Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 36
- Предыдущая
- 36/62
- Следующая
To have a week of your life extended was an odd thing. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or not. It was another week of uncertainty, but it was still another week of being alive. A week held chances, surprises, and possibilities—if one was in an optimistic mood. I wasn’t, of course. No one in my shoes would be. Though I had to say I felt my knees threaten to give out when Javier started kissing my neck.
That man’s lips did things to my skin—shocked me, gently, with warm electricity—and I found myself wanting him to raise his head and bring his lips to mine. I wanted to know what that felt like. But I wasn’t about to give him the upper hand. As much as I didn’t want to say no to him, as much as I fantasized about a repeat of last night, I did say no.
And to his credit, he immediately backed off. Didn’t even try to make me feel bad for it. Javier definitely followed his own set of morals and honors, and it was strangely fascinating trying to uncover each one. A whole week of discovery lay before me. I suppose that was the only bright side to everything. That, and the fact that I was still alive.
The only thing that really worried me—other than my outcome in seven days—was the fact that we were leaving the safe house for his compound. I had no doubt that the place was well protected but it couldn’t have been a good thing that I was going there. I was still considered the enemy, hostage or not. I was Salvador’s wife and could return to him, report back to him, spy for him all to re-enact revenge on my cruel captor, Javier Bernal.
It was almost as if Javier was trusting me, though he had no reason to.
And for some reason, that scared me.
It wasn’t long until I was “packed.” I just shoved all my clothes back into the bag that they came from. I no longer thought of them belonging to someone else, except when I had to hike up the long skirts so they wouldn’t drag. They were a part of me, part of this disturbing transition from one life to another. Some of the articles had bloodstains on them that wouldn’t come out with soap and water, but I didn’t care. I liked the stains, what they meant, what I’d survived.
Esteban came up to my room to get me, limping slightly. I asked him the other day what happened. He wouldn’t say, which made me think he was getting too cocky with Javier for his own good. I was glad he had been put in his place.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. I could see Franco and a guard leering around outside the door. In Esteban’s hands he had a blindfold and handcuffs.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying not to panic.
“You don’t like kinky games?” Esteban asked with a smirk, coming toward me.
I instinctively took a step back.
He stopped and gave me a wry look. “Oh, come on, hey. I’m just getting you ready for your journey. You don’t think we’d actually let you see where we are taking you.”
I suppose he was right. So I was just trading one golden prison for another.
“Now be a good girl,” he said. “And we won’t have to hurt you.”
At that, the old doctor stepped into the room holding out a syringe. Like hell I was going to let them drug me.
“I think I’ve grown tired of being the good girl,” I snarled.
Este frowned, and I took that moment to pick up the lamp beside me and bash it into his head. I got him right on the bruise from where I’d smashed the rock into him. He swore as the glass shattered all around him, but I was already jumping across the bed and going for the other lamp, ready to fight off the doctor.
But when I turned around, Franco was coming into the room and shoving the doctor aside. The dull, mean glint in Franco’s eyes and his veiny muscles meant that there was no way I could fight him off, even if I managed to grab a piece of glass and gouge it in his eye. Nothing would stop him.
He lunged for me, his hands hard on my chest, and he pushed me. I flew back against the wall, my head striking it, producing a shower of stars in my vision. Suddenly I felt rough hands grabbing my arms, squeezing them until I thought they would break like twigs, and through the throbbing in my ears I heard people shouting.
The next thing I knew there was a loud bang, a shot, and the blurred vision of Franco began to slip away. His grip on me loosened and now he was swearing his head off in between screams of pain.
I squinted, trying to see past the waves of dizziness and stay upright, and I saw Javier standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand, pointing it right at Franco who had turned around and was yelling at him. I looked down and saw him trying to clutch his foot, blood seeping out of his shoe and onto the floor.
“The next time you touch her,” Javier said, his eyes crazed with burning rage, “I will remove the foot I just shot. And your other one. Then your hands,” he stepped closer, the gun still trained on him, “and your shriveled cock.” He aimed the gun down at Franco’s crotch. “And then I’ll piss on every single wound. I’ll take your head last, so you can see each piece of you disappear, and then I’ll piss in your skull. Do you understand?”
Franco didn’t. He told him to fuck off.
The room seemed to freeze.
But Javier marched right up to him and pistol whipped Franco across the face, a man twice his size. He whipped him so hard that blood spurted out of his mouth and sprayed onto my arms and chest. I held my breath, so certain that Franco wasn’t going to take that. But he did. Power was everything, and Javier had power. He just proved it.
Javier shoved him out of the way and gave me a quick glance of concern before he turned and faced everyone else in the room, a guard at the door, the old doctor with the syringe, Esteban who was holding his head and cursing.
“All I asked of you fucking delinquents was to bring Luisa to me.” He glared at the doctor. “I did not ask for her to be drugged. I did not ask for Franco. This should have been an easy process. Now I have another reason why I have to do everything my fucking self if it’s going to be done properly.” He jerked his chin at Esteban. “Leave the blindfold and the cuffs and everyone get the fuck out of here before I lose my temper again.”
The men obeyed with no hesitation and left Javier alone with me.
He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face before he turned to look at me again.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked wearily.
“No worse than you have,” I answered.
He nodded. “Good. Because I meant what I said.”
“About?”
“About him touching you. I don’t want anyone touching you. I won’t let it happen. You won’t have to worry about that.”
“I don’t know, you seem like a very touchy feely bunch here,” I said humorlessly.
“I’m serious,” he said, taking a step closer to me. He ran his hand down the back of my head where it hit the wall, gently cupping it. His eyes bore into mine and I couldn’t look away. “I will protect you. I promise, and I keep my promises.” He paused, licking his lips. “The only person I won’t be able to protect you from is me.”
I believed it. And in some messed up way, I was okay with that. I could survive him, his touch, his anger, his passion, because I was starting to understand him. I just couldn’t survive anyone else.
“All right,” I said slowly, still locked in his gaze. I wondered what they were seeing in me, deep down. There was no way he could look at me like he was, his stare so absolutely penetrating that I felt it in my heart, and not see something. I wanted to know what it was, who I was in his eyes.
But he looked away suddenly, breaking the spell, and pressed his hand to the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I’m still going to have to blindfold you and put you in cuffs. But I promise, you will not leave my side.”
I nodded and bit my lip while he picked up the cuffs and the black satin sash from the bed.
I dutifully held out my hands for him. “Do you prefer in front or behind?”
- Предыдущая
- 36/62
- Следующая
