Dirty Promises

by Karina Halle

  I briefly slid my legs off of him, enough for her to take the shot at his knee, blood splattering all over us.

  Esteban screamed in agony, momentarily losing grip of his gun which I knocked free of his hand. Luisa quickly ran over to scoop it up, then immediately turned it around and shot a hole through his palm, close range.

  Este bellowed like an animal, weakening beneath me and I raised my head to look at Luisa. She was grinning wildly, like she’d just received the best Christmas present ever.

  “Hey,” I said to her. “I told you we were going to share him. Don’t hog all the fun.”

  She looked somewhat bashful. “Sorry.”

  I quickly got off him and flipped him over on his back, his blood spreading on the floor. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs I’d had on me and clipped him over the wrists, even though there wasn’t much left of one hand.

  “The seats,” I told Luisa.

  She ran over and straightened out all the seatbelts while I hauled Esteban over.

  “Fuck you, fuck you,” he kept saying, even though his body was starting to shake from the shock.

  “No, I fucked you, remember,” I reminded him, shoving him on the seat horizontally while Luisa quickly tied the belts around his legs and waist, keeping him in place. “You better not go into shock on me.”

  I looked to Luisa. “Do you have the vial or did we lose it in the blast?”

  She reached down and patted her soaking cargo pant pockets. She undid the button on one and brought out a small wet box that contained a syringe full of adrenaline. I didn’t want to give it to him yet, not until he was on the verge of unconsciousness, but I was glad we had it.

  “How are you?” I asked her while Esteban moaned and thrashed on the seats.

  “I feel like I drank a pool full of shit and my head won’t stop pounding and everything sounds like it’s coming from underwater. But other than that, I’m great.” She smiled brightly. Well, as brightly as one could for being about to torture the living hell out of someone.

  She looked fucking fantastic.

  I wrapped the last of the belts across Este’s chest, buckling them, then I straightened up, bearing over him.

  “Este, Este, Este,” I said to him.

  “Fuck you!” he screamed. He sniffed deep then spit forcefully at my face. “You fucking shit!”

  I rolled my eyes and wiped it away.

  “Well, that’s just rude,” I chided him. I looked at Luisa. “Get your knife out. Cut out his tongue.”

  “No!” he screamed but I quickly drove my elbow into his mouth, shattering his teeth and jaw. It would help.

  His head rolled to the side, his moaning never stopping, and spit out his teeth in a pile of blood. “That’s for being a traitor,” I told him. “For killing my sister. For hurting my wife. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  I reached down with my hands, forcing his broken jaw wide open. He gurgled on his teeth and blood, choked on his own screams. “You better hurry, my dear, I don’t want him to die just yet.”

  Luisa came beside me and I moved my body out of the way so she could have easier access. “Take my knife from my boot,” I told her, shaking my leg at her. “Stick that end of the knife through the tip of his tongue, otherwise you’ll never get a good grip. Then use the other knife to saw it in half.”

  She didn’t even grimace. “You seem to know your stuff.”

  I shrugged an ascent. “Normally I’d use clamps but we have to improvise here. At least he won’t be able to talk anymore.”

  And so Luisa did as I suggested. It was easier to get Esteban’s mouth wider without so many teeth, plus he wasn’t able to move it to offer resistance, so there’s that. She stabbed the tip of his tongue with the knife and as she held it in place, blood drowning the blade, she was able to saw it off.

  The sounds coming from Este were inhuman but then again so was he. I didn’t feel anything except the need to cause more suffering, to finally get even.

  Even so, I quickly turned him over so that he’d bleed out of his mouth and not have his lungs fill up with the stuff.

  I leaned in close to his ear, his gurgles sounding like music.

  “You know what Este?” I said. “At one point, I actually liked you. You with your fucking flip flops and your Jennifer Aniston highlights. I really did. You were annoying as fuck and extremely stupid, but I thought there was something, I don’t know, endearing about you. Then the more I got to know you, worked with you, the more I realized that you just had one big epic hard-on for me and my life. That you wanted to be me more than anything. You wanted to be me so much that it actually drove you insane. That’s when I realized you were nothing more than a pathetic piece of shit, an ugly fucking dog that wouldn’t stop following me around, sniffing the Alpha for scraps, licking my balls to win favors. And that’s what you still are. Only now you’ve had a taste of what you could have become. And now you’ll know what it’s like to die a complete failure with the taste of my balls still in your mouth.”

  I looked at Luisa, who was staring down at him with a hatred I’d never seen before. “Hey,” I said to her. “You do what you need to do. That will be enough for me.”

  She swallowed, taking in a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. “Unzip his pants.”

  I smirked. I had a feeling it would come to this. I was sure that any woman who had been raped would only dream about doing the same thing.

  Este now was too weak to fight back. I unzipped his pants, bringing them down to mid hip, until his dick flipped out.

  I laughed. “Not so impressive, are you now.” Este could only twitch in response.

  I moved over and pressed down on his hips to hold him in place.

  “You do the honors Luisa,” I said but turned myself away so I wouldn’t have to watch. I may have done far worse to others in my life but there were still some things that made me squeamish. I’d like to say it kept me humble.

  “I never forgot what you did to me,” Luisa said to Esteban, her voice hushed, strained, almost confessional. In some ways it felt like a private moment, like I shouldn’t be there to listen. “I lived with it day after day. I’m sure I will live with for many days more. But I’ve gone through it before and come out stronger and I will do the same after you. It will be even better because I know that after this, you won’t be able to hurt me anymore. I know that you’ll die suffering, just as I had suffered. Right now you are you, you are my old boss, you are Salvador and every other man who had their way with me or at least tried.” She paused and I could feel her adjust beside me, poised to make the cut. “And me, well I’m every woman that you all ever hurt, ever touched, ever raped. I wish I could say I will take no pleasure in this, but if my husband has taught me anything, it’s to be unapologetic. So, I’m not sorry. You deserve this. Then you deserve to die.”

  The air filled with sounds that even I hoped I would never hear again. Knife. Flesh. Blood. Esteban’s guttural, wet cries of utmost agony.

  By the time Luisa was done dismembering him, he was twitching uncontrollably and I knew he was close to going into shock. I avoided the bloodbath by his crotch and looked her dead in the eye. To my surprise, even though she was breathing hard, her eyes wide, she didn’t look upset, or mad, or anything other than calm. Peaceful.

  “Should I get the adrenaline?” she asked. “I think he’s going into shock.”

  I shook my head, suddenly exhausted. “Let him go. I think we’re done here.”

  She seemed to think that over, squeezing the knife handle, wondering what else she could do to him. She was impressing me more by each second.

  I put my bloody hand on her shoulder, marveling at how much of Esteban’s blood had spilled on us. I was going to suggest that we watch him die, then get back to find the others. The gunfire had stopped and I think I knew which side had won once more.

  But she walked over to him and stood over his face.

  His one good eye fixed on her.

  It
seemed to beg for mercy.

  She held the knife above it.

  In one swift motion, she plunged the knife into his eye, into his brain, right to the hilt.

  Esteban Mendoza jerked once, twice, then finally stilled.

  He was dead.

  He was very dead.

  I watched her carefully, not sure how she would react now that it was all over and the adrenaline would be sure to wear off. I may have been used to this, I had ways of separating the act from myself and I had ways of enjoying it too.

  But she wasn’t used to torture except for the torture done to her.

  “Luisa,” I said softly, coming up behind her. I placed my hand on her arm, slid it down over her grip on the knife and pried her fingers loose. I slowly pulled her back, leading her away from his disfigured corpse.

  “Talk to me,” I whispered, turning her around to face me. I placed my hands on both sides of her cheeks, leaving sticky red handprints underneath.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in deep.

  She opened her eyes. They burned for me. “I love you,” she said.

  My heart expanded, building with an internal fire.

  “I love you too,” I murmured. “My beautiful queen.”

  I kissed her sweetly, softly, not wanting to scare her off as I had before, unsure how she would take me.

  But she kissed me back.

  It might have been the best kiss I ever had.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Luisa

  I didn’t know what I would feel when I finally got my revenge, when Esteban was finally dead at my own hands. I assumed I would feel guilt, maybe regret. The old lesson that revenge isn’t always so sweet, that it can cause you to lose your very soul.

  But the moment I sawed off his tongue, cut off his dick and stabbed that knife right into his degenerate brain, I didn’t feel any of those things.

  For one, instead of losing my soul in the process, I felt like I’d gained one. That whatever part of me I’d lost, the part he’d stolen from me, came right back to me.

  I felt full, whole.

  And I felt momentous relief. It was wave after wave of cool, freeing reprieve, soaking me to the bone, giving my tired spirit wings again.

  No, I didn’t regret a god damn thing.

  Javier was there, for me, throughout it all. It was his sister that died, his friend that screwed him, screwed me, hurt me. But he let me do what I needed to do, even though I knew he was dying to do it himself.

  But he gave me the knife and he set me free.

  I couldn’t thank him enough.

  Or maybe I could.

  He pulled me away from Esteban’s dead, disgusting body and held my face in his bloody hands and I felt nothing but pure, complete love for him.

  I’d been reborn. I’d never wanted him more.

  So when he kissed me, so soft and sweet, I answered with all the passion that had been buried away for far too long.

  He moaned into my mouth, his hands touching my sides, so careful, so cautious.

  “I need you,” I told him, breaking away as his lips went for my neck, a wet, warm caress. I placed my hands over his, pressing them into my body, no longer afraid of him, no longer afraid of anyone. “Now, I need you now. All of you. All of you, Javier.”

  He pulled back, searching my eyes. “Are you sure?”

  I know that he wasn’t talking about the location.

  I rubbed my red-stained hand down over his crotch, feeling his hardness, his life pulse beneath me. “Fuck yes.”

  Something ignited in his eyes, as if he were finally seeing me for me for the very first time. His lips crashed against mine again, mouth so hungry as if he needed to consume me to live and I gave it right back. This was a wild, unrestrained need and I thought I might die right there and then if I didn’t get enough of him. The passion crackled between us, electric, a million fuses waiting to be blown.

  I wanted to set them all off.

  His hands were all over me, clawing and desperate and I clung to him like a crazed animal, our clothes half torn, while the causality of our depravity and sweet revenge was just a few feet away. But I couldn’t see that, couldn’t see anything but Javier, didn’t need anything but him.

  We were down on the floor, one way, then another, blood sticking beneath us. I got on my knees and grabbed hold of the back of the pilot’s chair while he yanked down my pants and thong. His fingers, feather-soft, like ghosts, trailed up and down my legs, over my inner thighs, making my skin quiver. But I needed more than that, I needed to be taken and claimed, devoured whole.

  “Stop torturing me,” I cried out and he gave a wicked chuckle in response.

  “Oh, but what beautiful torture this is,” he murmured, licking a path down my spine, his fingers still teasing like angel wings. His head lowered, tongue snaking over my skin and I was desperate, straining for him, pressing myself back.

  His tongue slid between my cheeks, dipping down, and I was greedy as hell, unable to stop the moans as they reverberated through my body.

  “Fuck,” Javier said, voice rough. “I’ve forgotten how good you taste. Nectar from the fucking gods. And mine, all mine.”

  Suddenly his grip on my thighs became hard, fingers digging in and I knew he was giving into his uncontrollable lust. He had patience in spades but not this time, not now, not after everything we’d just gone through. He pulled back and his pants unzipped and I began to whimper quietly with mounting anticipation. I needed him to fill me, I needed more sweet release.

  The desire was so acute, it hurt.

  The tip of his hard cock pressed into me, just enough to tease, to get wet, and he took a firm hold of my hips. For one moment there was stillness, silence, and I thought I’d never breathe again. I thought the want and need would splinter my body into a million pieces.

  Then he pushed in, so fucking deep, so damn thorough, groaning with insatiable lust, the same lust that made my knees shake, that threatened to undo my grip on the chair. His hand slid up between my breasts, cupping them, flicking over my hardened nipples, causing my nerves to ricochet until my whole body was electric. I was feeling what I thought I would never feel again.

  “You’re mine,” he said huskily as he thrust forward. His balls hit between my legs as he rhythmically pounded me from behind, in and out, so deep, so thick. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  I groaned, nearly unable to speak. “I’m yours.”

  “All of you, all of you,” he said. Breathless, desperate.

  “I’m yours.”

  “Your pussy is mine, your soul is mine.” He leaned forward, biting the side of my neck, voice ragged with lust. “Your heart is mine. You’re all mine. Every part of you, Luisa, every part.”

  “I’m yours,” I said louder, moaning again as he fingers swirled over my clit. I was swelling with desire, dripping wet, a hair trigger. I wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, I couldn’t.

  We were uncontrollable animals, primal, basic and so fucking dirty and there wasn’t anything we could do about that.

  “You’re my queen.” His sweat dripped onto my back, his breathing hard. Everything was slippery and we were barely holding on but he was tireless, wouldn’t stop his frenzied thrusts. The whole helicopter started to shake. “I’m your king.”

  “You’re my king,” I managed to say before my eyes rolled back and I was lost in the delirium, his delicious thickness, the way he filled me whole. I couldn’t imagine life without him, couldn’t belong to anyone but him.

  My king, my king, my king.

  I went over the edge.

  In a rush of stars and colors and waves.

  I was unbreakable now, unstoppable.

  I was his.

  I came so hard I thought my body might never stop, the spasms rocking through me like I was the epicenter of a violent quake. I was flooded, with dark, hidden parts of me rising to the surfacing and rushing away, leaving me raw, bare to the bone.

  It was only him
and it was only me. King and Queen. That’s all that existed in this rusted, bloody space, between these two tortured, filthy souls.

  Tears spilled down my cheeks, a deluge of emotion no longer under wraps. All the death and pain had bloomed into some wild and beautiful. Something real.

  He held me close to him, my back pressed against his slick chest, his pumping slowing as he poured himself inside me. His moans were intoxicating, the sound of his pleasure that he was getting from me and only me. Then he was gasping for air, almost as if he was in disbelief that he had finally claimed me once more.

  “Luisa,” he whispered, kissing my neck. “Luisa.” But he didn’t say anything else. He rested his head on my back and tried to regain his breath, his chest heaving against me.

  We must have stayed like that for a few moments until I felt him slide out. When I managed to turn around, my limbs shaking from the strain of our love making, I realized what a massacre this had been.

  We were both a wreck, covered in blood and sweat. Javier’s hair was messed, damp, stuck to his forehead, his eyes glazed with peace and wonder. He held out his hand and helped me to my feet, holding on tight as I slid slightly on the wet floor.

  He ran his fingers over my cheek and smiled. “Well, I’ve never done that before.”

  I raised my brow, pressing my hands on his chest. “You’ve never had sex next to a corpse? I have a hard time believing that.”

  “First time for everything, my dear,” he said, kissing my forehead. He exhaled and looked around the helicopter, at the blood, guns, body parts, then shrugged. “I guess we should go and make sure Diego and Evaristo are still alive.”

  I could tell I wasn’t the only one who had forgotten the war that had waged on out there. He held my hand, giving it a squeeze, and led me out the helicopter doors. We walked together across the overgrown lawn, my arm in his, past the dead bodies and the smoldering smoke. Diego, Evaristo and a few others were conversing by the house.

  They looked at us in surprise and waved.

  We waved back at them.

  King and queen.

  EPILOGUE

  Javier