Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

“What a hero,” I said dryly. “You must think you’re such a nice guy.”

He nodded. “I do. For the most part. But she was like you because she no longer cared about life. She was more or less suicidal.”

I stopped and glared at him. “I am not suicidal,” I hissed.

He shrugged. “You don’t seem to care much about anything. Javier is right … he thinks you’re unbreakable.”

“Just because he can’t break me doesn’t mean I’m suicidal,” I told him. “What kind of sick man wants to break a woman anyway?”

“I don’t know. You married one of them, didn’t you?”

“I married a demon, not a man.”

“Well, I guess Javier’s not exactly a demon.”

“No such thing as a sentimental demon?” I asked. “Tell me about the clothes. This skirt, this dress … whose is it?”

He gave me an inquisitive look. Our path continued down the rough road, birds calling from the towering lush trees. “Why are you so interested?”

Now it was my turn to shrug. I didn’t know why. I guess I felt that the little bit of information I could get about Javier, the more I’d have to work with, to use against him when needed.

“I’m making conversation,” I said.

“Right. Well, if you care so much, the clothes belong to an ex-girlfriend of his.”

I snorted lightly out my nose. “Girlfriend? I would have thought Javier only used whores. Who else could be interested in him?”

I felt Esteban studying me closely. Of course on the outside I could see why any woman would be interested in Javier Bernal. He was beautiful to look at, and I was sure he could be charming when he wanted to be. He also had money and power. But any woman worth her salt would run once she realized what kind of a depraved psychopath he was. The idea of him having an ex-girlfriend, one to get sentimental over, confused me.

“She was interested in him,” he said, “a very long time ago. When they were young and stupid, I guess. But she was also a con artist.”

I nodded. “I see.” She was just as bad as he was, then. That explained some. “What was her name?”

He frowned. “Ellie. Why?”

“Just curious. Mexican?”

“American.”

“And she broke his heart? Or did he break hers?”

He pursed his lips. “Both. He broke hers and she broke his. And then she broke his again.”

“So she won.”

“Something like that.”

I smiled to myself. “Good.” I hoped the bastard suffered.

“It was good,” Esteban admitted. “I liked the woman, but she never would have joined his side, never would have had the confidence you need in this business.”

We slowed and he turned me around so we were walking back to the house again.

“You need confidence to be a good torturer, kidnapper, murderer?”

“You need confidence in yourself, to never question who you are.”

I nodded. “Maybe you all need to question yourselves more often.”

He gave me a funny look, as if I were the one who was crazy.

I stopped, noticing my shoe was untied. We were almost back at the yard, and I could see Javier stepping out of the house with Franco milling around in the doorway. Javier was staring in our direction.

Bending down, I tied my shoe and eyed the pile of rocks we were beside, the result of someone clearing this road a very long time ago. Javier and the guards were far off. It was only Esteban and I out here. I made a split-second decision.

I tied my shoelaces then quickly grabbed the nearest rock. I swivelled and leaped up, my arm overextending, as I smashed the rock into Esteban’s face. Because I was so much shorter, I got more of his jaw instead of his temple, but it was enough to make him yelp, holding on to his face as he staggered backward, barely able to stand up.

I didn’t check to see if he was going down. I turned on my heel and started bolting toward the trees. I didn’t know what the rest of my plan was, but I knew I had to get away while I could. Esteban said I was suicidal, just because I didn’t show fear. But I was the opposite of suicidal. I loved the life—the free life I once had—and I would do anything to get that back.

I was almost at the trees, at the freedom they represented, when I heard a small pop, like a gun going off. The next thing I knew my body was stiffening, and I lost all function to move as my nerves fired in a burst of strange, buzzing pain. I fell straight down to the ground, I think I was screaming, as my muscles vibrated nonstop.

I heard someone, Javier I think, yell “What the fuck are you doing?” and then the vibrations and pain stopped. Just like that. And then I was out cold.

Javier

“What the fuck are you doing?” I bellowed at Este and started sprinting down the driveway toward them.

One moment I was about to berate Este for taking Luisa out of the house, the next moment she had bashed his face in and was making a run for it before he took out a motherfucking Taser gun and fired on her. I don’t even know when the fuck he got the Taser, I thought I left that back home.

He looked over at me in surprise though he was still firing the gun, the wires connected to Luisa’s fallen, twitching body twenty feet away. I yanked it out of his hands and immediately the electricity stopped jolting through the wires.

“She tried to get away,” Este said unapologetically.

“I can see that,” I sniped at him. I looked at her, now motionless on the ground. “Jesus Christ.”

I ran over to her, dislodging the cartridge from the gun and tossing it to the ground. I crouched down beside her and gently put my hand on her neck, shaking her back and forth. “Luisa?” I said.

There was no answer or movement from her, but I could see her breathing in and out, which was a relief. I removed the darts from her back, blood trickling out of the holes. It looked so cheap and brutal below my letters.

I turned and glared over at Esteban who was watching me from a distance. “You’re a fuck, you know that? What if you accidently killed her? The Taser isn’t supposed to knock her out, just bring her down. And why the fuck did you put yourself in this position in the first place? You were supposed to give her breakfast, give her clothes, and that was it.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t worried, Javi. I figured she may try something but thought I’d let her see who she’s dealing with here. If she ran, I’d Tase her. She’d learn not to do it again.”

“I’m who she’s dealing with here,” I said, the anger simmering in my blood. “Not you. She’s not yours to touch, not yours to go on walks with, and not yours to fucking brutalize.”

He laughed. “I think Luisa was right. Maybe you should question yourself more often. You should hear the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

I wished I could reuse Taser cartridges because there’s no doubt I’d be delivering all those volts right to his miniscule balls. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to regain my cool. There was no point losing it here and now.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here,” I told him. “Go check on Juanito. Perhaps he has word from Salvador.”

Esteban hesitated, as if he was going to argue with me, but his brain kicked into gear and he turned and walked back toward the house with his wide-legged, frat boy stroll. Fucking degenerate.

I looked down at Luisa, realizing she was wearing the skirt I gave her as a dress. The color was stunning on her smooth, tan skin; her long hair was extra shiny in the sunshine, cascading into the earth around her. I reached over and ran a strand through my fingers—soft and wet, probably just out of the shower. Now she was dirty again.

The sight of her lying unconscious and broken should have made me smile. It should have soothed something inside of me. After all, this was what I wanted. But it wasn’t the same. This was unplanned and without merit. She may have looked weak, but I still did nothing to break her. If she were conscious, she’d be fighting me with her body and heart and mind.

I’d come to appreciate the fight in her.

I picked her up under her arms and hauled her to her feet, her head hanging down, creating a curtain of hair that masked her face. It took little effort to scoop her up, one arm under her arms, the other under her knees. I carried her back toward the house, and her head rolled back, exposing her fine collarbone, her fragile neck, her beautiful, sleeping features.

She really was light as air in my arms, just this helpless, submissive creature. As I approached the door where Franco was standing watch, I felt a pulse of possessiveness run through me. It wasn’t just that while she was here, I thought she was mine. I also felt like I needed to protect her. If I didn’t, no one would. Esteban had Tasered her without care, and Franco was staring at her with such ugly lust that I made a mental note to never let her near him. I knew his appetite for destruction was large and unceremonious.

“What happened to her?” Franco said, licking his lips as he looked her over. “Este looked pissed off.”

He reached over and grabbed a few strands of her hair. I automatically stopped walking and shot him a steady, deadly look.

“Don’t touch her,” I said, my tone both hard and calm. “Don’t you ever touch her. Do you understand?”

Franco slowly brought his eyes to mine. They were mildly defiant for a moment as a snarl appeared on his face. Then it melted into a sloppy smile. “Sure thing, boss.”

I went inside and took her to her room, kicking the door shut behind us, and laid her down on the bed on her back. I wasn’t about to leave her, not with her being unconscious. I had never been Tasered before, but I knew that sometimes there were complications. Sometimes people died. I had the Taser gun for torture, for the purpose of pain. After all, we shoot to kill in Mexico, and if we want to stop someone, a bullet works pretty well. A Taser though, that doesn’t kill…that prolongs. But I had no idea of the effects of a Taser on a woman.

The morning light was streaming in through the window, illuminating her like an angel, but a dirty one. Feeling strangely remorseful, I brushed some of the dust off of her. I ran my hands over her legs, her hips, across her stomach, her breasts, her chest, her arms. I rubbed the earth from her face, carefully running my thumb along her cheekbones, her skin so devastatingly soft. Though I needed to wake her up to make sure she was okay, I also wanted her to keep sleeping. I went to the end of the bed and pulled off her shoes, letting them fall to the floor, then put a pillow under her head. I stood there for a few minutes, just taking in the sight of her, my sleeping beauty.

The impulses that sporadically ran through me were hard to fight. I wanted to keep feeling her, that effortless glide of my palms against her skin. I wanted to caress her breasts, lick at her nipples, make her wet with my fingers. I wanted to take out my cock and rub the head against her slightly open lips. Then I wanted to flip her over and finish carving my name. Today I would do the I.

But I wanted her awake for all of it. It would be wrong otherwise.

I must have stood there for an hour, having this fight between my body and my mind, before she finally stirred. Her head moved to the side and she let out a small moan, stretching her limbs for a second. I sucked in my breath in anticipation as her eyes slowly blinked open, staring at the ceiling.

She carefully lifted her head and looked straight at me, having sensed I was there. Disappointment was etched into her face.

“You didn’t quite get away,” I said in a low voice.

She stared at me for a beat or two before looking down at her body in alarm, her hands smoothing over the dress.

“I didn’t touch you,” I told her, examining my fingernails, making sure they were clean. “Don’t worry.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “I was knocked out.”

I grimaced. “Yes. That was Este. He had a Taser. But you tried to run.” I flicked my eyes to her. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re actually sorry I was Tasered?” There was a bite to her voice. The fight was back, and it was making me hard.

I gave her a soothing smile. “I am. I had no wish to see that happen.” I paused. “What did it feel like?”

She glared at me. “Like when you hit your funny bone, but more intense and all over your body until you think you’re going to die.”