Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 23

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“You met a girl like me once,” I repeated absently. “How nice.”

“Yes,” he said. “About a year ago. I was in Hawaii. I saved her from drowning. I saved her from a lot of things, including herself.”

“What a hero,” I said dryly. “You must think you’re such a nice guy.”

He nodded. “I do. For the most part. But she was like you because she no longer cared about life. She was more or less suicidal.”

I stopped and glared at him. “I am not suicidal,” I hissed.

He shrugged. “You don’t seem to care much about anything. Javier is right … he thinks you’re unbreakable.”

“Just because he can’t break me doesn’t mean I’m suicidal,” I told him. “What kind of sick man wants to break a woman anyway?”

“I don’t know. You married one of them, didn’t you?”

“I married a demon, not a man.”

“Well, I guess Javier’s not exactly a demon.”

“No such thing as a sentimental demon?” I asked. “Tell me about the clothes. This skirt, this dress … whose is it?”

He gave me an inquisitive look. Our path continued down the rough road, birds calling from the towering lush trees. “Why are you so interested?”

Now it was my turn to shrug. I didn’t know why. I guess I felt that the little bit of information I could get about Javier, the more I’d have to work with, to use against him when needed.

“I’m making conversation,” I said.

“Right. Well, if you care so much, the clothes belong to an ex-girlfriend of his.”

I snorted lightly out my nose. “Girlfriend? I would have thought Javier only used whores. Who else could be interested in him?”

I felt Esteban studying me closely. Of course on the outside I could see why any woman would be interested in Javier Bernal. He was beautiful to look at, and I was sure he could be charming when he wanted to be. He also had money and power. But any woman worth her salt would run once she realized what kind of a depraved psychopath he was. The idea of him having an ex-girlfriend, one to get sentimental over, confused me.

“She was interested in him,” he said, “a very long time ago. When they were young and stupid, I guess. But she was also a con artist.”

I nodded. “I see.” She was just as bad as he was, then. That explained some. “What was her name?”

He frowned. “Ellie. Why?”

“Just curious. Mexican?”

“American.”

“And she broke his heart? Or did he break hers?”

He pursed his lips. “Both. He broke hers and she broke his. And then she broke his again.”

“So she won.”

“Something like that.”

I smiled to myself. “Good.” I hoped the bastard suffered.

“It was good,” Esteban admitted. “I liked the woman, but she never would have joined his side, never would have had the confidence you need in this business.”

We slowed and he turned me around so we were walking back to the house again.

“You need confidence to be a good torturer, kidnapper, murderer?”

“You need confidence in yourself, to never question who you are.”

I nodded. “Maybe you all need to question yourselves more often.”

He gave me a funny look, as if I were the one who was crazy.

I stopped, noticing my shoe was untied. We were almost back at the yard, and I could see Javier stepping out of the house with Franco milling around in the doorway. Javier was staring in our direction.

Bending down, I tied my shoe and eyed the pile of rocks we were beside, the result of someone clearing this road a very long time ago. Javier and the guards were far off. It was only Esteban and I out here. I made a split-second decision.

I tied my shoelaces then quickly grabbed the nearest rock. I swivelled and leaped up, my arm overextending, as I smashed the rock into Esteban’s face. Because I was so much shorter, I got more of his jaw instead of his temple, but it was enough to make him yelp, holding on to his face as he staggered backward, barely able to stand up.

I didn’t check to see if he was going down. I turned on my heel and started bolting toward the trees. I didn’t know what the rest of my plan was, but I knew I had to get away while I could. Esteban said I was suicidal, just because I didn’t show fear. But I was the opposite of suicidal. I loved the life—the free life I once had—and I would do anything to get that back.

I was almost at the trees, at the freedom they represented, when I heard a small pop, like a gun going off. The next thing I knew my body was stiffening, and I lost all function to move as my nerves fired in a burst of strange, buzzing pain. I fell straight down to the ground, I think I was screaming, as my muscles vibrated nonstop.

I heard someone, Javier I think, yell “What the fuck are you doing?” and then the vibrations and pain stopped. Just like that. And then I was out cold.

Javier

“What the fuck are you doing?” I bellowed at Este and started sprinting down the driveway toward them.

One moment I was about to berate Este for taking Luisa out of the house, the next moment she had bashed his face in and was making a run for it before he took out a motherfucking Taser gun and fired on her. I don’t even know when the fuck he got the Taser, I thought I left that back home.

He looked over at me in surprise though he was still firing the gun, the wires connected to Luisa’s fallen, twitching body twenty feet away. I yanked it out of his hands and immediately the electricity stopped jolting through the wires.

“She tried to get away,” Este said unapologetically.

“I can see that,” I sniped at him. I looked at her, now motionless on the ground. “Jesus Christ.”

I ran over to her, dislodging the cartridge from the gun and tossing it to the ground. I crouched down beside her and gently put my hand on her neck, shaking her back and forth. “Luisa?” I said.

There was no answer or movement from her, but I could see her breathing in and out, which was a relief. I removed the darts from her back, blood trickling out of the holes. It looked so cheap and brutal below my letters.

I turned and glared over at Esteban who was watching me from a distance. “You’re a fuck, you know that? What if you accidently killed her? The Taser isn’t supposed to knock her out, just bring her down. And why the fuck did you put yourself in this position in the first place? You were supposed to give her breakfast, give her clothes, and that was it.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t worried, Javi. I figured she may try something but thought I’d let her see who she’s dealing with here. If she ran, I’d Tase her. She’d learn not to do it again.”

“I’m who she’s dealing with here,” I said, the anger simmering in my blood. “Not you. She’s not yours to touch, not yours to go on walks with, and not yours to fucking brutalize.”

He laughed. “I think Luisa was right. Maybe you should question yourself more often. You should hear the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

I wished I could reuse Taser cartridges because there’s no doubt I’d be delivering all those volts right to his miniscule balls. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to regain my cool. There was no point losing it here and now.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here,” I told him. “Go check on Juanito. Perhaps he has word from Salvador.”

Esteban hesitated, as if he was going to argue with me, but his brain kicked into gear and he turned and walked back toward the house with his wide-legged, frat boy stroll. Fucking degenerate.

I looked down at Luisa, realizing she was wearing the skirt I gave her as a dress. The color was stunning on her smooth, tan skin; her long hair was extra shiny in the sunshine, cascading into the earth around her. I reached over and ran a strand through my fingers—soft and wet, probably just out of the shower. Now she was dirty again.

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