Page 4 of Dirty Empire

I briskly walk through our twenty-acre compound, jump on the nearest golf cart, and drive to the waterfront bordering the property. It's at the bottom of a large hill, so no one will be able to see me unless they come down here. But, I’m able to see everything if I sit close enough to the water. I sit on the wet sand, not caring that it's soaking through my jeans. That’s when the tears come. Running down my cheeks as the dam has finally broken.

Every inch of my body aches like I’ve been in a car wreck. I can’t go on like this. All of this has been years and years of build-up. I dragged Ares into a fucked up situation. He didn't deserve to be treated like that. I knew a lot of men wanted me, and I supposed I’d used it to my advantage with Ares. Ares was just a plaything to me, but he doesn't deserve to get strangled half to death because of my stupidity. My longings and desperate wanton desires had gotten me into trouble. Something was missing for me, and even Ares couldn’t distract me long enough to find it. I let another tear slide down my face as I hugged myself at the shoreline. I let the waves of the ocean lap over my feet and calm my nerves. I should have known it was going to turn out like this. I knew Miles was dangerous, and yet I played with fire.

I wish I never meet him. If Miles never set his eyes on me and I wouldn’t be in this fucked-up situation. Maybe it was my dark hair or tan skin that attracted him. He used to compliment my long legs and blue eyes that I got from my mother.

I allowed my weary eyes to travel to the backdrop of the beautiful Hawaiian sky overhead.

I had just graduated from law school in San Francisco and was starting my career at a local law firm when we met. We dated only one year before getting married. He was the perfect man on paper. Almost too good to be true. I must have missed those crucial red flags. Or maybe I don't want to see them in the beginning. Had I been so desperate that I ignored all the warning signs? I quit my job after marrying him, moved to Hawaii to start our lives together. Everything seemed to be pure perfection for a while. Then things began to change. Miles began to change. He started working late and traveling more and more often for business.

Whenever he returned home from trips, he was irritable and impatient. The temper tantrums started to rear their ugly head. I don't know who I was living with anymore. On one occasion, he snapped and pistol-whipped one of the staff members for not keeping the pool clean. I’d watched in horror as he reprimanded the man. The whole situation made me feel helpless.

“Miguel, I don't want to do that, but I warned you. Come with me and look at this shit.” Miles had snatched up a very frightened Miguel by the shirtfront, shoving his head to look down into the pool.

“See! That isn’t clean! See those leaves. Look!” Miles had briskly pointed to a few scattered leaves in the pool. Miguel cowered, ready for another blow.

“I’m not going to pay you if you don’t do your goddamn job.” Miles had the pistol back in its holster. The evidence of blood had streaked down Miguel’s face from his costly mistake.

“Yessir, I understand. It won’t happen again.” I felt so sorry for Miguel that day as I watched the tears well up in his eyes. The poor man.

“Damn straight; it won’t.” Miles patted Miguel on the back. “Now, you have a nice day and send love to the familia for me.”

“Will do, sir.” I saw Miguel quiver. I experienced that same fear when I looked at my husband back then. I had watched the whole scene from the upstairs window.

After that, I noticed little things such as a scarf the maid brought to me, thinking it was mine. I don't own any scarves. I could smell the aroma of sweet perfume on it. From that moment, I realized Miles was cheating on me. He started as a very affectionate and caring. After we relocated to Hawaii, he became distant, only wanting quickie sex from me, leaving me dissatisfied and feeling lonely as hell.

I wipe at the remaining tears and take a breath. I need to get myself together and get out of here tonight.

Maverick

Her tits were shaped like two perfect raindrops resting against her flat stomach. Her pussy was completely bare like she recently got a wax. She’s fucking perfect, so why the fuck was she in a relationship with Miles? Money, probably. That’s the only thing that makes sense, but I can’t focus on her any longer. She’s not my concern, and now Miles has become my enemy instead of my business partner. I follow the path down to my yacht, where Miles men are unloading the last of the oil drums. There are enough weapons in there for world war three. I already have the money, but if I knew Miles liked to hit on his wife, I would have told him to shove it up his ass.

“All cleared out?” I ask the last man who's rolling out an oil drum.

“Yes, sir,” he says before continuing his path to the estate.

Thank, fuck. I’m ready to get out of here. Bill, my captain, appears, leaning over the railing so he can look down at me.

“Should I get Legacy ready?” he asks. I look behind me just to make sure Miles hasn’t told his goons to stab me in the back.

“Get ready. I’ll be back in an hour.” I turn away, tuck my hands in my pockets, and start walking. It doesn’t take me long to find a small high-class bar with the help of google maps. Of course, it isn’t far from Miles's property. I wonder if this is where he found his beautiful wife. There is no shortage of beautiful women inside with drinks in their hands. I make my way to the bar and order a three-fingers of Whiskey. I could've gotten on the yacht and been gone already, but I sailed to Hawaii from Tahiti. Every once in awhile, I need a break from the gentle sway of the water. The bartender sets the drink in front of me, and I take a swig.

The liquor burns my throat as it goes down, and I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as my shoulders relax—this is what I need. Being one of the biggest arms dealers in the world means I don’t often get a second to myself so that I can think. After the shit that just went down, I need a minute.

The door chimes as someone walks in. I force myself not to turn around. This is why I hate making enemies; it makes me paranoid. I’m tired of this damn business. Arms dealing has been kind to me so far, but I know my time will run out. Most people are dead by forty, and I’m getting pretty damn close. I can buy anything I fucking want in this world, but that doesn’t matter when your life is consumed with work and the fear that someone's going to take it all away. I look up as a young blonde takes the seat next to me. Her hair is done up, and she has on a thick layer of make-up.

“Hey, handsome,” her voice comes out low and sultry. If I have to guess, she’s a high-class prostitute. She can probably smell the money coming off of me. Women have a sixth sense about that shit. I don’t have anything against sex work. I’ve paid my fair share of women to suck my cock. Not because I have to, but because it makes things easier. Sometimes I don’t feel like dealing with the hassle of picking up a woman.

An image of the dark-haired woman flashes in my mind. None of the women at this bar hold a candle to her. I could have killed Miles for leaving handprints around her throat. Downing the rest of my drink, I leave cash on the bar. The woman next to me smiles, obviously taking my action as an invitation. If I wasn’t eager to get back to the yacht and get far away from this island, I might take her up on the offer. But, it wasn’t safe to have my boat sitting on Miles property, and I wasn’t going to make a special trip to Hawaii again just to drop this lady off.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I say before getting up from the stool and walking out the door.

Hazel

I know I need to get off the island soon. At the sound of an engine starting, I turn my head. Through the trees that surround the property, I can see a stretch of the road. The taillights of Miles’s Land Rover flash as he drives off the compound. This is my chance to go back to the house and gather a few of my belongings.

Taking the golf cart back to the house, I re-enter through the staff entrance and quickly run upstairs to our bedroom, a bedroom that once held memories of laughter and hope but now just feels cold. I pack my things, throwing everything I can think of into a backpack along with an additional duffle bag. With my heart pounding in my chest, I hurry down the hall and out the back door. As I’m exiting, I feel a hand tug on my arm. Terrified, I yank my arm away. “What the-“

I relax as I realize it’s just Juan, my driver.

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