“Looks like you’ve got everything laid out perfectly. You’ve done the best you can do. We all want Caden to make it back alive.”
“Yeah, man, but we both know what they say about the best laid plans... The money doesn’t mean a damn thing to me, but Caden… I just want her safe.” Then, quieter this time, “When I get that woman in my arms, I’m never letting her go.”
His face is grim, his jawline chiseled as it clenches with determination. It wouldn’t do me a bit of good to argue with him. It’s quickly becoming obvious that Caden would be in good hands with Tony. So I do what any self-respecting best friend would do in the circumstances. I give him my blessing.
“You get her out alive and she’s yours.”
Chapter Forty Two
His Appointment
She makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while I make a call on my satellite phone. She holds up a piece of bread as a way of asking me if I want her to make me one. I nod and she busies herself with the task at hand, then goes to the fridge and comes back with the sandwich and a Corona for me, and a bottled water for her. We sit at her kitchen table together as I try the call a second time. How can any woman make something so mundane look so sexy?
“That’s one bulky ass phone, my friend,” she declares as she licks a smudge of peanut butter from her thumb. I put the phone down, much preferring to talk to her.
“Satellite phones go boldly where a cell phone can’t. The remote jungles of Colombia don’t come with internet access. No cell phone access so you get your connection from space. Not the same functionality as a cell phone, either. Just the basics -- phone calls and short text messages.”
“Santiago, why did you do it? We’ve spent a lot of time together at The Club, so I know you’re smart. You’ve got so much going for you. You’ve moved up steadily in the cartel – hell, you made it from doing grunt work for them, all the way up to being a boss. You did it alone, with no help from anyone. And now this…killing women?! How do you go from being a top drug runner to a serial killer?”
“Caden, I’m not a serial killer but I know something’s wrong with me.” I scrub my hands over my face and run my fingers through my hair in frustration before leaning back in my chair on a deep exhale. Fine. She wants to know? Then I’ll tell her. "It started when I was a kid. I’d hide under the house and lure neighborhood pets. They thought they were getting a treat or a pat on the head, but I’d snap their neck instead. And it didn’t stop with that. I wanted to see what was inside them, so I’d cut them open after I killed them. I wanted to feel the warmth waft up through the air from their bodies. I wanted to feel their blood run through my fingers while it was still warm and sticky.”
I let out a shaky sigh of relief, my burden lightened now that the ugliness is finally out in the open. “That worked for a while when I was a kid, but then puberty kicked it into high gear. I started fantasizing about women…dark, twisted fantasies. I searched online for snuff films. When I watched them, I became incredibly aroused and felt, I don’t know, comforted, I guess, that I wasn’t alone in my dark thoughts. The porn sites worked for a while, too, but the desire to kill a woman didn’t go away. But even so, the first kill was an accident.
“I’d brought a woman up from Mexico. She needed to be trained. She was a fighter, that one, and I enjoyed the challenge. When I fucked her, I wrapped my hands around her throat and squeezed. I didn’t mean to kill her, but the panic and fear in her eyes sent me over the edge and I couldn’t stop. I had to see it through. I’d never felt such power before. It was sublime.” I shake my head harshly, trying to clear it of such seductive thoughts. They have no place here; not with her.
“Everything you just said is the textbook profile of a serial killer. Why haven’t you killed me, then?”
“I could never kill you, Caden. I love you. You’ve been good to me. Even now I don’t see any judgment in your eyes. If I told someone else what I just told you, they’d be disgusted.”
“But don’t you see? That tells me you can control these urges. You’re contradicting yourself. You say you love control, yet you acknowledge you’re out of control when you kill. I refuse to believe that’s your true nature. You’re cartel, so I know you’re no angel.” She leans forward, her message urgent, her voice pleading. “But you’re not a monster, Santiago. The fact that I’m sitting here with you, talking like this, proves it. You just need help. You can save yourself. You need to talk to someone. Please, let me help you.”
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly fascinated by the weave of the rug under my feet. “Yeah, what I need is to talk to my Colombian contacts if they’d ever answer the fucking phone.”
“After that, then will you get the help you need?” There’s an earnestness in her eyes that tells me she’s serious about this. She wants to help me. Perhaps I haven’t been using the right technique to win her over. Maybe she’s needed a stray to rescue all along. I don’t give a fuck what ploy I have to use to make her mine; I want her and I’ll do whatever it takes.
I have no way of knowing I’ll have some stiff competition in the form of Jorge Antonio Ramirez.
“I’ll think about it, cara mia.”
Chapter Forty Three
Brook
Tony sent us home when we realized there wouldn’t be any contact tonight. I was glad to get back here and get a shower. After the day we’ve had, this glass of wine is just what I need. None of us thinks Santiago would harm Caden, so he convinced Diego to wait overnight until we get the go-ahead to move on Santiago. No doubt Santiago will be expecting us, so a brief delay may throw him off enough to give us a tactical advantage.
I feel Diego’s eyes on me from across the room. I look up and have to remind myself to breathe as he approaches me—with a knife in his hand. My heart pounds with anticipation. I never know what he’s going to do to me next.
“I like knives. Some people are more afraid of knives than they are guns. What are you afraid of, my Arroyita?” His voice crawls under my skin and wraps itself around my bones.
“You,” I answer him with no hesitation.
“Very good.” He strokes the point of the knife against my chest, just above my heart. “I love the way your body responds to me. Your skin quivers against the blade as your heart pounds, just here. And your pupils are dilated. I see your fear. Your fear is beautiful.”
He lifts the knife slightly at an angle so that the tip catches in the fabric of my top. He slices through it and I press my body back into the mattress to keep the blade from cutting me.
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t cut you…unless I want to.” His soft tone and expression tell me he hasn’t quite made up his mind where he’s going with all this.
With the tip of the knife he flips one side of the sliced fabric over to the side, then he repeats the move on the other side, baring my breasts. His movements are slow and methodical. I wonder if he thinks up these scenes in his head in advance because every time he touches me, his approach is different. He rests the knife on the nightstand then sits on the side of the bed, placing his hands on the mattress by my shoulders. His eyes roam freely over my body, his gaze eventually focusing on my face.
“How do you want it, baby?”
“I want it hard, so hard that I never forget how it feels to belong to you. And soft enough that you’ll haunt my dreams. I’m scared, Diego. I don’t want this to be our last night together.”
He stands and rests a knee on the bed before lowering his body onto mine. His voice soft and insistent as he nuzzles my neck and strokes a breast, “As much as I love an adrenaline rush, I love you more. You give me a reason to live, cara mia. Remember, it isn’t just you and me on this job. Tony’s the best at what he does. He was raised cartel and his military training took him to the next level. We’re not in this alone.”
He rolls to his side and presses a kiss to my palm, then picks up the knife from the nightstand and makes a shallow cut on the pad of my thumb. The blade makes a barely discernible hissing sound
as it scores my flesh. Yeah…I never know what he’s going to do. Blood runs down my thumb and onto the sheets. He does the same thing to his thumb and then presses our thumbs together.
“Now…we’re bound by blood. We’re not just bound by cartel bloodshed, now our blood flows as one, into each other’s veins.”
“I didn’t need bloodshed to feel close to you.”
“You need what I say you need and right now you need these panties off.” He picks up the knife again and slips the blade through the fabric and I’m careful not to move so I don’t get cut again. He keeps his knives rapier sharp; a tiny flinch is all it would take to cut me. He slices them in half, cutting a length of fabric from the top of the panty and tying it around my cut thumb. When he finishes, he holds out his thumb for me to do the same to him, and for an instant I can see exactly how he must have looked as a little boy, holding up his hurt thumb for a Band-aid. I tie the fabric around his bloody thumb and kiss it for good measure.
He gets up and pours me more wine, I can see the outline of his erection pressing against his jeans. He turns toward the bed and smirks when he catches me checking him out. He saunters over to the end table and grabs a marker. He leans down and writes his signature over my collarbone. He takes a picture of it with his phone.
“You better not show that to anybody.”
His hand moves down to my pubic bone, past the still-tender tattoo of the Equis and the writing that declares I’m property of Diego. He writes a single word: Mine. He takes another photo and looks at the image as he whispers, “Perfect.” Then, “Bend your knees and spread your legs for me, cara.”
I blush because I’ve never had anyone see my anatomy up this close. My most private part is spread open for him to see every detail.
He positions himself between my legs. When I attempt to close them, he pinches the inside of my leg and my legs fly open.
“That’s better. Your pussy is so pretty.” His voice is a possessive growl.
His tongue begins to assault my senses, exploring every area of me as if he’s savoring the moment. “So fucking sweet.”
My hips move in a dance of need, trying to gain contact with his tongue.
“Is this what you need?” He asks with the confidence of a man who knows what he’s doing when it comes to pleasing a woman.
My only answer is to cry out as he takes me up higher and higher until every nerve in my body detonates, triggering a series of shudders as my thighs lock around his head and my back arches in pleasure. I lie there limp as he undresses, not even moving when the mattress dips with his weight just before he mounts me. He studies every detail of my face for my reaction as he pushes his length into my soaked pussy.
“The rush I get when I push my cock into you never gets old. I’m filling you up with me. I want to crawl inside you and become part of you. If there was anything I could do to get closer to you, I would. I love you.”
“Te’ amo mucho,” I answer him with the words I know he has waited for and wants to hear.
He exhales harshly and his thrusts become urgent, his hips pistoning into me at a punishing pace. Suddenly his body shudders and his neck muscles clench as he throws his head back and roars his release.
He’s got it all wrong; he doesn’t need to climb inside of me to be one—we are one.
Chapter Forty Four
Her Fear
I just bared the ugliness of my deepest secrets to a woman who will surely run from me the first chance she gets, yet I feel like I’ve cleansed my soul. And in return, she offers me compassion. I have found my confessor.
I’ve never opened up to anyone about the monster that lives in me. I have to know why she doesn’t judge me. The things I’ve done and still want to do are ugly to the core and so am I. How the hell can she bear to look at me?
“Why aren’t you disgusted with me, woman? How can you even look at me?”
“Would it make you feel better if I judged you? That’s no who I am. ‘Judge not’ and all that. And have you forgotten where I work? My coworkers aren’t exactly Mother Teresa. And me? I’m afraid you’ve put me up on a pedestal I don’t deserve, Santiago. I won’t lie -- I’ve enjoyed it. Who wouldn’t enjoy having an attractive, powerful man lavish attention and praise on her just for showing a little leg or letting him cop a feel occasionally?
“But you need to face facts, my friend. I’ve spent my life using people to make my living. I use my body. I flirt, I tease. I’m a liar. I most certainly don’t condone what you’ve done or what you’re doing right now, but how do you know for sure I’m not appalled at your behavior? I could be lying to you right now and you wouldn’t know it.”
I give her a sad smile. “I’m afraid there’s no help for me, sweet girl. The only way out of the hell I’ve created is death. If you’re thinking the love of a woman can make me a good man, there’s no good in me to even plant the seed so it isn’t even a remote possibility. Now,” I say brusquely, “I must restrain you again. I’ll leave one hand free and put you in the living room so you can watch TV. Don’t make me regret giving you that one privilege.”
“Do what you have to do, but know this: If I get out of this alive—and that’s if you don’t kill me, of course—I’ll forgive you for all of this. I will. But if you do kill me or Diego, I will haunt your ass from the grave. I’ll torment you for the rest of your days. I’ll make your nights one long, endless nightmare. And I will never, ever forgive you.”
Her words send a chill up my spine. She has no way of knowing, but I’m superstitious about that kind of thing. Of anything she could have said, that’s the threat that scares the shit out of me.
“Come with me, then.” My voice is cold, my expression neutral. I want to change this subject. I take her hand and sit her on the couch. I bind her legs and tie one arm to the connecting rope. It frees her up but it will keep her from running.
“I need to make this call. Be quiet. I don’t want them knowing you’re here – not for my own safety but for yours. The more you know, the more danger you’re in.”
“It amazes me they won’t kill you for being a serial killer but they will over cartel business.”
“They won’t just kill me, they’ll kill anyone I care about. And that means you.”
I go back into the kitchen and straighten the mess that we made. The girl’s such a clean freak, I figure I owe it to her. I grab another bottled water for her and my satellite phone and go back into the living room, half expecting her to be gone. But she’s still there, of course, flipping through channels.
“Thanks for cleaning the kitchen. I know it sounds stupid but I like things a certain way around here.”
“If anyone understands control, it’s me. Now remember what I said and be quiet.”
After two times of trying to get through, I finally do. “What the fuck, man? Why did it take me a day to get through to you guys?”
“The weather’s bad, probably has something to do with that. You know how it is -- when it rains, it fucks with the signal. You’re the one who insists on doing something like this during the rainy season.”
“Rain’s a good thing. It gives us the ability to hide.” I push away the dread I can’t help but feel because bad weather is harder to fly in. Once again, I lay my problems squarely at Diego’s feet because he won’t fly that plane.
“Have you got everything ready? All the men in place?”
“Don’t you think it would have been better to wait and convince Diego to fly a shipment in?”
That’s all it takes for the rage in me to boil over. I’m so sick of Diego being the golden boy. “I’ve been in this fucking business for years. I don’t need Diego or anyone else to do my job,” I bellow. “I worked my way up from nothing and you have the nerve to question me?!”
Caden jumps when I yell into the phone. It’s the first time she’s ever seen me this mad and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her frightened. Usually fear is quite the aphrodisiac for me, but her fear doesn’t turn me on in t
he slightest. There’s not even a hint of the hard-on I get when I’m choking and fucking the life out of a woman.
She’s doing something to me, changing something inside me, and I’m not sure I like it. I frown and mouth I’m sorry to try and calm her down. But I’m not angry at her, not at all. What I am is insulted and pissed that one of my men thinks Diego is a more capable boss than I am.
I fucking hate Diego. He interferes with what I want in life on every level. I want to kill him now more than ever. I had it all planned, too, to lure him here to rescue his precious friend and then give him an ultimatum: fly my plane or she dies. I would never kill her, but he has no way of knowing that. But he didn’t rush over here like I expected and now I must proceed with the rest of my plan without him.
Yes, I still want him dead but only if I’m the one to do it. But the worst part of all? Now I can’t even do that…because of her.
Chapter Forty Five
Diego
We’re back in Tony’s office, watching computer monitors and cracking the code on Santiago’s book. Five men can be seen in the jungle pacing, waiting for the plane to arrive. Each man is armed with an AK-47, the favorite firepower of Sinaloa cartel. It’s known for its reliability, accuracy, and a relatively low price. Does a damn good job of killing a man, too.
“Those men out there aren’t our men,” I observe quietly.
Tony begins talking as if he knows what I’m thinking. “They aren’t the only ones out there, though. I have my men strategically positioned on the outskirts of the jungle. It’s all good,” he reassures me, “Santiago’s men are outnumbered and we have the element of surprise on our side. By the time I’m finished, the firepower my men have is going to make that plane and those men nothing but a bad memory. It’s imperative that this operation be successful to send a message to our competition. Also, a bust like this for the FBI will put us in their good graces. Agent Turner isn’t a man who will ever be on payroll but he’ll hold his nose and walk a moral tightrope over a gray area. That’s usually enough to keep us off the feds’ radar.”
The Pimp (Colombian Cartel Book 2) Page 18