Dirty Angels 01 (25 page)

I grabbed her by the hand and squeezed hard, hoping to press some sense into her. “But you won’t be alive for long,” I hissed at her. “You know what that man will do to you. Christ, what happens when he sees my name on your back!”

“You never cared about that before.”

“But I do now! You can’t do this, this is a death wish for fuck’s sake.”

“I will do this,” she said, her voice growing calmer by the moment, as if she had made peace with the horrible fear. “You’ll let me go. Even better, you’ll have someone drop me off in Culiacán. I’ll wander around until someone spots me. The whole city knows who I am, the whole city is still under my power. I’ll tell them what happened—that I knew I was going to be executed. I’ll tell them I escaped and that I’ve come to beg my husband to take me back, that he made the right choice by picking his business, that there are no hard feelings. I will grovel. And to save his own face, to save his own fucking pride, he will take me back into his house.” She swallowed. “And I
… I will be his wife again. Just as before.”

I was angry. So angry that my breath wouldn’t leave my lungs. It took all my concentration to calm down, to start breathing in and out of my nose. Why did she have to choose this of all things?

“Luisa, please,” I told her, hoping she could see the truth. “You will die. He will take you in on pride but you are nothing to him. Do you hear me? Nothing! You will last a week or two, and then he will kill you. And before that, you know what he’s going to do to you. He—” I broke off, unable to finish the sentence. I couldn’t even let myself think about it, but it was there, poking around in my brain. The sound of Salvador’s voice, the fear I’d seen in Luisa’s eyes, the brutality he’d proven he was capable of.

“And I will handle him as I handled him before,” she said, almost proud. “This is the only way. At least I can say I gave it a shot. One more shot at life, as pathetic as it may be. And you? You only have to lose your precious pride among your workers here. The rest of the world may laugh at your faulty security, but I’m sure it will be something they’ll soon forget. To Mexico, your cartel is still one to be reckoned with and your pride will remain intact. And you, Javier Bernal, will continue on as you had before. In a week, you won’t remember me.”

But she had to know, had to realize, how hard this was for me, too. If she did though, perhaps she didn’t quite care.

“All right,” I said, nodding at her. “If this is what you want, I can tell the others the plan. They won’t like it, but they won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Thank you,” she said. She smiled at me with the strength of a million breaking hearts. It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a lot of sad things in my lifetime, things that would chase me to the grave.

And that’s when I knew, with nothing but a smile, my Luisa, my queen, had broken
me
.

Luisa

I
slept alone that night. In fact, I spent most of the day alone as well. After I learned the news and after I had came up with my own horrid plan, Javier told his comrades about what we were to do. They didn’t take it well, as I figured. Este was pissed off like a whiny boy and even Juanito gazed upon Javier with an air of disrespect. I had to say, as much as I mocked him for his foolish pride, there was a moment where I felt almost sorry for him.

The Doctor seemed to take it worst of all. In that calm, cynical, monstrous way, he berated Javier in every way he could. He called him weak. Soft. Pussy-whipped. He talked about me as if I wasn’t even in the room, but those lewd insults about how well of a fuck I must be, well they meant nothing. All I cared about was putting my plan into action.

And, eventually, that’s what happened. Javier lost face among his men but they would protect the cartel as a whole. I would be let go. The next day, Juanito would take me to Culiacán. I would look like I had just escaped from somewhere. I would have a story to tell. And then I would hope for the best.

I knew Javier wasn’t happy with my choice—I wasn’t happy either. I was actually so scared that I’d grown numb. I didn’t let myself think about what might happen to me, I just knew it had to be done. My chances for survival were extremely low. My chances for vile abuse, torment, and torture were extremely high. Either way, I was in for a lot of pain.

But like I had done all week, I put that on the back burner. I tried to appreciate the last day I had in that house that, in the dying sun, became only golden and not a prison at all. I wished I had Javier by my side, but he was ignoring me, avoiding me. I knew it was for the best. I knew that if I was with him, in his bed, that it would make leaving even worse.

It’s not even that Javier and I were lovers. We weren’t really anything you could explain. What relationship we did have was fucked up beyond reasoning. It made no sense for me to feel more than just attraction to a man like him, and yet I did. I shouldn’t have let my emotions excuse the things he’d done, the person he was, but again, I did.

I should have been grateful that he didn’t kill me, that it wasn’t even an option to him. A week ago, I would have been certain he’d take my head off, and with glee. Now he was willing to take a hit to his ego, not just to resist killing me but to actually let me go. Not to mention actually let me go through with a plan that I, his hostage, had initiated.

And yet I still wished for more. I wanted him to ask me to stay again. I wanted him to protest just a little bit more. There could be other ways around all this. He could go and take my parents somewhere safe and then keep me here as his. I would gladly stay. There might have not been any love in this house, but it was better than a house of hate.

I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t see the point. It should have been enough that he did, finally, see me as a human being. It’s just that being a human being meant I also wanted what I couldn’t have.

Him.

The next morning, after a fitful sleep, I was awakened by a knock and Este bringing me my breakfast. He was one of the last people I wanted to see.

“Thought you deserved this in bed, since it’s your last meal with us and all,” he said, shutting the door behind him with his foot and bringing the tray to the bedside table. He shot me a sidelong glance. “It’s only because you’re leaving that I can trust you not to bash me over the head with the bowl of fruit or something.”

I didn’t smile, I merely stared at him.

“No jokes today, hey?” he asked with a shrug. He sat down on the end of the bed, and I instinctively drew my feet toward me. “You know, Luisa, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot here. But I just wanted you to know, I like you.”

I grimaced. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

“It’s not anything,” Este said. “I can see how Javier is so obsessed with you.”

“Obsessed?” This was news to me.

“Don’t be too flattered,” he said wryly. “Javier gets obsessed easily. Though it doesn’t happen very often with women. Considering the way things have gone for him in the past and his devotion to building an empire, I’m actually surprised at the way things have turned out.”

“But you’re unhappy about it,” I said.

“I am. I think he’s letting his feelings for you cloud his judgment. But things could be worse.”

Feelings for me? I wanted to ask him to elaborate, to tell me more. But I realized how damn inappropriate that was, considering my dire circumstances, and internally chastised my heart for even skipping a beat.

Este studied my face. “Just so you know,” he said carefully, a knowing look in his eyes, “his
feelings
for you only mean that he’s not killing you. That’s all. You can’t get much more than that out of him. It’s like getting blood from a stone.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “I never figured otherwise.”

He nodded and patted the bed. “Good. Well, I suppose I should be off. I hope all of this is worth it, you know. You could just as easily disappear and get a new identity, a new life, a new everything.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t do that. I have a conscience.”

“And that
will
be the death of you,” he said. “Juanito will come up and get you in an hour. It’s a long drive, as you know.” He got up and paused, as if remembering something. “Oh, and sorry again about Tasering you.”

I stared at him coldly. “Really? I’m still thinking about hitting you in the head with this tray, just because.”

He grinned. “I figured as much.”

He opened the door.

“Esteban,” I called after him. “Could you please send Javier up here?”

His face twisted doubtfully. “I’ll try.”

The door shut and I waited. When the hour ticked closer, I put on my dress and my running shoes, the only things I would be pretending I escaped in. I would have nothing else. No money, no ID, nothing. I stared at my face in the mirror. I wondered if Salvador would see the horror in my eyes and mistake it for where I had been, not where I was going. I hoped so.

Eventually, five minutes before the sand in the hourglass was up, Javier came to me. He wore a mask of elegance and indifference, his unusually handsome features taking on the appearance of a sculpture. But I had no idea what the artist was trying to say: Here’s a man in denial? Here’s a man without a soul? Here’s a man who will build empires and legacies, whose pride shaped the land? Or here is a man who for once in his life, doesn’t know who he is?

Whoever the man at my door was, it was apparent this was the last place he wanted to be.

“You wanted to see me?” he said so formally that it cut worse than his blade.

“You weren’t going to come say goodbye?” I asked him. He remained at the door. I remained near the bathroom. Neither of us moved.

“I was,” he said, an air of defiance to him. “At the door.”

“Oh,” I said caustically. “How very kind and proper of you.”

“Luisa,” he warned.

“So after all you’ve put me through,” I said, folding my arms, “you’re just wiping your hands clean and pushing me out the door.”

Indignation flared in his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched, but he managed to keep his voice hard and steady. “This was your choice. You chose this.”

“Because it’s the only choice I have,” I said. “Isn’t it?”

Our eyes fastened on each other. I wanted him to come closer. I wanted to see something that wasn’t there.

“Can’t we go back in time?” I asked, my voice softer now. “When I believed I meant something to you?”

He swallowed and looked away. “You were always my captive. I was always the man holding the knife.”

And again that knife was buried straight in me. I took in a sharp breath, willing the pain away. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Esteban said getting feelings out of you was like getting blood from a stone.”

“Esteban doesn’t know shit,” he snapped, glaring at me. “What the hell do you want me to say? Do you think anything I say will make any difference to you? To me? To this fucking situation? Huh?”

“You could tell me not to go.”

“I did!” he cried out, marching across the room. He grabbed me by the shoulders, his reddening face in mine. “I told you not to go. I told you there could be another way. You could go free, away from certain fucking death. But you’re like this…”

“This what?” I goaded, watching his eyes spark and flame. “What am I?”

“A martyr,” he said, spitting out the word. “You wear your nobility like a goddamn crown. I am so sick and tired of it, especially when I know there is a strong, unapologetic woman in there just dying to come out. I’ve seen her. I’ve fucked her. I want
that
woman to win.”

“That woman will have to live with regret.”

“That woman,” he said, giving me a shake, “will
live
.” His eyes sought the ceiling, trying to compose himself, but when he looked back at me, the fire was still there. The mask had slipped. “I know you love your parents, Luisa. But is their safety—not even guaranteed—worth your own life? Do you really think your parents want you to do this? Do you think this will make them fucking proud? If they’re anything like me, they’ll be angry as hell. They will live their lives with regret instead. Is that what you want to give them? A dead daughter and a lifetime of fucking sorrow?”

I was stunned. He grabbed my face with both his hands and stared at me with crazed intensity. “Be fucking
selfish
! Save your own life.” He let go of me suddenly, turning his back to me, his hand on the back of his neck. “Lord knows I can’t save it for you.”

I watched his back, the strength of it underneath his navy suit jacket, wondering if it ever got tired of shouldering this world. It seemed all so easy for him to give orders, tell people what to do, and never have to give an ounce of himself.

“You gave me a reason to run,” I said to him. “Give me a reason to stay.”

He paused and slowly turned to look at me. “Give you a reason to stay?”

“Yes,” I said, walking up to him, refusing to break my gaze.

His eyes softened, just for a moment. “What can I say to make you stay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me you love me.”

My boldness shocked him more than it shocked me. He stared at me, unhinged and absolutely bewildered, like he didn’t understand. “I can’t do that,” he managed to say.

I had nothing to lose. “You can’t because you don’t.”

He opened his mouth then shut it. He gave a small shake of his head, and then said, almost chagrined, “No. Because I don’t know what that is anymore.”

I placed my hands on his jacket, running them down his silky lapels. “Well,” I said sadly, “it’s what you feel for your suits. And your money. And your mansions. And all your power.” I looked up at him. “Except you feel it for me.”

There was a knock at the door. I reluctantly broke his gaze, his lost and helpless gaze, and looked to see Juanito standing in the doorway.

“So sorry, boss,” he said nervously, trying not to look at us. “But it’s time to go.”

Javier nodded, clearing his throat. “She’ll be right there.”

Juanito left, and it was just the two of us again, and for the last time.

“I’m sorry,” Javier said sincerely, reaching for my face and gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for—for not loving me, for Juanito interrupting, for having to say goodbye. Perhaps he was apologizing for that first moment when he decided my life would be worth a shipping lane. It didn’t really matter in the end.

“I’m sorry, too,” I told him. Then I walked away from his touch and to the door, down the hall, and down the stairs to where Juanito was waiting for me in the foyer.

Waiting to take me home.

I did not look behind me. I did not look back. I kept my head high and conviction straight, even when Juanito placed the bag over my head, so I would still not see the way in and out of this place.

With his help, I got into the SUV that was running outside and told myself, for the umpteenth time that day, that I was doing the right thing.

It began to really worry me then, when the right thing started to feel so very wrong.