Heroine Hearts

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Isla clearly does...”

  “That’s because she’s my girl,” I grouse, making the statement with a hard tone. “Like all the girls, I vowed to protect them... before fuckers like you let an outside threat in and we have to bury them one by fucking one!”

  “Fucking cock war going on in here,” Joaquín announces as he comes in, followed by his entourage, Isla included. “Now men, arguing will get you nowhere.”

  “Well, what else do you suggest because there’s no other way to sort this fucker out than to call him out on what he’s doing to us.” Santiago walks to his father. “He’s destroying us.”

  “No,” Joaquín comments, a mirthful buzz to his tone. “He’s not destroying us. I happen to think his plan is foolproof.

  “Until one of the girls’ falls in love with their man!” Santiago argues, throwing his hands up in the air in disarray. “Then what do we do?”

  “Kill them,” Joaquín responds, quickly and with a blank tone. “It’s very simple, son. Any of these men falls for their girls and any of these girls fall for their men and they die. That is the law of that rule. Men get a girl, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  My gaze slips to Isla, but she remains cool and restrained by Joaquín’s side.

  “But if you two can’t work passed these transgressions, there is really only one way to solve the issue.” He steps forward, adding to his presence. “You resolve this like real men.”

  “Padre,” Santiago starts, clearly aware of what he means.

  “Don’t you want to show Javier here that you’re the strongest fighter we have?” Joaquín asks, furrowing his brow as he focuses on his son. “I mean, you profess to be the heir of this empire, but why do you look so terrified to fight for it?” He gives his son a small smirk, goading him. “I’ve allowed you to run amok as you so wish, Santiago. It’s time for me to see that my son is well worth leaving this all to when I’m gone.”

  Santiago looks stricken and I watch the man he professes to be a lot start to disintegrate. As soon as I notice it, though, he’s quick to retrieve his mask and hide all over again.

  “Fight,” Joaquín retorts and points to me. “Fight Javier and win.”

  There’s a tense moment as Santiago stands tall staring at me, trying to scare me off, but I don’t waver. I’m not afraid of a man like Santiago whose abilities range from being a deluded psychopath to raping and mutilating women. I have fought fiercer men than him and won.

  “I’m up for the fight,” I admit, stepping forward.

  “You won’t win,” Santiago growls, trying harder to intimidate me.

  “We’ll see...” I trail off, adding in a smile to rouse his anger.

  “It’s set then...” Joaquín announces, clapping his hands together in glee. “We have a fight on our hands!”

  I look at Joaquín in shock. He’s far too willing to play his son against the new guy and it unsettles me somewhat. A seed of doubt plants itself, as it would for any man, that maybe his faith does lie in his son too much.

  But then I catch sight of Isla.

  She doesn’t have to speak in order to say a thousand words, and while she looks terrified about what is transpiring, I know she’s wholeheartedly on my side, believing in me. I just loathe knowing she hates what this has come down to.

  “A fight to the death!” Joaquín announces loud and proud. “If anything, you’ll sort this the way the old El Salvador used to.” He looks at me before his son, flicking his gaze between us. “No weapons... just good old bare knuckle fighting.” Joaquín’s face lightens up, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “What do you say, men?”

  “Okay,” Santiago snaps, bringing his hands together to crunch his knuckles. “Let’s do this...”

  I shrug, following him to the middle of the room. I don’t need to goad a psycho when he’s more than capable of seeing this through to the end.

  “Any last words, pretty boy?” Santiago asks, trying to rattle me.

  “Only four...” I say, trailing off for a second. “I’ll enjoy your spot.”

  I even give him a wink to really unnerve him and it works. Like a bull to a red flag, he charges for me, trying to be the best at this and attempt to confuse me by moving around me, forcing me to keep my eyes on him. Santiago prepares to issue the first punch, but I strike first. I don’t pussy-foot around him, I don’t bounce from foot to foot like some boxer wasting my energy, I react.

  After all, it’s him for me and the result of this fight will not only affect my life but Isla’s too.

  I have a reason to fight that is far more powerful than any drug, any wad of money, and any number of girls.

  She’s my one. Not my Eighteen. She’s my one.

  He takes a stumble back and I advance toward him, nailing a new punch onto him. He swings, landing a heavy thump on my ribs, momentarily winding me, but my fight won’t die down this easily. Instead, it strengthens.

  I just punch and hit, lashing out with every available moment I see.

  I don't care for him or for myself. I care about Isla and Gabi and all the fallen girls before and after them. I care for retribution and I believe that every sinner has to pay.

  Santiago forced Isla to pay.

  I'm forcing Santiago to pay.

  And I won't stop until I'm the last man standing.

  I ate a man's heart before, I'd take great delight in eating another's, but only if it’s his. I’d gladly kill this fucker, ask for a knife to hack him open and eat every last piece of his blackened heart.

  “Motherfucker!” Santiago swears after I nail a kidney punch and he comes at me heavier than ever.

  His eyes are now emblazoned, anger ruling him and he’s got one goal in mind – kill Javier Santos. Sadly for him, my reasoning to killing him are far worse and far more intense than his are.

  I get lost in the killer intent, fighting him to win, but feeling new parts of me throb to life. Grief becomes a player, loss consuming me whole-heartedly. I feel the demise of my life all over again and I hold Santiago culprit. It’s why I punch harder, take his hits, and don’t drop to the floor. I lost my life long before I learned that Gabi had died and that’s all Santiago’s doing, his bloodline is full of corrupt monsters that don’t care about the ripple effect of any of their actions. They took my sister, they ultimately forced Isla to kill her and now I have to stand and watch as they drag Isla down into their depths of hell. It’ll be over my dead body that they continue to do this.

  I don’t even realize that my pummeling fists have gained momentum and are landing down far harder than I had intended. Santiago is failing to fight back.

  “STOP!” Joaquín declares,

  “Why would you stop us?!” Santiago roars through his pain.

  I spit the blood from my mouth and cast a look at Santiago. He’s bent double yet as he stands he runs the back of his hand across under his nose, smearing thick blood along his cheek. His left eye is already swollen and his cheek and jaw are bruising.

  “You’re a fucking disgrace... he would’ve killed you!” his father insults, sneering his words. “I thought you’d be able to take him, but while you started losing momentum, Santos was gaining it! I don’t care how much you fucking hate him, Santiago, he stays!”

  “I had him!”

  “To begin with... but then you lost it!” Joaquín doesn’t hold back on showing Santiago just how disappointed he is. “Both should’ve been worthy of being dubbed my top fighters!” Joaquín declares, yet my eyes don’t move from Santiago. “But apparently my son’s tactical skill isn’t as great as it used to be!” He goes over to his son and smacks him around the back of his head. “Maybe if you spent less time fucking puta’s and took less fucking drugs and spent more time building up to be a leader you’d have had him with one punch.” He then turns way, disgusted with Santiago. “Get out of my sight.”

  “I promise you now, I ain’t even done with you, Santos!” Santiago threatens. “Not even close.”

  When Santiago leav
es, I stand undefeated and just run the back of my hand under my nose clearing the blood pouring from my left nostril. Nothing about Santiago unnerves me. He could spiel a million threats at me and I wouldn’t waver. However, if those threats were aimed at Isla, it’d be a different story, but then the hate fire I would fight from would have meant he wouldn’t be alive, he wouldn’t have been walking away.

  “Get him cleared up,” Joaquín orders Isla. “And you go help my son,” he points at one of the girls.

  I take a look at Joaquín as Isla comes to my side and I see the disappointment in his face. I don’t know if it’s all at his son or at the fact that I didn’t relent in my pitiless attack on Santiago, proving myself to not be a weak link. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s taking to see that his son is the loose cannon, the one that’ll kill us all.

  Whatever it is, I don’t care to stay, I allow Isla to lead me from the room while I feel slightly annoyed at my unfinished defeat.

  My thirst for Santiago’s blood is far from over.

  I throw open my bedroom door, immediately reaching for the hem of my shirt, I take it off and toss it aside as I make my way toward the bathroom. All I want is to calm my aching body, kill the throbs and get on with my day. I’m quick to go to the shower, turning on the water and turning back to find Isla standing in the doorway.

  Her eyes trail across my face and down to my body. Wordlessly, she advances across the room, ethereal as always and reaches to gently place a hand on my cheek, her thumb rubbing across my cut lip. Dropping her hand, I try to move away, but she pulls me closer with one tug of my hand.

  “Let me,” she says, tender fingertips graze my ribs, but I cower away. “Javier, you’re hurt.”

  “It’s not that bad. I’m fine.”

  “Not bad?” she asks, gasping taking offense at my offish attitude. “You’re a fucking mess!”

  “I’m fine!” I tell her, slapping her hands away. “It’s just a beating.”

  “You nearly killed one another!” she exclaims, alarm bringing the volume of her words up. “Why would you even agree to that?”

  “Because someone had to have the fucking balls to beat some of the living shit out of him and if I had killed him...” I pause, shaking my head as a small, menacing smirk graces my lips. “I’d have died a happy man.”

  “But I wouldn’t have been happy,” she admits, looking at with a deep intensity and I realize my killing of Santiago wouldn’t have appeased her.

  “Men like Santiago Castillo do not get to live and breathe and reap whatever type of hell they want! They deserve to be six feet under.”

  “If you’d have killed him, they’d have killed you!”

  “And I’d have died a happy man,” I remark, not thinking before I speak.

  “Don’t say that,” Isla scolds, her eyes watering heavily. She even takes a step away from me as if what I just admitted hurt her more than anything she’s survived so far. “Don’t you dare say that!”

  Fear and terror meddle as one, stinging every strand of my being, lashing against my ribcage with every new beat my heart palpitates with. I watch as she starts to shake holding in every tear that is threatening to fall.

  “Isla...” I call out, confusion taking over. “Why are you acting so hurt? You should be fucking happy I’m willing to fight that fucker downstairs. Why would it matter if I died happy because he was dead? Of all the people, you could get fucking upset over and it’s him you choose!”

  “Because I need you!” she sobs, violent tears escaping her. “I have lived so much of this alone, but since you’ve been here I don’t want to anymore!” She finally looks at me and I become speechless at what I see – there’s more want and need than ever before. “I started to think about forever while I watched you fighting him. Stupidly I started to see that idea start to slip away and I mean, I’m the one that keeps on ignoring that. You’re the one that sees forever. I’m not that person! But I stood there and I wanted to scream at you both to stop because he could’ve taken you away from me and with it, he’d have taken my forever.”

  I want to break into a shit-eating grin, draw her into my arms and kiss her like this is all the time we have left together, but I don’t. Instead, I force her to tell me how stupid I am, wait to hear how much she believes we can make it.

  “If he took you from me...” she says, her voice breaking with hysteria. “If he took you from me now I’ve found you...”

  I close the gap, frame her face gently with both my hands and I suspend us at this moment. I’ve seen many shades to Isla, but this one, with this raw intensity I see, is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her.

  “I don’t want to be lost again, Javier.” Her statement is spoken softly, barely audible at most. “Not now I feel like I’ve finally been found.”

  “You’ll never be lost again,” I vow, promising her with every fiber of my being. “Now I have you, I won’t be letting you go. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

  “They threaten it...” she doubts, the sheer terror that sits beneath every syllable awakens something in me. “They’ll always threaten this.”

  “No, they won’t,” I say, stepping up to the post to argue with her.

  “They do,” she continues, her doubt becoming suffocating.

  “No, they don’t,” I say, forcing her head up, bringing with it her gaze. “Isla, I don’t care what happens, but one day I am going to take you and we are going to run as fast as we can and as far as we can.” I place my forehead against hers and I hang at the moment before I release my biggest promise. “Just so you can see forever with me.”

  Forever with Isla seems heaven sent to me.

  I thought I had endured every piece of torture this place had to offer, but they just kept surprising me.

  Long Beach, Los Angeles – my home.

  To be more precise, West Long Island is my home and exactly where Joaquín wants to take us. It’s not even a five-hour drive up the coast, it’s possibly one of the closest places we’ve ever had to do a run to, but it’s also where I come from, where my family used to live and where my entire life resides.

  If anything, it’s where my old life remains suspended.

  Now, they want to send me there to do more of their misdeeds.

  A part of me burns in irritation, angered at them for being this heartless, but another part thrums with the thought of being so close to my family, to my old life, to the me I left behind.

  I know it doesn’t matter if I go back, I won’t reclaim the girl I was when I came to Mexico. She’s no longer here because from all of the pain and suffering a new Isla was born. Yes, she’s damaged and scarred, but she’s resilient and has survived the unthinkable. The sad truth is how weak I can be when the cracks push their limits and I’m nearing rock bottom.

  My resilience to their advances started dying a slow death when I killed Gabi, but since Javier, I relinquished some of the reigns to him and I don’t ever want them back. I grew tired of the fight and was more than willing to allow Javier the chance to fight for me, allow me to rest my weary soul and find peace in recuperating.

  Now, however, my dependency on him is bittersweet and I fear the withdrawal from him won’t be remotely close to what it was to the heroin.

  “Eighteen... are you listening?”

  My head shoots up and I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat my heavy thoughts have formed.

  “Are you going to behave, Eighteen?” Joaquín asks, a hand coming up to push my hair behind my ears. He’s being deliberately gentle with me. “I know this is hard, but I need this to go swimmingly.”

  “It will,” I say, my throat dry as I admit that. “Nothing will go wrong.”

  The tears forming in my eyes are the deceit he needed to know of, but I refuse to utter a word about how badly this could go – for me anyway. This will be the run that will destroy me. I just know it.

  “No need to lie to me,” he says, his voice verging on tender. “You’ll be close to what you really
want in life... how can I trust you?”

  How do I answer him?

  I can’t.

  Being so close to my family and not thinking about some sort of way out are not something I can ignore. I’ll be back where I’ve always wanted to be, but I’ll be watched more intently than ever.

  So I ask the only question I can think about.

  “Should I go on this run?” I ask, my words holding not conviction. “I grew up there, someone will know me.”

  “I don’t really care, Eighteen,” Joaquín comments, giving me a grin. “You’re not there to meet and greet. You’ll be in the back of the SUV, no one can see in and you’ll be ushered into a hotel. Then when it comes to leaving, you’ll be put back in that fucking SUV and driven home.” He croons as he bends his neck downwards toward me, looking me straight in the eyes. “Home, Isla, back to me.”

  Home – this place will never be that for me. No matter what happens or how long I’m stuck in this place, this will never be home. Joaquín will never be where my home is.

  West Long Island is home.

  “I knew you wouldn’t want to behave yourself, so Santiago is going with you... he’ll be keeping an eye on Isla.”

  “But she’s mine,” Javier is quick to argue, interjecting. “He doesn’t get that choice when I’m around.”

  “You’d be correct, but my son is the one who made contact with my associate in Long Island, we allowed him to pick the place. You all do as you’re told because James Bennett is one of my most profitable business acquaintances. You will not screw this up for me. The money he brings to the table is not a laughing matter.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, he’s not to come near Isla.”

  “You don’t get to throw those sort of orders around here, Santos. My son is in charge while I’m not there.”

  “But that wasn’t the deal and I’m not about to watch you fall back from it,” Javier counters. “I fought like a man to be here, I fought harder to claim her and I won’t stop fighting now.”