I took the creamer and set it beside the coffee, staring down at my lap as if I could block them all out if I just ignored the vulgar conversation, but Andre wouldn’t allow it. His fingers tightened on my thigh, half on my skin and half on my shorts.
“Eat,” he muttered, and I glared at him.
“I’m not hungry,” I hissed back, but the growl of my stomach betrayed me a second later and his eyebrow twitched.
“You still don’t want to eat at the table?” Paulo asked, tilting his coffee cup side to side. “Then put her on the floor, Andre. Feed her like a dog if she can’t be grateful.”
Before I could react, Andre’s fist was in my hair, yanking me painfully from the chair as I fell to the floor beside his seat with a yelp. “Don’t fucking move,” he growled, and the sound of male laughter from above made my skin itch. “Eat.”
A sausage appeared in my vision, but I stayed still, fists clenched at my sides until his hand jerked my head back and he pressed the meat against my lips, smearing grease over my skin. I ripped it from him and wiped my mouth on my arm before taking a bitter bite.
“Having trouble with her?” Paulo asked smoothly, but I knew better. He had ordered them to take me downstairs the night before in the same casual tone. I had no doubt he’d ordered men killed in the same relaxed voice, and so nothing about it was comforting.
“She’s fine,” Andre answered, handing down a cloth napkin as I slowly devoured the sausage. Conversation continued above my head, and after a few minutes a cup of coffee, already tan with cream, appeared in my line of vision.
I stared at it, burning hate building in my stomach as doom settled over me. This place was a death sentence, and I was already kneeling for the executioner.
What the fuck would come next?
Nine
Andre
I held the cup beside my thigh, trying to pay attention to the random discussions between José and Paulo, but Nicky wasn’t taking the coffee. Glancing down at her, I nudged it closer and she finally snagged it.
“Look at that, the puta is on her knees this morning!” Diego laughed as he walked into the room. “You teach her a lesson, Andre?”
“I think he’s still having trouble with her,” José answered, smirking, and I felt my blood heat.
“Oh? That’s funny. We didn’t have any trouble with her, not after we showed her who’s boss. Right, José?” Diego was smiling as he took the chair to José’s left, and I wanted to tell her to go upstairs, to lock herself in my room, but she hadn’t had enough to eat.
“Puta knows her place, don’t you?” I grabbed her chin, tilting her beautiful face up just enough to catch those pretty blue eyes — but all I saw was hate. “Drink your coffee,” I ordered her and let go of her jaw, looking back up to the others.
The sound of sipping filled my ears, and I fought not to watch. Not to ensure she was drinking the coffee, I just blindly filled a fork from the food on her plate and offered it down to her. It was strangely sexual to glance down and see her lips close over the fork, pulling back to chew and swallow what I’d provided. I hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned any of this shit, but now she was mine. Mine to feed, mine to use, mine to protect, mine to fuck.
It was the kind of shit I was supposed to avoid, and I had tried. I had called Nathan, tried to get her out, but he’d ignored it. Left her with me, left her here, and that meant I had to figure it out and try not to destroy her in the process. But I wasn’t even sure I was capable of that anymore, wasn’t sure that some dark part of me didn’t want to feel her break.
“What do you want with her, cuadro?” Paulo asked, lifting his lips in that shark smile that made my skin cold.
“I’m just enjoying myself, jefe.” I kept my answer short, like I always did, offering her another bite of food because I wanted her fed. I wanted her strong. If there was a chance for an out, I wanted her to take it — but at the same time I didn’t. I wanted her in my bed, I wanted her to be there tonight. I hadn’t slept that well in months, with those feminine curves against my front, and I didn’t want to just give it up.
Did that make me evil? Maybe. But it didn’t change the situation, and the way Diego and José and Paulo were looking at her, I knew if I even tried to show her the door they’d drag her back inside and fuck her in the foyer just to make the point that she wasn’t free to leave. The only chance she had was for me to act as possessive as I felt.
Even if she hated me for it.
“Buenos dias,” Marco mumbled as he stumbled into the kitchen, dropping into the last open chair beside me. Even his eyes tracked to her though, the pile of blonde hair atop her head, and I felt that flicker of rage I shouldn’t feel. Not here, not with them. Not yet.
“Morning.” Sliding my fingers into her hair, I dragged my nails over her scalp, feeling her stiffen at my side as I listened to whatever bullshit Diego was spewing about the plans for the day, for once it seemed to include something other than hanging around this house, and then Paulo spoke just as I reached over to fill another fork with food for her.
“Andre, I want you with me today.” It wasn’t a request, and that meant leaving Nicky here. Alone. Unprotected. But I had no choice.
“Okay, jefe.” The food on the fork hovered by my thigh, untouched, and I risked a glance down at her. Blonde hair hung down on either side of her face, the coffee cup resting between her knees, delicate fingers holding the cup upright. She wasn’t eating, and I knew she should, knew she needed it, but I couldn’t draw attention to her.
It would only make things worse the moment I was out of the house.
“We have a meeting. Come heavy, understand, cuadro?” Paulo clarified before drinking the last of his coffee.
“Claro, jefe.” I nodded, and forced the fork against Nicky’s lips so that she had to take it from me and feed it to herself. Grabbing my own bite as she chewed, I felt an urge to hurt her when she kept the fork in her hand. Defying me in front of Paulo? Stupid.
“Want me there, jefe?” Marco asked, mouth full of egg.
“No. José and Andre will be enough.” Paulo pushed back from the table and stood, giving a passing glance to Nicky. “We leave in an hour.”
“Yes, jefe,” I answered, along with the others around the table. As soon as Paulo left the room I looked down at Nicky and held my hand out for the fork, and when she didn’t move I felt the darkness surge. Inky black waves painting my insides as I tore her head back and stared down into pale blue eyes. “Are you done eating?” I growled.
“I can feed myself,” she hissed.
“I can feed her something.” Diego laughed, cupping himself under the table, and for a second I was tempted to let him just to get her to understand the fucked up situation she’d put herself in… but the flash of fear in her eyes made me hesitate.
“Fork. Now.” I kept my hand steady, and eventually her gaze flickered away from mine and she handed up the utensil in silence.
Releasing her hair, I made a point to eat a few bites on my own, watching as José kept his gaze glued to the top of her head peeking over the edge of the table even as Diego and Marco continued chatting like it was a normal morning.
“Teresa! Any more huevos?” Marco thumbed the edge of the empty platter, and the older woman walked over in silence to take it back to the stove.
“I can keep Nicole busy while you’re out with jefe, Andre. Make sure she doesn’t get lonely.” Diego smiled at me, and I piled more food on a fork for her and offered it down, satisfied when she ate without a single remark.
“No.”
“No?” Diego huffed. “What the fuck good is she if we can’t have some fun with her?” He laughed along with José and I hated Paulo even more for taking me away from the house today. It was on purpose, I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise, but I had no idea if she would be smart enough to stay in the fucking room.
If I found her a cum-soaked bloody mess on the floor when I returned, I’d know she was an idiot.
And then
I’d probably give in and finally snap and kill them all.
Perfecto.
“She’s mine,” I growled, feeling the fork as she pressed it against my thigh. Instead of taking it, I handed the plate down to her so she could finish eating.
“Paulo said she eats like a dog,” José sneered, leaning back to glance under the table.
“She’s on the floor.”
“Dogs don’t have forks.”
“Like I said, she’s mine. She isn’t eating at the table, and as soon as she’s done I’m putting her back in my room until I return.” Glancing around the table I met each of their gazes, tempted to give them a reminder of just who they were fucking with. “Have a problem with it?”
“Nope,” Marco answered before snagging another hearty spoonful of eggs from the fresh platter Teresa sat on the table. But he was the only one who answered, Diego and José simply leaned back, watching Nicky as she started to eat.
They looked like salivating wolves, and I felt a growl in my chest. Darkness swirling. Angry.
Possessive.
Protective.
Shit.
* * *
Shoving Nicky into the room ahead of me, I heard her stumble as I turned to slam and lock the door. Cursing under her breath, she glared when I turned around, but I strode past her to the dresser to pull out two of my guns and a few extra clips.
“What the fuck was that?” she finally managed to spit through the huffing and puffing.
I ignored her as I filled clips and slid them into my back pockets, the weight tugging at my pants. Grabbing the shoulder holster, I adjusted it before I added the guns and then went for the closet to grab a lightweight jacket that would still make the Miami heat unbearable but would effectively hide the weapons.
“Andre!” Nicky shouted, and I turned as I slid my arms into the jacket.
“Stop using my name like you know me.”
“You have to get me out of here.” She took a step forward, and then stopped, her blue eyes striking in the sunlight inching through the blinds. “You can’t leave me here. With them.”
“All you have to do is stay in this room until I come back.”
“And then?” she asked, exasperated, and I brushed past her to drag out the duffel under my bed, digging through until I found the dark zippered bag that held wads of cash.
“Then, I’ll be back,” I answered, counting in my head as I laid hundred dollar bills on the floor beside my boot.
“What the fuck will that do for me? Are you going to get me out of here when you come back?” Panic was creeping into her voice, desperation, and I wanted to make her stop asking questions. I wanted to shut her up, to fuck her, to hurt her. The urge was almost uncontrollable, but I needed my head on straight. Needed to not get me, or Paulo, killed during whatever-the-fuck was about to go down. He was the key out of this, and Nicky… she was just a side note. A post-script. A footnote in the history of this clusterfuck of undercover work that would probably end up with both of us dead on the wrong side of the border or at the bottom of the gulf.
“Count this,” I demanded as I stood and slapped the wad of bills into her hands.
“Andre!” She called after me as I stomped into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning back against it just in time to hear her grumble and curse. My heart was racing, beating at the inside of my chest like it wanted out of this shit as bad as I did, but there was no out. No exit. No extraction.
The only way out is through. Isn’t that a famous quote from some pompous white guy?
Leaning over the sink, I splashed cold water over my face, swallowing a handful and then another. As I twisted the water off, I stared into the mirror again and saw myself clearly. The monster. Guns peeking out from beneath the edges of my jacket, dark and shiny and metallic. Scruff on my cheeks, the tattoo crawling up my neck that reminded me of bitter memories that this shit was supposed to ease — but it was only making it worse.
Making me worse.
I wasn’t good, no matter the lies I told myself. There were bruises on Nicky’s wrists from my hands. I’d pinned her to the fucking table, bent her over in my goddamned bed to fuck her. I hadn’t saved her. At best I’d given her a stay of execution, just held off on the inevitable until it would be that much worse when Paulo pulled my fucking strings and took her for himself just to prove he could.
And as I looked into the mirror, I saw the same empty eyes I hated in him. I knew that if it came down to it I would have to let him have her, because there was no saving either one of us.
I’d only made shit worse showing any interest in her. Giving her any hope at all.
“Andre?” A series of knocks accompanied her soft voice, and I grabbed the towel to wipe off my face before I ripped the door open.
“What.”
“It’s five thousand.” Her delicate hand held out the stack of bills and I took them, tucking them into my front pocket as she stood there blocking the door and staring at the guns hanging against my ribs. Eventually, she blinked and looked into my eyes. “You’re really leaving?”
“Want me to fuck you before I go?” I asked, nudging her out of my way as I stepped back into the room to snag my phone from the desk.
“No.”
Turning around, I once again found her between me and the door. “Then get out of my way.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Read a book.” I tilted my head toward the stack of paperbacks on the side of my desk, and then shrugged. “Or sleep. Masturbate. Meditate. I don’t give a fuck as long as you lock the door after I leave.”
“Why do you care if I lock the door?” she asked, her chin lifting just enough to show me that steel backbone that had helped her waltz into Paulo García’s house in the first place, but it only made the darkness purr.
Striding forward, I snagged her hair and slammed her into the wall before she could react, planting my knee between her thighs so she could feel me against her. “You know that Diego is going to come for you, right?”
“Don’t,” she whimpered, and I tightened my fist in her hair to shut her up.
“The second I leave this house, he’s going to come check that fucking door.” Leaning down I took a deep breath of the summer sun that seemed to live in her skin. “If you want to end up under him, that’s your choice. Leave the fucking door unlocked. Try and run. He’ll take you on the fucking floor, and leave you bleeding until we get back so that they can pass you around until you stop fighting, until you beg them to—”
“Stop!”
“Well, you’ll beg for that too, but by then you’ll mostly just beg for them to kill you.” I wanted to kiss her, to take her mouth, to feel her fight as I nipped her lips, her tongue, but I didn’t. Releasing her, I shoved her back into the room. Then I ripped open the bedroom door, holding onto it for a second until I found the self-control to look at her again. “It’s your choice.”
I forced myself to step into the hallway, slamming the door, and I had barely taken a few steps before I heard the clatter of the locks sliding into place. The fact that it gave me some small amount of peace should have given me pause. It should have made me think about Nicky Harris, about what she could mean to me in some situation that was more normal than this fucking hellhole, but I didn’t have that luxury. Paulo had told me to come heavy, to be ready to kill, and that was what I needed to think about.
Death. Murder. Not her soft skin, or her sweet cries, or her tight, grasping cunt.
And definitely not her bravery, her iron-clad will that had kept her alive and somehow still delicate and strong and beautiful.
Fuck.
Stomping down the stairs, I ripped the zipper up on my jacket to hide the guns. When I came to the last steps I saw José at the door talking quietly with Paulo, and when both of their eyes lifted to me I felt a chill on my skin, like death was breathing on the back of my neck.
“Ready, cuadro?” Paulo asked, that false smile making his lips curve upward.
“Whenever you are, jefe.”
Ten
Nicky
I felt like I had ants crawling over my skin. A nervous, anxious energy crackling over my nerves until I found myself pacing back and forth, jumping at every creak of the house flexing in the heat and humidity.
Andre was gone, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved? Afraid? Fucked in the head? He made no sense. Simultaneously terrifying, and strangely concerned for me, and still so fucking hot that I had trouble not staring at him when he stood near.
Which possibly said more about my mental state than his — but he was the real question.
Was Andre really the monster he seemed to be? Was he actually trying to help me? Or was he just a killer with a conscience when it came to women he wanted to fuck?
The last option seemed the most likely, and no matter what I was trapped in his fucking bedroom. Andre’s room, where I’d counted out fifty of those one hundred dollar bills that he was probably handing over to Paulo at this very moment. The five thousand dollars that he’d used to pay off Christopher’s debt, to buy me, to take me out of the basement, to keep me for himself.
“You’re safe, sure… until Paulo wants you,” I mumbled under my breath, cracking my knuckles one at a time.
You belong to me, and I belong to Paulo García. Welcome to Hell.
The door knob turned, creaking and rattling, and I stumbled back from it as it snapped back into place. Heart pounding, mouth dry, I felt my nails digging into my palms. A heavy thud against the door rattled the various locks, and then Diego’s voice came through the wood. “Unlock the door, puta.”
“No!” I shouted, and everything rattled again. Then again as he slammed his fist against it, or kicked it, and I cowered back against the blinds, hearing them clatter.
“You got the door barricaded? You think that’s going to stop me?” he asked, a low laugh in his voice that made me tremble. I felt the panic clenching my chest tight, the dread settling deep like it had when I’d first realized how fucked I was standing in Paulo’s sitting room.
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