Page 21 of El Malo

Rosa

Istep out of my shower, newly cleaned but still harboring a lot of pain. After Javier showed up out of the blue this evening, I’d been reeling. I kept waiting for him to reveal he knows who I am. What I am. But he didn’t. Simply took me to the shed.

Theshed.

One of the locations that have alluded the CIA for years. He simply drove straight to it with me in tow.

I’m not a threat.

Even after him catching me snooping, he didn’t feel as though he needed to keep such a private thing from me. By digging around a little deeper, he let me in.

Michael is right.

I do need to do this.

Seduce the one-dimpled, sexy-as-sin monster.

My core throbs at the reminder of him touching me. If I’m to seduce him, the prospect of him touching me more is a very real idea.

Images of myself naked and beneath that beast of a man flip through my mind fast enough to catch fire. A mewl escapes me. That would be terrifying. Right?

I’m having a hard time convincing myself.

If I’m going to have to fuck Javier Estrada, willingly, then I’m going to need a drink. I walk out of my bathroom once I’m dried and hunt down something sexy. Of course, I own nothing. In the end, I choose a tank top and a short pair of cotton shorts. My pajamas. I groan but don’t give up. I leave my wet hair down to air dry and quickly put on some makeup. Just enough to look like I didn’t put any on. I do, though, make sure to apply a dark shade of red on my lips. Every man loves red lips, I’d assume.

Once I’m satisfied that I look decent enough, I slide on some flip-flops and sneak past the girls’ room. When I’d come home earlier, Yolanda and Silvia were still out. Leticia made me some dinner and pouted when I picked at it. Nobody, including me, knows where Araceli is, but at least Alejandro slipped and indicated she was fine. It gives me hope.

I make my way downstairs and rummage around in the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. There is liquor all over this house, but the kitchen has what I want. Tequila. I grab the bottle and head to the back patio. I’ll get some liquid courage in my veins and then I’ll seek out Estrada. I know he’s here.

The wind is cool and hard enough that it hisses through the trees. I unscrew the bottle and take a long pull on the alcohol. It burns as it slides down my throat. Since I’m always on the job, I don’t drink. I forgot how gross it is. Groaning, I tip the bottle again. I swallow down some more, but my esophagus is already on fire, so it isn’t as difficult to drink this time.

I plop down on a lounger and watch leaves blow into the pool. I make a mental note to have Pablo scoop them out tomorrow. With Yoet coming, I know Javier will want the heated pool ready. His father enjoys swimming.

Sometimes, I look out past the beautiful home and watch the waves. For just a few moments, I can pretend I’m on vacation. Lord knows I need one. I imagine I’m at a fancy hotel and allow myself to dream. Much like I did when I was a young girl. Before all hell broke loose and destroyed my life. Back then, I imagined growing up to be beautiful like my mother. I wanted to marry someone who was just as handsome and fearsome as my father. I realize now that was ridiculous, but at the time it was a girly dream.

In the end, I chose retribution.

I chose a career.

Family and marriage and white picket fences are for soft people. I’m too hard for all that. I started hardening the day I watched my mother bleed out on a greasy kitchen floor.

Tears flood, thanks to the alcohol, and I don’t hold them in. I drink the warming tequila and welcome the fall. My heart that wasn’t very big to begin with suffered its final blow tonight. I’d been reaching and hoping for something with Michael. A small step toward a sliver of happiness. An almost happily ever after. It felt attainable.

But for my every tug for this relationship, he pulled away.

My bitter heart aches for the loss of him.

A part of me is furious at him. I’m a strong, educated, brave woman—imbedded in the hornet’s nest. Each day I stare at the face of danger on behalf of the CIA. I’m a catch. Right?

What does Michael, besides being my superior, have over me that makes him better than me? What makes him think it’s okay to fuck me and then fuck whores behind my back?

Rage bubbles up inside me. Hot and violent. I won’t take him back. Ever. Over the past four years, we’ve had our ups and downs, but for some stupid reason, I forgave him. I give and give and give.

He takes and takes and takes.

Fuck, Michael.

A low, deep voice rumbles behind me. “Yeah, fuck, Michael.”

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