IMPERFECT MONSTER

by Jennifer Bene

  “She looks like she drinks tequila. Probably grew up here in Miami, didn’t you?” Instead of brushing my cheek this time, he grabbed my chin, angling my head back sharply so I was looking into his dark blue eyes. Bottomless pools, and I had no doubt what he wanted.

  “Diego, jefe said to play nice.” The guy who had stepped away smiled as the one called Diego released my face, the indentions of his fingers leaving ghost sensations on my jaw. “But you should play nice too, Nicole. Tell us what you want to drink. I'll make it.”

  Rolling my shoulders now that no one was pressing me into the chair, I tried to stay calm, to keep them calm by playing along as I scanned the bar from afar. “Fine, sure, but I don’t like tequila. Rum if you have it.”

  “Beach girl for sure.”

  “Wonder if she’s tan all over?” the aggressive one with the gun asked, his gaze threatening as his eyes roamed slowly down my body. I sat up straight in the chair, pressing my hands against the cushion, fighting the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “What do you think, Marco?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Marco was the one walking towards the bar, but he didn’t respond at first. Instead, he stepped behind the bar and pulled down a bottle, the clatter of ice filling the silence.

  “Cabrón, you think she’s tan all over?”

  “I think that jefe said to get her a drink and have her relax while he figures out the money. So, that's what I'm doing, José.” Marco’s voice was quiet, but strong, and I wanted him to come back. He seemed nicer, less scary, and, despite all my best intentions to show up like a badass and get Chris out of this shit, the others were scaring me.

  Chris. My dumbass baby brother.

  José laughed quietly, leaning on the matching chair across from mine. “Want to take bets on whether she has tan lines? Eh, Andre?”

  All eyes went to the quiet one on the couch, and my stomach turned with the way he looked at me. His arms were covered in tattoos, with another one up the side of his neck, and his muscles more than filled out the shirt. Dark hair, dark eyes, I would have almost called him handsome, except he looked like a killer. Violence was etched in every line of his body, and when he continued to stay silent I felt a shiver rush over my skin.

  “My bet is no,” Diego answered instead, but he stepped away from the chair to drop onto the couch beside Andre.

  “Oh, I’d bet she’s got a few,” José said, sinking into the chair to lean forward on his knees, eyes never leaving me. “Want to help us settle a bet, belleza?”

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  “Maybe later.” The laughter came from Diego, and I swallowed hard, briefly wondering if I could make it to the door… and out of the long drive, before one of them caught me.

  Not a fucking chance.

  “Here. Drink it.” Marco had returned, offering the glass of rum, another one in his own hand. I accepted it, and he caught my eye as he took a long drink of his own. Like some silent assurance it wasn’t drugged.

  Sure, Nicky. Just drink the strange drink the drug dealer’s goons brought you. So smart.

  But with all eyes on me, it wasn’t like I had a choice. Finally, I took a sip, the sweet burn of the rum not setting off any alarms, and they all smiled — except the massive guy on the couch.

  He just stared, took another drink from his bottle, and stared some more. Dark eyes burning holes in my skin.

  So, instead of responding I looked down, avoiding all of them. Praying silently that Paulo García would accept the last of my parents’ life insurance money, and let me go. Let Christopher out of his dumbass debt, and then I’d beat the shit out of him as soon as he was out of the hospital.

  Three

  Andre

  The first hour she’d sat in that chair, sipping her one glass of rum, the guys had circled her like wolves… but I’d refused to move. Mostly empty bottle of tequila propped on my thigh, fuzzy eyes glued to her perfectly pink lips, I tried to convince myself I was standing guard.

  That as long as I was sitting close, the guys wouldn’t do anything.

  Not without Paulo’s permission anyway.

  I grimaced and upended the tequila bottle, swallowing one of the last dregs. Fortunately, alcohol was something Paulo had in spades.

  Mercy, unfortunately, was not.

  Which was a bad deal for Nicky Harris.

  Not Nicole, Nicky. It was the first name she’d given, the one she was clearly more comfortable with, and while the others were calling her Nicole, I knew she was a Nicky. Too smart-mouthed, too brash to be a Nicole. Paulo kept calling her belleza, beauty, and it meant that the man had some of the same ideas I did about those pink lips — another stroke of bad luck for the girl.

  Diego glanced over, and I focused on him. He was the one I needed to watch the most. He’d already touched her twice, looping closer to her every time he stood up from the poker table to get another drink. José was getting off on scaring her, Marco was playing some kind of knight in denim armor routine, and I was just watching her.

  I could tell I was freaking her out, those blue eyes widening whenever she flicked them towards me, but that was for the best. She needed to stay far away from me. I hadn’t been human in so long, I wouldn’t know what to do with someone like her.

  Someone good.

  Someone innocent enough to think she could bully men like these and leave without repercussions. That didn’t stop my cock from twitching inside my pants whenever she brushed the rim of that damn glass across her bottom lip.

  “Andre.” It was Paulo, speaking from the edge of the room, and I lifted my eyes from her to see the smile of the devil himself. “Walk with me.”

  Looking back at Nicky, I found her eyes already on me, the fear so clear that I could almost taste it.

  As sweet as she probably tasted.

  Fuck.

  Standing, I adjusted my dick in my jeans to ease the pressure, and forced myself to walk to Paulo like a good little soldier. Anything to put some space between me and the girl, because right now she stood a better chance with Diego than she did with me.

  Silently, we crossed the foyer towards his office, the French doors open on one side, and Paulo took one of his favorite positions — leaning against the front of his massive desk.

  “She’s interesting, don’t you think?” Paulo had dropped the smile, his face as blank as what I imagined my own looked like, but I didn’t really know. I’d been avoiding mirrors for years.

  “She’s stupid.”

  The edge of Paulo’s mouth twitched. “For coming here? Yes. But her brother did owe me money, and I made calls. One of my men put him in the hospital.”

  “That’s probably why she’s pissed, jefe,” I replied, deadpan, and Paulo simply nodded.

  “Yes. There is only one problem.”

  “What?” I asked, feeling the cold settle deep into my bones. Paulo had a plan, I could hear it in his voice, and his plans never turned out good for the target.

  “She only brought twenty thousand. He still owes five more.” The man was still, unmoving, waiting for some kind of response, but I had no idea what he wanted to hear.

  It was a shitty situation. She shouldn’t have come here. She was innocent in this. A stupid, innocent, honey-skinned girl. But she’d already handed herself over to the devil to try and save her brother — even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  “How do you think I should get the rest of that money, Andre?” Paulo glanced down at his desk, adjusting a statue on it until the base was parallel with the edge, and then those soulless eyes were back on mine.

  “Does she have any family to ransom her to?” I felt a flicker of something in my chest when I said the words, but I ignored it. Guilt was something I’d lost the ability to feel too long ago.

  “Unfortunately, no. I made calls for that too. She is alone, with her brother. Bad for her… he likes the drugs. Wants to sell, but cannot keep his hands off the product so he makes bad choices.” Paulo loosely gripped the edge of his desk, tilting hi
s head. “I could sell her.”

  Another twinge somewhere under my ribs, a sinking feeling in my stomach, but then all I could imagine was her naked. Her thighs spread, back arching, with sweet, desperate sounds leaving those pretty lips. “You could,” I acknowledged, choking off the visions in my head.

  “Or I could keep her. Use her until I am bored of her.” He inclined his head. “Until all of you are bored with her.”

  The vision was back, full force, and my cock grew stiff, pressing against my zipper. I could hear her whimpers against my ear, feel the way her flesh would give as I pinned her down. It would be so easy. And that was the offer on the table. Her. I wanted the final drops of the tequila in my hand to burn out the thoughts, but that would be a tell. Paulo would read my tension, my interest, instantly.

  You're off the deep end, Andre. You're fucking gone.

  “Do you want a drink?” Paulo asked, a hint of amusement in his tone, and I knew I had twitched. Imagining fucking the girl had broken my concentration, but I looked down at the bottle like I'd forgotten I had it.

  “It’s empty.” Turning it up I swallowed the last bit of tequila, reveling in the burn, even though it didn't dim the vision of Nicky spread out in front of me. “See?”

  Paulo didn't react at all. “So, how do I get the rest of my money?”

  “However you want to, jefe.”

  Why the fuck are you asking me?

  The man’s hands tightened on the desk, a short flash of irritation that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “What would you do in my situation, cuadro?”

  I swallowed with a suddenly dry throat. He wanted me to choose. Sentence this girl to being whored out in some shithole south of the border, or being a prisoner in this house with the same damn result.

  All over five grand.

  I knew Paulo didn't give a shit about the money. He'd lost ten times that when a runner had been picked up the month before. No, this wasn't about the money, it was about her. Nicky Harris. Her fucking attitude, her lithe curves, the fire inside her.

  Paulo wanted to snuff it out, to crush it in his palm and feel it die… but I just wanted to touch it. To touch her. To taste her. To remind myself what good felt like one more time before this world destroyed her too, and I couldn't do that if she disappeared.

  The decision was going to take another piece of my dwindling soul, another flapping scrap of my humanity torn away — which was exactly what Paulo wanted. He wanted this to be on me. For everything they'd do to her to be laid at my feet, and as the visions flickered inside my head again, I already knew the words that would leave my mouth. “I'd keep her.”

  The slow smile on Paulo’s lips was a promise of hellfire, but I was already headed there anyway.

  May as well reserve my seat with a little sweetness on my tongue.

  * * *

  Diego was squatting in front of her when we walked back into the room. He was hunched forward, trying to catch the girl’s eyes as he taunted her. “Mírame. Give me a smile. Come on. I bet you’re pretty when you smile.”

  My fingers twitched against the bottle in my hand, but I didn’t do a damn thing about it, stopping my feet a half step behind Paulo’s. I’d made the choice, and that meant Diego would get his hands on her sooner rather than later.

  You shouldn’t have come here, Nicky.

  The burnt orange light of the evening sun filtered in through the windows, those elegant gauzy curtains glowing with it. It set the room on fire, made her blonde hair shine, and I knew Paulo saw it too. Took it in with the slow, thoughtful deliberation that made him so fucking dangerous.

  “Ms. Harris,” he purred, and she snapped to attention, her head jerking around to follow him as he paced deeper into the room so he could face her. I moved the other way, circling behind her chair to slip back into my spot on the couch, but I noticed the death grip she had on the leather seat. White knuckled, panic evident even as Diego backed off. “It seems we have a problem.”

  “What?” Nicky’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat, the ice clinking in her glass as she shifted. “No. No, there’s no problem. I gave you the money, and now my brother is clear.”

  Paulo shrugged a shoulder. “Yes, you gave me some money, but it is not enough.” He lifted a hand when she started to sputter an argument, her cheeks flushing again as her temper spiked. “Your brother must have lied to you, señorita. I do not know what else to tell you.”

  “It’s twenty thousand dollars!” she screamed, furious, and I was tempted to cover her mouth just to shut her up. “How the fuck is that not enough? He said—”

  “What he said does not matter to me. You do not have enough, which is a problem. Well, your problem now.” Paulo’s eyes lifted over her head to meet mine, his mouth twitching like he was enjoying this cat and mouse game. Torturing the girl before he dropped the bomb and turned her over to every salivating bastard in the room. It would destroy her, ruin all the goodness in her… and all I could think of was how much I wanted her before Paulo obliterated her.

  “How much more does he owe? Just tell me, maybe I can—”

  “Five thousand dollars.” He cut her off again, and I watched the color drain from her face. It was an answer without her even speaking a word. She didn’t have the money, and even if she claimed to, I knew Paulo wasn’t going to let her walk out of the house.

  Too late, Nicky. Way too late.

  The trap had long since snapped shut, but she was oblivious as she shifted nervously in the chair. Blue eyes flicking around the room. Seeking an escape that wasn’t there. The ice in her glass rattled softly from the shaking of her hands, but I found myself drawn to the flickering pulse just under her jaw, the way her throat worked as she swallowed. Finally smart enough to be scared, and I wanted to press my lips to her skin, to bite down at the place where her neck met her shoulder and hear her scream.

  “Do you like chicken?” Paulo asked the question casually, but she wasn’t the only one whose head swiveled towards him in confusion, my eyes focusing as I tried to read him.

  “Why the fuck does that matter?” she snapped, but he just gave his shark’s grin once more. Baring his teeth like he planned to devour her, and I wondered for a moment if I’d even try to stop him — or if I’d just watch like I always did.

  “We’re about to eat dinner. You will join us.” He crossed the space between them in a handful of steps, looming over her in his relaxed way, thumbs hooked into his pockets. “Then we can discuss your situation.”

  “I don’t want to eat dinner with you.” Nicky was clearly as stunned as the rest of us at the odd change of direction, but her voice was still too loud, too angry, too disrespectful.

  She didn’t know Paulo like I did; if she did she would have been crying already.

  “You don’t want to eat dinner?”

  “NO!” she shouted, and Paulo’s hand moved fast, tangling in the hair under her ponytail as he ripped her from her seat. Her glass shattered on the tiles as her hands came up, reaching for his grip, but Paulo wasn’t faking nice anymore. Nicky’s yelp of pain, her curse-filled fury, all of it was cut short by the sight of the knife.

  I hated myself for the way my cock twitched as Paulo dragged the dark blade down the delicate line of her neck. Tracing the same artery I’d been eyeing a minute before. He bent her head back, stepping closer so that his foot was planted between hers, and I could hear her soft whimper as the metal scraped over her skin.

  For a moment I wanted to be the one holding the knife. Feeling her tremors of fear.

  I wanted to see her eyes as the hope went out of them.

  “Let me see if I understand…” Paulo’s voice was dangerously soft as he turned the knife to trace back up her throat to her cheek. “You come to my house without an invitation, but I let you in. You are rude to my men, to me, and then you demand that I forgive a debt that is not even yours… but still, I listen. I make calls, I look into your brother’s mistakes, and I tell you that he lied to you, but then y
ou raise your voice to me, curse at me — and when I offer to discuss it over dinner? Offer to feed you at my own table? You refuse.”

  “Mr. García, I—”

  “It is Mister García now, is it?” Paulo tsked, shaking his head slowly as he tapped the blade against her cheek in time. “I do not think you understand your situation, Miss Nicole Harris, but you will. It will just be explained without the courtesy of dinner.”

  He threw her to the floor hard, but she caught herself on her hands, panicked breaths making her stutter. “Pl-please, I didn’t mean—”

  “Take her to the storage room. We’ll see if she feels more… accommodating after she has a few hours to think about my hospitality.”

  Paulo’s command unleashed the hounds. José made it to her first, yanking her up by her arm, but Diego was barely a second behind as he wound his fist in her hair. She tried to fight, brave and stupid all at once, but when she tried to kick, José twisted her arm high behind her back. Another pretty yelp of pain, a whine as Diego’s hand moved somewhere lower, and then they were forcing her forward. Towards the kitchen, and then the storage room.

  I didn’t move, didn’t follow, likely didn’t even flinch, as practiced as I was at watching things like this play out.

  Marco’s eyes landed on me, and I met his gaze for a long second before I turned to Paulo, awaiting his orders.

  “You’re out of tequila, cuadro. Join me in some rum?” The man stepped over the sparkling shards of glass on the floor, walking towards the bar without a second glance for the screams still echoing out of the hallway.

  “Sure, jefe, whatever you want.” I set the empty tequila bottle on the floor and moved to meet him at the bar. “Make mine a double?”

  “Of course.” Paulo smiled, cold and empty, just like me.

  Four

  Nicky

  “You can’t do this!” I yelled, my heart racing. The pain in my shoulder was intense, but I still tried to dig my heels in, to fight them, the rubber of my running shoes squeaking against the tiles as the two assholes shoved me forward again. Pleading, cursing, shouting — but none of it slowed them. I stumbled when the fucker called José took a corner too quickly, and the scream was unavoidable.