Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

She was mine.

After we made quick work of the cigar and the meal, The Doctor and I headed down into the basement to get everything set up for her arrival. We had the chair and the ropes, and chains if we needed them. We had the digital camera set up and ready to record our ransom note which would then be uploaded and emailed directly to Salvador’s account, thanks to Este’s expertise. We even had bottles of water and carafes of hot tea and coffee—for us, of course. I liked for my men to be hydrated and have a clear head at our most crucial times, and this was most definitely one of those times.

With the safe house being much closer to Salvador’s compound, The Doctor and I only had to wait a few hours for them to arrive. We drank our tea and discussed local politics to pass the time and smoked another cigar—anything to calm the nerves. I didn’t even know why I was so nervous; it was very unlike me. If things went wrong with our hostage, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d die and that would be that. There would always be another card to play.

I suppose, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted more than just to get the shipping lane into the Baja, the one Salvador controlled. I wanted to humiliate him, to prove that I was as big of a player as he was. All my life I struggled to get ahead and be the best, but my personal best no longer mattered. Each step I took, the higher and higher I went, the more power I had, it never satisfied me. I wanted more, always more.

I wanted Salvador to fear me, to be looking over his shoulder for me. Perhaps he already did—I’d been known to commit some unsavory and highly publicized acts over the years—but I wanted him to feel that fear firsthand. And what fear is greater than the fear of feeling stupid?

I got up from my seat and picked up a knife I had placed on the table earlier.

“Is that for show?” The Doctor asked, raising a neatly trimmed white eyebrow. He sipped his tea carefully.

I shook my head. “No. It will be put to use. Every day.”

“On the girl?”

I nodded. “Yes. On her. One letter a day. When she goes back to Salvador in a week, I want him to see my name on her back.”

He crossed his legs and gave me small smile. “You’re getting more twisted and snarled the older you get. Like a root over the years. Are you sure you’re only thirty-five?”

I managed a grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’m only thirty-two.”

“Wouldn’t know it.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Guess Salvador might not want his wife after you give her back with your name carved into her. Ever think of that?”

I let my fingers slide around the blade. “That’s not my problem, is it?” I picked up a nearby stool and placed it in front of Luisa’s empty chair. I put the knife on top of it with reverence. “As long as I get what I want, what Salvador does with his wife afterward is none of my business.”

“And your indifference is what will get you far in this world.”

“Indifference,” I said with a dry laugh. “I’ve heard worse.”

At that I heard the faint sound of a car a door slamming shut. There were two ways into the basement—one from inside the house and the other leading to the driveway. My eyes flew over to the latter just as the door opened. Feet appeared first on the steps, followed by long legs. Este. Behind him were Juanito and Franco, holding on to the girl.

In person, Luisa Reyes was a lot smaller and more delicate than I imagined. She looked like I could pick her up and carry her in the palm of my hand, the same hand that I could so easily crush her with. Her legs were bare, short, and splattered in mud, but they had soft curves that I wanted to run my hands over. Her hips were full, her waist tiny, even in a loose blouse that was achingly low-cut over her perfect breasts. I couldn’t see her face because of the black canvas bag they had placed over her head, so I focused instead on her collarbone. I wanted to nip it with my teeth.

I bit down on my lip instead.

I needed a moment to get back in the game.

They took her over to the chair and immediately bound her hands behind it. I watched, trying to steady my breathing, and took in every detail of her that I could. The more I could deduce about her character, the better. Her shorts were jean cut-offs, her shoes were Adidas runners. She had on no jewelry. She wasn’t at all what a typical narco-wife looked like. She looked … normal.

I had to make sure that wouldn’t be a problem for me.

I nodded at The Doctor who got the ball rolling. He walked over to the video camera on the tripod and lined it up with Luisa’s hooded figure.

“Is everything ready?” Este asked him.

“It’s all set up,” he said, and walked toward Luisa, peering down at her. “How drugged is she?”

“Not badly,” Este said, shooting me a nervous glance. I didn’t like that glance. “She’s somewhat coherent.”

“You didn’t gag her?”

“No, but she shut up when she needed to.”

“It’s lucky she was out there.”

“Yes. It was,” The Doctor said. There was a pause and everyone looked at me.

Waiting.

I took in a deep breath through my nose.

“Gentleman,” I announced as I slowly walked toward her, “remove the bag.”

Este leaned over her and quickly pulled it off her head.

She immediately put her face to the side, her eyes shut tight, trying to avoid my gaze or perhaps the overhead light. All it did was highlight a red and purple bruise that marred her beautiful cheek.

A curious bit of rage simmered in my stomach. “Who did this?” I asked, my hands going for her ruined face while my eyes immediately went to Franco. “Who did this?” I repeated. Luisa flinched under my touch, perhaps from pain, perhaps from revulsion. She still didn’t look at me.

“Sorry,” Franco mumbled, not sorry at all. “It was the only way to quiet her.”

I sucked in my breath and tried to bury the fire inside. The man was such a sorry excuse for a human being. He got the job done, but he often went overboard while doing it. He was a messy, sloppy fuck with beady eyes that showed what little intelligence he had in his thick skull. If Luisa was going to suffer any pain—and she would—it would not be at the hands of this brute, a man who had no finesse in his actions, no respect for violence. It would be from me. I was the one in charge of her.

When I was calm and air was flowing through my lungs with ease, I took my hands off her soft, swollen skin and bent down in front of her. Now I wanted her to see me. She couldn’t avoid this forever.

“Look at me, Luisa Reyes.” She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. Her chest heaved, but I kept my eyes on hers. “Darling, aren’t you curious as to where you are?”

For a moment there I started to wonder if I had the wrong girl. With the bruise and the pain in her wincing expression, I wondered if I’d captured a woman who was already broken. There was no challenge in that, only pity.

“My name is Luisa Chavez ,” she said. She straightened her head and her eyes flew open, staring right at me. “And I know where I am. I know who you are. You are Javier Bernal.”

I had nothing to worry about. She was not broken at all. Those deep brown eyes burned with strength.

I raised my brow and nodded, exceedingly pleased and terribly turned on. The fact that she knew my name made my dick twitch.

“You know why you’re here,” I said, straightening up. I walked over to the stool, eager to begin, and glanced at her over my shoulder. “Don’t you?”

She was staring at me, a bit of fear coming off of her, making her look even younger. My god her lips looked so full and juicy as they quivered before me.