Seth leaned back in the chair. “She pushed Mark into the hands of a human trafficker.”
“Jesus! Can we not talk about this?” Mark said with his mouth full.
Domenico groaned. “Yeah, that... To be fair, she claims she didn’t know he was a trafficker, but she still disobeyed my orders.” Seeing Mark’s face tensing up further, he reached out to squeeze his hand. “We got you out, didn’t we? It’s all in the past now.”
“Exactly.” Mark took one deep breath before pulling his hand away.
Miguel glanced at Mark. “Will she be our insider with Toro? Is he back in Colombia? Will we be moving soon?” He leaned over the table, looking suspiciously eager.
Domenico swallowed his food. “She says they’re on their way. Will let us know once she’s settled and knows where she is.” He nodded at Seth. “That sauce is delicious. Will there be dessert?”
Seth flinched, as if woken up from a dream. “Yes, actually, yes. I made an almond and pear tart.” He got up and stroked Dom’s nape before rushing off to the kitchen.
Mark’s gaze followed Seth, and he only ate faster. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. It’s happening. It’s for real. We’ll be off to Colombia.”
Domenico frowned in surprise. Usually, the only thing that got Mark so worked up was dessert. And pretty blond boys with innocent eyes. Mark liked all his things sickeningly sweet. “Why? Are you on the hunt for another pretty face?” He winked at Miguel, assuming Mark already told him all about it, but Miguel’s blank stare suggested otherwise.
“What? No! I want to put my skills to the test,” Mark said as his eyes followed the glorious tart that Seth started drizzling with warm chocolate as soon as he put it on the table. Now that was an incentive to wipe his plate clean faster. The scent of cocoa and pear was giving Domenico goose bumps.
Miguel frowned. “This isn’t a game, Mark.”
Domenico nodded. “That’s right. You listen to Miguel, Mark. Taking down that bitch Toro won’t be a roller coaster ride, as you can probably imagine. It will be more like diving with sharks that’ve already tasted human.”
Seth groaned and sat back down, putting the first piece of tart on a plate in front of Domenico. This kind of treatment was one of the many reasons why Dom loved his husband so much.
Mark rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say it will be easy, but I’m ready.”
Seth had some more wine and leaned back in his chair. “We’re all ready. Do as Dom says, and I’m sure we’ll manage somehow, even if problems start piling up.”
“I…” Miguel licked his lips and looked around them. “I think we have good odds as long as we work together. Better than if we were a bigger group. The fewer people involved, the easier it is to control this kind of plan.”
Domenico met his gaze over the table and nodded. “First Toro, and then, once we infiltrate, Raul Moreno. We will take our time, because at the end of the day the goal is to be effective.”
Miguel gave a slow nod, and Domenico was happy to see that while Miguel had been an efficient underboss for Carpintero, he’d rarely questioned Domenico’s authority since he’d joined them, and his insight often proved valuable. He was what Domenico needed. A man who was loyal, smart, and effective.
“Will I get to create some kind of persona?” Mark wiggled his eyebrows and grabbed a piece of almond tart of his own.
Seth rolled his eyes. “Mark, seriously?”
“What? I’m just saying I’m good at it.”
Domenico exhaled. “You could be my cousin, Marco. How’s that sound?”
Mark licked the fork with a wide smile. “I like that. Will Miguel get to be my husband?”
“No,” Miguel said before Domenico could answer.
“There are no gay men in cartels,” Domenico said, looking at his tart, which suddenly had a bitter aftertaste. “Just like there are no gay men in the mafia.”
Mark sighed and focused on his dessert.
Seth stroked Domenico’s shoulder and poured him more wine, even though Dom hadn’t even gotten a chance to have a sip. “I’m guessing we’ll be brothers again?”
Domenico smiled at him despite the heavy feeling that settled on his chest. He’d gotten used to being completely open about who he was, so being forced back into the closet was a tough thing to chew on. “Yes. And you, Mark, practice your Italian. My mother doesn’t speak any English, and you will eventually meet her. When we all return home.”
“If she accepts me, maybe I could be the one to give her grandchildren.” Mark snorted.
Domenico frowned. “Ew. She wouldn’t want you to make such a sacrifice. And what then? You’d be stuck for life with either having to share custody over your baby or live under the constant threat of mommy returning to the kid’s life. And, you’d actually have an interaction with female thighs, which you don’t want. Trust me,” hissed Domenico with distaste and wolfed down the tart.
Mark groaned. “I was just joking…”
“Seth is the only one here who actually tried that, and he fucking hated it,” Domenico said, cutting himself another piece of tart.
Miguel groaned. “Who I fuck is none of anyone’s business.”
Domenico waved his hand dismissively. Miguel was no more of a pussy lover than Domenico himself.
Seth ignored him and spoke to Mark instead. “It was not the highlight of my life, that’s for sure.”
Domenico cleared his throat, forking the cream filling of the tart. “It’s in the past now. There are more important things at hand. Are you all ready for this?” he asked, looking up.
Seth was the first to answer. “Let’s get it over with, ‘cause it’s been hanging in the air for far too long.”
Domenico glanced Seth’s way and exhaled. “It’s gonna be tough. Uncharted territory. There’s always the risk of someone finding out who we are. We need to be ready for anything,” he said, eyeing his husband. As much progress in terms of combat skills as Seth had made in the last few months, Domenico still couldn’t ignore that at times he cracked, or his attention slipped. While Seth was a capable enough fighter, and an even better shot, Domenico wasn’t sure his husband had the right personality to live under such immense stress for a prolonged period of time.
Seth's expression became more serious. "I'm with you on this. Say what needs to be done, and I'll do it."
Chapter 2 - Mark
The hot, humid air combed through Mark’s hair when he leaned out of the car, watching the narrow dirt road and the thick greenery just beyond it. It had been two months since Dana told them she’d secured a position as the mother of Toro’s baby, and Mark had since gotten used to the idea, as outrageous and plain wrong it was. He stuck out his hand and almost managed to grab some leaves off a branch protruding into the road.
“Say, Miguel, you think she’ll be able to fight with her stomach getting so big?” he asked, looking back into the car, where Miguel sat behind the wheel, stern and calm, as he always was.
Miguel frowned, but now that the constant frowning and snarling didn’t freak Mark out anymore, it looked kinda sexy. “Three months pregnant, Mark. It won’t be visible yet.”
“But she’d feel it, right?” Mark stroked his own stomach, wondering what it would be like to have something growing inside it.
“How would I know?” asked Miguel, leaning out the other side to catch some of the moving air on his face. It was unforgivably humid in this area, and so every bit of air movement was priceless, even at the shores of the river. At this point, Mark couldn’t care anymore that his clothes felt constantly damp, as it was something he woke up to and something that happened as soon as he put on fresh ones. And this was supposed to be the drier part of the year!
He hoped to be out here soon, no matter how wonderful the nature was or how exciting it was to be in a place so remote one could only reach it by air or river. The few roads that existed in the area connected El Encanto with nearby villages and a tiny town up the river where Domenico had established their temporary headquarters
, but it was a closed system with only a few thousand people.
Mark wanted to answer, but was distracted by two young women relaxing with cigarettes at the porch of a small wooden house that reminded him of a cabin he had once spent a holiday at when his father was going through a brief period of sobriety. He smiled when Miguel slowed down, reading a rusty road sign. One of the women smiled back. Mark’s heart beat faster, and he smiled even wider, about to say something to her through the open window, but Miguel chose this moment to drive off, leaving behind Mark’s chance for interaction with someone beyond their all-male group.
“Hey, can we go back? I think the other girl was looking at you,” he lied, hoping it would make Miguel loosen up a bit.
Miguel frowned. “What girl?” he asked, and actually looked back, as if he hadn’t even noticed the two women. “What are you talking about? We’re not here for amusement, Mark. This is work.”
Mark sighed and slid down in his seat. Work. Right. They were supposed to look through the town, get an eyeful of the docks and note how busy the river was throughout the day. Toro reportedly lived here for most of the year, but while none of them knew the exact location, Dana had assured them in her single message that the property was impossible to miss, whatever that meant. The Internet connection was a trickle of disappointment, and cell phones could be compromised, but she’d managed to pass Domenico enough information for him to conjure a plan that had sounded good in theory, but now that they were only hours away from putting it into action Mark’s confidence was being tested to its limits.
“How close will we be getting anyway?” he asked, eager to change the topic.
Miguel was silent for several moments, his fingers caressing the wheel as he glanced at a boat moving up the river. “I doubt we will get close. That bastard trusts few people. And for good reason.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “I mean, to the boat.”
“Were you even listening to Domenico? It’s coming tomorrow. We’re here to look at the town itself, find out where to hide, in case things escalate.”
Mark nodded, set on staying focused. He didn’t like the word ‘escalate’. What would it mean? That someone died? Someone other than their enemies? They weren’t sure how many men would be coming in on said boat. Dana had told them it would be four people in total, but what if she’d made a mistake, or something changed?
They passed a metal sign with the name of the town. The space between the trees and the road slowly grew, leaving room for a sort-of suburban area, which was a mixed bag of wooden cabins, plastered buildings with colorful walls, and even shacks made of sheet metal surrounded by fences. The few trees provided some shadow to domestic birds and dogs Mark spotted in some of the yards, but his attention was quickly absorbed by the much denser settlement at the massive riverbend.
The large patch of flat roofs spread out along the shore in a multitude of pale colors dotted by greenery. A section of the river forked and disappeared behind a larger structure that could be an indoor market of sorts but with several larger vessels perched right where the buildings were at their densest, Mark’s guess was that they were already looking at the port.
Miguel slowed down and eventually stopped at the side of the road. “Lunch,” he decided, exiting the vehicle with a spyglass in hand.
Mark had planned to be focused on their goal of making notes about the town, but the moment he thought about the homemade bread rolls with juicy ham and grilled veggies, the reconnaissance mission was out of his mind. Seth had even packed them cake for dessert.
“I’m starving!” Mark was eager to be the first one eating, so he made his way past two narrow boats that likely belonged to the residents of a nearby house and sat on a large rock that would have enough space for them both. The water seemed murky even so close to the shore, but it wasn’t a surprise with so much river traffic.
Miguel stretched his tall body and eventually joined him, taking a swig of cold water from a thermal cup. He’d chosen a decent spot—cleared of thick bushes yet not too close to the nearest cluster of buildings for the locals to immediately note their presence. It would have been easy enough to blend in in one of the larger cities they’d passed through on the way South, but here even Miguel stuck out like a sore thumb. As strangers who’d likely be immediately identified as tourists they were at risk of being memorable, and it was the need to remain off the radar that led to Domenico and Seth staying in their hotel room for most days since they’d all arrived here on board a ferry.
Miguel discreetly looked through the spyglass before setting it down. “This town only has ten thousand inhabitants. It’s not a village, but try not to draw attention to yourself. No more flirting.”
Mark smirked before taking a big bite of his sandwich. Even in the humid weather that generally halved his usual appetite, Seth’s homemade food was not to be missed. Mark needed his energy after all. “What if I flirt with you?”
“No.”
Mark laughed. “Does that mean not now, not today, or ‘no, there’s too much sexual tension between us’?”
“It’s a ‘no, not ever’.” Miguel’s frown deepened, but he added “No offence,” in the end.
“Am I not your type? Or am I too much like a brother to you by now?” That was the problem of living together the way they did with Miguel. “Or are you a eunuch?” he asked in a whisper, watching for Miguel’s reaction. He’d been meaning to ask that for a while now.
“Just focus on your sandwich,” Miguel said dispassionately and carefully unpacked the lunch Seth had prepared for them first thing in the morning. Miguel’s had his favorite kind of cheese, and a small smile appeared on the stern face when he smelled the whole stack of bread and toppings.
Mark turned his attention to the muddy river and the small boats floating along until they disappeared beyond the bend. “I was just asking. I get it if it’s too private. You’re hot though, so you shouldn’t close yourself off to anyone else just because we’re around.”
“There are more important things in the world than where I put my dick.”
Mark groaned and unpacked his own sandwich. Great. Now he was stuck thinking about Miguel’s dick. “Yeah, but it’s such a waste, Miguel. We could have some fun together if we’re not allowed to draw attention to ourselves,” he said, nudging him with his arm.
Miguel slowly turned his face toward Mark, and it was as stern as always. “You have Domenico and Seth. They’re homosexual too.”
“Ew! They’re like my uncles. Or brothers.” Mark lost his appetite just thinking about any kind of man-on-man action with his adoptive family, but the distaste only lasted a few seconds, and he carried on with the sandwich. “I mean, they’re hot, but I don’t really see them that way. Not to mention that they only fuck each other, so that’s that. Do you think they’re hot?”
Miguel stuffed his face with the food, although he did not bite off quite enough to justify his silence. Mark didn’t understand why Miguel was being so standoffish and yet blatantly refused anything that could turn into a nice blowjob. And who said no to those?
“I guess I got used to all of you,” Miguel said in the end, as if that was a valid answer to Mark’s question. Miguel was the master of evading real talk, and it wasn’t likely to change soon.
Most locals preferred motorbikes to cars, so it wasn’t a surprise to hear one approach, but it sounded somehow sharper and more powerful to what Mark was accustomed to. Miguel lowered the spyglass he’d been holding to his eyes as he ate and just stayed his usual quiet self, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
The loud roaring sound died down suddenly, once it reached peak volume, and Mark struggled not to look back to the road. In the end, his curiosity won, and he glanced over his shoulder. After all, it would have been more unnatural not to.
The first thing he noticed was a shock of spiky hair standing out against the backdrop of the sky, with its poisonously green color. The man winked at Mark as he dismounted the movie-worthy motorbike o
f polished chrome with black-and white patterns covering some of its body. It was a flashy vehicle, almost as flashy as the color on the man’s head. Next to their beat-up car it looked like a prince standing next to a pauper.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” he asked in Spanish, with a pleasant raspy undertone to his voice. He approached them in slow, relaxed steps, carrying his muscular body as if he had perfect control over each and every tendon. He stood out with his expensive-looking bike and extravagant hair. His skin was a kind of brownish orange, very much like the terra-cotta flower pots in their hotel room, a warm hue that seemed fragrant even though Mark could hardly smell it at a distance. Then again, maybe it was just Mark’s starved libido talking, because the stranger was seriously hot, with a firm chest and masculine, angular hips that would fit so well between Mark’s thighs.
Only then, Miguel turned his head around as well and nodded at the stranger, who, unlike most people in this weather, wore a long-sleeve shirt. Maybe riding a bike had made him cold? His handsome face didn’t express any discomfort, remaining as relaxed as the rest of him.
Mark nodded at the man as well, and followed Miguel’s lead. One of the many things he’d learned in the time since he met Domenico and Seth was that he needed to show far less weakness around strangers. He was sure it would come to him more naturally one day. He didn’t want Domenico to consider him an irresponsible goof. He wasn’t, and he would prove it.
“Or are you just boat watching?” continued the stranger. From up close, Mark noticed how the pale green hue of his eyes contrasted with the darker skin tone. They were two bright dots on the sides of a strong, narrow nose, and they smiled at Mark even before the broad, sensuous mouth could. Mark knew he shouldn’t think of anyone’s mouth in those terms, because it filled his mind with obscene thoughts, but whenever the man spoke, Mark couldn’t stop himself from imagining the full, plump lips tightening around a hard dick.
What the stranger didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
Bloodbath Page 2