by Karina Halle
Now I felt I had to come to his defense, something I was used to doing, even in my own head, even against myself. “It’s been five months since Alana died,” I told him. “People need time to grieve. He’s grieving in his own way. He will move on.”
“Luisa …”
I suddenly got up, feeling emboldened by the wine, and shoved Este away. “No!” I yelled. “He will move on. I won’t give up on him, no matter what he’s doing. He’ll find his way back to me.”
“Will he find his way back to this?” Esteban spread out his arms, gesturing to the property. In the distance a few white parrots flew from the trees.
“He’s doing fine,” I told him, bringing my voice down. I jerked my head toward the place I liked to call the “torture hut.” “What was going on in there? Did he not just weed out an informant? Last week, did he not order that safe house to be blown up? Lado’s shipment to be destroyed? He’s doing everything he needs to do to protect us, everything. We’ve never been stronger.”
“He’s being careless,” he said imploringly, taking a step toward me.
“How so?”
He paused, eyes bright. “I guess he didn’t tell you.”
I swallowed thickly. “What?”
“We might have to move, temporarily.”
I blinked at him, not comprehending a word of this. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Esteban licked his lips before taking in a deep breath. “I think Javier should be the one to tell you. It’s not my place.”
Since when did Esteban ever care if it was his place or not? He was constantly handing out his unwanted opinion.
I reached out and grabbed his arm. His eyes met mine briefly and I saw something in them I didn’t want to see right then. Anger … or something smokier than that. Almost sultry.
Quickly I let go and placed my hands on my hips instead. “Cut the bullshit and just tell me. That’s why you were looking for me, weren’t you? You just love being the bearer of bad news.”
He sighed. “You know all about Angel Hernandez?”
Did I ever. Though our cartel, the Sinaloa, was arguably the biggest in Mexico, and Javier had been working on getting the other cartels united, or at least on “friendly” terms under one blanket organization, Angel Ochoa Hernandez remained cagey. He reigned over the Tijuana cartel, and with all of that, he controlled the Tijuana and San Diego border. Which meant he controlled all of the drugs going up in the trucks into America on the I-5. Currently we had to pay him a tariff to let our heroin in — five percent — which doesn’t sound like a lot, but when you’re dealing with millions of dollars, it is.
With our cartel getting more successful, that tax becomes a lot of money that is better spent on ourselves. Javier controlled Ciudad Juarez port for cocaine shipments and we had a free pass for Nuevo Laredo because he was close with Jose Fuentes who lorded over that. But Angel was determined to hold on to Tijuana with all that he had, and unless he was taken out of the picture, we’d never have control.
For months, Javier had talked about making it happen, hiring a sicario to do the job. The only thing that prevented him was timing, and I guess that strange code of honor he carried with him like a reluctant badge. He would never inform on another cartel, and killing a king of one was nearly as bad. But we knew it was something that would eventually have to be done.
Then Alana was killed and it was forgotten. Though Esteban thought he was giving me bad news, the mere fact that he had mentioned Angel’s name meant Javier hadn’t let his ambitions go completely.
“What about him? Is he dead?” I asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “No, but Javier thinks he has a plan to ensure it happens.”
“And what’s so bad about that? You’ve both talked about this, how it would become necessary at some point.”
“What’s bad, Luisa, is that he wants to kidnap a PFM agent to do so.”
“And how does that help?”
He gave me a look that said it didn’t. “Anyway, once we get him, whoever the poor fucker is, we’ll be off to one of our ranches in Chihuahua for the usual interrogation tactics. I think it’s a fucking terrible idea.”
“You’d rather him torture a federal agent here?” I didn’t know — and didn’t want to know — half the shit that went down on the compound, but I knew we never brought anyone here that was of much importance. A federal agent on our soil would be asking for a lot of trouble, especially since Javier had zero control over the PFM. Police and local military, yes. They were all bribed handsomely to look the other way. Hell, they protected Javier. But the government was something else entirely, and they could raise a lot of hell if they wanted to.
“I’d rather he not do this at all. There are other ways to gather intelligence. He could leave it up to me.”
I raised a brow. Esteban was our intelligence man and the techie, but I knew that Javier was having problems putting trust in him as well. “I’m sure Javier knows what he’s doing.”
He shook his head slightly, his shaggy, blonde-streaked hair falling over his forehead. “But that’s the thing. He doesn’t. And we both know it.” He looked back at the house. “Come on, it’s getting dark. You should go back inside.”
But I didn’t want to. I planted my feet firmly. I wanted to stay in the dark. I wanted to stay away from the house. The house that had a room Javier used to fuck whichever whore it was for the night.
My heart clenched at the thought of going inside, crawling into bed, and trying to survive another night of a marriage that was crumbling at the seams. But I knew, eventually, when the stars came out and the mosquitos became too much, I would go inside, as I always did.
“You deserve better, you know,” Esteban said so quietly it was almost a whisper, before turning around and heading to the house, his tall form disappearing from sight. It was as if he read my mind, or maybe he was just good at reading me. Maybe I was an open book for the world to see. Everyone except my husband.
CHAPTER TWO
Javier
I was already awake when Luisa woke up gasping for breath. I kept my eyes closed as I felt her sit up, knowing she was panicking because of some nightmare, or maybe because of her cruel reality. I feigned sleep, sleep that never came for me anymore. I had always excelled at deception, at pretending, so this fit me like an old glove.
I kept my breath even and hoped she’d go right back to sleep. That she wouldn’t want anything from me. How sick is that? The thought of her touching me filled me with revulsion. Not because I didn’t desire her, because I did, now more than ever. I needed her. And not because I didn’t love her, because I loved her to the best of my ability. Whether that equaled what she deserved or not, I didn’t know.
Her touch, however, would spur me on. It would undo me more than I’d already been undone. I was a black, rolling pit of rage and exquisitely honed violence. The last thing I wanted was to unleash that on her. Maybe it was the most selfless thing I’d ever done, giving up sex with my wife out of fear of hurting her.
Or maybe I was just deceiving myself this time. Because it was more than just sex. It was everything.
I wondered how long this could go on before she’d had enough. When she found out about the other women. Could she possibly understand that it was better them than her? Could she forgive me for sparing her the brutality, the depravity?
I had my doubts.
I didn’t want to be forgiven.
Her fingers trailed along my arm and I did everything I could to lie still, to not swallow the knot in my throat. It was easier to play dead.
“Javier?” she whispered, voice soft and disembodied in the dark behind my eyes. Just her voice had the power to shake me loose, even after a year of marriage, but I remained in control. As always.
She said my name again, her fingers clenching my arm. I was a light sleeper and she knew this. If I didn’t wake up for her, she’d know I was faking it. What was the difference? Either way she’d be hurt.
I swallowed hard. “What?” I asked, voice hoarse. I still didn’t open my eyes. I could see her in my head, the mussed up hair, the want in her dark eyes, an open, full mouth just begging to be put to use.
God, don’t fucking tempt me.
I heard her lick her lips, those incredible lips. “I can’t sleep,” she said.
I can never sleep, I wanted to tell her. You don’t see me trying to wake you up.
“I know, you know,” she said quietly.
I sucked in my breath. “Know what?” I asked flatly.
She paused before she said, “About your plans for Angel Hernandez.”
Esteban. That asshole. He was like a little fucking girl, always having to tell someone the latest gossip.
“Let me guess, Este told you.” I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to look at her. As I thought, she looked absolutely ravishing in the dim, grainy light, that beautiful combination of aching vulnerability and seething contempt. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders in waves, her silky black camisole hugging her curves. It amazed me that after everything, she still went to bed looking like a goddess for me.
I was a lucky son of a bitch in this respect. But currently, that luck wasn’t enough. Luck is only valuable when it’s across the board. One piece of luck is enough to trick a fool into thinking everything’s going to be okay.
I wasn’t sure if everything could be okay again. How could it, with Alana gone? How could it, when I was punished for loving someone? Family first. What was next? My wife? Best to cut those ties before it all went to hell.
Luisa was watching me, inspecting me. I didn’t know what she saw. I hoped she saw nothing at all, just a blank space where I used to be.
“Yes, he told me,” she eventually said, brows drawn together, entirely dissatisfied with what she saw.
“I was going to tell you,” I said, not really caring to make excuses. “When it was all said and done. No need to involve you.”
She went rigid as I knew she would. “No need to tell me? Javier, I’m your fucking wife. Your partner. I’m in this as much as you are.” She let out a heavy breath. “At least I used to be. Am I not still your queen?”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
Her fingers dug into my arm. “Javi … please. I know things have been hard. I know you’re sad, angry. I know you’re suffering, I—”
“I am not suffering!” I roared, my vision flashing as rage forced me up. I pinned Luisa to the bed. She didn’t fight beneath me, but I held her wrists nearly tight enough to break them. “Do you understand?” I seethed, glaring down at her as the adrenaline flooded through me. I shook her once. “Do you?”
She stared back at me, and I recognized the mask she slipped onto her face. We both wore them. “I understand,” she said, her voice dull.
I didn’t want to let go of her, but I knew I had to or this would turn into something else.
But something in her eyes changed. The mask slipped. She seemed to melt under my grasp.
“Fuck me,” she said. It was a command. Her tone was languid, her gaze lush as she stared at me.
I wasn’t used to her being so direct and I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t have an erection already. I slept naked, after all.
“Luisa …” I said, shutting my eyes and trying to compose myself.
“Fuck me hard,” she said throatily. “Now.” I felt my balls tighten, the blood pulsing in my cock.
I looked at her with intensity. “I will hurt you.”
She wasn’t deterred. “You’ve already hurt me, Javier.”
“Not in this way.”
“Then I want it this way.” She squirmed beneath me. “Please. Be rough. Hurt me. Make me bleed. Give me something.”
There was such breathtaking sorrow in her last words that it nearly shamed me to be as turned on as I was.
“You don’t want this,” I whispered, feeling myself slowly succumb to her wishes.
“I want everything.” She bit her lip then closed her eyes. “Just fuck me. Fuck me up. Give me everything you’ve got.”
She didn’t want everything I had. I had given that to the whore earlier. As I fucked her raw, against the wall, tied with barbed wire, I took that same wire and brought it around her neck as she climaxed. She was still coming as the blood ran down her neck. She came until her windpipe was severed in two.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t meant to kill her. But rage is a funny thing. I guess she had it coming though, no pun intended. Anyone who would willingly let themselves be choked with barbed wire wouldn’t get very far in life, anyway.
“Please,” Luisa pleaded.
I didn’t let her beg anymore. I reached down and grabbed her by the hair, my fingers scraping along her scalp, and I yanked her up and over, like she weighed nothing at all. She let out a little yelp and I tightened my grip, pushing her face into the pillow.
I lowered my lips to her ear. “Is this what you want? Tell me now if it’s not and I’ll leave you alone.”
She moved her cheek to the side and said, mumbling against the fabric, “Don’t leave me alone.”
I took in a deep breath. “I won’t leave you.”
But my voice was shaking.
So I straddled her, and with one hand fisted in her hair, I pulled her camisole up with the other. She slid her arms out of the straps, obedient, wanting it, and I gathered the delicate fabric around her neck, wrapping it and twisting it around my hand until it was tight. Luisa was no stranger to this kind of bed play, but I knew I was squeezing her throat with enough power to shut it off completely. Luckily, the camisole had a touch of stretch to it.
“You say you want me,” I told her gruffly, pulling her head back by the hair, by the throat, until her torso was lifted off the bed, like a mermaid at the bow of a ship. “You say you want to fuck me. But I don’t think I am who you’re looking for. He hasn’t been around for some time.”
She sputtered under my grasp, unable to talk. I could hear the breath wheezing out of her and none going back in. For one horrifying, startling moment I had a thought of her wanting to die. That this was her plan. That I’d made her life so miserable lately that this was the only way she thought she had a way out.
But even though I was no longer the man she knew, she was the Luisa that I knew. That I fell in love with. That I married. And that I pushed away.
With surprising strength she reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around my cock. She stroked my length and I felt like a balloon ready to burst. But not this way, not yet.
I let go of the camisole and her hair, shoving her back to the bed, her grip on me becoming free. I quickly reached under the mattress and brought out the large steak knife I kept there. Even though I had guards in the house, military patrolling out of the house, I’d be foolish not to have my own form of protection. I could reach the knife or the gun hooked under the bottom of my bedside table in a second flat.
Quickly placing the knife handle between my teeth, I brought Luisa’s hands behind her back and knotted the camisole around them. If she handled me anymore, I’d be coming all over her in seconds. And while I had no problems covering her from head to toe, I hadn’t been with my wife for a long time. I wanted to at least have her come first, before I made my mark.
There was something so carnal about having her lie on her stomach beneath me, her face unseen, her hands bound. Helpless. Even in the faint light I could still see the scars on her back where I had carved my name into her flesh, back when she was just a captive, before she was mine. In some ways it felt like yesterday.
I took the knife out of my mouth and held it in one hand while I let my fingertip trail down her spine. She shivered beneath me.
“Do you still want me to make you bleed?” I asked in a hush. My fingers twitched and ached, cycling between wanting to hold back and wanting to make it hurt.
She nodded.
“You need to say it.”
“Make me bleed.”
I slid my
fingers between her soft ass cheeks, ripe like peaches and just as easy to bruise, and stroked around her hole before I dipped down into her cunt. It was already dripping wet, drenched for me. Such a good girl. Such a beautiful queen.
And somehow still my queen. I didn’t know for how much longer.
With one swift motion I drew the blade of the knife down one side of her spine.
She cried out, a half scream. It reminded me of so many screams lately, but coming from her it made me pause. My heart thudded in my chest.
I wanted to ask if she was okay, but there was too much energy coursing through me. I quickly slashed another line to match down the other side, feeling that strange relief flow through me. She screamed again, breathing heavily as the blood ran down the sides of her back, pooling on the sheets. Such a shame to ruin such an expensive set but that was a minor price to pay.
“Do you want me to stop?” I murmured as I thrust my wet fingers into her ass and she tightened around me like a vise. “Or should I keep going?”
She took a shaky breath in and out. “Keep going.” Despite the obvious pain she was in, she was determined. Stubborn.
I took the knife to her ass cheeks and slowly drew the blade across her skin until it sank in with a satisfying give. It took a second for the blood to rise, and then it was flowing hot and fast down the hills. I lowered my head and licked the blood off of her, the sharp taste of copper and salt satisfying some sort of vampire-ish thirst. When I had lapped up as much as I could, her body tensing now from desire, I moved my tongue inward, where it was sweeter, where it was all her.
A moan rippled through her body and she pushed herself back into me, wanting more. I would give her more. I always did.
I devoured her, every inch, my mouth filling with her desire. I swallowed it deep, wanting to drown in it, remembering how much I missed this, missed her. Her taste was incomparable, the feel of her cunt and her ass beneath my tongue, between my lips, was a drug like no other. In that moment, I could have spent the rest of my life with my face between her folds, just taking in everything that was left of her.