Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

I heard his zipper go back up and felt his shadow looming over me.

“I look good on your skin,” he murmured. He pressed his hands on my back and began to rub the sticky fluid into my back, into the wound. I bit my lip and held back a cry as it stung like crazy, making my eyes water.

“Finally,” he whispered, and I could feel his yellow eyes observing me closely. But he didn’t say anything else. He kept rubbing until my skin had absorbed all of him, just as he wanted. He then undid the rope around my wrists and stepped back.

I put my hands on the ground, and he walked around so I was facing his leather boots. He crouched down until we were almost eye to eye and he held up my dress in his hands.

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile, his eyes glazed with lazy exaltation. Then he grabbed me by my arms and hoisted me to my feet. Quickly, he slipped the dress on over my head and pulled it down until I was covered again. “You’re free to go,” he said.

I stared at him in surprise which brought out another smile from him.

“To your room, of course,” he said. Suddenly, he was turning around and snapping his fingers. “Tito,” he barked, and the guard who had winked at me earlier appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Take her to her room.”

I felt my cheeks flare from embarrassment—had the man seen the whole thing? If he had, Javier definitely didn’t care who saw him come all over me.

Javier reached down to the table and handed me the plate of uneaten food that had been for Esteban. “Almost forgot your breakfast.”

And at that he turned around and walked down the hall, disappearing into one of the rooms.

I stared at him, bewildered, clutching the plate of food in my hand.

Tito pointed the way toward the staircase, gesturing as if he were being polite. I barely took in his youthful but menacing appearance before I walked numbly up the stairs and back into my room. He shut the door behind me, locking it, and I was left alone again, with food that I didn’t want but needed, and thoughts that I didn’t need but wanted.

Luisa

When the sun rose the next morning, I was so tired I felt like I’d been drugged. I hadn’t been—I just hadn’t slept at all. The fact that I couldn’t be on my back, on the fresh V that Javier had carved on it late last night, didn’t help either. But mainly it was the nightmares that plagued me at every turn.

I’d never been the type of girl to fear the dark—when I was young, I loved for my father to tell me scary and thrilling stories. But now they were no longer stories, they were real, and every time I woke up from a nightmare, I was faced with a reality that was no better.

In some strange way, being alone made it worse. It’s not that I wanted Javier’s company, but I had to admit that when he was in the room with me, even when he was branding me and inflicting pain, it took my thoughts away from their darkest places. He distracted me. Even when he asked me questions about my past, questions I tried to dance around, it was still a distraction.

I would have thought that having someone nightmare-inducing with me would have made things worse, but it didn’t. Because my nightmares weren’t about Javier. They weren’t about what he was going to do to me. They weren’t about the fact that I could die in a few days at his hands.

My nightmares were about Salvador. They were about not what happened if he told Javier they had no deal—they were about what happened if he traded for me back.

What would happen to me if at the end of the week, I was set free and picked up by Salvador’s men? If I was brought back to the house? If Salvador saw how Javier had claimed me as his? I knew what the man was capable of, and it scared me to think of what else could happen—not only to me, but to my parents. Salvador was sick beyond comprehension, and I had a feeling that I had only seen the tip of the iceberg.

I think Javier even sensed that I didn’t want him to leave. When he was done carving the V, I started asking him questions. About his family, about his own past. He waited in the dark, thinking, perhaps about my angle. Why I was curious. Then he told me that I could have answers at another time.

Then he left, locking me in the room, locking me in with the nightmares that would never end.

I suppose the lack of sleep showed on my face, because when Esteban came into the room in the morning, he did a double take as I lay there on the bed, staring dumbly at the wall.

“Rough night?” he asked, a careful tone to his voice.

I didn’t have the energy to be amused at his apparent concern.

He put the breakfast tray down beside him and walked to the end of the bed. He playfully grabbed my foot. It made me jump, withdrawing my knees to my chest as my attention snapped to him.

“So you are alive,” he said, taking his hand back. “Glad to see it. I brought you breakfast.”

I glared at him. I’d refused dinner last night and thought I could pretend not to be hungry, but my stomach growled in protest.

“Tell you what,” Esteban said, noting my expression. “How about we make today a little bit better for you?”

“Better for me,” I spat out. “How about you stop pretending that you’re doing me favors? Don’t think for one second that I haven’t forgotten why I’m here.”

“Just eat your breakfast. I’ll come back with some new clothes for you. I think you’ve earned it. Then we’ll go for a walk. Doesn’t that sound nice, hey.” He grinned at me and then left the room, locking the door behind him.

I waited a bit, trying to ignore the food, but my resolve could not overpower my stomach. I scarfed down the tortilla and eggs and a large cup of coffee. I never knew when I’d need my strength.

I’d just finished when Esteban came back into the room, carrying a woven bag full of clothes. He tossed it on the bed. “For you,” he said, bending down to pick up the empty plate. “Take a shower, get dressed. I’ll be back here in thirty minutes whether you’re ready or not.”

I eyed the clothes spilling out of the bag. “Where did these come from?”

“Long story,” he said. “Let’s just say Javier can be sentimental.”

I wanted to hear this story—I had no idea that someone like Javier could possess that emotion. When he’d gone again, I pulled out an aqua skirt that was so long on my short frame it would fit me as a dress instead. I went into the bathroom and ran the shower. As the room filled up with steam, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been clean. It had to have been at Salvador’s, the night I ran away, yet I never felt clean when I was his wife. He filled my life with dirt.

Of course, I technically still was his wife. But the word had never meant anything to me.

I stayed in the shower for so long, letting the hot water strip me down, wishing for my worries and nightmares to be carried down the drain, that I was surprised when there was a knock at my door. I could hear Esteban in my room, and I quickly dried myself and slipped into the dress, my wet hair cascading down my back.

I paused in the doorway of the bathroom as Esteban looked at me and smiled.

“You look ravishing,” he said.

His compliment bounced right off me. I didn’t understand how I could look ravishing with no makeup and wet hair and a bruised face, and I wasn’t falling for it. Men thought women were so easy, that they could tell us how beautiful and thin we were, and we’d excuse them for whatever they’d done or were about to do. Until I met a man that saw past all of that, saw me for me, compliments meant nothing.

I nearly smirked to myself. There was no chance of that happening anymore. I’d either die here, surrounded by drug lords, or live with Salvador. All my chances of love and happiness with a man had gone out the window the moment Salvador stepped into Cabo Cocktails.