Page 36 of Punished

“Tell me what you like, diosa, so I can worship you.” My skin tingles at his breath on my ear. The words fireworks to my core. I’m in big trouble if this man’s voice alone makes me wet. My vagina should be researched like Pavlov’s dog, since apparently Adrian has conditioned it as well.

“Or would you rather I punish you?” His hands roam over my breasts–over the hard peaks forming–begging him to squeeze, suck, and bite them, desperate for him to mark them.

A loud bang at the door puts out the fire building in me. I jump up, and Adrian lets out a sigh as he walks to the door. I sit on the couch and wrap the San Marcos blanket over me.

“WHAT!” he yells as he fixes his erection and grabs his gun off the coffee table, and places it into his waistband.

“Adrian, open up.” I recognize the voice. It’s Thalia, her voice is frantic.

“What do you want, troll?” He looks out the peephole, unwilling to open the door. She keeps knocking until he opens it.

“Really, pendejo?” she starts, then her eyes catch sight of me. Thank the universe, Buddha, Jesus, and whoever else that I’m clothed right now, or else this would have beenvery awkward.

“We have to go to the compound; there’s an emergency.” A smile draws on her face when she looks at me again.

“Ewww, were you guys trying to get freak nasty under a San Marcos blanket?” My eyes shoot down to the fuzzy tiger blanket I am hiding under. I laugh at her playful tone and Adrian rolls his eyes. I know her well enough to know this is her extended olive branch. We’ll talk about our problems in ten years. She doesn’t do emotional stuff, and I have always respected her for that. It takes the pressure off both of us.

Adrian is already grabbing more of his guns from the armoire in his room and looking for his shoes.

“Do you have your medical kit? Some of the men are injured bad; they were attacked crossing the border.”

“No,” Adrian says.

“I’ll grab my medical bag,” I say and smile at her.

“No. I don’t want you at the compound,” he says again.

“Adrian, I’ve gone to the compound plenty of times before you,” I say, hoping to ease his tension, but he only looks more annoyed. I look to Thalia for some help.

“She will be fine. We’ll both be there to keep an eye on her,” she reassures him.

Adrian sighs, but it’s two against one.

It’s times like these I wish I learned more Spanish. Sure, I can order a taco, sing karaoke, or understand a basic nursery rhyme, but trying to explain care procedures is way out of my comfort zone.

I’m working on setting up an IV for one of the gunned down men, while Gael removes a bullet from another. He’s far from ugly, but I try not to look anymore than I need to with Adrian breathing down my neck. Thalia left with Conejo to figure out the source of the attack. Patricio is doing most of the translating for me, since Adrian refuses to be of any assistance. He stands with his lips tight and his nostrils flaring the entire time. I don’t have the heart to tell him that, as a nurse, I will, in fact, be touching other men. I have a feeling he would start showing up at the hospital every day to monitor me.

The man I’m helping says something to me as I am cleaning up a wound on his leg. I look up to Patricio, but Adrian answers the man instead. The man’s eyes go wide at whatever Adrian says, and I make out the apologies he offers. Patricio’s expression stays neutral as he shakes his head, a small laugh trying to escape, but when I look at Adrian, there is no trace of humor on it. I look back down.

“He said you look like shit and smell like a wet dog. But don’t worry, I told him that was rude, and he apologized immediately.” A smirk is etched on his face.

I arch my brow, then roll my eyes, as I finish bandaging up the now nervous man.

Patricio lets out a laugh.

“Calm down, killer. We still have a few more men to go.” Patricio pats Adrian’s back, earning him a hostile glare.

We walk out of the room so I can give Gael my report.

“What did he say really, Adrian?” I say, crossing my arms.

He grabs me by the arm and slams me against the wall in the hallway.

“It doesn’t matter what he said, because you belong to me and only me.” I roll my eyes, and his hand reaches to my throat. “I don’t like watching you touch other guys. I’d much rather watch them bleed out. I am trying to be merciful, but I am ready to go.” He releases my throat.

“Why don’t you go find Thalia and I’ll finish up here. These men’s lives are important. They are someone’s uncle or brother. How would you feel if it was Patricio who was bleeding out when there was a nurse on hand to save him?”

“Please don’t answer that,” Patricio says, entering the hallway.

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