Page 8 of Kiss of the Cartel

7

Luis

My desire to break Lena overwhelms every other thought I have. I want to beat her into submission, fuck her until she’s begging me. The look in her eyes drives my fury. She’s afraid, but not. She knows what I’m capable of, thinks she can withstand it until she has an opening to fight back, to kill me, to flee.

She underestimates me because she thinks of me as my father’s son. It’s unfortunate for her. She thinks I hate her but she’s wrong. She was seconds late from saving my father. She saved my life. It’s admirable, but it eats at me. That she bested five men with weapons. That she did what I could not.

After I kick Arturo out, I have a moment to think without his constant stream of vitriol. Just me and Lena. She’s chained and cuffed to the floor. Naked and dirty. The way I want her and it’s making me hard. I wonder how to break her. Through force, through seduction? Through humiliation? I know who she is and what she’s been through, but it doesn’t evoke sympathy. I don’t have those kinds of feelings. My father traded in whores and I'm expected to follow in his footsteps.

Though quiet, Lena is stubborn, she doesn’t like to lose. It’s why my father used her, kept her. Because she would die before she lost. Will die before she admits defeat.

I crouch in front of her. Long dark brown hair streams over her shoulders and down to the floor, the tips brushing the chains at her wrists where they're bound to the floor in front of her. She’s staring back at me, waiting for me to make a move. She’s tense and I can tell she’ll fight me however she can; no matter how helpless, she’ll resist. I hated that my father used a woman as a bodyguard, but as I contemplate her, I have a small understanding of why. Because of her delicate beauty men underestimate her. She glides in on my father’s arm and men think she’s a pampered princess.

And I did too. Until I saw her take out five men. Until she saved my life. “Are you good for anything but fighting, Lena?” I say softly.

She doesn’t answer and I give her another hard slap. “You’ll answer when I talk to you.”

She takes the slap. Blood trickles from the corner of her lip where I’ve split it. “Yes,” she says. Her voice is cool, low, contained.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes. I’m good for other things than fighting.”

“Like fucking?”

She draws a sharp breath, but remains silent, her dark eyes continuing to meet mine. I think she doesn’t care if I rape her. She’s not like other women. To her, rape is just another weapon in one’s repertoire. She would take it, like she would take a beating. Another day in her life. Something to recover from. It was apparent when Arturo and I walked into the cell. She was naked but didn’t quail. Wasn’t embarrassed by her nudity, didn’t try to cover herself. Vulnerable but brave. Arturo would fuck anything so he didn’t notice her lack of inhibitions. No shame, but no seduction either.

She fascinates me.

Then she says, “Who killed your father, Luis?”

Her unexpected question enrages me. I whip off my belt, wrap it around my hand and grip her by the neck, forcing her face up to mine. “You fucking dare mention him to me, you useless little bitch!”

I straighten and stand over her, slamming the belt down across her back. Again, and again, I lift the belt, marking her back, her ass, the back of her thighs. My temper, my grief wins over my good sense and I can’t stop hitting her. Stroke after stroke, welts across her bare flesh. A few deep enough to draw blood. She refuses to cry out even though she can’t contain her tears, which are dripping down her face and onto the concrete floor. Her body flinches with each blow, further inflaming me.

I drop to my knees next to her, grab her hair and yank her head back. I could snap her neck with a hard jerk. “Beg, you bitch. Beg me to stop.”

“Please stop.” Her words slip out softly, genuinely, her tears continue to fall, but still no fear, no sobs.

I drop her head and rock back on my heels. She hangs her head down, I see the trembling in her body. She may be able to mentally fight me, but her body is reeling from my blows. “Fuck.” I’m disgusted with her, with myself. This is not going how I imagined.

Then she says again, not looking at me, her eyes on the floor, her long dirty hair obscuring her face. “Who killed your father, Luis?”

I stand up and walk away from her, to the wall next to the cell door. I need to put distance between us so I don’t beat her to death. “Do you have a death wish, slut?”

She coughs, spits some blood onto the floor. “You’re not stupid, Luis. Are all your thoughts of revenge directed at me? I didn’t kill him. But someone did. Who killed him, Luis?”

I leave. I have to leave or I’ll end her and I’m not ready to do that. I slam the cell door shut and turn the key, leaving her chained up, unable to move. No one can get in and she can’t get out. As I move away from her, I know I have to return. I have to unchain her, give her some water and food. But I need some distance right now.

I have to think and I can’t get past my sorrow to think clearly.

As I ascend the stairs, Arturo is hovering at the top. He’s tall, my cousin is. Lanky, but strong. A predator of the worst kind. A good man to have on your side. A dangerous man for an enemy. He pretends to mourn the loss of my father, his uncle, but that’s bullshit. There was no love between the two. Manuel saw Arturo as a violent bumbling idiot and my cousin thought my father an old-fashioned autocrat. But Arturo and me, we’ve been tight since birth. He’s a handful, hard to contain. Someone I have to watch constantly. But he’s the brother I never had.

Still, the bitch in the basement is right. Who killed my father? It was too easy to grab the two of us. Too convenient. Someone who knew where we’d be but didn’t know about my father’s secret weapon. Didn’t know about Lena. But then no one knew about Lena. Except me and my father. Not even Arturo. At least not until my father was killed. Now everyone knows what she’s capable of. Which makes her useless to me.

“Did you leave anything for me?” Arturo asks as I pass him and head for the bar.

“Nothing, Arturo.” I’m conflicted. I shouldn't care if Arturo wants a piece of her, but for some reason I do. I don’t want him to fucking touch her so I say, “Go find another girl to fuck. This one’s off-limits.”

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