Karina Halle - Dirty Angels

I put on a hard face. “So, where are you taking me? Aren’t you going to, well, look more appropriate?”

He shrugged. “We’re just going for a ride. Tomorrow is a day for suits. Today is a day to … relax.” I tapped my foot and he went on. “I’ve heard there’s a beautiful waterfall here at the end of the road. Apparently you can see the Pacific from the heights. I thought we could go there.”

I couldn’t figure out just how sincere he was. “You’re just going to take me on a car ride?”

“Don’t look so concerned,” he said. “You won’t be able to escape.”

I figured that much. He opened the door and we stepped out into the hall. Immediately, the repulsive pig that was Franco was at our side. Javier seemed on edge around him, his eyes burning into him like a warning, while Franco handed over a pair of handcuffs.

Franco then went down the stairs, and Javier slipped one cuff over my wrist and held on to the other one before taking me outside into the sunshine. There was a black SUV—the narcos’ car of choice—running in the driveway. Franco climbed into the driver’s seat and Javier put us both in the back, making sure the other end of the handcuff was fastened to the handle above the door. There would be no escaping from this vehicle, not unless I wanted to be dragged to my death.

We rode in silence for the first bit, the only sounds the crunch of rock beneath the wheels and my heart pounding loudly in my chest. It was jarring being out in the real world, so much so that I had a hard time taking it all in. It wasn’t until Javier put down my window and the fresh mountain air came pouring into my lungs, that I remembered I was alive, even if only a short time. Lush, tropical foliage covered the road on both sides, and birds squawked happily from the trees. It was beautiful outside, and I realized that this was indeed a gift for me.

Yet, I had to wonder who all of this was for. Me? Or for the tiny speck of a conscience I knew he had.

I shifted in my seat and studied him for a moment, sitting there still dressed down in his top and lounge pants, looking more like an ordinary—albeit handsome—man.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

He stared out the window for a moment, as if he didn’t hear me. “Because it is your last day here, your last day in my presence. I wanted to make it memorable.”

“My last day on earth,” I said grimly.

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Well, tomorrow you will either be gone…”

“Or I will be dead. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

He frowned. “I feel like Salvador knows how very precious you are. If I were him, I wouldn’t let you go.”

“But you’re not him.”

“No,” he said with finality. “I’m not.”

“So how are you going to kill me?”

His dark brows shot straight up. “Excuse me?” he asked incredulously.

“I said, how are you going to kill me? I know how most sicarios kill women. Through strangulation. Are you going to choke me?”

He rubbed at his chin, his eyes still bewildered. “Choking belongs in the bedroom, Luisa, and if you stayed around me long enough, you’d find that out for yourself.”

I shrugged and looked at the trees rushing past, the way the road climbed and climbed. The air was turning cooler by the moment, the land smelling sweet and earthy. I felt like every sense was turned on, heightened, perhaps because this really was the last day.

“Choking is a horrible way to kill someone,” Javier went on, his voice heavy. He placed his hand on mine, and I looked to him in surprise at the gesture. His expression was grave, his lips set in a hard line. “To feel someone’s life slip out of your hands is not enjoyable.”

“Is any killing enjoyable?” I asked coldly.

He raised his chin. “Yes. Some are.”

“So how are you going to kill me?”

His grip tightened on my hand. “Why are you talking about such things?”

“Because it is the truth. Is it Franco here?” I asked, jerking my chin to the monkey driving the SUV. “Will he do it? Lower me into boiling water until the little parts of me burn, until you cut those bits off, until I pass out and you revive me and you do it all over? Will you sprinkle me with acid? Gouge my eyes out, rape me with a burning hot tire iron and leave me in a room to die? Don’t think I haven’t learned a thing or two about being a narco-wife. I know how your business is conducted.” My voice had become higher at the end and I realized how heated I was getting. I needed to calm down.

I took a deep breath and looked away from his face, his face that was still searching mine, seemingly in disbelief.

After a few thick moments passed, the tension in the car mounting, he removed his hand from mine and said, “You will be shot in the head.”

A stone dropped into my stomach. The truth.

“I see,” I managed to say.

“It is fast and painless. You won’t feel a thing. Just hear a loud noise, perhaps some pressure. And then it will all be over.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“No,” Javier said. “That is not my job.”

“I would like you to,” I said, looking back at him. “I would like you to pull the trigger.”

He frowned, shaking his head slightly. “Why?”

“Because I am your responsibility. And you are the boss. Don’t become like Salvador, letting the people below you do your dirty work. Own up to the problems you created. Handle them yourself, like a man.” I leaned in closer, close enough that I could see my reflection in his eyes. “I am yours. Act like it.”

A faint wash of panic came across his face. “I am not finished with my name.”

“Then take me back home and finish me.”

Now he was really taken aback. He gestured to Franco and the world outside. “But we haven’t reached the waterfall. The view is breathtaking, I—”

“You wanted to make my last day memorable.” I cut him off. “Then you should do what I want. I want to go back to the safe house. I want you to finish your job. I want to be done with all of this. I want to be done with you.”

I could see Franco eying him in the rearview mirror, unimpressed that I was ordering around his boss. But I didn’t care.

Javier watched me for a few beats, a darkness swirling in his eyes. Finally he said to Franco, “Turn around, we’ve seen enough.”

“Yes, boss,” he said, now glaring at me. I turned and stared out the window, taking in the sights that I would possibly never see again.

It didn’t take long before we were back at the safe house and Javier was taking me up to my room. He practically shoved me in there and quickly locked the door, acting almost like he was mad at me.

I was alone again. But I knew not for long. He wouldn’t stand me up, not after what I said to him. He had too much pride.

So I sat down on the bed and waited.

Javier came just after nightfall. Perhaps he was a vampire. His shining knife, caught in the moonlight, acted as his dutiful fangs.

He came in the room and flicked on the bedside light, which gave off a dull glow. He was wielding the blade in one hand, still dressed down, but in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. He didn’t say anything to me, just stared down at my body. There was a strange emptiness in his eyes, and I had to wonder if he was really here or somewhere else in that peculiar head of his.

We both knew what he was here to do; there was no point discussing it anymore. I no longer feared his knife; I’d grown accustomed to it, just as I’d grown somewhat accustomed to him. I unknotted my shirt and pulled it right over my head, not caring that I was bare-breasted in front of him.

He bit his lip and I could see his chest rise and fall, as if he was trying to catch his breath. But he still motioned for me to turn over. I did as he asked, feeling as if we were doing a well-choreographed dance and this was our final performance.