Page 11 of Sin and Seduction

I hate leaving my wife like this, especially since I just got her back from that deep, dark hole of depression that she’d fallen into. It happened the first time I’d seen her smile in days and the first time I’d heard her laugh as my wife. The first time I shared her body and my bed as a married union. I never once thought that I’d make a good husband, never really had the desire to. But I want to be a good husband to her. I want to keep her safe. I slept this entire world upside down if it meant not a single hair on her head was harmed.

As much as I love my wife and hate being without her, I think of my baby sister. My young and impressionable little sister hasn’t known any difficulties except what to wear on whatever date a new bachelor would take her on. I left our hometown when she was very young, our father dying when she was practically a toddler. The only glimpses I’ve had of Gabriela as a woman are glimpses of her with a credit card. I remember her being a sweet girl when we were younger, eager and excitable, loud and unmistakable. She’s even more so as she’s gotten older, but our bond was broken the day we buried our father into the ground. Even with that bond being weak and practically non-existent, she’s still my blood, and I would die for her, too. I would tear anyone apart limb from limb if they ever caused her any harm.

For the first time in my adulthood, I wished Oscar was with me. Granted, this wasn’t his mess since he’s denied all obligation in avenging our father's wrongful death, but he still should be here to rescue his sister, too. To make sure she’s alive and unharmed. To hold her if she cries in terror. After years of him fucking up over and over again, drowning his sorrows and responsibilities with every bottle he could find, I’d rather have him at home looking after Esmeralda with Benjamin. The threat is no longer there, and this mission requires calculation. Something he’s always lacked. I check my watch, the last two hours of the plane ride lost in my thoughts.

“We will be landing in twenty minutes, boss,” one of my guards says to me as I toss back a small tumbler bourbon.

“Do you think he’s touched her?” I ask Sergio, my voice dark and thick as I stare at the clouds beneath us.

He takes a minute to respond, sighing deeply as I avoid eye contact with him. He’s as old as my father would be if he were here. Sometimes he reminds me so much of him that it almost feels strange treating him like an assistant. I try not to do it often. He’s been the best at giving me sound advice, even if we don’t see eye to eye. He’s held my sister as a baby, so this is just as personal to him as it is to me. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Will we kill James instantly if he touched Gabriela, or will we make it slow, painful as we watch life slowly leave his eyes?

“I think if he has, then I’ll personally cut each of his fingers off one by one,” he says darkly, causing me to look at him.

He’s a tough man, but he rarely shows if he’s affected by something. I can tell he is more affected by this than my own brother. Sergio is the one who travels back to Columbia when I come to our business. I stay home every time, only seeing my mother maybe once every few years. Sergio is the one who’s watched my sister grow. He's more like a father to her than our own father ever was. He’s made sure that she’s passed grades with flying colors. Make sure all her clothes would fit and were always new and shiny. He’d make Oscar report to him whenever she would bring home any man or expressed interest in any boy in school.

I study him as he taps his foot repeatedly, the leather clicking against the floor rapidly. He’s aging more and more each day, the gray completely taking over his wispy beard and half-balding head. He and my father went to college together. They studied economics until my father developed a drug problem. I say problem and not addiction because he was never addicted to his own product because that’s all it was, just product. Endless dollar signs that move in various places without a trace of his fingertips left. Sergio is much smarter than my father, always has been. I’ve watched him more than I’ve watched my own blood for many years, learning and absorbing every new bit of information he gives. I’ve learned patience from him. I've learned how to be quiet and calm and still maintain authority.

“I should’ve taken the time to learn more about him while we monitored Juan Carlos for all these years. I should’ve followed him just as closely so that I could anticipate his moves.” He flexes his hands before balling them into fists.

“Maybe if I would’ve, she’d be with us and not trapped in some barn. I hope she’s even there.” His voice trails like a shadow.

I stare at him through narrowed eyes. Is he blaming himself? He’s never been one for self-sabotage.

“You’ve done more than what’s been asked of you,” I say thickly, my own self-hatred beginning to seep through.

We’ve all been a little distracted these last couple of months. Me more so than anyone. I should’ve been the one to ask Sergio to look further into Juan Carlos’ new assistant. I should’ve done it myself. Sitting here wishing and wanting isn’t going to fix anything now, though. The only thing that can remedy this new cluster fuck of a situation is watching James Rowen slowly bleed out on his shitty barn floor. The only thing that can ease this new tension is seeing both my wife and little sister safe at home—at a new home where no one can touch us.

We start to descend into a wide and flat country land, the Wyoming mountains far behind us as we land onto a field. There are cattle nearby, which explains the powerful scent of manure as we step outside. There are a few blacked-out SUVs waiting for us, my man immediately loading our luggage and guns we’ll use into the back of them.

“His property is about ten minutes from here. We’ll have to stop about a couple miles away and finish by foot, so he doesn’t see us,” Sergio explains as he loads his pistol before strapping it back to his hip.

I nod and climb into the last SUV with him, him driving off immediately as we leave the jet waiting behind us. We drive for about seven minutes through nothing but cornfields and wide flatlands, a few horses and barrels of hay on the side of the gravel dirt roads. As soon as we come to a stop, Sergio and I get out, leaving two drivers behind as we strap ourselves with guns and ammunition before hiking through tall blades of grass.

The sky is the brightest blue, with few clouds littering it as I glance upward. An occasional bird or two sings in the distance, the air still thick and hot but not nearly as bad as California. I see the mountains in the distance, colors of yellows and greens stretching across my view. I imagine Esmeralda standing in one of these fields, a sunflower in her hair, a white dress blowing in the May breeze. Her nipples poking through the fabric, her smile wide and bright, aimed at me.

James could have taken all of Juan Carlos’s men back here with him. We really have no idea what we’re walking into. If anything, it’s an ambush. If anything, it’ll be a fight we may die in, but I keep remembering Esmeralda and her smile. I keep going back to the soft touch of her thighs against my face, of the throaty sound her voice makes when she screams my name. That alone is enough to make me fight to the death, fight to come back to her.

I see a barn in the distance. It is small and brown, the shackles practically falling off the sides. There is fencing with one or two horses locked inside. To the right, I see their stables, but it is what’s behind the barn that catches my attention. A small, yellow house with a blue door staring back at me. A place that could house more men than what we originally anticipated, given the fact that we didn’t know the house was still here. We were under the impression that it went when his parents did, but apparently, we were wrong about that, too. God only knows what else were wrong about.

“Be careful and be quiet,” I say amongst the men, crouching down and becoming hidden in the tall blades of grass.

“I need two men on each side of the barn and the house; your guns go to the window before your eyes do, got it?” They all nod in response and disperse.

Sergio and I make our way to the house as the men scope out the barn that we pass. They give us an okay signal to let us know that nothing is in there, a few going inside to scope it out further. We approached the house, a few groups of men surrounding the sides in the back of it, peering through the Windows and giving us thumbs up. Sergio and I approached the front door, carefully peeling back the screen door as we step inside.

The house is dark and reeks of dust, but we walk quietly and further into the house as the door shuts quietly behind us. We passed by the kitchen and a bathroom, Sergio checks behind the shower curtain and comes up empty as we move on down the hallway. I noticed that the kitchen had a small light turned on on the counter, dishes in the sink, and a bottle of whiskey open, half empty. I noticed a couple more bottles, but they are empty. The kitchen sink drips quietly, and I know for certain that somebody is in the house and has been for some time.

As we walk down the hallway, there are two doors, which I presume are bedrooms. I nod over to Sergio, who opens the door to the right quickly and quietly, our guns aiming inside as we come up empty once more.

We step inside, Sergio looking under the bed as I open the closet and pull back racks of clothes. After about two minutes in the room, we decide that nobody is in here and move back out into the hallway. The last door is about ten feet away, and as we get closer, we hear a strange sound coming from behind it. As we get closer, I can hear that it is the sound of a woman, but not of a woman in pain. Rather, a woman in pleasure.

Confusion spreads, and I watch Sergio’s eyebrows knit together as we approach the door. The cries of the woman grow louder, and I have a sudden sick feeling now entering the pit of my stomach. Sergio mouths a countdown, and as soon as he hits one, we kick the door open. The woman now screams in alarm. The woman who is half-naked with a man’s head between her thighs. The woman who looks to be my baby sister. And the man who looks a lot like James Rowen.

Gabriela scrambles off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her waist as Sergio approaches James, his gun pressing into his neck as James’s hands raise in defense on the floor.“What in the actual fuck?” I hiss out, my sister’s eyes widening in embarrassment as James Rowan chuckles on the floor.

6

Dante

---