IMPERFECT MONSTER

by Jennifer Bene

  “No, I don’t have her brother’s number. I don’t even know where he lives.”

  Just give up and go. Leave.

  “Okay, but when has Nicky ever missed a shift? Seriously, that’s bullshit, Antonio. Fine… yeah… Then maybe you should…” The girl’s voice faded, and I could hear her moving away on the concrete walkway outside. When I was sure she was gone, I sagged against the door, carefully flipping the deadbolt before I stepped away from it.

  This entire trip had been fucking stupid. I had more than enough money to get her whatever the fuck she’d wanted from a store, and I wouldn’t have had to drive halfway across Miami in afternoon traffic. Sweat rolled down my back, making my shirt stick to me, which was never good because the gun would show. Yanking it from the back of my pants, I unzipped her bright purple duffel and threw the weapon inside.

  Standing in the middle of her shoebox of an apartment, I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew one thing for sure. I wasn’t perfect, and I hadn’t been good in longer than I could remember, but Nicky was going to come back here. She was going to survive this, get back to her brother, her friends, her fucking life — and I would just be a bad memory.

  Possibly a dead, bad memory depending on what I had to do to get her out, but she had something to live for. She had a life to return to, and I didn’t.

  I don’t have anything but her.

  Fifteen

  Andre

  It was evening when I got back to the house, the orange-gold light painting the pale façade, but there was something menacing about it. As if the spacious lawn was on fire and the flames were creeping toward the house, preparing to engulf it and return everyone inside to Hell. A fitting end to all of the devils inside, but I’d need to be in there for it to be right.

  And she’d need to be out here. Alive and free.

  Wishful fucking thinking. Digging in Nicky’s bag, I returned the gun to the back of my pants and climbed out of the truck. I had to get my head on straight. Walking into Paulo García’s house with anything less than complete focus would be suicide, and that meant I had to stop imagining killing them all.

  The second I opened the front door, I heard the laughter, the loud voices in the front room — too many voices. Stepping past the entryway, I saw them around the poker table and let the cold wash over me and erase everything I’d seen in Nicky’s apartment from my mind.

  “Hola, Andre! Join us!” Samuel was grinning, leaning back in his chair to wave me over, and there was no way to avoid it. As much as I wanted to go upstairs to Nicky, I had to make an appearance or I wouldn’t be able to figure out what the fuck was going on.

  “¿Qué onda, güey? What’s with the purple bag?” Nicolás asked as I approached, and a second later everyone was looking at me.

  “Clothes for the girl,” I answered, keeping my voice level as usual. Having the brothers here already wasn’t a good sign, it meant Paulo was planning something soon. Very soon. As I looked around the room I saw Luis on the couch with Paulo in the chair closest to him. They’d clearly been talking. Shit.

  “Yeah, we heard about this girl. Muy bonita, yes? Diego says you won’t share her?” Samuel laughed.

  “No, he won’t,” José answered for me. “We didn’t even get to have any fun with her yesterday. Just scared her a little.” He leaned forward on the table, lifting his chin a bit. “Why does the puta need clothes, cuadro?”

  “I tore the ones she was wearing.”

  The brothers laughed loudly, José chuckled, and I even caught the hint of a smile on Paulo’s face, but Diego sneered. “She’s just a set of holes. Why you getting shit for her like some little bitch?”

  “Diego, you still got blue balls?” Nicolás grinned, but Diego growled and shoved himself back from the table to head to the bar. The look he gave me promised pain — for him, if he was dumb enough to make a move.

  “Cuadro, come and sit.” Paulo beckoned and I obeyed like a good little soldier. Luis gestured to the couch beside him, and I dropped Nicky’s bag to the floor.

  “Hola, Luis.” I shook his hand when he offered it and sat beside him.

  “It has been a while, Andre. Six months?” Luis was stoic, level-headed, and not a man I minded spending time around. It was always easier when someone didn’t fill silence with empty words.

  “Si, about six months.”

  “Well, I do not like to take him away from his work if I don’t have to. Luis handles the border well, eh?” Paulo took another drink, and it seemed that he’d had a few already. More relaxed, but that could be an act.

  “My men make it so, jefe,” Luis answered, humble and respectful as always.

  “Yes, yes, claro. Andre, you do not have a drink. This is not right.” Turning, Paulo saw Diego still lurking at the bar and smiled. “Diego, bring Andre a glass, and a bottle of the Casamigos tequila.”

  I couldn’t fight my own smile as Diego’s face went dark at the order, but he didn’t dare speak against Paulo and brought it over without a word. As he set them on the table, his eyes met mine and I leaned back on the couch, making it clear he didn’t worry me.

  “Problem, cuadro?” Paulo asked as soon as Diego returned to the poker table, but the shark’s grin on his face told me that all he wanted to know was if blood would be spilled.

  Shrugging a shoulder, I leaned forward to get the glass and pour. “We will see, jefe.”

  “Bien. I am glad you returned when you did. I have been telling Luis that you are the right man to accompany us to our meeting. I mentioned an opportunity to you this morning, do you remember?” Paulo was still smiling, the expression as empty as he was.

  “Yes, jefe. What do you need me to do?”

  “That is what we have been discussing. Jefe told me how you handled the accounting issue this morning, and that kind of loyalty is what will be needed.” Luis always spoke so carefully, looping around the subject. No wonder Paulo kept him so fucking close.

  “I understand.” Taking a sip of the tequila, I savored it for a moment, because what I really wanted to do was toss it back and pour another, and then another. I was too sober for this shit.

  “I will cut straight to it then. There have been some changes south of the border, and I believe our enterprise can benefit from them. Some interested parties are arriving in three days, and I need to be sure we are… prepared for the meeting.” Paulo sat back in the chair, resting his hands on the arms, his glass dangling from his fingers. “There are so many ways meetings like this can go, as you know, cuadro.”

  I nodded, focused on keeping my breathing steady and even so that I didn’t betray my sudden racing pulse. Fuck. Could this finally be it? Thirty-one months of this hellhole and I could finally get the names of the bastards serving up drugs by the plane and truckload? Too many thoughts hit at once, and so I shut them all down, let the black swallow me whole, just like I had that morning. “What is your main concern, jefe? Your safety, or the potential… consequences the changes may have on those at the meeting.”

  The edge of Luis’ mouth lifted a bit. “They want to meet with jefe, Andre. He’s allowing the meeting, I do not think they would risk the business relationship.”

  “Exactly.” Paulo shrugged, looking every bit the king overseeing his empire, turning the wingback chair into a fucking throne. “How the meeting goes will depend on if their terms acknowledge our position here, or if they are insulting.”

  “This is why you asked Samuel and Nicolás to come in.” It wasn’t a question, and the slow smirk crossing Paulo’s lips confirmed it before he spoke.

  “I want the best with me, cuadro, and that includes you.”

  “Gracias, jefe.” For once, I actually meant those words. If I was with him, I might finally have the information to get the fuck out. To take him down, to burn them all down.

  “Then it’s settled! Time to drink. Salud!” Paulo raised his glass, and Luis and I did as well, echoing him, and I finished the rest of my tequila in one sweet, burning swallow.
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  I refilled all of our glasses with the Casamigos, and over the next hour we steadily drank. Luis talked about his children, Samuel and Nicolás joined for a bit to thank Paulo for the invitation and try the tequila, and Marco’s absence was finally explained — he’d been drunk when the brothers had arrived and was already in bed. Not surprising.

  The haze of the alcohol settled my head, but every time I looked down to see Nicky’s bright purple duffel my cock throbbed. There were still conversations I needed to have with her, things I had to get answers to, but they could wait until the morning. As could the report to Nathan. I just needed the opportunity to step away without it being disrespectful.

  As the buzz of conversation hit a lull, Luis stood and nodded to Paulo. “I had a long trip, jefe, I’m going to sleep. Gracias for the drinks as always.”

  “Buenos noches, Luis.” Paulo raised a hand as Luis nodded to the others and headed to the stairs. My gaze followed him as he walked up, into the dim shadows at the top, and when I turned back to the group Paulo was smiling at me. “You want to go make belleza scream again, Andre?”

  Leaning back in the seat, I let a smirk pass over my lips, the darkness surging its own acceptance of Paulo’s offer. “She does sound so pretty when she screams, jefe.”

  A low laugh rumbled out of him, sinister and soft. His real laugh that matched the emptiness of his eyes. “Then go make her scream, cuadro.”

  “Gracias, jefe.” I finished my drink and set it on the table. I knew my own smile was cold, and more honest than I wanted to admit — because I really did like the way she screamed. Grabbing her bag, I pulled the strap over my shoulder as I stood and moved to leave.

  “When are you going to stop being such a pinche pendejo and share the whore?” Diego swaggered in front of me before I could get out of the room, a bottle of liquor in his hand that could be a weapon in a flash.

  I stared at him for a second, shrugging my free shoulder. “I tire her out, Diego, and I don’t like to share.”

  “You fucking maricón! You’re not fooling anyone here. That puta needs a real cock.” Grabbing his crotch, Diego moved closer and I shifted my feet, ready for him to swing a fist or the bottle. “I can give her a real cock.”

  “Is that what you said when you tried to get in my room this morning while I was with jefe? Did you tell her you had a real cock, pendejo?” Dropping the duffel off my shoulder I took a step towards him. “What part of ‘she’s mine’ did you not understand, Diego?”

  “I went for her first!” Diego shouted and swung, but he was so drunk it was too easy to step in and grab his arm, bringing my elbow back into his face, and then my knee into his stomach. The spray of blood from his nose was satisfying, but as I twisted his arm and forced him forward, I loved the pathetic cry of pain more.

  Pressing my forearm to his elbow, I kept him bent forward, and I knew with barely any weight at all I could snap his fucking arm in half. I wanted to do it, I wanted him to remember the pain the next time he even looked at Nicky. The next time he had to jack off left-handed.

  “Ella es mía, cabrón.” I kept my voice low, speaking close to his ear, and he tried to move, but I increased the pressure and he shouted in pain. “Say it.”

  “¡Vete a la verga culero!” The fact that Diego had the nerve to call me an asshole, or say fuck you, with me about to break his arm confirmed that he was either a total idiot, or too proud to save his firing arm. Either way, it would be sweet to hear the bone snap.

  “Wrong choice.” I leaned into the joint, feeling his body shudder, hearing his groan.

  “Stop.” Paulo’s voice was like a puppet master tugging my strings, and I hated it. Diego deserved this for daring to come after what was mine, but I leaned back just enough to keep him from breaking his own arm if he jerked.

  “Jefe, he tried to break into my room to get to the girl this morning.” I tightened my grip on his forearm, twisting it just enough for him to groan again. “And now he does this.”

  “I understand, cuadro.” Paulo moved closer. “Diego, I recommend you say it before Andre breaks your arm.”

  “Fuck!” Diego growled, but finally dropped his head and mumbled, “The puta is yours.”

  Glancing up, I saw Paulo nod and growled because it meant I had to let him go. Leaning close again, I used my coldest tone. “Come near her again, and I’ll put you in the fucking ground. ¿Entiendes?”

  Diego didn’t speak, but he gave a single short nod and I let him go, shoving him away from me. He immediately grabbed onto his arm, muttering curses, and for a moment Paulo just stared at him with no expression on his face. Then he turned to me.

  “Hit him, Andre. Just once, so he remembers the lesson.” Paulo’s eyes were coal-black and empty as he passed between us to return to his seat.

  Diego straightened up, glaring at me, and I smirked. Popping each of the knuckles on my right hand, I moved in front of him to ensure I landed the punch as hard as possible. There was no warning, no more words needed, I just pulled back and hit him. The impact jarred all the way up my arm, and Diego stumbled to the side where Nicolás caught him by the arm with one hand.

  I waited for him to look at me, cursing through his bloody nose and mouth, and then I picked up Nicky’s bag. “Buenos noches.”

  “Don’t you know not to fuck with Andre, idiota?” Samuel’s voice and laughter followed me as I headed to the stairs and started climbing.

  The smile was still on my face, my knuckles bleeding again as I got to my room and knocked. “Open the door, Nicky.” When I didn’t hear any movement, I sighed and knocked harder. “Nicky, unlock the door. Now.”

  Growling, I pounded my fist on the door once more.

  Finally, I heard a crash inside the room and then the locks started moving. When the door opened she flinched against the light, hair a golden, tangled halo around her head, still in nothing but my shirt. Putting my hand on her chest I pushed her back into the room and kicked the door shut behind me, feeling the darkness humming in my veins.

  She’s mine, asshole.

  Sixteen

  Nicky

  I was pulled from sleep by a hand between my thighs, fingers stroking through wet folds, and I squirmed because I was sore — but then Andre found my clit and I didn’t care. Even the throbbing headache from the hangover faded as he woke me up with each sinful, swirling touch, each teasing dip inside me. In moments I was panting, moaning, not caring in the least that I was completely naked, fisting his sheets, and lifting my hips into the air.

  I was close, so close.

  “Fuck me,” I whined, bucking my hips when he barely slipped his fingers inside again. Pussy tease. Trailing his wet fingers up my mound to my stomach, I felt his weight shift on the bed and finally opened my eyes to see his body stretched out beside me. Andre was hard all over, especially where it mattered most.

  Before I could think through what I was doing, I sat up and wrapped my hand around his shaft. He hissed through his teeth, snapping back to the bed as I stroked up, rolling my thumb over the bead of precum leaking from the top of his cock. Hot, firm skin, and I wanted him inside me, but I wanted something else first.

  “Nicky,” he growled, reaching for me, but I took him into my mouth and he groaned.

  Tracing my tongue along the underside of his shaft, I eased down, then back up, and down again. Steadily working him deeper, relaxing my gag reflex to take his girth into my throat. The first attempt made me choke, and I shifted onto my knees, bringing my other hand to his balls to caress and tease. Returning the favor. The garbled curses, half-English and half-Spanish, made me feel powerful, strong, in control for the first time since I was put in that fucking chair downstairs. Straddling his thigh, I eased down again and swallowed around his cock, finally feeling him slip into my throat.

  “Dios mío, yesss…” Andre’s hand moved to the back of my head, fist tightening in my hair, but it was just enough to send a thrill down my spine and make me hum a moan against his shaft. He tasted perfect.
Warm, male skin, and as I spilled saliva down to his balls, I squeezed them softly and his hips bucked up, pushing him deep again.

  Picking up the pace of my movements, I alternated teasing flicks of my tongue at his tip with deep throating him until my eyes watered and throat burned. It was a challenge I liked. Being momentarily in control of a dangerous killer. My jailer, my protector. He’d gone down on me the night before until I’d begged and pleaded for him to stop, and I had fantasized about this. Turning the tables, making him writhe and twist on the bed with a flick of my tongue and a swallow — and it was working.

  He shouted some series of Spanish words at the ceiling and pressed my nose to his stomach, buried deep. No air, so I focused on making him come. Swallowing around his cock, tugging on his balls, stroking my thumb up the base of his shaft until I met my own wet lips. He groaned low, hips pulsing and I knew he was close.

  “Fuck! Up, now.” He pulled me off, and I growled, reaching for his cock again only to have him release my hair to grab my wrist. “Spread your legs, Nicky.”

  “I wasn’t done.” Staring at him, at the hard ridges of his abs, the ink stretching across his chest with each harsh breath, his dark eyes looking wild… I wanted to argue. I wanted to keep going until he came apart. I’d wanted to be the reason he lost control.

  “What did I say?” he growled back, animalistic and raw, and then he lifted his thigh, rubbing between my legs as he flipped us. Immediately rocking against me, I felt the heat flood me as that perfect friction made me desperate again. “Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs.” Each word was punctuated by a pulse against my cunt.

  Meeting his eyes, I propped myself on my elbows to bring my mouth close enough to feel the heat of his exhale against my lips. Then I slowly moved my knees apart, his body shifting between them. The hunger in his expression would have had me soaking wet if I wasn’t already, and when he traced his bottom lip with his tongue and looked between us I couldn’t suppress the moan. It came out needy, eager, but in the haze of lust I wasn’t capable of any shame.