep breath, a wet patch spreading over his crotch.
“I happen to like your uncle, so go home. Do whatever it is privileged kids like you do.” He nods his head. “And if I catch you dealing, I find out you’ve even touched any product, I’ll kill you, regardless of your fortunate family ties.” He stares at me. “I don’t give second chances, kid. I rarely give a first.” He nods, and the guys step back, allowing him to scramble to his feet.
Tucking my gun back in the holster, I turn away. “Take him home, Samuel.” Sam nods, and I round the hood of the Mercedes before climbing in. The engine growls and spits when I start it, kicking up dust and gravel when I slam my foot on the accelerator.
I don’t say anything to her as I drive back into Juarez. She fidgets beside me, continuously tucking her hair behind her ear, even though it hasn’t moved. When I pull up at the mansion, the gates open, allowing me to pull up to the front of the house. I get out, and one of the guys rushes over to park the car for me. Without looking at Anna, I head inside the house and go to the office.
“Rafe.” I halt, my hand on the doorknob. Shit. No one calls me that except Carlos and Samuel, but from her lips, it twists me up.
I glance over my shoulder at her lingering in the hallway looking wary but so fucking strong. “What do you want, Anna?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She sighs and tilts her head back, dragging a hand through her long hair. Without conscious thought, I turn and start walking toward her.
She swallows heavily, and her fingers clench into small fists before releasing again. “You told me to stay in the car—”
“Yes, I fucking did.” I’m right in front of her now. I grip her jaw and force her to look at me. My eyes trace the shape of her perfect mouth, those lips, so full. “And yet here you stand, so unsure of yourself because you defied me.” I lean in closer, inhaling the scent of her as I trace my nose up the side of her neck. She smells like innocence and utter corruption. “So, was one man’s life worth my wrath, little warrior?”
“No,” she whispers. I pull back and stare at her. She meets my gaze unflinchingly. “But your conscience was.”
I laugh. “Oh, sweet little Anna. That ship has sailed.”
Her eyes gloss over, and she slowly lifts her hand, placing it on my face. The gentleness of it jolts me to my very core. She brushes the pads of her fingers over my lips. “You’re wrong. You let him live.”
I grab her wrist, pulling her hand away from me and kissing the inside of her wrist. “You’re wrong. He lives because his uncle is the Senator.”
“He was just a boy.”
“You know better than anyone that boys become men and men are capable of many things.” She nods, her shoulders slumping slightly, and that steely courage of hers dissipates. I miss it.
“Anna.” I caress the side of her neck.
“You’re not a monster,” she whispers. “I see you.”
Before I can stop myself, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and wrench her tight against me. My lips land on hers, and she tenses for a moment before her body slowly relaxes, her curves melding to me inch by inch. Her lips part tentatively, and my tongue brushes hers. She’s so careful, so unsure, it’s like she’s never been kissed before. And I realize she’s probably never been touched willingly in any way. Her small hands wind around my neck, searching, exploring. I groan against her lips, fighting the urge to take her, to destroy every inch of her. I can’t though. In any other world, Anna would be out of reach of men like me, but in this world, in the cruel world where girls like her are bought and sold; I want her. I want to fix her and ruin her for all others at the same time. She shifts and her hips press against me, brushing over my hard dick. Lust roars through my veins like a howling beast, driving me beyond the rational. I grab her waist and slam her against the wall, pressing between her legs. My lips seek out her neck, tasting the soft skin as I inhale her scent. It takes me a few seconds to realize that she’s gone completely still. I pull back and look at her. She stares at a spot over my shoulder, her hands resting loosely on my shoulders.
“Anna?” She’s just shut down, unresponsive, dead.
I step away from her, and though there are only inches between us, it feels more like a crater just ripped wide open at our feet. Clenching my fists, I take more steps away from her. Finally, she blinks and focuses on me.
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, sadness in those sapphire eyes before she walks away. I drag both hands through my hair and slam my fist into the wall.
“Dammit!” I have to fucking control myself around her. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe people like her and I should never be in the same realm. Darkness and light will consume each other, after all.
Twenty-Three
Anna
I stand in front of the man on his knees. His face is indistinguishable. He’s no one I recognize, and yet I instinctually know I hate him. The gun sits in my hand, the metal cool against my palm. I don’t look away from him, but I feel a presence behind me: strong, powerful, ruthless. Rafael. It’s like his power bolsters me, soaking through me until I feel it coursing through my veins. For the first time in my life, I feel in control.
“You want power, Anna? Then take it,” Rafael says, his voice deep and commanding.
The man on his knees looks up at me, his eyes pleading with me to show him mercy, but I know he hurt me. They hurt me. They raped me. They took everything from me. Anger builds inside me, filling me until it’s boiling over, bursting to get free. I lift the gun and slide the safety off. My finger presses over the trigger and a sense of rightness fills me. This is justice, this is power, and I want it. I want to be like Rafael. I want to be untouchable.
The man looks at me one more time, and I see him, I see all the disgusting acts, all the wrongs, in his eyes. I squeeze the trigger, and the gun explodes. His head jerks back, and he collapses on the ground.
With his body bowed at my feet, I feel like a goddess, someone strong and untouchable. I turn around and face Rafael. His dark hair and black suit blend into the shadows behind him, and he looks like a demon called from hell itself. He steps forward, wrapping a hand around my neck. A warm hum drifts through my body, and I bow forward into him like a junkie succumbing to the rush of a drug. His lips brush mine, and my eyes drift shut.
“Take it, little warrior. It’s yours,” he breathes. And so I kiss him, pulling from his strength, acting on this deep-seated and yet inexplicable need for him. My lips part and his tongue strokes across mine reverently. He unlocks parts of me that I didn’t know existed, and at this moment, nothing else matters but him and me. Two halves of a whole. “I’m yours,” he whispers over my lips.
I wake up at the sound of a knock on my door. I touch my lips, still able to taste the dark allure of Rafael, the sensation so foreign and yet intriguing. Maria bustles into the room with a tray, the scent of coffee following her as she enters. She acts like everything is fine—like I haven’t noticed that she’s been bringing breakfast in here ever since the night Rafael pinned me to the wall. I haven’t seen him since then either, and apparently, that’s the way he wants it. I no longer go to the kitchen each morning, and he no longer seeks me out in the garden each night. I didn’t even realize how much I liked being around him until he withdrew, and it’s my fault. I wanted his kiss, but then my mind lost its grip on reality, and Rafael started to become a faceless figure, just like all those before him. No wonder he doesn’t want to see me. Why would he? He probably remembered just how used, and dirty I am.
Maria pulls back the curtains and sets the tray of coffee and toast on the bedside table. “Good morning,” she says.
“Morning,” I respond flatly as I slide out of bed, ignoring the tray. I get in the shower and allow the hot water to wash over me, but it does nothing to quiet my thoughts. It’s been over a week since I last saw him, and I’m sinking into a dark pit. I’ve never felt like more of a pris
oner or less wanted, but even beyond this…thing for Rafael, is the fact that without his affection, I’m once again left fearing for how this will end. He distracts me, and without that, I’m left with the cold reality that I am indeed his prisoner. A favor—nothing more. Which means that this is actually a good thing. I may be something that’s fun for him to play with for a moment, but he’ll use me just like all the rest because eventually he’ll hand me over to this Nero guy, and it will all amount to nothing. This is good because it allows me to remember where my allegiances lie, and it’s the same place they always have: with myself. A few kind acts don’t change years of self-preservation. I’m done being someone’s pawn.
I wait for Maria to leave, and then I get dressed and slip silently through the house unseen, the same way I always do. I’m heading for Rafael’s office, determined to talk to him, when a faint noise halts me. It sounds like the whimpering of a girl; a sound I’ve heard far too many times to count. Tilting my head to the side, I backtrack until I’m standing outside that door, the one that leads to the death room in the basement. I carefully push the handle down, and the door opens easily and silently. Voices drift up the stairwell, and there’s that whimpering again. Placing my crutches against the wall, I tiptoe down the carpeted stairs to get closer, moving awkwardly on my casted leg. The door at the bottom is open a crack, and I peer through it, seeing Samuel leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Someone else is out of sight, but I can hear their footsteps on the concrete, the creaking of the chains where someone is hanging. I shift, getting closer, and the person comes into view. A woman. Her wrists are bound and chained the same as the man they brought here before. Clothing hangs from her body, bloody and torn. I watch as a hand suddenly appears around her throat, a hand I know well. I recognize Rafael’s black rose tattoo, the roman numerals that adorn the fingers of his right hand.