Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

I had to make her care. If all went well, I only had her for four more days, and in that time I would make her care, make her cry, make her realize just who I was and what I could do to her.

Luisa

I’m not sure how I slept the whole night through with my arms bound to my sides, face down on the bed, but I did. I didn’t wake until I heard knocking at my door. I knew who it was—Esteban knocked, Javier didn’t—and hoped that he would just go away. But I guess his politeness didn’t extend that far.

The door opened and I heard Esteban say, “Wow, he wasn’t kidding.”

It closed behind him and he walked over until I felt him hovering over me. I stiffened, wondering what would come next.

Esteban placed his hand on the small of my back. “Would you like me to untie you?”

Again, I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to beg or ask for anything.

“Well, I’m going to,” he said. He started undoing the rope and soon it loosened my arms falling beside me, my muscles screaming from the pain.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured. “Let me help you up.”

He reached for me, but with what strength I had, I sat up and swatted him away.

“Don’t you touch me,” I scowled.

He raised his palms at me. “All right. Just trying to help.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, sliding the shirt back to normal and making sure I was decent.

He nodded at it. “I have something here for you.”

I looked down at his hands and noticed him carrying a piece of fabric in hot pink.

“It’s a dress,” he said. “You know, if you don’t feel like wearing Javier’s shirt for the rest of the week. Or, you know, you can go naked. If you want.” He gave me a cocky grin and I wished I could do the same to his face as I had done to Javier’s. I just wasn’t sure I had the strength. My arms felt weak from being tied all night and I was absolutely starving.

When I didn’t move or say anything, he threw the dress on my lap. “Put it on,” he said. “I promise to turn around. I won’t look.”

“I don’t care if you do look,” I told him, raising my chin. I didn’t want to do a single thing Esteban or anyone told me to do, but I also wanted to get out of this shirt.

He raised his brows but slowly turned around anyway.

I quickly slipped off the shirt, wincing as it brushed against the cuts on my back, and pulled on the dress. It was strapless and had a smocked bust and waist that conformed to my body perfectly. To what little credit Esteban had, he didn’t turn around for quite some time.

“You look very fresh,” he commented, looking me over. There was a strange look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. It was as if he were devious, but at the same time, it wasn’t lustful or sexual. “Are you ready to eat, or do you still want to be stubborn about it?”

I wanted to say yes to both those questions. “I’m fine.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, hey,” he said. Before I could move, he reached over and grabbed my arm, yanking me straight out of bed. My wrist twisted painfully, and his fingers pressed into me with startling ferocity; enough that I couldn’t help the yelp that escaped from my lips.

“You’re hurting me,” I managed to say, staring up at him, at the highlighted hair that fell in his hazel eyes.

“You’re being an idiot,” he said back, smiling, the scars looking unsettling on his face. “Now come on. You’re having breakfast with us and you’re going to behave. A big smile for the boss.”

He let go and grabbed my upper arm, not as tightly as before, but I obviously wouldn’t be escaping. He led me out of the room and down the carpeted hallway to a set of stairs where a guard was standing watch. I stared at the guard while he took me past. He winked at me in response.

Downstairs the house was a bit more modern. Light pierced through the slats in the blinds. I noticed all the windows were covered, and the furniture in the living room was bare yet still tastefully decorated. I’d never been in Salvador’s torture houses, but I assumed they weren’t as nice as this. It could almost be a middle-class home if only I didn’t know its purpose.

“Right in here,” Este said, leading me through a doorway and into a black-and-white tiled kitchen that smelled of fried pork. At a round table sat an older man with grey, slicked back hair and a mustache. He was dressed all in white and was wearing small round glasses as he looked over the newspaper. He didn’t even glance up at me.

Beside him, sipping on a mug of tea and staring at me with vague surprise, was Javier. This was the first time I was able to get a good look at him in daylight. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. A gold watch glinted from his wrist while his elbows rested on the table.

In some ways Javier was an unusual looking man. He wasn’t movie star handsome—or even Telemundo handsome. His mouth was a little too wide, his nose was a bit crooked, perhaps a tad puffy from last night. He wasn’t terribly tall, and his body was sleek with an athletic build, not as muscled as Esteban. But he had sensual lips, dark, expressive brows, and high cheekbones. His hair was dark, shiny and thick enough to make any man or woman envious, a shaggy and slightly long cut. Then there were his eyes, that stark, golden gaze that cut you from the inside out. You couldn’t help but get sucked into them, swirling into whatever darkness lurked below. They were relentless, terrifying, and oddly beautiful, just like the man himself.

Javier took his eyes off of me and fixed them on Esteban. “I wasn’t expecting her.”

Esteban let go of my arm and nudged me toward the table. “She wanted to come. I told you I could convince her.”

I swallowed hard as Javier looked back at me, searching my face. I wasn’t sure why Esteban lied—he had certainly not convinced me of anything—but I wasn’t about to call attention to it either.

“Well then,” Javier said, nodding at the empty seat across from him. “Sit down. Eat Este’s breakfast.”

I didn’t want to move, but Esteban nudged me again, harder this time, until I practically fell into the chair. The mugs and glasses of juice on the table rattled, spilling over slightly, and Javier briefly shot Esteban a deadly look, though I couldn’t tell if it was for my unceremonious treatment or the spilled drinks. Most likely the latter.

“I got her to wear the dress too,” Este added, standing behind me and resting his hands on the back of my chair.

Javier’s gaze slid over my body before resting on my face, looking remotely suspicious. “So I see. I hope you like it, Luisa. If you don’t, there’s more where it came from.”

I could only stare blankly at him, too overwhelmed by the situation.

“Oh, and where are my manners?” He looked over at the grey-haired man. “Luisa, this is The Doctor. Doc, this is our dear houseguest, Luisa Reyes.”

The Doctor eyed me dryly before turning back to the paper. “Yes, I met her the other night.”

“Ah, but the other night was so … chaotic, don’t you think?” Javier folded his hands in front of him. “Perhaps proper introductions are still needed. You know who I am, so you say. The man behind you is Esteban Mendoza. Another partner of ours, Franco, is running errands. I’m afraid you don’t want to get on his bad side—again.” He gestured to my cheek which was still tender, thanks to the hit it took the other night. I’d made a note not to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, but I knew it was deeply bruised.

“There are a few more people you’ll see milling about, but their names aren’t important. They won’t have much to do with you unless you make trouble for yourself. It seems as if that’s something you like to do—I recommend you don’t. We don’t want to do any harm to you. That said, we’re not completely against it either.”