Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 16
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Once I realized I was alone, I slowly sat up in the bed. I was wearing a man’s linen shirt that smelled like spicy tea. The smell hit me like a hammer and I suddenly wished I was naked. To be undressed was one thing, but the fact that I was dressed again was another, something far more intimate than I wanted to think about.
Suddenly the image of a blade flashed through my mind. I gasped, and in a panic, started feeling over every inch of my body, making sure everything was intact.
As far as I could tell, I was in one piece. But when I moved, the shirt stretched over my back and made my skin sting. I felt along my shoulder blade and winced. There was a curved cut there, just in that one spot. Why? What were they trying to do?
I stared down at my hands, turning them over, studying them. I needed to ground myself, to bring myself into this new reality. These were my hands and I was still Luisa Chavez. I was free from Salvador but imprisoned by another danger.
And yet, as I sat there on that bed in that small room with the sunlit walls, in some house in some location I’d probably never learn, I didn’t feel any fear. I had no idea what they were going to do to me. Perhaps I should have been more afraid. I was just … sad. Sad that my life had to go this way, sad that I could never catch a break. Sad that I’d probably never see my parents again.
I swallowed painfully. I knew Javier would kill me. That was what he did, just as it was what Sal did. There was no difference between the men in that regard. I knew that Sal would never do what Javier was going to ask of him; I wasn’t important enough to negotiate for. He’d just find another woman to rape, another woman to hit, to kick, to beat on a daily basis.
The last seven weeks had been pure, unadulterated hell. Now I was in another hell, but this time around I couldn’t find the energy to dance with fear.
But, perhaps I could find the energy to escape once again. I looked around the room, searching for cameras. Salvador had cameras in every room of our house, and I had no doubt that Javier or one of his men were watching my every move. Still, I couldn’t see them, though that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
I carefully got out of bed, feeling sore all over, and checked out the bathroom. It was plain, just a toilet and sink and one roll of toilet paper. I walked over to the window. There wasn’t anything except forest for miles. It looked a lot like the woods surrounding Salvador’s, which made me wonder if we were still in the Sierra Madre Occidental. Thought it was blindingly sunny, there were dark grey clouds hanging above distant green peaks.
There was a knock at the door and I quickly spun around. My instincts told me to cover myself up—the linen shirt barely covered my underwear—and to grab the nearest weapon. There was nothing I could do for either of those. I was practically indecent and completely defenseless.
The knock came again, followed by the sound of the door being unlocked. Why didn’t they just come inside the room, why put up the faux-polite pretenses? If they were doing it to confuse me, it was working.
I waited, my breath in my mouth, and watched the doorknob. When nothing happened, I swallowed my courage and walked toward the door. With my hand on the knob I waited a beat before flinging the door open.
Standing on the other side was a man holding a tray of food and a pot of coffee. I recognized him from last night, I think his name was Esteban. The one who didn’t hit me in the face, though possibly the one who carved something into my back.
He smiled at me, a lopsided grin that made him look innocent even though he was anything but. His hair had a bit of a curl to it, brown with lighter streaks, which reminded me of some of the surfer hippies we had in Los Cabos. He was even dressed like them—board shorts and a wife-beater tank top that showed off his muscles. The only thing that reminded me of his line of business was the scarring on the side of his face. However, it didn’t make him ugly, just dangerous. It kept me on my toes.
I eyed the tray in his hand with suspicion. “What is this?”
“Your breakfast,” he said, nodding down at it. “Tortilla, eggs, salsa, fresh mango juice. Coffee.”
“All laced with drugs to knock me out,” I said, not trusting him for a second.
His smile straightened out, looking playfully amused. “You’re free to do whatever you want with the food. Eat it, don’t eat, we really don’t care. We just want to make sure we’re a good host.”
I could have laughed until I realized he was serious. “You want to be a good host? Let me go free then.” I looked down the hallway and noticed a man stationed at the end of it, standing guard. For a moment I thought I could throw the food in Este’s face, perhaps smash the coffee pot into the other cheek and scar that one up too. But I wouldn’t get far. Where there was one guard there were more guards.
“I’m afraid we can’t let you go until Salvador pays the ransom,” Esteban said. “That’s how these things work.”
“Too bad for you he’ll never pay any amount for me,” I told him.
At that Esteban looked completely surprised. The look vanished when he said, “It’s not money we are after. We have more than enough. We want a certain shipping lane going into the Baja.”
I gave him an incredulous look and shook my head slightly. Was he for real? They had absolutely no idea about me and Salvador’s relationship. They were going to have a rude awakening when they realized he wasn’t going to give them anything. And I was going to die.
When I didn’t say anything he gestured to the room behind me. “May I come in?”
“If I say no, will you do something about it?”
He frowned. “You’re a bit of a feisty one, aren’t you? You do realize what has happened to you, don’t you? Javier Bernal is not a nice man and you’re his prisoner.”
“I’m being treated fairly well for a prisoner,” I countered.
He raised his brows. “We like to extend some courtesies when we can. So I take it you don’t want your food?”
“You and your food can go fuck yourself,” I said, feeling a rush of hot blood go through me. I wasn’t used to swearing or talking back. If it was possible, my newfound fearlessness scared me.
I was so certain that Esteban was going to throw the coffee in my face or strike me, force me into the room and brutalize me. But that never came.
He only gave me a stiff smile. “I’m only trying to make things more comfortable for you. The others aren’t as nice as me.” His look darkened. “But I can be the bad guy if you want me to.”
I believed him. Underneath the boyish demeanour I saw depth that held anger and malicious intent, a bitterness that marred his true nature. Perhaps the darkness wasn’t for me, but it was there. I had seen that same look on Salvador, only he wore his depravity on the surface. While I had no doubt that Esteban was probably considered the good guy in this whole operation, I told myself to never think he was on my side.
Without taking my eyes off of his, I slowly stepped back into the room and shut the door in his face. I stood there, waiting on the other side of it, until I heard a shuffle and the door being locked.
I breathed out a long sigh of relief that rocked through me until I felt like I was too heavy to stand. I leaned back against the door and slowly slid down it until I was sitting on the floor. I rested my head back and stared at the window, at the sun that was still shining through.
I was going to spend my last days in this room unless Salvador came through. But even that would mean a return to a horrible life. There was no winning this game.
The only thing I had to hold on to was my sense of self. I had let Sal ruin me, day by day, piece by piece. I wouldn’t let that happen here. They could try and carve me up, they could rape me, torture me, try and confuse me with hospitality, but they would not get to me. They would not break my soul. They would not see my pain.
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