I pause, waiting for an answer. When Guzman remains speechless, I whip out my gun and point it towards the mirror. Without hesitation, I pull the trigger, firing ten rounds towards the wall. Guzman ducks, his hands covering his head as he crawls towards the door. I hear shouts and screams from the other side of the mirror as bits and pieces shatter in the hail of my bullets.
The room fills with smoke, dust, and ash, but I spot Guzman attempting to open the door. I reach out, whipping him back into the chair, as I hold the gun to his head. “Your men are so weak they can’t even manage to guard their kingpin.” I point my gun towards the bodies of two men sitting behind where the fake, antique mirror was. The dummy room is splattered with red streaks of blood.
Guzman’s voice is weak, shaking, and plainly uncomfortable. After a few beats, he finally answers, “What do you want, Tank? More men?”
“No. I want you to keep going with Abe’s plan. Lead him on. Play his game, you get me? And then, I want your best man, your sniper. I know you have one. You have enough guard towers here to have trained someone, maybe an ex-soldier or something. You tell him that he’s ridin’ with me tonight, and he’d sure as shit better follow every single goddamn one of my orders. And I’m not playing fucking games here either. You don’t just get me the guy. You get me the names and addresses of his family. Something goes wrong, they pay. That’s the long and short of it. Comprende?”
“Sí,” he says and nods. “Yes. I hear you.” I turn to walk away, but he calls after me, “And… what’s in it for me?”
I spin on my heel and stare a dagger towards him. “What’s in it for you?” I repeat incredulously.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding and stroking his chin.
I take a deep breath. “You’ll be… repaid,” I say slowly. “Handsomely. See, I get you. I get how you play the game. So you want cash? You’ll get your cash. A third of the haul for the next ten years. But I call the shots, and your men answer to me. They stay in the U.S. and ride along the border. But you’ll get what you need to pay them. We got a deal?”
“I want half,” he counters quickly. “And…and my men still report to me.”
I scoff. The little shit thinks this is a negotiation. But at this point, I need him, so I play ball. “A third,” I insist firmly, “and I’m in charge. But I’ll give two of your boys leadership and recruitment posts.” I quickly pull the gun out of my pocket and push it up against his sweating, shaking neck. “And, if you’re really good, I won’t waste you right here, right now.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine!” he shouts, lifting his hand to mine. I shake it quickly before turning away from him, as he slumps in his chair, his eyes fixed on the bodies lying helplessly in a heap before him. I watch as he stands and walks towards the frame that is still nailed securely up against the wall. He licks his thumb and wipes a smear of blood from around the edge.
As he continues to clean, I grab my phone from my pocket and dial Sierra’s number. After three or four rings, Abe answers again. His voice is tired, almost disappointed. “Oh Tank! Calling back so soon. I thought we wouldn’t hear from you until our meetup tonight.”
I pause a bit, trying my best to sound distracted and disinterested. “That’s the thing, Abe. I’m not coming.”
“What?”
“I’m not coming. After I talked with my boys and the corpse of the Aztec I killed, we decided she isn’t worth it. You do with her what you have to. I don’t care.”
“Tank, I’m not kid—”
“I know you’re not. I accept that. An eye for an eye, right? So you do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do. I mean, she was great for a few fucks, but that’s about it. Not worth getting myself killed over her.”
“Do you want her to hear that you’re abandoning her? She’s right here beside me, on her hands and knees.”
“You do what you have to. I’m out, Abe. Enjoy her.”
I click the phone off, unable to take it any longer. I walk back into the hallway and down towards the plaza where my bike is waiting for me.
Chapter 26: Broken Apart
“Did you hear that, you bitch?” He spat at me as I curled up against the side of the bed. “Your lover boy isn’t coming for you! Ha! Now I get to decide what to do with you.”
Abe licks his bottom lip slowly, taking me in as I try to reach my arms around the bed’s wooden leg. Before I can grab on, his hands are around my feet, yanking me towards him. I slide against the carpet and land in between his legs. He studies me, takes me in. This was a moment he had been wanting for so long, and now there was literally nothing in his way.
I watch motionless, as he begins to unbutton his shirt. His fingers linger at each button as if this is a show for me, something that I want to see and experience. That, or he is doing it to torture me. With Abe, I can’t tell what kind of sadistic beast he plans on being at any given moment. When the shirt falls off his shoulders, he removes his arms and tosses it over my head, covering my face up. I’m actually glad for the brief moments of darkness. But above me, I can hear him rustling with his pants. The huge silver belt buckle jingles, as it slides onto the floor next to my head.
Abe removes the shirt from over my head and pulls me up from under my arms. His naked body glows in the darkness of the bedroom, but I can make out the line of his arms, the round stomach, the hairs around his chest and shoulders. I swallow hard as I try not to blush, but this is not the sort of man I have ever wanted to be naked around, and now it’s being forced on me.
“Go!” he commands, as he turns me around and pokes me with a finger between the shoulder blades. “Go to the bathroom. You’re going to help me see if you’re worth anything but a grave.”
I walk slowly towards the adjacent room. My aching legs and upper body can barely hold myself up, and every part of me cringes and moans as I try to shuffle through the carpeted space. I flick the bathroom light on, revealing red marble countertops with the double white porcelain sinks.
I look over my shoulder at Abe who is smiling devilishly at me. “Crawl to the bathtub, bitch.” I feel a hand slam me down to the cold tile floor. My hands slip as I fall onto my chest, and I hesitate to get back up. Still, he shouts louder, “Crawl, Sierra! I want to see you on all fours!”
My hands take over, as I close my eyes and feel my way through the bathroom. I can hear him breathe heavily behind me as he follows, but I try to keep my mind focused on my freedom, my plan, and my Tank. I know what Abe told me he said. I know that maybe there is some truth there, but I can’t let myself go down that road. I can’t doubt that what I feel in my heart for Tank isn’t real and that he doesn’t feel the same way for me.
There is no turning back. I am in it for the whole game. And that means waiting patiently for Tank to come save me from this hell that Abe has concocted for me…for us.
My shoulder slams into the hard side of the tub first, causing me to reverb back onto the ground. I keep my gaze forward, as Abe leans over me, his large belly touching the top of my head, and turns on the water. He pours a few of the jar contents in, causing bubbles to float and fly out almost instantly.
One of his pale, hairy legs hitches over my head, followed by the other. He sinks slowly into the small pool and turns on the jets that fire on loudly. He shouts towards me over the noise, “Take that dress off.”
I lift my head and look him square in the eye as I quietly say, “No.”
“What did you say to me?” A splash of water falls over the side of the tub as he swims closer to the edge.
“I said no. I am not taking off my dress.” My voice had stopped shaking. It was defiant and proud. It was a voice that said I wasn’t going to mess around anymore.
“If you don’t take off that dress, I will rip it off of you myself.” His bubble-covered hand drifts out of the water and takes the low, black neckline of my strapless dress in his grip. I pull forward with the motion so that my upper body leans over the deep tub. He pulls my head next to his so that I can practically tast
e his stale, ashy breath on my nose.
“Undress, Sierra. I’m not messing around.”
He throws me back to the ground, as I tumble once more. I take a deep breath, scanning my surroundings. There’s a pair of fury white slippers by the door and towels you would only find at hotels laid out on the shelves and holders. Above me on the countertop was a crystal jewelry holder with someone’s initials faintly carved into it: “JG.” Everything is way too ornate to belong to Abe. It’s almost as if he’s stolen this dream house to put me into it. It’s his fantasy come true.
I use the edge of the sink to pull myself off, dusting my hands on my bloody, bruised knees. I focus back on Abe, who is watching me contently. My hands reach around my own back and find the zipper. I slowly yank it down the span of my back, past the countertop with the crystal jewelry holder, down to my thighs, and the pristine towel set laid out on their holder.
My hands remain behind my back, as I let the dress slip down my breasts and hips and onto the floor. I wiggle out of my panties, revealing myself fully to Abe, who practically looks as if he could devour me from his place in the tub. His voice is lost in his throat as he murmurs, “Good girl. Very good girl.” His hands pat at the water still filling the tub. “Bathe me, Sierra.”
His head points down to a bar of soap near the side of the tub where I am standing. I lean down slightly and pick the hard bar up in my hands before gritting my teeth and reaching across to where he is lying. I start at his chest, moving quickly up and down his body. I don’t dare go under the waterline, but instead focus on the shoulders and neck where it’s safe.
Abe grows impatient with me and my shaking hands. He wraps a hand around my wrist and dives my arm down into the water where his hard cock is waiting for me. The soap slips from my fingers, as he places my palm on the shaft. I don’t flinch. I grab hold, just as he likes. He smiles and lays back, his eyes closed tight in satisfaction. A small moan escapes his thin, dried lips.
The hand still held behind my back reacts. I let go of his cock as I use all of my strength to slam the crystal jewelry holder onto the top of his bald head. It crumbles and shatters into pieces. Abe’s head sways and softens and falls slumped over his shoulders. Small rivers of blood quickly seep into the water, causing it to turn a pale pink.
I reach over and feel his pulse. His heart’s still beating, but his breathing is labored and slow. I know I don’t have much time, so I turn the water off and grab some of the towels from their holder and wrap them around his shoulders. The white fabric turns red almost instantly as it covers the gaping wounds from around his head and neck.
I don’t have much strength, but I muster up all that I can to lift his body up and over the side of the tub. A trail of water and red follow us, as I bend down and pull him across the marble floor and back to the bedroom. It’s a slow, labored process, but it has to be done. I stop every few feet to rest, breathe, and listen for the sound of his men coming. But they don’t. It’s as if this place emptied out after Tank’s last phone call.
We finally make it back to the bed where I use a stool to lift him into the king-sized bed. His wet body sinks into the silk sheets, and I roll him away from the door, facing the back wall. I run back to the bathroom and grab the remaining towels and the belt buckle. When I return back to the bed, I manage to lift his arms over his head to strap them and his ankles to the bedposts. He’s secure. At least as secure as I can make him. But that’s not going to stop him from screaming. I run back to his clothes and grab his socks which are practically soaking wet from his sweat. As I open his jaw and stuff the fabric in, I find myself almost laughing deliriously to myself.
I stand back and look at my handiwork. It’s crude and the red stains are becoming even deeper on the sheets, but it’ll do for right now. I run over to his jeans and grab my cell phone out of his pocket. As I begin to search my contacts, I hear it…the sound of footsteps in the distance. Someone calls Abe’s name, as they walk slowly down the hallway. My eyes flicker back and forth between the rooms, unsure what to do or where to hide.
As the door creeps open, I slip into the bed, under the covers next to Abe’s naked, wet body. Our bare skin touches, as I lean into him as if I’m spooning a loved one. The door opens just as I settle in and shut my eyes tightly. The man begins to talk, “Abe, there’s a problem. The boys—” He pauses and steps further into the room. I can feel his eyes on me and my naked back, my leg hitched over Abe’s hip and thigh. He mutters to himself, “Oh shit. Sorry boss.”
The door clicks shut, and I quickly dart out of the bed as fast as I can. I run back into the bathroom and dress myself, washing the blood off of my arms and chest as I go. All the while, my eyes stay laser focused on the mirror pointing towards the bed for any sign of movement from Abe. When nothing happens, I sink down next to his side of the bed and take out the phone still clenched in the palm of my hand.
Tank’s name comes up first, as I press the call button, but all sense comes back to me. I can’t wake anyone. I can’t make a sound without getting caught. I push the big red “End” button and swipe over to my texts. Tank has never sent me a text message before, but I have to trust he’ll read one from me.
“Tank. It’s me. It’s Sierra. I’m texting you my GPS coordinates. Please, please, find me.”
I close my eyes and try to remember how Carmen taught me to send my current location to her phone. I was going out with a guy from an art history class that she didn’t exactly trust. As he waited outside in his car for me, honking his horn in frustration, her snobby, concerned self added knowingly, “When that creep tries to do something to you, you’ll want to know how to do this Sierra. How else am I going to find your dead body in the back of his car?”
Now I’m realizing that sending this text could mean life or death. I figure it out quickly and watch as the picture of the map and the random number coordinates zoom out of my inbox and into space. I hold my breath as I wait for him to reply. Minutes pass before my phone lights up.
“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” My heart falls in my chest with a thud. I should have known he wouldn’t believe that it was me, considering Abe had my phone for the last two phone calls.
I answer back quickly a blast of words that I think could mean something to us:
“The plaza. My back against the wall. You and me in the hospital elevator. My ripped red dress. Your mother’s recipes.”
The last one is enough. He replies back, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
I don’t want to talk about me, but I know he won’t let up until I reassure him that I am going to be fine. So I answer honestly, “Abe roughed me up, but I think I’m going to be okay. I knocked Abe out cold though. I tied him to the bed. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to stay asleep. Please hurry, Tank.”
There’s another long pause between messages before he answers the words I have been dying to hear again. “I’m coming to get you Sierra. I’m on my way with my guys. We know where you are. You did good, so just stay strong, and don’t do anything stupid.”
I place the phone under the bed, tucked beneath the folds of the bed skirt. The relief of knowing he’s coming causes me to fall back against the side of the soft bed. All the energy I had been holding in, trying to preserve, has disappeared, as I let myself go. After all, Tank is coming to get me, and I am going to be okay. He is going to make this nightmare go away, and we’ll ride off into the early morning light together.
But as I close my eyes and drift slowly away, I feel the earth under me rattle and shake. The bed against my back begins to heave with the weight of the man on top of it waking up. His arms sputter and flail wildly as a muffled cry escapes through the sock stuffed in his mouth. Abe is waking from my attack, madder than hell, and Tank and my big daring rescue is still miles away.
Chapter 27: Rally Cry
She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. I just repeated that message over and over in my head. It was the only thing keeping me sane, as my team of Rafael an
d two marksmen shooters rode back over the US border from Mexico.
Still, my bike couldn’t go fast enough. It couldn’t roar loud enough. It couldn’t get me to her soon enough. After I received her text message with her GPS coordinates, I forwarded it to my crew back at headquarters. Our tech guy spent all of three minutes looking up the coordinates before coming up with the owner of the home—Guzman himself. It was another safe house meant for his family for when they were in the States.
When I found out, I pulled over the side of the road, the men following behind me. Rafael translated my questions, as I drilled the men on what they knew about the complex and house’s security. Luckily for me, they knew more than anyone else could have. One had even worked as a guard and knew the passcode to take the high-tech security system down with just eight numbers.
Devil's Claim: Apaches MC Page 19