Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

I could have laughed until I realized he was serious. “You want to be a good host? Let me go free then.” I looked down the hallway and noticed a man stationed at the end of it, standing guard. For a moment I thought I could throw the food in Este’s face, perhaps smash the coffee pot into the other cheek and scar that one up too. But I wouldn’t get far. Where there was one guard there were more guards.

“I’m afraid we can’t let you go until Salvador pays the ransom,” Esteban said. “That’s how these things work.”

“Too bad for you he’ll never pay any amount for me,” I told him.

At that Esteban looked completely surprised. The look vanished when he said, “It’s not money we are after. We have more than enough. We want a certain shipping lane going into the Baja.”

I gave him an incredulous look and shook my head slightly. Was he for real? They had absolutely no idea about me and Salvador’s relationship. They were going to have a rude awakening when they realized he wasn’t going to give them anything. And I was going to die.

When I didn’t say anything he gestured to the room behind me. “May I come in?”

“If I say no, will you do something about it?”

He frowned. “You’re a bit of a feisty one, aren’t you? You do realize what has happened to you, don’t you? Javier Bernal is not a nice man and you’re his prisoner.”

“I’m being treated fairly well for a prisoner,” I countered.

He raised his brows. “We like to extend some courtesies when we can. So I take it you don’t want your food?”

“You and your food can go fuck yourself,” I said, feeling a rush of hot blood go through me. I wasn’t used to swearing or talking back. If it was possible, my newfound fearlessness scared me.

I was so certain that Esteban was going to throw the coffee in my face or strike me, force me into the room and brutalize me. But that never came.

He only gave me a stiff smile. “I’m only trying to make things more comfortable for you. The others aren’t as nice as me.” His look darkened. “But I can be the bad guy if you want me to.”

I believed him. Underneath the boyish demeanour I saw depth that held anger and malicious intent, a bitterness that marred his true nature. Perhaps the darkness wasn’t for me, but it was there. I had seen that same look on Salvador, only he wore his depravity on the surface. While I had no doubt that Esteban was probably considered the good guy in this whole operation, I told myself to never think he was on my side.

Without taking my eyes off of his, I slowly stepped back into the room and shut the door in his face. I stood there, waiting on the other side of it, until I heard a shuffle and the door being locked.

I breathed out a long sigh of relief that rocked through me until I felt like I was too heavy to stand. I leaned back against the door and slowly slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I rested my head back and stared at the window, at the sun that was still shining through.

I was going to spend my last days in this room unless Salvador came through. But even that would mean a return to a horrible life. There was no winning this game.

The only thing I had to hold on to was my sense of self. I had let Sal ruin me, day by day, piece by piece. I wouldn’t let that happen here. They could try and carve me up, they could rape me, torture me, try and confuse me with hospitality, but they would not get to me. They would not break my soul. They would not see my pain.

And at that, a single tear leaked out and ran down my cheek. I swallowed and willed myself to stop. That was for my father and mother who I tried so hard to do right by. That was the only time I would cry from now until my death.

They would never reach the deepest parts of me.

I woke up to the sound of the door being unlocked. I had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, my head slumped to the side, my neck aching. It was twilight now and the sun was long gone.

The door suddenly opened, pushing against my back. Whoever this was, the whole knocking courtesy didn’t extend to them. I quickly rolled out of the way and got to a crouch just as someone stepped in.

In the dim light, I couldn’t make out who it was, but I knew right away. He stared down at me, and I could see his eyes glinting against his shadowy face.

“What are you doing down there?” Javier asked in a silky smooth voice.

I didn’t say anything, I didn’t move.

He shut the door behind him and cocked his head at me. Even in the low light I could feel his eyes, feel him studying me. “I heard you weren’t too interested in eating today. Este says you told him to go fuck himself. I wish I could have seen that.”

When I didn’t say anything, he took a step toward me and held out his hand. “Get up,” he said, waiting. His posture stiffened and his voice lowered. “I said get up. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

It was only then that I noticed he was holding something in his other hand. Two things, it looked like. A folded-up rope and a knife. I waited for the pang of fear to hit me. It was subtle and I didn’t let it show. I also didn’t obey him.

He quickly reached down and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me up to him until I was pressed against his chest, crushing the front of his suit jacket.

“You’re a light little thing, aren’t you?” he asked in a bemused voice, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon and tobacco. “Delicate and easy to break.”

We’d see about that.

I acted instinctually. With my free hand I jabbed my palm into his nose. He yelped in surprise, maybe even in pain, and momentarily let go of me. That’s all I needed.

I pushed past him and went for the door. I put my hands on the knob and turned, pulling it toward me. There was a wonderful feeling of freedom for just that one moment where the door opened and the light from the hallway spilled in. The feeling of power that came from fighting back.

Nothing in my life had felt as good as my hand connecting with his face.

But the feeling was fleeting. All at once the door slammed shut and Javier was behind me, the rope going around my chest. He hauled me backward into him so that he was holding me tight from behind.

“Don’t you know it turns me on when you fight back?” he whispered in my ear, his voice ragged. “Though it turns me on when you don’t fight back, too. I guess you can’t win.” He sniffed. “I think you bloodied my nose.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to bloody my face,” I taunted him, my veins on fire with the strange adrenaline that was running through me.

He sucked in his breath. “No, my darling. I would never do that to your face. Just your back. I have a lot of respect for beautiful things, you know. They are usually the most dangerous.”

Oh, how I wished I could be dangerous to him, to anyone.

“You know, Luisa,” he said, holding me tighter now. I could feel his erection pressing into my ass. “We’re going to be doing this dance with each other until we give you back to your husband. You could make things easier on yourself. I don’t like to play rough with you.”

“No,” I said quietly. “You just want to cut me up.”

“I’m merely branding you,” he said. “Don’t make it sound so ugly.” He lifted his arm so that the knife was shining in front of my face. I could almost see my warped reflection staring back at me. “My penmanship with a knife is very delicate. A hard-earned skill. If your husband’s name was Javier, I think you would be quite pleased with the finished result.”

The man was completely crazy. He planned to carve his name in my back, as if he was doing me a favor.

“Come on,” he said, and quickly wrapped the rope around me so my arms were held tight to my sides. He made a few knots and then shuffled me over to the bed before he pushed me onto it, face down. I turned my head to breathe and he pressed down on the side of it, to keep me in place. “Now stay.”