Page 24 of Blood Spilled
Sometimes getting far in this business came with kissing a little ass. I always play nice up front and will keep doing so as long as there's an agreement of mutual respect.
The taller guy, Julius, nods and holds out his hand. “A pleasure as always, Angel. I'm sure everything is how you say it is, but my friend, Antonio, still likes to see things for himself. He's not as easily convinced.”
I chuckle. “That's understandable, considering not everyone in this business is who they say they are and what recently went down with a few local distributors didn't exactly give people any more peace of mind. You know I take pride in my work and customers.”
“I do. We will be talking again soon, I'm sure.”
Both gentlemen follow Abe to where their order is being distributed and loaded.
I head back into the house, and a noise coming from downstairs has me stopping in my tracks. The shouts grow louder, prompting me to run faster down the basement steps. Anger boils inside me, setting my skin on fire. “What the fuck is going on down here?”
I'm having a hard time processing what my eyes are seeing. Jason is watching with frightened and unsure eyes while Tony, one of my main men, beats Santiago with the water hose. Blood flows down the basement drain and Santiago's body is lying still against the cement as Tony continues to swing the hose against his already raw skin.
My blood goes cold as Santiago struggles and suffers at another man’s hands. Him lying flat on the pavement, covered in welts and appearing lifeless has my heart ripping in two. When Tony lifts the hose above his head again, I grab it before he has the chance to cause more damage than he already has, yanking it free from his hands.
He stares at me with wide eyes. Before he can say anything, I wrap the hose around his neck, choking all the life out of him, hating how I can still hear the hose slapping against Santiago’s skin in my head. I grit my teeth. I squeeze tighter, haunted by the recent memory of the man I once hated nearly being choked to death. This asshole could have killed him. What if he did?
The thought now makes my skin crawl and my heart lurch in my throat.
My grip never loosens around Tony’s neck. His body jerks and his legs go limp as I continue to suffocate him, listening to the air leave his body as he continues to croak.
Jason is frozen in place as he watches me release Tony from my hold, tossing his lifeless body to the floor like he's nothing. I stare down at my right-hand man's pale face, purple lips and bruised neck. I should feel some kind of sorrow or pain for the man who had been at my side for the last five years, but instead all I feel is anger.
If I could kill him again I would. I would kill them all. He’d gone against my orders and touched what is mine. If anyone is going to cause him any pain, it will be me, not Tony or anyone else. And definitely not like this.
I pay no attention to Jason or what he's doing. He could be running up the stairs to lock me down here for all I know. My mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone, Santiago. Long moans escape his lips, and he presses his face against the concrete. Tears stream down his face and his nose is bleeding from being slammed against the floor.
I clench my fists to my side, hating how much pain he is in. I shouldn't care and I shouldn't be scooping him up in my arms to carry him to my bathroom either, but I let my emotions get the better of me. None of them seem to make sense when it comes to this man.
I push my way through the bathroom door, gently placing Santiago in the tub. He whines and curls into himself against the porcelain. I run the water, checking the temperature, making sure it's nice and warm. I grab a washcloth from under the sink and let the water from the faucet run over it. Santiago's face is still buried in his hands and the shivering lessens the longer I run the warm washcloth over his battered body.
“I'm so sorry, little mouse. I should have been there. I should have gotten you clean myself. It will only be me who touches you from now on.”
It's clear no one else can be trusted—not when it comes to Santiago. I wash the blood and grime from his skin as his muffled sobs grow louder. I did it. I broke the man in front of me and instead of celebrating my victory, I'm kneeling in defeat. This was what I had wanted, but now it’s clear it isn't anymore. I brush his matted hair from his face.
I don't say anything else. There isn't really anything I could say to make up for what he’d gone through today. Maybe weeks ago I would have allowed it or just let it go. However, even when he first got here, I felt some weird possessiveness towards him, one I could never quite explain. At first, I thought it was my need for revenge, but it was much more than that.
I dry him off with a few large towels and carry him back to his room. Instead of leaving him there alone and chained up as I normally would, I sit against the wall holding him in my arms. He buries his head in my chest and we stay like that for a while. I gently run my fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and his snores fill the room.
I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go from here, but I know I can't continue going the way I have been. Mateo was right, I can't keep him here forever, but I can't kill him either. I think I've always known that, even from the very beginning.
Did I break down the man in my arms or did he break me down?
Nineteen
Santiago
When I wake up, I'm not in the cage but wrapped tightly in someone's arms—Angel’s. When his eyes open, his arms hold me tighter. I'm kicking and releasing soft screams while banging against his chest with closed fists. It's comparable to slamming my hands against a steel door. I’m not stronger physically, but mentally, I’m a thousand brick walls.
My father had made me that way a long time ago. He’d beat me until I could no longer feel. He destroyed everything that meant anything to me, making me unable to endure emotions. Maybe that's why I'm so angry right now, because Angel did the impossible. He made me fucking feel.
That was more threatening than anything he's done to me during this whole captivity. I could still come back from a thousand beatings and a bit of torture, but I couldn't come back from this. His arms squeeze around me tighter and I bury my face against him. It's enough to drown out my sobs.
“Shhh ... you know there's no use fighting me, little pet. Calm down, I'm not hurting you today.”
My body goes still, and I peer up at him. His eyes are warm and full of empathy, but why? Why now? Isn't this what he wanted? I haven't cried since the day Andy died. I always swore I never would again, because I was done being weak. I fell in love and my father had said love was a dangerous thing; that my enemies would always use it against me, so he did it first.
After blurring out Andy's face all these years, it comes back clear as day. His smile and his wavy blond hair that always smelled like sunshine. More tears stream from my face. “Why care now?”
