Текст книги "Dirty Angels"

Автор книги: Karina Halle

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I needed to ask her soft, radiant, pixelated face for forgiveness for what I was about to do.

She would soon be sorry she ever married Salvador Reyes.

CHAPTER FIVE

Luisa

“You look nervous,” the makeup artist said to me as she dusted a light coating of glimmering blush across my cheekbones. “Don’t be. You look beautiful.”

She had a singsong quality to her voice that would have soothed any bride-to-be, but there was no soothing me. If I got up and looked out the window, I would have seen the plaza below absolutely filled with people here to see me and Salvador get married. I would have also felt, though not seen, the countless snipers that were lined up to take out anyone who might have … interfered. That should have made me feel better, safer, but it didn’t. I felt I was only safe until the moment I said “I do.” After that, I was just a rat scurrying through the desert, the hawk biding its time from above.

“And you said your parents are here,” she went on, her voice quicker now, trying to get me to talk, to say something. I’d been more or less silent the whole time. Perhaps she was nervous too. She knew who I was marrying, after all.

“Yes, they are here,” I said, my throat feeling strangely raw.

“They must be so proud,” she said, tilting my chin up with her fingers in order to line my lips with precision.

“They don’t normally travel,” I said by way of explanation, barely moving my lips. My parents weren’t so much proud as they were scared out of their minds. My father hadn’t been himself for days now, and it was only by luck that he was calm and under control. Luck, or perhaps some medication my mother borrowed from a friend of hers. My mother herself was rigid and unyielding, trying hard to be happy for me but failing at it. For the first time in my life, I could hardly stand to be around her. She only reminded me of what I was giving up and giving in to.

“Where do they live?” she asked.

“In San Jose del Cabo,” I said.

“They won’t be joining you with your husband?”

I shook my head and then smiled apologetically when I realized it messed up her work. “They wanted to stay where their friends were. It’s too … inconvenient for them to be living with me and Salvador.” Not to mention that with Salvador’s help, I was able to buy them a beautiful new home close to a retirement center and hospital. Both my parents had a full-time caregiver now, a tough but lovely woman named Penelope, and they had their activities and their friends. It happened fast, and we were all still adjusting to the change. I did what I could to ease the guilt since I couldn’t live with them anymore, but it was so much better than them risking their lives to live with us in Culiacán. Though they were out of my reach, I felt they were much safer in the Baja.

“Well, perhaps that is for the best,” she said, giving me a quiet smile. “Nothing ruins a marriage like in-laws.”

I returned the look, and to my relief, she finished up my face in silence.

The wedding ceremony itself went a lot smoother than I thought. The three glasses of champagne I nicked off a waiter certainly helped. It was quite elaborate with the priest and our vows and the endless sea of people watching our every move. But I did my part, acted in the play, and did my best to pretend I was the blushing bride eager to be wedded to her powerful husband. I could only hope that my face would not betray me and show the world just how terrified I was.

The moment he slipped the ring on my finger—a big, blinding diamond that cost more than most people would earn in their life—and we said our vows, I knew I should have wept with power. I was the wife of the jackal, nearly the most powerful man in the country. But while others would see power resting on my shoulders, I knew deep down the cape was an illusion.

And it didn’t take very long to find out how fake it was.

For our honeymoon, Salvador and I headed to the coast to a quiet little village that was completely under his jurisdiction, where he had a massive beachfront property. I barely had any time to say goodbye to my mother and father, my hands still clasping theirs, holding on for dear life, as I was ushered away from the ceremony, flowers in my hair, and into the waiting limousine.

It was bulletproof. But I was not.

Salvador and I sat in the back, the only inhabitants, while I craned my neck around and watched as my parents disappeared from sight, two frail frames against the relentless sun.

“That was rude of me,” I said, even though I knew it was best to keep my mouth shut. I wished my voice wasn’t shaking. “To just leave them like that.” It was more than rude; it frightened me more than anything else to have them out of my reach, so fast and so soon.

Salvador turned in his seat to face me. He looked almost handsome in his tuxedo, his hair slicked back, his mustache trimmed. His eyes though, they always betrayed him. They were frazzled, sparking, like bad wiring.

“You’re my wife now,” he said with a grin that was far too wicked to be genuine. “You no longer answer to your parents, you answer to me.”

I swallowed uneasily, trying to decide on whether to wear defiance or pleading compliance on my face. It was a split-second decision and defiance won out.

It got me a smack across the face.

I took a few moments, my newly ringed hand on my cheek, trying to soothe the throbbing. I stared at Salvador in dumb shock. I knew that everything had been for show so far, I just had no idea it would turn to the truth so fast.

“You answer to me,” he repeated, his eyes growing thinner and hard as steel. “That means no talking back.”

I opened my mouth and he immediately backhanded me again, harder this time, enough that I saw lights flashing behind my eyes, my teeth biting down on my tongue as the back of my head hit the seat rest. I tried not to panic, tried my hardest to remain composed all while wanting to cry out from the pain. The fear was greater than I’d ever known.

After a moment, I straightened up in my seat, inching away from him. He only leered at me, as if the whole thing was one giant joke. Perhaps it was.

“When I say no talking back,” he said, running his fingers over his mustache, “I mean it, like I mean everything I say. We can have a nice, happy marriage if you learn to behave. I will still give you the world and you will want for nothing. But there are rules that you will have to follow. Nothing is free in this life, do you understand?”

I nodded, not daring to speak.

Suddenly he shot forward and was in my face, a vein throbbing at his temple. “I said, do you understand!?” he screamed, spittle flying onto me.

I shut my eyes tight, as if it would make him go away. I felt like the life was being drained out of me with every second that I spent in that limo, that this was the start of a slow and painful death. And I had willingly walked into it.

You’re doing this for your parents, I told myself, trying to draw myself inward to where it was dark, warm, and safe. Remember that. Remember whose happiness you are buying.

“Look at me,” Salvador said, his voice quiet now, though I could feel his hot breath on my skin. “You have to look at me when I’m talking to you. That is one of the rules.” He grabbed my chin and squeezed hard enough to make my eyes flutter open. I stared at him blankly, not wanting to really see him. My husband.

“The other rule,” he went on, softer now, “is that you will not talk back. You will also be loyal and you will not stray. You will not even look at other men. For your own protection, you will not be allowed to have any friends that I do not choose for you. You will not be able to leave the house on your own. You will always stay thin and beautiful, with a big smile for everyone you meet. And you will not deny me my rights as a husband.” He licked his lips as he said that. “Now. Do. You. Under. Stand?”

I did understand. The life of Luisa Chavez was really and truly over.

There was only Luisa Reyes now.

And she was about to live a life of pain.

* * *

Salvador took my virginity in the back of that limo, minutes before we even reached the beach house. It happened quickly, and for that I was glad. It didn’t lessen the pain—the horrible, ripping pain—but it meant I didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of my first time for too long.

He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t generous. If that’s what sex was, I wondered how anyone could enjoy it. He treated my body like a piece of meat, a slice of property. I had no claim to it, and that’s what he wanted to show me, again and again and again. I had no say, no rights. I was his, whether I wanted to be or not, and he would have me anytime he wanted. My own feelings and desires didn’t matter.

I didn’t want to the second time. I was sore, oh so sore, and trying to sleep in, afraid to face him and my first morning as his wife. But Salvador didn’t believe in the word no. It didn’t matter how many times I said it, if I struggled … in fact, he liked it when I did. He’d strip his bloated, ugly body naked and force himself on me and into me with a grin on his face that not even his mother could love.

If he even had a mother. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever raising him. When I tried to picture him as a young boy, I knew there would have been no innocence in his heart. He’d have been the one to put firecrackers in dogs’ mouths, to take the fights in the playground too far, to spit in his grandmother’s food. I tried to think about these things, trying to figure out how one becomes such a vile, hateful thing, while he violated me from the inside out.

It wasn’t enough that I was clearly in pain and vulnerable while this happened—if I struggled in the least, he would assert his dominance in other ways.

“Mrs. Reyes,” the housekeeper called out from the balcony behind me. I was sitting on the beach, the warm Pacific lapping at my feet and soaking the ends of my dress. I’d been sitting there for hours, and I knew she was calling me in for lunch. But I couldn’t eat even if I tried.

I ignored her and stared down at my arms, at the marks and bruises up and down them, ugly purples and yellows from the last few days, so bright in the daylight. For a split second there was so much terror filling up my chest like ice water that I thought about running straight into the ocean and trying to swim until I drowned.

But that would be nearly impossible. To the left of me, standing half-hidden in the palms, was one set of guards, watching the property and watching me. I couldn’t see who was to my right, further down the beach, but I did know that they wouldn’t let me drown.

They wouldn’t let me escape.

We’d been on our honeymoon for one week. I never once got the opportunity to speak to my parents on the phone. I never once got to leave the property, not even if I was escorted. Salvador was only around at night and in the mornings when he would systematically beat me and rape me. One time, he made me perform a lewd act on David, his second in command, and when I didn’t want to do it, he put a gun to my head. Part of me was tempted to keep refusing, just so he could pull the trigger, but I knew he never would. I’d only been his wife for a few days, and there was a lifetime of enjoyment still left for him.

“Mrs. Reyes,” the housekeeper repeated. “Lunch is served. Mr. Reyes would like to eat with you.”

So he was in the house today. Lucky me. It took all of my strength not to yell back at her and tell her that I was Luisa Chavez first and Luisa Reyes second, and that Salvador could go fuck himself. But now I was learning how to play the game. I got punished either way, but the safer I played it, the smaller the punishment I got. I’d learned not to talk back to Salvador after the limo ride, I’d learned not to refuse him the morning after, and I’d learned never to question him after what he made me do to David. I’d learned a lot in such a short time.

The reluctant education of the narco-wife.

I sighed and got to my feet, absently brushing the sand off my dress. My hair billowed around me like a dark scarf, caught in the cool breeze off the ocean. I closed my eyes and imagined, just for one moment, what it would be like not to live in fear. To actually feel happiness and love from a man. My heart practically shuddered from the realization that I’d never, ever have that for as long as Salvador Reyes lived.

As I walked back to the beach house with a heavy heart, I tried to think about my parents and how they were better off. I tried to think about how I was better off, not having to slave every day for someone like Bruno, how I’d never have to worry about how to make ends meet.

The fact was, I wasn’t better off at all, and neither were my parents. I’d take Bruno and his busy hands, the long hours on my feet, the fear of never being able to give my parents what they deserved—I’d take all of that and hang on to it tight if I could. If only I could have realized that what I had wasn’t so bad after all and if I could have gone back in time to take it back, I would. I gave everything I had away, just for a shot to have more.

Of course, there was the fact that I never really had a choice. That I could not have said no to Salvador. But as my mother said, we always have choices. And I was starting to think that in the grand scheme of things, perhaps I had made the wrong one.

The lesser of two evils was actually the greatest.

CHAPTER SIX

Javier

“So finally I meet the Javier Bernal.” The man sat down across from me, a cigarette bobbing out of his lazy mouth. I wasted no time in snapping it out of his lips and breaking it in half, tossing it to the ground beside us.

He stared at me, dumbfounded for only a second, which I appreciated. A man who can get over things quickly is a man you want on your side.

“No smoking,” I said, my eyes boring into his as I jerked my chin at the sign on the wall. The bar couldn’t give two shits if people smoked or not, the sign was only there for legal reasons. But that wasn’t the point. The man needed to know the score. I’d heard a lot about this Juanito, though there was no point in committing his name to memory. I only needed him for his intel, and the less I had to know, the better.

He nodded, that easy smile still there, if not faltering. That was good too. You needed to bounce back, but you also needed to stay afraid of the ones in charge.

He needed to stay afraid of me.

“Can I still drink?” he asked, raising his bottle of beer.

Ah, and he had a sense of humor. This made him easier to deal with, even like—too bad a sense of humor wouldn’t save him in the end. I’ve killed some of the funniest fuckers I’ve ever met. They had me laughing even with their heads on the ground.

“Of course,” I said to him and raised my glass of tequila. “To new beginnings.”

We drank as some ballad from a Mexican pop idol played in the background. This bar was one of the few bars in the area where I could go and relax and not have to worry about watered down booze or uncouth patrons. The owners were paid handsomely by me, as were all law officials in the town and the state of Durango. I had no fear of a rival cartel coming in and blowing my head off, and I had no fear of the Mexican Attorney General coming in and trying to take me away. As much as I hated to admit it, without siphoning Salvador Reyes’ Ephedra shipping lane and adding more routes for opium, cocaine, and marijuana, I really wasn’t the guy they were after. Naturally, with more power and influence came the danger of being public enemy number one. Right now, Salvador Reyes was the most wanted criminal and drug lord in the country. Not that the police or anyone were doing anything to stop him.

As for me, I had more to fear from rivals than from authorities. I wasn’t clean by any means—I couldn’t ever step foot in the United States again, for example. The last time I was there, I was arrested for drug trafficking. It was a minor mix-up, I wasn’t actually trafficking any drugs, just trying to trade a hostage to get ahead, but there was bloodshed and the feds got involved. Apparently they have nothing better to do up there than to worry about us Mexicans.

However, having enough money and knowing enough people who work for the DEA gets you a free ride in the states, so long as you promise to send them information on your enemies from time to time and swear to never set foot in the country again. And so that’s what I did. Paid the right people and made my promises, and I was free to go, three months later.

Those three months though (while Esteban was taking care of my affairs and the cartel I had taken from Travis Raines) had cost me a lot. I should have been on my home soil and expanding; instead I was behind bars. The prisons in America were nothing like the ones in Mexico. It could have been a vacation for some, though perhaps I was treated so well because my dollar went further in the cells. There is so much power and influence in money and drugs that it makes me wonder why anyone would bother going straight. To save face? No, that is ludicrous. Your face never looks better than when you’ve got a gun in your hand and money under your ass.

I suppose I should have been grateful that I was only in prison for such a short time and I walked away unharmed with only a new smoking habit to add to my regrets.

At that thought, I fished a cigarette from my slim gold case and placed it in my mouth.

Juanito frowned at me. “The rules…” he said feebly.

I struck the match along the side of the wood table, then lit the cigarette and slowly blew smoke in his face. “The rules don’t apply to me. Never have, never will.” I placated him with a smile. “Now, let’s talk business, shall we?”

He nodded and relaxed a bit on his stool, eager to get started. Another good sign. It said he was confident in his job.

“What I need from you, Juanito,” I said, continuing to stare at him, “is to perform your job like it’s the last job you’ll ever do.”

His smile went crooked. “Will it be the last job I ever do?”

I suppose my reputation preceded me. I puffed on the cigarette, in no hurry to answer him, until he had to look away from my stare. “You’ll be paid enough so you never need to work again, if that is what you mean.”

He swallowed hard, and I could sense his leg bouncing restlessly under the table. “There are rumors, you know.”

“About me?” I asked simply.

More nervous gestures. “Yes.”

“Are they about how large my dick is?”

Relief washed over his face, and he managed a laugh. “Not really.”

“Too bad. It’s true, you know. About my dick.”

He didn’t seem too impressed. He spun the bottle of beer around in his hands. “They say you end up killing most people who do jobs for you.”

I shrugged. “So?”

“Is it true?”

I tapped the cigarette and let it ash onto the floor. “It’s not a lie. Look, if I promise not to kill you, will that ease your worries?”

His forehead scrunched up, unsure of what way to take me.

“I keep my promises,” I added. “Just so you know.”

“Well, that will help,” he said.

“Then it’s settled. You do your job, I’ll pay you a lot of money and I won’t kill you either.” I signalled the bartender to pour me another drink, then went back to staring Juanito down. “So, before you start jacking up my bar tab, tell me your plans.”

Now that his worries were eased, he was able to clearly explain exactly what he had to offer. Juanito had done some work with Esteban while I was in prison. Este was the technical guy who could hack into accounts, security systems—hell I think he’d even done some fucked up wizardry with satellite cameras before. But Este was needed at my side, for counsel and for my own protection. Juanito would infiltrate the Reyes compound as best he could, spying on Salvador and Luisa’s routine for a week or two before reporting back with concrete intel. I had no doubt that Salvador had his new wife watched, but as the days went on, I also had no doubt that one of them would slip up. When that happened, we would make sure it happened again.

Then we would take her.

Juanito, at first glance, didn’t look like the kind of man best suited for the job. Aside from his nervous mannerisms, he had a wiry build and a young face with round cheeks. But I knew better than to judge a book by its cover. All you needed to know about a man was in his eyes, and in Juanito’s I could see the confidence in his skill. That sold me.

It also made me stop regretting my promise not to kill him—perhaps he would come in handy in the future.

“When will you start?” I asked as I nodded my thanks to the bartender who placed another glass of tequila in front of me.

“Tomorrow,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can be in Culiacán by noon. By tomorrow evening, I promise you I’ll know what house they are staying at and where. I’ve got connections there.”

I raised my brows. “Who doesn’t,” I muttered, and then swallowed my drink. I cleared my throat. “Well, Juanito. I guess that’s it.”

“And you’re not going to kill me?”

“My promise is my promise,” I told him solemnly as I made the sign of the cross over my heart. He probably didn’t believe me, but when he realized he wasn’t dead yet, he would. I gestured to the door with a flick of my wrist. “You better be on your way. Este will pay you your deposit tonight. You’ll get the rest after you deliver Luisa Reyes.”

He licked his lips eagerly and got off the stool. “Fifty thousand American dollars.”

I nodded with a tight smile. The longer I was in the business, the less I liked spending money. People like Salvador and other narcos, they wasted it on lavish bullshit. I liked the finest things in life, but anything better than the finest was just gratuitous.

But in order to get ahead, you needed a loss leader. Luisa was my loss leader.

I stuck my hand out and Juanito stared at it in surprise before he shook it. Call me old-fashioned but a deal was not a deal unless you shook on it. There was still a code among men in this business.

His eyes widened as I squeezed his hand and pulled him slightly towards me. I lowered my voice, my eyes fixed on his, and said, “But just so we’re clear, if you fail, if you do not bring me the girl, I will hunt you down and skin you alive. I have a couple of pigs that get fat on human jerky, and I make them promises, too. Do you understand me?”

He blinked a few times, nodding quickly.

I let go of him and leaned back, raising my glass in the air. “Well then, cheers.”

“Right. Cheers.” He awkwardly took a sip of his beer, then wiped his hands on his shirt, and took off out of the bar and into the black night.

I sighed and finished my drink before pulling out another cigarette. At least Juanito would be putting in one hundred and ten percent now. Any boss worth their salt knew how to best motivate their employees and I was no different.

* * *

We had good news from Juanito a week later. He’d located the Reyes compound and had started infiltrating their security system, taking it slowly, so that no one would even know something was amiss. He did nothing but observe Luisa day in and day out, not exactly the toughest part of the job. At least it wasn’t when you had something as easy on the eyes as she was.

A week later, he suggested we start getting ready to move. The perfect opportunity would eventually present itself, but we couldn’t do a thing unless we were set up and primed for action. That meant a lot of waiting in the trees, scouring neighboring houses, and hiding in unmarked vans. It all took patience, but luckily I had grown to be a very patient man. I could chase something for years before I felt the need to catch up with it.

While Este and Franco went to Culiacán to join Juanito in the operation, I used two of my bodyguards, Tito and Toni, to help me set up the safe house. We needed the location to make our demands and to keep Luisa for the first few days or at least until Salvador gave in. When we were all done, I’d return to The Devil’s Backbone a smarter man, and Luisa would return to her husband, perhaps a bit more broken than when she’d left.

I’d also included The Doctor as part of my arsenal. The Doctor was, yes, an actual physician and very shrewd. Though nearing his late sixties, he had been an integral part of Travis Raines’ cartel and now he was a key figure in mine. He knew a lot, especially about the kidnapping side of the business. In Mexico, taking hostages and demanding ransom was as ordinary a job as operating a food cart. The Doctor had been involved in many of them over his lifetime and was the best of the best.

He was also supremely skilled at torture—another good reason to have him around. In some ways, with his knowledge and his groomed, elegant appearance, The Doctor would have made a superior assistant instead of Este. But as much as I respected The Doctor, there was something about him that reminded me of my father, and for that reason I didn’t want him around me all day long. The dead were better off dead.

It wasn’t long after we headed off to the safe house that I got the call from our driver, The Chicken. He reported that Este and Franco had captured “the girl,” and they, Juanito included, were heading right back to us.

I hung up the phone and grinned stupidly at The Doctor, who had been standing beside me in the modest kitchen where he had been frying shrimp and rice for our dinner. There was something kind of nice about operating out of the safe house—it was basic and simple, like camping for kingpins.

I immediately smoked a cigar, both in celebration and in anticipation. I hadn’t been this excited and anxious about something since … well, since a very long time ago. But that memory needed to stay in the deserts of California, where it belonged. The new memory was upon me, and I could practically smell it. I could practically smell her.

Luisa Reyes.

She was mine.

After we made quick work of the cigar and the meal, The Doctor and I headed down into the basement to get everything set up for her arrival. We had the chair and the ropes, and chains if we needed them. We had the digital camera set up and ready to record our ransom note which would then be uploaded and emailed directly to Salvador’s account, thanks to Este’s expertise. We even had bottles of water and carafes of hot tea and coffee—for us, of course. I liked for my men to be hydrated and have a clear head at our most crucial times, and this was most definitely one of those times.

With the safe house being much closer to Salvador’s compound, The Doctor and I only had to wait a few hours for them to arrive. We drank our tea and discussed local politics to pass the time and smoked another cigar—anything to calm the nerves. I didn’t even know why I was so nervous; it was very unlike me. If things went wrong with our hostage, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d die and that would be that. There would always be another card to play.

I suppose, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted more than just to get the shipping lane into the Baja, the one Salvador controlled. I wanted to humiliate him, to prove that I was as big of a player as he was. All my life I struggled to get ahead and be the best, but my personal best no longer mattered. Each step I took, the higher and higher I went, the more power I had, it never satisfied me. I wanted more, always more.

I wanted Salvador to fear me, to be looking over his shoulder for me. Perhaps he already did—I’d been known to commit some unsavory and highly publicized acts over the years—but I wanted him to feel that fear firsthand. And what fear is greater than the fear of feeling stupid?

I got up from my seat and picked up a knife I had placed on the table earlier.

“Is that for show?” The Doctor asked, raising a neatly trimmed white eyebrow. He sipped his tea carefully.

I shook my head. “No. It will be put to use. Every day.”

“On the girl?”

I nodded. “Yes. On her. One letter a day. When she goes back to Salvador in a week, I want him to see my name on her back.”

He crossed his legs and gave me small smile. “You’re getting more twisted and snarled the older you get. Like a root over the years. Are you sure you’re only thirty-five?”

I managed a grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’m only thirty-two.”

“Wouldn’t know it.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Guess Salvador might not want his wife after you give her back with your name carved into her. Ever think of that?”

I let my fingers slide around the blade. “That’s not my problem, is it?” I picked up a nearby stool and placed it in front of Luisa’s empty chair. I put the knife on top of it with reverence. “As long as I get what I want, what Salvador does with his wife afterward is none of my business.”

“And your indifference is what will get you far in this world.”

“Indifference,” I said with a dry laugh. “I’ve heard worse.”

At that I heard the faint sound of a car a door slamming shut. There were two ways into the basement—one from inside the house and the other leading to the driveway. My eyes flew over to the latter just as the door opened. Feet appeared first on the steps, followed by long legs. Este. Behind him were Juanito and Franco, holding on to the girl.

In person, Luisa Reyes was a lot smaller and more delicate than I imagined. She looked like I could pick her up and carry her in the palm of my hand, the same hand that I could so easily crush her with. Her legs were bare, short, and splattered in mud, but they had soft curves that I wanted to run my hands over. Her hips were full, her waist tiny, even in a loose blouse that was achingly low-cut over her perfect breasts. I couldn’t see her face because of the black canvas bag they had placed over her head, so I focused instead on her collarbone. I wanted to nip it with my teeth.

I bit down on my lip instead.

I needed a moment to get back in the game.

They took her over to the chair and immediately bound her hands behind it. I watched, trying to steady my breathing, and took in every detail of her that I could. The more I could deduce about her character, the better. Her shorts were jean cut-offs, her shoes were Adidas runners. She had on no jewelry. She wasn’t at all what a typical narco-wife looked like. She looked … normal.