“That’s not a very nice tone for a house guest.” He fiddles with the silver knife in his left hand. I track his every movement.
“Have you ever heard the expression constant company is never welcome?” I ask short tempered.
“No. In Mexico, it’s mi casa es su casa.”
I glare at the complacent bastard.
Six months ago an associate of mine contacted me. A real stand up hell of a guy. He informed me El Rey had caught wind of my tequila empire. He looked into me and liked what he found. An American who exports alcohol out of Mexico and runs an elite brothel. My less than perfect morals intrigued him. He saw an opportunity to do business with me, because what goes better with drugs than alcohol? It’s as natural as peanut butter and jelly. That’s when I first met Javier. We exchanged correspondences, and as El Rey’s right hand, he was responsible for informing me of The King’s interests and coordinating the details. They wanted to utilize my exportation of tequila to move drugs into the US. I have plenty of customs agents in my pocket, which El Rey was already aware of. He definitely does his homework. He wouldn’t be the man he is if he didn’t. Yes couldn’t come out of my mouth fast enough.
Three months ago I was invited to Mexico for a sit down with Javier. Me, being an American, had both El Rey and Javier taking extra precautions. You never know who you’re dealing with in this business. Friend or foe, ally or enemy. Law enforcement or not. Javier flew me down in a private jet, and then had me amicably escorted by gunpoint to his home. It was the most terrifying car ride of my life. Once there, I realized the true depth of evil I was dealing with. Besides being a main player for one of Mexico’s largest drug cartels, he was also a slave trader. He had dozens of girls broken beyond repair. They crawled around his house on all fours like cats and were never permitted to stand. Naked and starved, some were so thin you could see their spine and ribcage. He kept them in tiny metal crates so small they were forced to crouch in a ball. And every night he tortured one of them. For the three days I was there, I heard their screams. And there wasn’t one fucking thing I could do about it. I had a mission. That was my focus, as unbearable as it was. The last night the wails were the worst. They were bloodcurdling, echoing through the entire house. The disturbing shrieks still haunt me. I don’t think they’ll ever stop. I nearly cracked, damning it all to hell. My hero complex flared, but just as I got out of bed to end the madness, the screams stopped. Sometime later I heard digging in the backyard. I peeked out the window to see one of Javier’s thugs kicking a body into a shallow grave under the moonlight. He killed her. While I was in his fucking house. No shame, no concern.
I nearly puked at the sight of her bloodied, abused state. After that night, I swore that girl’s death wouldn’t be in vain. I would destroy Javier, El Rey, and anyone else associated with them.
That time is coming soon. I’m walking a tightrope that keeps getting narrower and narrower, and I just have to keep my balance for a little while longer.
That’s why I took Ellie. I knew what Javier was capable of. I flashed back to that moment and saw her lifeless form the moment he said he wanted her.
And as I’ve said before, like fucking hell I was going to let that happen. If anyone was going to torture her, it was going to be me. So I took her before he had the chance to pursue her. And he would have. Once Javier wants something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.
“What the fuck is going on, Javier? Has there been any word from El Rey? Is he interested or not? I don’t have the time or patience to fuck around. I gave him my price and my conditions. They are more than reasonable.”
“Yes, he’s agreed.” He wipes his mouth with the white cloth napkin, and then tosses it on the table. A stupid smile on his face. This prick is always smiling. I wish I knew what was so fucking amusing.
“So what’s the hold up?”
“How’s your whore, Kayne? Does she miss me?” he diverts.
“She’s got nothing to fucking do with this conversation.”
“I hear the two of you, you know. I listen at the door while you make her scream. She’s very impressive.” My blood boils in my veins. That motherfucker is never getting near Ellie again. “What if I wanted her to be part of the deal?” he asks darkly.
“I’d tell you to fuck off,” I snarl.
“You’d pass on millions of dollars because of some whore?” He raises his eyebrows intrigued.
“She’s mine. I’m prideful, what can I say.” I keep my voice firm, desperately suppressing the dread clawing up my throat.
“I’d love to dip my dick and see what’s makes her so special.” He licks his lips. I want to pull his tongue right out of his mouth and wrap it around his head.
“She a delicacy you’ll never indulge in.” I glare.
“Again,” he taunts me.
“Ever. Again,” I threaten. “Talk to your boss. Make the deal. I have everything prepared. If he’s not interested, get the fuck out. I don’t need his money or your aggravation. I do just fine by myself.” I stand up, sending the chair screeching across the hardwood floor.
“Arrogante Americano,” Javier spats.
Arrogant American.
“Maybe so, but The King came to me, remember?”
“I didn’t forget,” he sneers.
“Tiene cuartena y ocho horas,” I order directly.
You have forty-eight hours.
Then I stalk out of the room and up the staircase with my heart ricocheting all around my chest. By the time I make it to Ellie’s door, I’m a shitstorm of rage, lust, anger, and wrath. I need to bury myself as deep as I can inside of her while she’s chained to the bed and fuck her until my murderous thoughts eradicate. She’s quickly become the solace in my tumultuous life. With her, I’m the best part of all my sides. All my faces. With her they blend into one cohesive man. She’s the glue.
