by Paige Hill
“The fuck you still doing here?” a voice booms from the doorway.
Shit.
Ramos stares at Erin, waiting for a response before taking in the rest of the people in the room.
“Jesus Christ. Tell me you aren’t about to pull this shit again,” he rubs his forehead, referring to the situation with Declan and Teagan.
I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to him. He could can my ass right now. Along with Declan and Erin. Hell, I could be looking at far worse than being unemployed. I’ve used government resources for personal gain.
The longer we drag out this show, the longer Celeste sits in hell, doing God knows what. My stomach tightens and I have to swallow the bile forcing its way up my throat.
I have no choice.
I have to put every ounce of faith I have in him. Just like I did when Teagan needed help.
“It’s Alvarez, sir.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Celeste
This is it.
The beginning of the end.
I didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone. It would have only made this harder. Mamá would have known something was up and I would have lost the courage I’d built. My heart breaks all over again knowing my family will always be left to wonder what happened to me. I only hope they know how much I love them.
Once I walk up those steps, my life will never be the same. They say it’s a stairway that leads to heaven, but I know otherwise. I’m walking the stairway to hell and I just sold my soul to the goddamn devil.
I want so badly to tell my family, friends, Aiden… To tell them how much they mean to me. Doing so would have put Emily’s life in danger, something I couldn’t risk. My little Allie deserves a life with her mother. I’ll do anything for that little girl, and I’m about to prove it.
Aside from work, I haven’t done much with my life. I have many regrets, but the biggest is not allowing myself to truly live out of fear. After Jensen, I didn’t date unless I was certain it wouldn’t go anywhere. Until Aiden. I opened myself up to the things I’d been denying, and for that short amount of time, I was perfectly happy. I might even love him.
Ha.
Life’s a bitch, isn’t she? I finally allow myself to feel, to experience, and suddenly it’s too late.
Looking up to the sky, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with memories that will keep me company in the darkness.
Baby girl, live your life without fear and make me one proud tía.
Taking the first step, I feel the lines between past and future sever. There is no going back now.
I allow myself the luxury of tunnel vision as I ascend the long staircase leading to my own personal hell. I can’t take in my surroundings for fear that I will cower.
When I reach the top, two men with angry expressions appear and grasp my arms tightly. Their fingers dig into my skin and I welcome the sting because it serves as a reminder of why I’m here.
As they drag my body through the gates of hell, a calmness takes over my body and I pray it’s courage and not resignation.
“Ms. Martinez, you surprise me. I was afraid you still had a little fight left in you.” His black eyes bore into me as he nods for the men to leave us.
“Where is Emily?” I ask with strength I’m not sure is existent.
“You will see her soon enough. Now come,” he barks like I’m a damn puppy, eager to please him.
“We had a deal,” I snap, refusing to move.
“There it is,” he mutters slowly under his breath before stopping his strides. “You will do good to remember that I own you. You will do as you are told or there will be unimaginable consequences. Consequences that I will very much enjoy.” A wicked grin tugs at his thin lips and it makes my skin crawl.
The sparkle in his eyes confirm his honesty. The man before me is not a man at all. His dark blue suit, graying hair, and sun-aged skin do nothing to mask the evil living inside the corpse.
I take a step, knowing he won’t hesitate to kill me and my heart pounds in my chest. I follow him down a long corridor, taking note of every detail as I go. Light marble floors combined with the impossibly high ceilings give the impression of royalty. Doors line both sides of the hallway and just imagining what kind of evil lurks behind each door is chilling. The most terrifying feature, however—no windows.
As we reach the end of the long hall before it winds to the right, he pauses, reaching for a door handle. His soulless eyes rake over my skin like needles before he speaks.
“I might keep you for myself.”
My muscles stiffen and I fight the urge to vomit.
“Heed my warning, child,” he sneers, placing his cold clammy palm against my cheek and squeezing, “I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
My vision blurs as he squeezes his grip tighter, accentuating his threat. If he didn’t have a grip on my neck, I’d be choking back a sob.
My mind spins as contemplations ricochet off my skull.
He releases me and my chest burns as I gulp air greedily into my lungs. I don’t move, not even to soothe my aching throat. The tears continue to fall freely down my face, disappearing into the fabric of my shirt.
“Why am I here?” I croak.
“Because no one disrespects me without payment. Sweetheart, you’re paying for your brother’s betrayal.”
“Where is Emily?” I grit, steeling myself for the blow.
“Don’t you worry,” he toys, twisting the handle, exposing nothing but darkness, “I’m a man of my word.”
My hands shake as I flex them at my sides, trying to regain control of my limbs. A man like him can’t be trusted and I came prepared to die. There is no version of this story where it works out for me and I only have one chance to get Emily out of here alive.
Those idiots never patted me down.
“Tell me where Emily is,” I demand again, pulling the Beretta Pico from my waistband. He sneers at the tiny .38 caliber Alex gifted me years ago.
“That’s what you plan to kill me with?” He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow. “You stupid little girl,” he patronizes me.
“Who are you?” I ask, my gun still trained on him.
“Call me Armando,” he eyes me again with appreciation.
“Armando,” I placate, “Where. Is. Emily.” I accentuate each word as my voice rises, shaking the gun.
He lunges for me, and I jerk, pulling the trigger on instinct. His heavy body takes me to the ground, and I am momentarily stunned as the wind is forced from my lungs. The gun bounces from my grip and my body hits the stone floor. He reaches for his left arm, where the round pinched him, before his face transforms into something so sinister, I begin to question reality.
He recovers faster than I do, and we find ourselves in a scuffle on the cold marble floor. My legs thrash with everything I have as I swing my arms wildly in search of the gun. Arms, shoulders, anything that gets close enough is met with the force of my Converse. I manage to clock him square in the nose, making his head snap back, before he grasps an ankle, dragging my body toward him. His nose is a mess, bleeding furiously, flowing into his mouth and coating his teeth.
He climbs my body as I fight, pouring every ounce of energy into survival, but even wounded he shows so much more strength than me. He manages to get his good hand around my neck again, and white spots dance in the corners of my eyes. He pins my limbs to the floor, leaving me powerless. Leaning only inches from my face as he seethes, “You will pay for your insubordination.” His blood drips down my neck and another wave of revulsion hits me.
In the distance, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. They become louder and louder as the men who dragged me inside run toward us.
“You idiots didn’t search her,” Armando snaps. The men start to speak, no doubt defending themselves, when two shots echo through the walls, imprinting my soul, followed by the sound of bodies crumbling to the floor.
It’s a sound that will haunt my dreams.
His ey
es meet mine again. “Nos vemos en el infierno, hermosa.” He spits the words as he raises the gun over his right shoulder. I think I’m already in Hell. That’s the last thought I have before he swings the butt of his firearm down, striking the side of my head and plunging me into dark emptiness.
Opening my eyes, I feel disoriented. Pain radiates through my skull and my throat burns. Instinctively, I reach a hand to my neck and wince as my fingers graze the skin, reminded of his fingers on my neck. Darting my eyes around the space, I focus on my breathing and try not to panic.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.
The silence is deafening as my mind taunts me. Rising onto unsteady feet, I pull my hands up, feeling for a wall—anything—but I find nothing.
My muscles lock and I feel hopeless once more. My breathing begins to quicken, coming out in short pants. My legs buckle, and I fall to my knees, barely able to register the pain.
Have I sacrificed for nothing? How could I have been so stupid?
Sobs rack my body as I allow myself to show weakness only because I am alone. I won’t give him that part of me.
A soft hand touches my forearm and I jerk away with a yelp.
“It’s okay,” a small voice whispers in the dark. My rapid pulse continues to beat, surely headed toward a massive heart attack.
“Emily?” I ask, not trusting my own ears.
“It’s me.” She crawls up next to me and we embrace one another, thankful to be alive. “Is Allie okay?” She worries like only a mother can.
“She’s safe,” I reply, hoping it’s not a damn lie. “I’ll get us out of this mess, I promise.”
Pain sears the back of my brain as the door swings open, flooding the room with light.
“Get up,” the man demands.
I do as I am told, reaching to help Emily off the floor.
“Just you,” he snaps, pointing at me.
Fear bubbles deep in my gut. “I’m not leaving without her,” I growl.
“You don’t have a fuckin’ choice,” he spits the words, slapping me across the face. My head spins and the fear turns to nausea.
Emily screams at the sudden act of violence but slaps a hand over her own mouth to silence it. “I’ll be fine, Celeste. Do what they say. It’s the only way to stay alive.”
The man slams the door on her as I make promises with my eyes.
I will get you home to that baby girl.
“Where are you taking me?” I dare to ask as he drags me down winding corridors that never seem to end.
He smiles wickedly as he stops in front of an ornately decorated door. “It’s time to see what you’re worth.”
He opens the door and shoves me through. Barely able to maintain balance, I take in the opulent space surrounding me. I keep one wary eye on Armando as he sits front and center behind a massive desk, no doubt intended to intimidate.
A female snicker falls upon my ears as blonde hair comes into view. Narrowing my eyes, my body heats and my thoughts freeze. I feel a sense of betrayal, but even that sensation confuses me.
Gwen smirks, turning her nose up at me as she stands behind Armando.
The man who summoned me forces me to take position next to a small line of girls, all wearing similar expressions to mine, except they all seem to know what the hell is going on.
“Mr. James, your offering,” Armando announces, drawing my attention as he waves in our direction. My eyes bounce to the man in question, as he stands, carefully taking in each of our appearances.
No. No. No. This is all wrong.
My pulse quickens and the rhythm begins to suffocate me. He steps closer and I force myself to maintain composure. Some of the best and worst years of my life just imploded before my very eyes.
“Jensen?” I breathe through the hurt as he eyes me up and down.
“Shh,” he whispers only loud enough for my ears, before moving on to the next girl, and so on.
My stomach churns as I come to the realization that Armando is going to sell me. And every other girl here. Some of them look no older than twelve or thirteen.
Jensen surveys each of us carefully and my temper begins to rise.
Fuck this.
“You said you would let Emily go,” I shout at my captor.
Irritation clouds his features as he stands. “You naive little girl, I never said I would let her go. I said I would let her live. Have I not kept my promise?” He challenges me, feeding off my anger.
“You son of a bitch!” I scream, taking a step toward him.
A strong hand lands on my stomach, halting my movement. “I choose her,” Jensen’s eyes probe mine. “She’s going to be fun to break.”
“There will be an extra fee for that one. I had plans for her,” Armando glares at me, his voice sounding disappointed.
“Very well, but for that amount of money, I want to try her out.” His eyes never leave mine and it makes me hate him even more.
“You disgust me,” I spit at Jensen.
“Agreed,” Armando states. “Choose a room to your liking, but don’t be long,” he warns.
Jensen grabs my upper arm and I wince as his fingers squeeze the already bruised flesh. “Sorry,” he barely whispers.
“Mr. James, I can escort the lady to your room while you sort out the details with Mr. Alvarez,” Gwen smiles victoriously as she rounds Armando’s desk, glaring at me.
I follow her into the hall, eager to get out of that room, knowing she is no real threat to me.
“What do you want from me?” I ask bitterly.
“Nothing you haven’t already given, sugar,” she remarks, a little too sweetly.
Opening the door to the apparently chosen room, she motions for me to enter. Having no other choice, I step through the threshold and she shoves me forcefully. Righting myself against the floorboard, I take in the space. The room is sparsely furnished with only a bed, chair, and dresser. This room is used for a specific purpose and it nauseates me.
“What the hell?” I whip at her.
“I really should thank your brother for helping me,” she sneers, triumphantly.
I refuse to talk. Anything I say will add fuel to the fire she’s building. I need all the information she’s willing to give, and she loves to hear herself talk.
“If it weren’t for the phone call I overheard Aiden take, I would have never known how to get rid of you. Lucky for me, names like Alvarez are widely known in higher circles.” She continues to move around the room, touching things, thinking she’s intimidating me. “Once I knew a man like Alvarez had a bounty on your brother’s head, I had the only bargaining chip I needed.”
My face remains stoic, refusing to let her see that her words are getting to me.
The door opens and she leans into my face. “I win.” She pulls back just as Jensen’s frame fills the doorway.
“Get out,” he barks at the bitch.
As she sashays through the door, she runs a red painted fingernail down his chest. “Call me after you take out the trash.”
His expression changes only slightly, but it’s enough for me to see. She repulses him too.
“You will not touch me,” I profess angrily when he closes the door.
“Shut up, Celeste,” his gaze meets mine again and I see the plead painted there. He puts his hand at my back, directing me to the chair.
Jerking away from his touch, I demand, “What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not the man you think I am,” he confesses.
“No shit,” I snap, staring daggers into his dishonest hide.
“Would you keep your damn voice down and listen to me?”
I don’t respond, but I remain quiet, waiting for him to explain what the hell is going on.
“I’m just here to make sure you’re still alive.” His words make my eyebrows scrunch together, and he continues, typing something out on his phone. “Help is on the way.”
“What? How did you know I was here?” I have a million
questions barreling through me and not enough room in my head.
“Your brother joined Tri-Locka because I asked him to,” his expression is apologetic, but his words are not.
“Why would you do that to my family? Haven’t you taken enough from me?” Hurt is evident by the desperation in my tone.
“Please don’t do that,” his eyes soften. “I left you because I had to. I had to make you hate me because I knew you would never walk away on your own, and neither would I. Everything that happened after wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it I could control.”
I know he’s right but that doesn’t stop the animosity. This isn’t the time or place for this conversation, but I might not make it out of here, and I need to know.
“Why? Why did you need me to hate you? I loved you and I thought you loved me. Wasn’t that enough?” Tears shine as old wounds surface. I’ve moved on, but the rejection still stings. I never understood what really happened.
“I cared about you, and that made you a target.” He continues to stare at me, and I see the same remorse reflected in my own. It doesn’t escape me that he doesn’t use the word ‘love’.
“This doesn’t make sense. Who would threaten me? Since when is Business Acquisition dangerous?” My tone is heavy with disbelief and I have more questions than I need in a lifetime.
He sighs deeply, gathering patience the same way he used to. “That’s not the business I’m in.”
I squint my eyes at him distrustfully. “Then what are you?”
He watches me carefully as he responds. “People pay me a significant amount of money t—” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “remove obstacles.”
A laugh bubbles from my chest. “So, you’re what? A contract killer?” My laugh isn’t out of humor, rather obscurity.
“Yes,” he states.
My laughter dies altogether when I realize he’s being sincere.
My ass falls to the bed as I stare at him, trying to see the man I loved through the tarnished armor.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly.
I was in love with a hitman.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask, needing to know.