Hate Me (Collateral Book 1)

by LP Lovell

  “Come on. I’ll show you around the house,” I say impatiently. She slowly sits up, those sapphire blue eyes locking with mine unapologetically. Something uneasy settles in my chest, and I frown. “Hurry up,” I snap, and turn away from her. I glance back to find her quietly limping after me as I go to the closet and find something for her to wear. Grabbing a dress, I hold it out to her, and she wordlessly takes it, slipping the silky material over her head. It cascades down her bare body until the skirt brushes the floor. I pass her the crutches leaning against the wall and walk out of the room without checking to see if she follows.

  We walk through the house in silence. When I pass the kitchen, Maria smiles wide at me. I take Anna into the games room. The guys sometimes come in here when they’re on shift, to play video games or pool.

  “This is the games room.” I gesture around it, but she isn’t paying attention, her focus is on the window. I notice the dark shadows lingering beneath her eyes. She looks healthier in every other way, but she still looks exhausted.

  “Do you play pool?” I gesture towards the table, and she glances at it, her full lips pressing into a tight line.

  “No.”

  She walks over to the table and brushes her fingers tentatively over the felt, her features softening. Narrowing my eyes at her, I ask, “Do you know what it is?” She shakes her head, and I move closer to the table. “You have to hit the balls into the pockets with a cue.” Her brows pull together delicately, but she says nothing. “Come on.” I lead her down the hallway. “Home theatre.” I point at a door. “Dining room, living room, office.” I open the back doors that lead out onto the pool deck. Underwater lights illuminate the entire space in bright turquoise. “Pool and gardens.” I gesture to the encroaching darkness beyond. Her gaze fixes on the gardens beyond the pool, and she takes a hesitant step forward before she stops herself.

  “Would you like to walk in the gardens?” She stops and falls silent. What the fuck is that? It’s like she wants to be a prisoner. I start walking towards the gardens anyway, passing through the sculpted hedges that lead out onto the perfectly trimmed lawn. Rose bushes and night Jasmine bloom in the flowerbeds that line the walkway to the massive pond. I’m told my father had it built for his wife, years ago.

  I turn around when I reach the pond, and watch as Anna trails her fingers over the flowers, pausing to smell a blood red rose in full bloom. The way she caresses the velvety petals; it’s clear she has very much been a prisoner, devoid of any kind of comfort. Her bare feet whisper over the freshly watered grass, and for a second she looks calm, peaceful. For a moment she looks like a pretty, carefree young girl walking through a garden of flowers. How looks can be deceiving. Her gaze lifts to mine, and she watches me carefully as she comes to a stop beside me. Moving closer to the low stone wall that lines the round pond, she peers in. I shove my hands in my pockets, watching her lean forward and brush her fingers over the glassy surface of the water. It’s almost childlike, an innocent curiosity. When a couple of fish come to the surface, she smiles and sits on the edge of the pond. I realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen her actually smile, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze away, helplessly lured like a lost sailor to an enchanting siren call. Her fingers skim the edge of the water, sending little ripples echoing across the image of her reflection. I don’t miss the subtle tremor in her fingers or the way she pulls her hand back to try and hide it. The little Russian is still fighting an internal battle just as much as the external one.

  As she bends down, strands of golden hair tumble forward, reaching for the cool water.

  The shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the chirping crickets, bursting whatever bubble she has me in. Taking my phone from my pocket, I glance at the screen and frown at my supplier’s name flashing on the screen.

  “I have to take this,” I say, glancing at her. She says nothing, but the smile is gone, and she refuses to look at me. “Find your own way back.” I don’t wait for an answer, simply turn on my heel and walk back to the house as I answer the call.

  Fucking Colombians are constantly trying to shaft me for more money. After a trying conversation, which resulted in my price remaining exactly the same, I go in search of some brandy. I find Samuel and Carlos in the games room, already sitting at the bar in the corner, glasses of brandy in front of them and cigarettes smoking in the ashtray. They both lift their chin as I approach and pour myself a glass. These two are my closest friends, my right-hand guys. None of us ever wanted this: the cartel, this life, but necessity brought us together. Loyalty kept us together, and a strange twist of fate brought us to this very moment, running the cartel. We have stood side by side and done things we aren’t proud of to get where we are, but that is Juarez. In this city, fortune favors the brave and smiles on those who are willing to do absolutely anything to thrive.

  These days, things are a little different, or at least they are for Samuel and I. Samuel is a businessman. He knows when to push and when to back down, how to rub shoulders with the politicians and when to threaten the street rats. Carlos on the other hand…I smile as I place a cigar between my lips and light it. Carlos is a scrapper, a fighter. We grew up poor and the step up to power never really suited him all that well. He does best with his own kind, and in turn, the guys at street level seem to see him as one of them, not the guy standing right next to Rafael D’Cruze. It suits him, and it suits me.

  “Boss,” Carlos says, picking up his cigarette and inhaling until the end glows.

  I nod at them both. “Any plans tonight?”

  Samuel smirks, and I know exactly where they’ll be going. “Thought we might stop in at Tata’s.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “All those women, throwing themselves at you and you hang out in a nasty titty bar.”

  Carlos snorts a laugh and hooks a thumb toward Sam. “I think he just likes paying for it.”

  I point at him in his faded hoody and his Yankees ball cap. “You’re no better.”

  Carlos rests his elbow on the bar and blows out a long stream of smoke. “Hey, they aren’t throwing themselves at me. I have to pay for it.” Total bullshit, as his three baby-mamas can attest to. He smiles, and the light catches the three teardrops beneath his eye. I huff a laugh, and he glances at Samuel. “Ladies love the suits.”

  Samuel grins. “Best start dressing then, fucker.”

  “He doesn’t need any more women.” I shake my head.

  “What about you, boss?” Samuel cocks a brow at me. “Saw you showing that little blonde around earlier.”

  I glare at him. “Maria,” I offer as a way of explanation.

  Carlos shakes his head. “That woman is mean. She threatened not to make me any chili for a week if I didn’t take her to church last Sunday.”

  “Why exactly does Nero Verdi want that girl so much?” Samuel asks. “You were searching for her like she could cure cancer or some shit.”

  “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming, and it’s not like I could say no when he called in his favor.” I tap my index finger over my bottom lip. “He paid ten million for her.”

  “Wait, so is he buying, buying her?” Carlos adds.

  “He already bought her from Dominges,” I correct.

  “But not…”

  I smirk. “Nero has very good taste in suits. He doesn’t need to buy women. She’s collateral.”

  “Expensive fucking collateral,” Samuel murmurs.

  “Must be for something important.” Carlos narrows his eyes through a cloud of smoke. “My hackers haven’t found anything yet.”

  “Which means someone has gone to great effort to hide her,” I muse.

  “Since when are we picking up pussy for Italians anyway?” Samuel says, lifting his cigar to his lips and raising a brow. “Seems like a shit way for him to call it in, given what you owe him.”

  “A favor is a favor, and in the grand scheme of things, having a girl in my house isn’t all that challenging.”

  Carlos frowns. “He
’s only an enforcer though. If you said no, what’s he going to do, really?”

  I snort. “Nero Verdi is more dangerous than any of his bosses. And we all know you don’t have to start at the top to end up there.” The three of us know well what a violent nature combined with intelligence can do for a man.

  Samuel shakes his head. “I’m telling you, he’s not right that one.” Sam is perceptive when it comes to people, and Nero has always made him uneasy. The Italian has this cold calculation about him. When he looks at you, it’s as though he’s assessing every single thing about you, while cataloging all the ways he could kill you. I like that about him.

  I smirk. I’m well aware of how ruthless Nero is. After all, it’s why I owe him so much.

  A throat clears, and my gaze snaps to the doorway where Lucas lingers uneasily. Carlos laughs beside me. “Well, spit it out, kid. We don’t have all night.”

  “Raf— Boss, can I talk to you?” He glances at me, though his chin remains tucked to his chest. “Please.”

  I place my cigar to my lips and inhale a deep lungful of smoke before I push to my feet. The kid looks like he’s about to shit himself, but if he wants to talk, it’s probably about Anna. I walk out into the hallway and fold my arms over my chest, waiting. He stares at the ground, shifting from foot to foot. God, he’s so awkward.

  “Today, Lucas.”

  Taking a deep breath, he finally looks at me. “Anna needs some sleeping pills.” I lift a brow, and his face pales. “She…has nightmares, and she screams.” Yes, I’m well aware of the little bird’s demons. I also know how well young Lucas plays the White Knight, rushing to her aid every night.

  “So, what? You want to knock her out?”

  He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes darting up and down the hallway before he leans closer. “She asked me for…” a nervous swallow, “some ketamine,” he whispers.

  I exhale a long breath. “I’ll handle it.”

  He nods and scurries away. Looks like the little Russian may not be so hard after all, but if she wants help, she’ll have to ask for it. She’ll have to come to me.

  Twelve

  Anna

  Days seem to pass steadily until I lose all track of time. What started out as wary confusion is quickly turning to impatience. I find myself starting to feel safe in this place, and that in itself brings a sense of anxiety because it’s always when you feel safe...

  I stand on the balcony, watching the guard rotation, counting the seconds away between one passing the fence and the next. I’ve discovered that it’s not always the same; that it changes, sometimes daily. Even if I could find a way to scale that fence, I couldn’t predict when one of the guards would walk past.

  The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in hues of orange. It’s been a few days since Rafael showed me around his house and so far I haven’t gone back outside, but today the four walls of this room are mocking me. Any moment now, Anna. Anxiety gnaws away at my gut because just when I think I know all the ways that one human can torment another; a new owner always surprises me. It’s the waiting that I can’t handle, and I’d forgotten what it’s like. At least in the Sinaloa, I knew what was coming. I was there to be fucked. I’m too strung out, too aware; niggling little emotions spinning around somewhere deep inside me, still buried, but digging their way out as best they can.

  The withdrawals have been reasonably bearable, but now, the craving hits me full force. That desperate need for the blissful slipping of reality until everything becomes a muted blur of nothing.

  I used to be terrified of becoming an addict, thinking it would be the chain that finally tethered me to my masters. Ketamine is not heroin, but without it—without its sweet relief from my reality, my mind wouldn’t have survived so long. I remember men touching me, fucking me, even trying to beat a reaction out of me, but I was untouchable in my self-imposed mental prison. The memories are nothing but muted, blurred recollections, almost like a dream you can’t quite fully grasp. Ketamine protected me. For years that was my life, and now… everything is too real—the very air seems thick and sludgy in my lungs.

  I grab my crutches and yank open the bedroom door, moving as fast as I can down the hallway. I need to get out of this room before I go insane.

  Once outside the house, I take a cleansing breath, inhaling the scent of the roses and jasmine. The door bangs open behind me, and I whip around to find Lucas standing there. Slightly out of breath.

  “Jesus, you’re fast on those.” He nods towards the crutches.

  “I need to get out,” I explain.

  He nods. “Okay. I just… the boss will kill me if anything happens to you.”

  Despite my best attempts, I like Lucas. He smiles easily, blushes even easier, and he’s there; every night when I wake up screaming, he’s there. He never tries to touch me, and he can’t do anything to help, but his concern makes me feel a little less alone. He reminds me of a little boy I used to know in the orphanage…before.

  “If you want to walk, I’ll just…follow. You won’t even know I’m here,” he says in a rush, a small smile pulling at his lips before he looks away.

  “Okay.” I don’t want him to get in trouble. He can’t be any older than eighteen, and there’s this kind of innocence that clings to him. I’ve seen it before, just not on a man. I wonder how he’s managed to stay like this when he’s in the cartel. Surely he’s seen and done horrible things? I try to imagine Lucas as one of the men I’ve encountered over the years, pinning down helpless girls and killing them when they’ve outlived their usefulness. I shudder at the thought, but no, I can’t picture him doing it.

  Turning away, I start limping across the gardens. The soft grass caresses my bare toes and the sound of crickets echoes in the distance as the sun drops below the horizon. I make my way to the pond, and the second I sit on the low wall surrounding it, a sense of calm washes over me. The whirlwind of thoughts in my mind quiet to a low murmur, and I feel like I can truly breathe for the first time in days. The fish swim up to greet me, and I touch the mirrored surface of the water, watching as they suckle my fingertips.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, but the sun is long gone by the time I realize how cold I am. True to his word, I haven’t seen Lucas at all.

  “You seem to like the gardens.”

  I jump, my hand flying to my chest at the sound of the deep voice somewhere behind me. Whipping around, I scan the shadows through narrowed eyes. A figure steps forward, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Rafael. He’s absent of his usual suit and instead, wears workout pants and a tight white t-shirt that showcases his powerful frame. The ink that winds over his skin seems even darker in the moonlight.

  “Rafael.”

  “Well?” I stare at him. “The gardens?” he demands as though my answer is actually important.

  “It’s…peaceful,” I say. I can’t truly remember a time when I felt even a trace of peace. Perhaps with my sister, when I was a child.

  He moves closer to me and takes something from his pocket. There’s a click, and a flame dances in front of his face, casting his features in an orange glow. The scent of cigar smoke winds around me, blending with the citrusy smell of his aftershave and the flowers blooming out here.

  “I come out here to think,” he says, almost to himself.

  “I’ll go.”

  “No,” He says quickly. “Stay.” There’s a beat of silence, and I want to leave, but something about the way he says it makes me stay.

  I nod and re-take my seat on the wall. I can feel his eyes on me, but I say nothing. And there we stay, him smoking his cigar and me staring at the pond as though my very salvation lies within the black waters. When I turn around to look at him, he’s gone, the lingering scent of cigar smoke the only clue that he was ever really here.

  I wake up, my head pounding painfully as I rise to consciousness, trying to recall where I am. I try to move, only to find that I can’t. I yank against the metal hospital-style cuffs
that strap me to the bed, my pulse steadily rising. It’s dark in the room, and the musty smell of sweat and sex swims around me. This is new and new is never good because I can’t predict how bad it will be. All I can hear is the air rattling in my lungs with a very familiar fear. I yank again, and this time my fingers brush something, or someone, next to me. I freeze and squeeze my eyes shut as I listen to the hammering drumbeat of my heart trying to escape my ribs.

  “Anna,” the soft whisper comes from beside me.

  “Ellie,” I whimper. Only Ellie calls me Anna. She’s the only one who knows my real name. And then it all comes rushing back. We escaped. I could see the fence. We were so close, and then…nothing.

  “What –” I’m cut off by the sound of a door opening, cutting a blinding shaft of light across my face. I squint and then it disappears before the overhead lights come on. The master strolls over to the foot of the bed, a wide grin on his face. I tremble at his approach. Everything in me wants to run away, to get as far from this man that I know is capable of so much suffering. But I can’t, so instead the adrenaline and the fear builds and builds to the point where my mind feels as though it may break. Hysteria lingers on the edge of my senses, my lungs struggle for air, and my body shakes violently. Ellie’s fingers gently thread through mine, and I cling to her.

  “I’m so very disappointed, amado. Have you forgotten our last lesson so soon?” No, I haven’t. My back still aches from the open, bleeding welts where his men struck me with a metal rod over and over again. All because I wouldn’t tell him what he wants to hear. He’ll surely kill me for trying to escape… I can only hope.

  He leans over the bed and brushes the hair away from my face. I flinch, every muscle going tense. I feel the rush of warm breath over my lips as he laughs before he kisses me. I want to slam my mouth shut and force him out, but I know better, so I force myself to open them. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, and I fight the urge to gag. He pulls back and grips my jaw painfully. “Do you not love me anymore, amado?” he says with that glint in his eye that promises pain.