Cartel (20 page)

I burned with shame as Dornan drove home. I had just willingly had sex — again — with the man who was holding me captive. Had sucked his dick and let him inside me twice now, and it was so goddamn confusing.

And my family thought that I was
dead.

‘Are you thinking about them?’ Dornan asked suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

‘No,’ I answered. ‘I was thinking about you.’

He frowned for a moment, then glanced at me before looking back to the road ahead. It was almost dusk, and the sun had moved low and grown golden-orange in the Californian sky.

‘Thinking of how much you hate me?’ he asked seriously.

I shook my head. ‘No.’

He didn’t ask me anything else after that.

Back outside the apartment, I stared at the car door. I wanted to open it, but I couldn’t figure out how.

I’m in shock.
The thought came from nowhere, struck me as odd, and I dismissed it.

Dornan understood. He helped me out of the car and supported me as we walked as one up the stairs to his apartment. To my apartment? It didn’t sound right. But this was where he had brought me, and this was where he wanted me to be.

Once inside, he ran me a bath. Undressed me, with slow fingers that took the opportunity to slide against my flesh, dropping my clothes on the stark bathroom tiles until I was naked before him. I didn’t push his hands away. He might be a monster, but this was a good touch. I would rather he caress me than kick me.

I would rather he fuck me than kill me.

He held my hand as I stepped into the deep bathtub and sank into the water. It was bliss. He’d filled the tub with a fragrant lotion of some kind, something that smelled of sandalwood and orange, but not the kind that bubbled.

I knew why.

Bubbles would obscure the view.

I laid back in the tub, my feet burning as water rushed into every crack and crevice caused by the rough terrain I’d had to walk on barefoot. I pressed them against the far end of the tub, hoping the pressure might ease the pain a little.

I slumped down in the tub, took a breath, and let myself slip under the water. Surfacing a moment later, I rubbed drops of water from my eyes and smoothed my hair back.

‘Better?’ he asked me from his spot on the edge.

I nodded.

He left the room, returning a moment later with a glass of amber-coloured liquid.

He sat on the edge again and held the tumbler out to me. I took it wordlessly, tossing it back. It burned on the way down, but I no longer cared.

I no longer cared about anything.

Dornan pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket and lit up, taking a deep breath. I stared at the tip of the cigarette, hypnotised by the way it burned bright, leaving grey ash in the wake of fire.

Dornan must have noticed I was transfixed on his cigarette, because he took one more drag and offered it to me. I took it. Why the hell not? I’d never been much of a smoker, other than a few stolen moments as an experimenting teenager, but I already had a death sentence. Maybe a little lung cancer would get me out of this shitty world a fraction quicker.

I closed my eyes, letting my arm hang loosely over the side of the tub. Every now and then, I’d take a drag or a sip of whiskey, but mostly, I just lay there and prayed the warm water would wash away my terrible sins.

There were so many. So many sins. I should have tried harder to yell. To scream. Just one scream could have gotten their attention. Hell, for all I knew the car that passed ours while we were screwing in the back seat
was
Karina and Pablo and my father.

A lump formed in my throat that all the cigarettes in the world wouldn’t be able to burn away. The whiskey dulled it slightly but didn’t take it away for more than a second.

Something brushed against my cheek and I opened my eyes to see Dornan stroking my face.

I began to weep as I remembered how I had pulled him deeper. Harder. How I had kissed his mouth with a passion and a desperation I’d never experienced before. The way he’d made me tighten around him, despite the horror I’d just witnessed.

‘What are you thinking now?’ he asked. His tone held no malice, only casual interest.

‘I’m thinking about what a bad person I am,’ I said despondently. I took another drag of the cigarette and tilted my head back, blowing a cloud of smoke above me. It resembled how I felt: as if a grey cloud hung above my head, colouring everything in darkness.

‘Why?’ he pressed. ‘Because they’re alive, and they think you’re dead?’

I looked at the ceiling, tapping ash into the water where I heard it sizzle faintly.

‘Because I’m alive, and my boyfriend is dead,’ I whispered. ‘And even though your people killed him, I’m still somehow drawn to you.’

He nodded. ‘Did you love him?’

I stiffened, looking at him worriedly. Did I say yes? Did I say no? He’d warned me not to lie to him. I weighed up the cost of a lie over the cost of the truth. And finally, I just held my hands up in confusion.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say. If I say I don’t, I’m lying. If I say I do, will you hurt me?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘I won’t hurt you. Tell me about him. Tell me how you met.’

I eyed him cautiously. ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. As I told him the story of Este and I, I remembered to leave out the details of my accidental pregnancy. Of our son. I would hold that card close to my heart until it was prised from my cold, dead hands.

Or until Murphy voiced it for me. The reality that he knew about Luis, and that he could use it against me at any moment, was terrifying.

After I’d finished, I realised I had gotten rather carried away with telling the story. I must have been talking for fifteen minutes or more. Dornan hadn’t interrupted, other than to get more whiskey and light fresh cigarettes for both of us. So, by the time I was finished, I was exhausted, tipsy, and my throat felt numb from all the nicotine.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘I don’t want to make you mad.’

‘I enjoyed your story very much,’ he said, in that deep, throaty way of his.

Tears filled my eyes and a strange ache took up residence in my chest, as I looked up at this frightening, beautiful man who ruled my entire existence. ‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Because,’ he said, tucking wet hair behind my ear, ‘you loved him. I like hearing the way you speak of him. It’s … tender.’

That couldn’t be it, though. He was far more diabolical than that.

‘And?’ I pressed him.

‘And,’ he said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. ‘One day, you’re going to speak about me like that.’

I didn’t respond.

I didn’t know what the hell to say to that.

Afterwards, when I was wrinkled to prune status and the water had turned cold, he hoisted me out of the tub and wrapped me in a fluffy white towel, carrying me to the bedroom.

He laid me down and pressed himself into my back, his body hugging around mine like a protective cocoon. It was comforting, in the strangest way.

‘Why did you save me?’ I asked him in the dark.

I heard the breath hitch in his throat. ‘You know why.’

I shuffled around so I was facing him and put a tentative hand out, searching in the darkness until I found his cheek. I brushed my thumb along his jaw, enjoying the way his stubble tickled my hand.

‘But why me?’ I pressed. ‘Why not some other girl?’

‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘You’re not afraid of me.’

I drew breath sharply. ‘Yes, I am,’ I whispered. My lips trembled as those words slipped out. Of course I was afraid of him.

He ran a hand over my shoulder, down to my waist, then back up to the skin and bone that shielded my heart. He left his hand there. The weight of it felt oddly reassuring. ‘There’s something here,’ he finally murmured. ‘Something that’s on fire.’

So he felt it, too. It wasn’t just me.

‘So you don’t go saving every girl your father takes possession of?’

He chuckled. ‘No. You’re definitely the first and last.’

Something about that resonated with me deeply. Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered. God, I was so confused. Part of me was screaming in protest — why was I thanking Emilio’s son? His men killed Este.

But Dornan had saved me. He had stopped me from being auctioned like a head of cattle or a piece of furniture; stopped me from enduring even more horrific punishments.

‘You know,’ I said, resting a hand on his chest, ‘I don’t really know anything about you.’

He laughed. ‘I’m an open book. What do you wanna know?’

I bit my lip as I thought. ‘How long have you been married?’ I asked. Might as well get the worst question out of the way first.

He stiffened momentarily. ‘Too fucking long,’ he said. ‘Marriage is overrated. I know. I’ve done it twice.’

‘Twice!’ I pushed his chest lightly.

‘I have six kids,’ he said quietly. ‘All boys.’

My heart leapt into my mouth. He was a father. I hadn’t realised that.

‘And you’re here with me?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t you be with them?’

His gripped my wrist tightly. Maybe I’d asked the wrong question, pried too deeply.

‘I’ll go home to them,’ he said, ‘soon. Right now, I’m here with you.’

‘What are their names?’ I asked, as I thought of my own son. Maybe I could tell him. Maybe it would be all right.

‘Chad’s the oldest,’ Dornan said quietly, his expression softening. Pride. It wrapped itself around his features and clung tight as he rattled off another five names. A proud father.

Este would never be a proud father because he was dead.

I suddenly felt awful. If Este could see what I’d become …

‘Does your wife know you sleep with other women?’ I asked.

Another chuckle. ‘I’ve never asked her. But yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ sure she knows.’

I opened my mouth to ask another question but he pressed a finger to my lips.

‘My turn,’ he said. ‘Tell me something about you, Ana.’

I squirmed. ‘I just spent forever telling you all about me in the bath.’

‘No you didn’t. You told me all about Esteban. You told me nothing of you. What you think. What you feel in here,’ he took his finger from my lips and tapped it against my chest.

His question affected me more than I could’ve anticipated. I swallowed, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.

‘My dad is a disaster,’ I said, almost fondly. ‘He used to get drunk and think he was Muhammad Ali or something. Only, he’d hit me and my brother and sister and my mama.’

Dornan moved his hand to my arm and squeezed tightly. ‘What did he do to you?’ he asked, and I heard the thinly veiled rage in his voice.

I laughed. ‘What did I do to him, you mean? He was such a clumsy drunk. I broke his nose once. He never could finish what he started.’

Dornan’s grip loosened, and I heard him release his breath. ‘He sounds like an asshole.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It could be worse.’

‘How?’ Dornan asked.

Without thinking, I replied, ‘He could be
your
father.’

Dornan breathed out. ‘Pretty and smart. What else is in that pretty head? Something you’ve never told anyone before. Anything.’

I thought about that for a moment, mentally cataloguing all of my dark secrets before selecting one of the more ambiguous ones. A safer one.

‘Sometimes I’m so lonely,’ I whispered, and I
was
. ‘Sometimes, I’m so lonely, it hurts.’

He wrapped his big arms around me and drew me into his chest, almost crushing me with the intensity of his embrace.

We lay there like that for a long time, while my head whirred and tilted painfully. I was dizzy with it all.

‘What was her name?’ I whispered. ‘The girl — the girl you loved? The one who disappeared?’

He tensed, letting out a sigh. ‘No. You don’t get to ask me
that.’

The next day was a Monday, and it marked a change in my life.

I woke naked and alone, to the sounds of the coffee machine and the smell of bacon.

‘It’s a big day today,’ Dornan told me, as I slid onto a seat at the breakfast bar.

I cocked an eyebrow. My eyes still felt puffy from all the crying I’d done the night before, and I was beginning to wonder if I was going crazy. It wasn’t right to feel attached to my captor.

‘Work, baby. You didn’t think spreading your legs was going to pay off your debt, did you?’

The words affronted me. Of course I hadn’t thought that.

He winked at me as he jammed thick slices of bread into the toaster. He was having a dig at me. ‘Time to show us those laundering skills.’

I’d assumed we would be going to the biker headquarters, or compound, or clubhouse. Whatever they called it. I couldn’t keep the terms straight in my head. I needed another coffee just to get through the day without collapsing in a grief-induced coma.

Pablo. Karina. My parents. Este.
Este
.

They filled my every thought, plagued my mind, until I found myself actually shaking my head from side to side to try and rid myself of their ghosts.

Thinking about them wouldn’t help me. I had to act like they didn’t exist.

Our destination wasn’t the Gypsy Brothers clubhouse, but a burlesque club.

I’d referred to it as a strip joint, but Dornan assured me it was more upmarket than that. The girls wore glitter-encrusted circles pasted onto their nipples and performed routines that didn’t involve humping a pole. Somehow that made it different, though I wasn’t entirely sure how.

I was ushered into a small, windowless room on the second floor of the club and almost choked when I saw who was waiting for us.

‘Good morning,
cholita
,’ Emilio greeted me. His smile looked more like a grimace, especially with his gold tooth glinting under the fluorescent office light, and I had to fight to compose myself. What I wanted to do was scream and run away, but that would only earn me a beating, or quite possibly a bullet.

‘Sounds like you had quite the weekend,’ Emilio said, playing with a toothpick between his teeth.

Was he talking to me? I wasn’t sure. I stared at the ground and tried to appear docile. I was kind of hungover, and no amount of concealer had been able to cover up the after effects of last night’s tears.

‘Answer him.’ Dornan snapped his fingers in front of my face. I jumped at the foreign tone in his voice, and focused on not shrinking away.

‘Tell him how you were used and abused,’ Dornan said jovially, ‘by one Gypsy Brother after another.’

Oh. He was lying for me.

Wait.
He
was lying for
me
?

Emilio snickered, turning away to pick up his briefcase from the ground. As he did, I glared at Dornan. A question in my eyes that I knew he understood.

We didn’t even need to speak. He had lied to his father to protect me.

Was this some kind of test? An elaborate ruse to catch me out?

Dornan turned and grabbed a stack of manila folders from the desk, thrusting them at me. ‘Here,’ he said.

‘Uhhh … thank you?’ I replied, taking the large pile of haphazard papers and cardboard.

I looked around the room, wondering where I should sit.

Dornan pointed to a small table in the corner. ‘Set up over there,’ he said.

I started to walk towards the desk, stopping when Emilio addressed me.

‘You’ve become very compliant in just a few weeks, Ana,’ he said appreciatively. ‘Seems like the Gypsy Brothers have fucked the fight out of you.’

I was about to open my mouth and reply when Dornan beat me to it.

‘I’ve been reminding her about her poor dead boyfriend,’ he said, trailing his fingers through my hair and giving a hard jerk on the ends.

A chill swept over me and I stumbled as he pulled at my hair. The folders in my arms went flying, landing in a mess all over the floor.

‘I’m sorry,’ I stammered, getting to my knees and collecting papers. Emilio stepped on one that I was about to grab.

‘Skirt up,’ he said. ‘We need something to look at while you clean up your mess.’

Gritting my teeth, I let go of the papers and sat up on my knees, hiking my pencil skirt up above my hips so it sat bunched around my waist. Cool air rushed around my ass and I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. I had been expressly ordered not to wear panties this morning. Now, I knew why.

So I could be humiliated.

I continued to collect the papers as quickly as I could, feeling two sets of black eyes staring at my ass.

After I’d rearranged the stack of documents I went to stand up.

‘Wait,’ Emilio said.

I stayed where I was, not game enough to look at him.

Dornan cleared his throat but said nothing.

‘Face to the floor,’ Emilio ordered, walking around behind me. ‘Hands by your sides.’

I did what I was told. I didn’t want him to kick me between the legs. I didn’t want to make him angry at me when I was this vulnerable in front of him.

I pressed my forehead to the musty carpet, hoping I wouldn’t catch herpes from it. I ground my teeth as I felt a hand grab each of my ass cheeks and spread them apart.

I choked a little on a cry. I was still tender down there. My eyes watered as fingers touched and probed, like I was being prepared for a fucking pap smear.

‘Have you been a good girl,
cholita
?’ Emilio asked, as he pressed his fingers against me.

I whimpered at his touch. It wasn’t like Dornan’s. It didn’t make me want to move closer.

It made me want to die.

‘Yes,’ I replied, fresh tears stinging my eyes.

He patted my left ass cheek, a strange gesture, then pulled my skirt down so I was covered again.

‘That’s good to hear,’ he said. ‘You may get up now.’

I felt Dornan’s eyes on me as I stood and pulled my skirt back down to cover myself. But I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I stared at the floor as anger and disgust burned between my legs and in twin pools of flame on my cheeks.

You’re nothing. You’re mine.

Dornan might have taken me away from his father’s cruel grip, but there was no mistaking the fact that Emilio still owned me.

Two hours later, and I was wading knee deep in shit. In corruption and double-accounting that was cleverly disguised, but not cleverly enough for a girl who specialised in it. I’d been doing it in my father’s business ventures for years, managing to scrabble money from people who thought they owed it to us when they actually didn’t. The accounts were a mess, but the same, seemingly innocuous deductions were taking place twice over and then over again.

‘Find anything useful?’ Emilio asked.

I snapped my gaze to him. I hadn’t even been aware he was in the room. I fought the rising terror in my throat as I remembered what a spiteful, strong-willed girl I had been the night I met him.

I didn’t know where she was anymore. I craved her, but I knew if she showed her face too many times, I’d end up dead.

Submission it was, then. Even the word tasted like a lie.

He must have seen the apprehension in my face because he pulled up a chair and sat across from me.

‘Tell me,’ he demanded.

I swallowed. ‘Please don’t kick me in the ribs for telling you,’ I said, handing him a piece of paper I’d used to tally all of the dodgy figures I’d found so far. ‘But someone is stealing from you.’

He appeared calm. But something about his expression told me I’d surprised him.

‘This much?’ he asked, pointing to the figure at the bottom of the page.

I nodded. ‘Yes, sir. I’m only halfway through the stack, so it could go higher.’

I called him ‘sir’ because I refused to call him ‘master’. I hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

Something flashed in his eyes. He was
pissed
. His annoyance made me want to laugh hysterically. But I clamped that down.

I refused to let myself become the target of his rage.

Another thought occurred to me, too late to make a difference.

Whoever had been in charge of the accounts was probably going to die, very soon and likely very painfully.

I had just handed Emilio the death sentence of someone who I didn’t even know.

It had been a test. It was always a test and, this time, I had passed.

But who would die as a result?