Page 72 of His to Bedevil

I hear what sounds like a glass bottle rolling around behind the door, but no one comes to answer. Holding back a grimace, I knock on the door again. This time with more force. When still no one answers, I back up and let Diego step forward. He goes for the knob first to see if it’s unlocked, but it isn’t. He glances back at me, and I give him a nod. With just one forceful shoulder thrust into the door, he bursts it open.

I let Diego and my other guy go in ahead of me. I trail in behind them and look around in revulsion. The place is filthy, and the air is thick with smoke and dust. I glance over to the tiny kitchen and see plates piled up and flies swarming around. And if I were to glance in the sink or take a closer look, I’m sure I would see maggots and rat shit everywhere.

I follow my men, who both have their hands on their guns, farther into the apartment, where we find a corpse lying on the couch. Skin and bones, lifeless. It even reeks of death in here. “Check her pulse,” I command, and Diego the faithful dog approaches her and puts two fingers on the side of her neck.

“There’s a pulse,” he confirms, and just then, the corpse stirs a little and groans.

I move in closer to get a better look. Long dark hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed or even brushed in who knows how long fans around the frail body. She’s wearing some dingy and battered negligee that exposes her bony, skinny arms and legs and saggy breasts. The woman’s face looks much too old to be Irma’s mother, but the longer I stare at her, the more I can see a little bit of Irma in her. This has to be her.

“Get her up,” I snap. I’m barely holding on to my sanity here. I can’t seem to get images of a tiny Irma hovering in the corner out of my head. It makes my stomach turn and makes me thirsty for blood.

It’s been weeks since I’ve killed someone. A burning in my blood, an itch I need to scratch. If Benita doesn’t make it easy, she might die today. And it won’t be from drugs or alcohol.

Diego and my other guy lift her up under her arms and get her into a sitting position. She groans some more and attempts to peel her eyes open. My fists clench at my sides, and I fear that I might hit a woman for the first time ever. One good backhand would shock her sober. But my father taught me better than that. He said we had to have some morals, or we’d completely lose our humanity. My brother, on the other hand, he lost most of his humanity years ago, and even more of it when Emily died. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t bring him with me. He wouldn’t even hesitate to slap her around on Irma’s behalf. Over the course of time since he’s been home, he’s grown rather fond of his sister-in-law, and he would protect her undoubtedly.

Diego gives her some light taps on each cheek, making her head loll side to side. Her eyes are still trying to blink open, and she’s obviously still coming down off of something. Looking around, I can pretty much find the remnants of every narcotic easily found on the streets. “Look alive, Benita,” Diego says, snapping his fingers right in her face.

Her eyes finally open all the way, and even though her eyes are brown, they look so much like Irma. Her lips curl up and she grins, showing off her yellow stained teeth. “I charge extra for three men, but since you’re so good-looking, I’ll only charge you for two.” She spreads her legs wide open, and I don’t even dart a glance down there.

My stomach literally twists at the thought, and my guys both grimace at the idea. “Benita, I am Irma’s husband, Alejandro Martinez. And I’m here to make you a deal.”

The mention of her daughter’s name seems to sober her some. “Irma?Mi flaquita?” Her eyes dart around, and she tries to cover herself up with her skinny arms. At least she has the decency to feel some shame. It’s a start. “Is she here?”

“No.” I crouch down so that she has no choice but to look at me. I won’t be cruel to the woman, but I will be incisive that I am here for one reason and one reason only. To see if this woman has any redeemable qualities left in her. “She doesn’t want to see you. At least not yet. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to rehab. You’re going to stay there for an entire year. Upon release, I will set you up with an apartment and everything you might need, and you will get a job. Once you stay sober for some time, then and only then will you get to see your daughter, but that’s if she even wants to see you. Do you understand me?” My voice is like steel and my face as cold as ice.

She sits there slowly blinking. I don’t know if she’s nodding off or thinking this over. Which, if it’s the latter, what the fuck is there to think about? She’s basically going to be living at a resort in Malibu, California, for a year and then set up with a brand-new life and then gets to be reunited with her daughter. If she refuses either, I’ll physically force her there or I’ll kill her. I guess whatever I have the impulse to do.

“Where is this rehab?” Her voice raspy from years of smoking cigarettes and doing drugs.

“Malibu, California,” I convey unemotionally.

“And you’re paying for it?” Her eyes start darting around the room as if she’s paranoid.

“Yes. Paying for it for an entire year. But that’s if you stay for the whole year.”

“And if I decide not to stay the whole time?”

“I’ll kill you,” I vehemently relay. If she gives up on this one chance of ever seeing her daughter again, of denying Irma what she deserves, I’ll fucking kill her and never tell Irma about any of this.

Her eyes barely even register my words. She doesn’t even flinch or try to back away. Probably because she is pretty much half dead right now as it is. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Benita is quiet on the plane to Malibu. I did stick her all the way in the back by herself. I had to. The sight of her disgusted and infuriated me. I should be at home right now enjoying the company of my wife. Going to the gym and working up a sweat with her. Wrestling with her in the ring, our form of foreplay. Then we would walk side by side back to the main house, fingers interlaced, exchanging fun banter back and forth. We’d head up to our room together, I’d strip her of her clothes and drag her ass into the shower. Fuck, I need to stop, or everyone is going to see how badly I miss my wife. Physically see it.

Hours later, we touch down in LA. My men go and grab Benita, and I meet her outside on the tarmac. There’s an SUV waiting there with one of their client advocates to take her the rest of the way. Benita stands there trembling with her arms wrapped around her waist. Probably already going through withdrawal. But she isn’t my problem anymore. I got her this far, and I’m paying them a lot of money to take her, even if she does some resisting. A lot of money. And honestly, I think Irma is better off without her. This is my one and only attempt to give her mother something she might not even know she still wants.

“Do this for Irma,” I clip.

Her eyes snap up to me. “For Irma.” Her accent comes out thick, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears, my cue to leave. As I spin on my heel, she calls out to me. “Señor Martinez!” I stop but don’t turn around. “Thank you.”

I don’t say a word and board the plane, hoping I just did something good and worth it. If I succeed, I may win Irma’s heart, or at least her loyalty.

Irma

Icrawled into bed around eleven after leaving the theater room with Lucas. We binged some ofThe Officeand got a little drunk together. Lucas has become the brother I never wanted. We laugh and tease each other nonstop, but I don’t forget who he is. He makes it really difficult though. How can he be so kind to me if he’s really the killing machine Alejo claims he is?

After tossing and turning for about an hour, I put a movie in to try and fall asleep to. I used to always fall asleep to a movie, it was the only way I could. I guess to fill in some of the silence and help me feel less lonely. But it’s been easy falling asleep with Alejo, just listening to his breathing and letting it lull me to sleep. Now, he isn’t here, and I don’t even know why he went to Miami today.

Of course, the longer I lie here restlessly, the more my mind begins to wander. The darker my thoughts become. What if he’s going to see someone? A female someone? Maybe that bitch from the yacht. Or who knows, some other bitch. Another old flame? No, he wouldn’t. Would he? We’ve been going at it like animals, there’s no way he’s going there to fuck someone else.

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