Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

He straddled me, legs on either side of my waist, and his hands stroked softly along the back of my neck until he grabbed my collar. “My shirt looks good on you,” he commented. “But it looks better off.” He reached underneath me, grabbing me by my collarbone, and ripped the shirt open before pushing it to the side and sliding most of it off until one shoulder was bare.

“He’s not going to want me when he sees what you’ve done,” I managed to say.

“He’s not going to see what I’ve done until I have what I want. What your marriage can and cannot handle is not my problem and none of my business.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m many things but disgusting isn’t one of them.”

“You’re sick.”

“Well, there’s no argument there. Good or bad, there is great power in knowing who you are and owning it. So, tell me, my beauty queen … who are you?”

He leaned down so those blazing eyes of his were visible to mine.

“No one you will ever know,” I told him, relieved at how strong I sounded.

“We shall see about that.”

He adjusted himself on my back, and I felt him press the dull side of the blade into my shoulder. The cold threatened to make me shiver, but I suppressed it.

“You know what I am going to do to you and yet you are not afraid. Why is that?” His voice was lower now, wispy like smoke.

He wouldn’t be interested in the truth. “Why do you want me to be afraid?”

Silence thickened the room. He didn’t answer. I knew now that I had spurred him on to try and do his worst. It would hurt me dearly, but as long as I never showed it, never gave in, I would be the one who would win in the end. I could beat Javier Bernal at his own twisted game.

“There are some things in life you should be afraid of,” he finally said.

“Like you?”

His eyes burned into me but I didn’t look away. He straightened up and turned the knife over. He dug the blade in, and it pierced me with a sharp, nauseating blast of pain. “Like me,” he said quietly.

I bit down on my lip as he carved the A right beside the still tender J. I didn’t know what his penmanship looked like, nor did I care, but he was very quick, I had to give him that. He could have drawn it out a lot longer. The pain was sharp but brief.

“Now that that’s done for today,” he said, his voice still soft as he removed the knife, “can I get you anything?”

It was as if my back wasn’t bleeding from his torture. I didn’t even know what to say so I didn’t say anything. I just pressed my teeth together and prayed he would go away.

“You really should eat something,” he said, still straddling me. “I happen to be a good cook.” He waited, and when he didn’t get a response, he leaned down and gently blew on my fresh wound. “I can get you fresh clothes, I have a whole selection put aside for you. Perhaps they will be a bit long, I had no idea how short you were.”

I kept my mouth shut and my face emotionless, giving him nothing. But inside, I couldn’t quite comprehend what a psychopath this man was. He and Salvador were so much the same and yet so different.

“All right,” he said, straightening up. “If you wish to be stubborn, then I’ll leave you.” He gracefully eased himself off of me, and I heard him walk over to the door and open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luisa Reyes.”

The door shut behind him and I could hear it being locked. It was only then that I realized he’d left me on the bed, still tied up and unable to move my arms.

I spent all of two seconds trying to figure out how to free myself before the pain and exhaustion overtook me and pulled me off to sleep.

Javier

“Need a sparring partner?”

I hadn’t even noticed that Este was behind me, but my right hook never faltered and it delivered the blow head on. The heavyweight bag swung and I stepped out of the way, wiping the sweat from my brow as I looked to him standing in the doorway. They all called me self-indulgent when I insisted all the safe houses be equipped with a small gym and heavyweight bags, but if I wasn’t staying in shape by boxing, I wasn’t myself.

“Do you remember the last time I sparred with you?” I asked him, grabbing a bottle of water and having a sip.

He shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t embarrassed. Este always had this way of trying to prove something to me, to one-up me. The last time we had a sparring session, he turned it into a full-fledged fight. Naturally, I knocked him down with just a blow. All my training hadn’t been for nothing. I had hoped I knocked his ego down, too, but that wasn’t the case.

He pointed at me and wiggled his fingers. “Were you sparring with someone else? Your nose looks more crooked than normal.”

I raised my brow. “You were right about her being feisty.”

He smiled. “I see. But I guess you still got your way.”

“When don’t I?”

He casually jammed his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Oh, I can think of a few times.”

That was enough. “What do you want, Este?” I asked pointedly.

He nodded, smiling to himself, knowing he got to me for just that one second. “I was going to go check on the girl, bring her some breakfast. Just letting you know that Doc’s cooked up a feast. Do you think it’s too soon to let her eat with us?”

I grabbed a towel and started wiping the sweat off my arms and chest. “I’d like to see if you can convince her to eat, let alone eat with us. But you never know—I did leave her in a rather vulnerable position.”

He frowned and sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I don’t think she realizes what a vulnerable position she’s actually in.”

“I was being literal, but I agree,” I told him, stretching my arms above my head. “So she really thinks that Salvador won’t give a shit about her life?”

“I’ve been checking my phone, my emails all morning,” he said. “There’s nothing from him yet.”

“Maybe he hasn’t seen the video yet.” I went over to the bench and picked up my watch that I removed only for boxing. I didn’t like the way my wrist looked without it. I quickly strapped it on and felt an immediate sense of relief when it covered up the tattoo that resided on my veins.

“Javi, he’s seen it. I can tell.”

“Then he’s waiting for us to tell him what we want. He’s not a stupid man, not entirely. He won’t act rash right away.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. “Otherwise, this was a lot of effort for nothing.”

I glared at him. “That’s not for you to ever question or worry about.”

He raised his palm at me. “It’s all cool, hey.”

I gave him a disgusted look. Everything was always so fucking cool to him, like the cartel was one big frat party where he could coast along, screwing chicks and trying to be the big man on campus. He took all the wrong things seriously.

I watched as he left the room, and then I turned back to the bag. Despite the watch being on my wrist, I started punching again, harder. I hated to admit it, but there was this tiny thread of doubt that Este had placed in my head, wriggling around like a maggot.

Even if Salvador didn’t love his wife, he still had pride, and that was what I was banking on. I could only hope that his pride was worth part of his empire. I had built my own empire—or siphoned it, depending on who you asked—and I knew how much it was worth to me. But my pride, my image, was worth just as much.

Then there was the other piece in the game, the lovely, stubborn Luisa who so bravely dared to defy me last night. After I had left her tied on the bed, it took all my willpower not to go in there and make her see how serious I was. She hadn’t been afraid—she didn’t even make a sound when the blade cut her beautiful skin—and it was driving me mad. I couldn’t tell if she just didn’t realize the danger she was in, or she just didn’t care. If it was the latter, that made her more dangerous than I wanted to admit. She needed to appreciate the art of violence, the beauty in fear, the fragility of her own life.