Sweet Collateral

by LP Lovell

The man on his knees looks up at me, his eyes pleading with me to show him mercy, but I know he hurt me. They hurt me. They raped me. They took everything from me. Anger builds inside me, filling me until it’s boiling over, bursting to get free. I lift the gun and slide the safety off. My finger presses over the trigger and a sense of rightness fills me. This is justice, this is power, and I want it. I want to be like Rafael. I want to be untouchable.

  The man looks at me one more time, and I see him, I see all the disgusting acts, all the wrongs, in his eyes. I squeeze the trigger, and the gun explodes. His head jerks back, and he collapses on the ground.

  With his body bowed at my feet, I feel like a goddess, someone strong and untouchable. I turn around and face Rafael. His dark hair and black suit blend into the shadows behind him, and he looks like a demon called from hell itself. He steps forward, wrapping a hand around my neck. A warm hum drifts through my body, and I bow forward into him like a junkie succumbing to the rush of a drug. His lips brush mine, and my eyes drift shut.

  “Take it, little warrior. It’s yours,” he breathes. And so I kiss him, pulling from his strength, acting on this deep-seated and yet inexplicable need for him. My lips part and his tongue strokes across mine reverently. He unlocks parts of me that I didn’t know existed, and at this moment, nothing else matters but him and me. Two halves of a whole. “I’m yours,” he whispers over my lips.

  I’m torn from the dream by a knock on my door. I touch my lips, still able to taste the dark allure of Rafael, the sensation so foreign and yet intriguing. Maria bustles into the room with a tray, the scent of coffee following her as she enters. She acts like everything is fine—like I haven’t noticed that she’s been bringing breakfast in here ever since the night Rafael pinned me to the wall. I haven’t seen him since then either, and apparently, that’s the way he wants it. I no longer go to the kitchen each morning, and he no longer seeks me out in the garden each night. I didn’t even realize how much I liked being around him until he withdrew, and it’s my fault. I wanted his kiss, but then my mind lost its grip on reality, and Rafael started to become a faceless figure, just like all those before him. No wonder he doesn’t want to see me. Why would he? He probably remembered just how used, and dirty I am.

  Maria pulls back the curtains and sets the tray of coffee and toast on the bedside table. “Good morning,” she says.

  “Morning,” I respond flatly as I slide out of bed, ignoring the tray. I get in the shower and allow the hot water top wash over me. It’s been over a week since I last saw him, and I’m sinking into a dark pit. I’ve never felt like more of a prisoner or less wanted, but even beyond this…thing for Rafael, is the fact that without his affection, I’m once again left fearing for how this will end. He distracts me, and without that, I’m left with the cold reality that I am indeed his prisoner. A favor—nothing more. Which means that this is actually a good thing. I may be something that’s fun for him to play with for a moment, but he’ll use me just like all the rest because eventually he’ll hand me over to this Nero guy, and it will all amount to nothing. This is good because it allows me to remember where my allegiances lie, and it’s the same place they always have: with myself. A few kind acts don’t change years of self-preservation. I’m done being someone’s pawn.

  I wait for Maria to leave, and then I get dressed and slip silently through the house unseen, the same way I always do. I’m heading for Rafael’s office, determined to talk to him, when a faint noise halts me. It sounds like the whimpering of a girl; a sound I’ve heard far too many times to count. Tilting my head to the side, I backtrack until I’m standing outside that door, the one that leads to the death room in the basement. I tentatively push the handle down, and it opens easily. Voices drift up the stairwell, and there’s that whimpering again. I tiptoe down the carpeted stairs to get closer. The door at the bottom is open a crack, and I peer through it, seeing Samuel leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Someone else is out of sight, but I can hear their footsteps on the concrete, the creaking of the chains where someone is hanging. I shift, getting closer, and the person comes into view. A woman. Her wrists are bound and chained the same as the man they brought here before. Clothing hangs from her body, bloody and torn. I watch as a hand suddenly appears around her throat, a hand I know well. I recognize Rafael’s black rose tattoo, the roman numerals that adorn the fingers of his right hand.

  “I don’t have time for your lies. I want those fucking girls back, do you hear me?”

  “I don’t know where they are.” Her voice is cracked and weak.

  He laughs, a cold sound that sends an icy shiver up my spine. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll hunt them down like dogs.”

  I have to fight down the bile rising in my throat. I can’t listen to anymore, so I turn and run up the stairs as quietly as possible, taking care to shut the door behind me. I round the corner and run straight into Carlos.

  “Whoa.” He puts his hands out, grabbing my arms to steady me. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, shrugging out of his hold and rushing around him. As soon as I’m outside, I drag a cleansing breath into my lungs. Lies. Everything he told me was lies. Rafael’s no different to any of the others, and what does that mean for me? What is he going to do to me? He said he’d protect me, but how can I believe him now. I want those fucking girls back. I squeeze my eyes shut. I was wrong, he is a monster, only much worse than the ones I’ve encountered before. They never pretended to be anything other than what they were. I go into the gardens, passing the flowerbeds that I once loved. The blood-red roses now seem that much more ominous, so I keep walking, passing the barn that Rafael taught me to shoot in. I keep going until I reach the paddocks with the horses in and climb through the fence.

  I’ve come here every day in the last week. The horses soothe me. Their quiet presence and the way they trust so easily settles my frayed nerves. On the far side of the paddock, there’s a hill, which drops away to a barn at the bottom. I climb through the fence and sneak inside the barn. The white horse whinnies at me when I walk in, tossing her head as I approach. The name plaque on her door says she’s called Sky. An old man walks around feeding the horses hay and cleaning out stables, but he never seems to care that I’m here.

  A banging sound comes from the front of the barn, and I pet Sky once more before walking toward it. A trailer is parked up, and two men are fastening the back closed. The trailer rocks back and forth as the horse inside kicks at the metal box. Another guy slips through a small door at the front before joining the other two. They shake hands and exchange conversation for a moment. I stare at that small door, beckoning to me like the doorway to heaven itself. Indecision plays through my mind before I do something that I know there’s no turning back from. I move quietly across the short distance between the barn and the trailer, then open the trailer door. As soon as I step inside, I’m only inches away from the face of an enormous horse. He snorts and stamps his front foot. I swallow heavily and lift a shaky hand to his nose, petting him. He quiets, and I slip into the gap between the metal partition and the wall where another horse would stand. I just hope they don’t look in here. I crouch down, and the horse kicks at the walls again when the engine starts. I can barely breathe as I wait for the trailer to move. When it does, it sways from side to side, bumping over the road until it stops; I guess at the gate. My companion starts kicking the hell out of the trailer again, and I silently thank him because the guards on the gate probably don’t fancy looking in here with an angry horse. No one opens that door, and the trailer jolts forward again.

  I don’t know how long we’re travelling for, but the trailer bumps uncomfortably over the road until I have a pounding headache. The smell of horse sweat and dung fills the air, making breathing almost unbearable.

  Eventually, we stop, and I instantly go on alert. There’s the slamming of car doors and voices talking about getting water for the horse. I rush to the door and open it a crack. There doesn’t seem to be
anyone around, so I slip out and move around the back of the trailer. I can literally taste freedom when a hand snags the back of my shirt from behind. A yelp of surprise escapes me, and I’m thrown against the side of the trailer. An older man in a cowboy hat glares at me.

  “What have we got here then? A stowaway?” His leathery skin wrinkles as he glares at me.

  “No, I…please.” I don’t know what else to say. “Just let me go. I’ll be on my way.”

  He shakes his head. “Oh no. I’m calling the authorities.” The police? Shit. They’re going to arrest me for…for what? For being sold, several times over? For escaping a captor? Maybe they’ll help me, and send me home. But I have no home, not anymore.

  A man sits across a table from me, a cup of coffee in front of him and a serious expression on his face. He’s clutching a pen in his hand, tapping the end of it rhythmically over his notebook. I’ve been in this tiny room for over an hour.

  “Miss Vasiliev, there is no record of you ever entering the country. All I can find in your name is a birth certificate. No passport. Nothing.”

  I sigh, pressing my elbows against the cool metal surface of the table in front of me. “I told you. I was sold.”

  He leans back in his chair and raps his knuckles over the table. “And you won’t tell me who you ran from?” I shake my head. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to give them Rafael’s name. Of all the people I’ve had dealings with, in the last ten years, he’s the only one that ever made me feel like a person rather than an object—even if it was all lies and pretense... I can’t help but feel a sense of loyalty to him because whatever his reasons, he dragged me from hell. He saved me, even if it was only to serve his own gains. I could tell them that I was with the Sinaloa cartel, but I know how these things work. I utter their name to the police, and I’m signing my own death warrant. The man across from me releases a heavy breath. “Well, then I have no choice but to arrest you for being in the country illegally.”

  I blanch. “What?”

  He shrugs. “You can’t give me any names or tell me where you’ve been for the last ten years.”

  “I told you…”

  “Without names, I can’t take your story as anything more than that…a story you made up to get out of a bad spot.”

  “I…” I don’t know what to say. What can I say? I bow my head, and my eyes prickle with tears. “Okay,” I say, accepting whatever comes next because whatever it is, I’ve had worse. That I know.

  20

  Rafael

  “Where’s Anna?” Carlos asks as he steps into my office.

  I lean back in my chair and take out a cigarette. “How the fuck would I know?” I haven’t spoken to her or seen her since that night.

  He lifts a brow. “Yeah, well, I just got a call from my guy down at the La Cantos station. They have a girl called Anna Vasiliev in custody. Some guy picked up a horse from the stables and found her in the back of his trailer…”

  “Fuck’s sake.” I push to my feet and storm from the office. Carlos trails behind me as I walk to the car. I get in the passenger side, and he jumps behind the wheel, pulling away from the house.

  That fucking girl. How the hell did she even get out without being seen? “What the fuck were the guys on the gate doing? They didn’t even check the damn trailer?”

  “Boss, they’re more accustomed to keeping people out than in.”

  “That’s no excuse!” I snap. This is a shit show. Where the hell would she even go? She has no one. When I get my hands on Anna, she’ll be lucky if I don’t chain her to my bed and spank her ass.

  We drive out into the desert until we reach a small town full of nothing but farmers. Carlos pulls the car into the lot of the small police station, and I’m out of the car before it’s even stopped. The acrid heat soaks through my suit until my skin is coated in a sheen of sweat. A whirlwind of sand rises in front of me as I reach the steps. I’ve been out here for only seconds, and I already feel dirty.

  When I step into the police station, the few officers there fall into silence. The cool caress of the air conditioner makes my mood marginally better. Marginally.

  The officer on the desk leaps to his feet. “Mr. D’Cruze,” he splutters. Everyone in this station knows me because they all work for me.

  “Get me the Russian girl,” I growl.

  A few minutes later and the same officer walks into the room, shoving Anna in front of him like a sacrificial offering. The second her eyes meet mine, they go wide, and she stops, trying to back up. The cop collides into her back, uncuffing her before pushing her again. Carlos grabs her arm as if she may bolt at any moment.

  “Who interviewed her?” I ask the officer.

  “Me,” he says shakily. “I did.”

  I eye him up and down. Middle-aged, standard washed-up cop. “What did she tell you?”

  “That she was sold from Russia and had been a slave, but that she escaped.” I eye Anna through narrowed eyes.

  “Did she give you any names?”

  “None.” Interesting.

  “Good. You’ll wipe her name and arrest from the records.” He doesn’t respond. “Won’t you?”

  “Yes. Absolutely,” he blurts quickly.

  “Good.” I give him a look that makes it clear he doesn’t want to cross me. The guy is practically trembling. All that fear mongering works in my favor at times.

  I hear the door click open behind me and feel the wash of blazing air over the back of my neck before it closes again. The police officer glances over my shoulder, his face washing white and his eyes widening as he takes a slow step backward.

  Turning around, I come face to face with none other than Dominges. His salt and pepper hair is perfectly combed back, his three-piece suit in place. Two of his men linger behind him, guns in hand.

  “Ah, Rafael. How are you?” he asks, but his eyes are locked on Anna like she’s the Golden Goose.

  “Dominges. I just came to pick up some lost property.”

  “Ah, but she’s not your property is she? Imagine my shock when I received a call to say one of my whores had turned up here.” He gestures around the station. “In the middle of nowhere.” Damn it, he’s got someone in here. “Those tattoos are so very handy.” He lifts a brow, taking a cigarette packet from his pocket and sliding one free.

  The tension hangs in the air, thick and cloying. He came here for her, and I’m all too aware how much he wants her—enough to risk my wrath without blinking.

  I glance at Anna where she stands with Carlos, halfway between Dominges and me. She wriggles in Carlos’s grasp, and he loosens his grip, his attention focused on the threat in the room. Dominges also watches her, a twisted little smile on his lips.

  “You don’t own her, and she’s not for sale, so what are you going to do? Steal her?”

  He tilts his head to the side. “Do you know what she is yet, Rafael?” I clench my jaw and say nothing. His face cracks into a wide grin. “Oh, I never would have sold her had I known. She’s worth so much more than ten million.” His gaze slides to her, and there’s that longing look again. “She’s priceless.”

  Anna break loose, darting away from Carlos. I’m ready to make a grab for her, but she throws herself at me, so hard that I grunt.

  Taking her wrists, I shift her behind me.

  “How sweet,” Dominges says with a smirk, snapping his fingers. His men raise their guns, one pointing at me, the other at Carlos who pulls his own on Dominges.

  I cock a brow. “Mexican standoff? A little cliché don’t you think?” Anna presses tighter against my back until there’s not an inch of space between us. I can feel her trembling breaths through the material of my jacket. Apparently, the thought of going back to Dominges scares her far more than I do.

  I lift my hand and hear the shuffling of feet behind me. A quick glance shows five cops, all armed and ready to kill on my order. Dominges may have a rat or two in here, but I pay their wages. I own them. Dominges expression changes from smug to f
urious in mere seconds.

  “What did you think was going to happen here?” I smile. “I’m going to walk out of here with the girl, and you’re going to behave. I’m not in the mood for a shootout today.”

  Carlos steps forward and presses his gun against Dominges’ temple.

  “I will get her, Rafael. It’s only a matter of time,” he says through gritted teeth. His men look confused, unsure of what to do in this situation. Reaching behind me, I tightly grab one of Anna’s wrists and pull her to my side as I walk past Carlos and Dominges.

  The hot desert air outside actually feels like a relief after the tension in the police station. I allow the warm breeze to wash over my face, the tiny little grains of sand caressing my clammy skin. That was close. Too close.

  Opening the back door of the car, I shove Anna inside and slide in behind her, struggling to maintain any possible façade of calm. Carlos appears through the front door of the police station and jogs to the car, hopping in before he pulls away in a spray of sand and spinning tires.

  Anna stares out of the window, saying nothing for long miles. The longer I sit here, the angrier I get until it almost becomes a physical thing, taking up every inch of space between us. As soon as we pull up to the gate, Anna shifts, climbing closer to the door as though she can escape me. She can’t.

  Carlos stops by the front door and glances over his shoulder at me, a hint of worry in his expression. Then he gets out without a word. He knows better than to try and rationalize with me right now. I throw the door open, and Anna gets out, rounding the back of the car. She goes to duck around me, but I grab her arm hard and yank her into my side. “Oh no, avecita. You and I need a little chat.”

  She fights as I drag her through the front door and along the hall into my office. Tossing her inside, I lock the door and brace my palms against it. I inhale several deep breaths, trying to force this feral rage back down.