It was a silly question to ask a man who didn’t deal in promises but in bloodshed and human lives, but I had to ask anyway. I couldn’t bear the thought of offering up my life, only for it to be taken away at his hand. I didn’t want to hope for nothing.
Emilio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I can promise you that if you obey me at all times, you won’t die by my hand,’ he said. ‘But I can’t promise you that you won’t beg me to kill you anyway.’
His words cut to my very core, and that was precisely the effect he had been aiming for.
I bit my lip, then cursed myself for showing a reaction. Emilio waited patiently, his eyes only for me as my father bled before us.
‘What’ll it be,
cholita
?’ he asked me. ‘There’s no shame in changing your mind. A bullet would be much less painful.’
‘I am yours,’ I conceded finally, my voice quiet but firm. ‘Do with me what you will.’
Just then, a pathetically inadequate digital rendition of Mozart rose, buzzing, from somewhere on Emilio’s person, and I frowned in confusion. He reached a hand into his suit jacket and withdrew a cellphone. ‘
Pronto
,’ he answered in Italian, and before he had finished saying the word, a loud voice started screeching on the other end.
Emilio placed his hand over the receiver and gestured to the guy in the suit, the one who’d been admiring his own fingernails as we spoke of life and death, the one who I’d forgotten was even there.
He was actually going to answer a call while we were in the middle of talking about my
life
. Emilio didn’t even look at me, just strode into the next room, speaking a steady stream of Italian that I couldn’t decipher.
The man in the corner spoke up. The Suit, I decided to call him. I looked at him properly now. He was tall and wiry, with intense sapphire-coloured eyes, a mop of shaggy brown hair and an imposing stature. In another context he might have been attractive; but there was something in his eyes that troubled me
.
I watched them closely and noticed they never stayed still. Every tiny mood change and thought was expressed through those crazy ice-blue eyes, the subtle shifts in his neck muscles, and the way his long fingers fidgeted with his middle suit button.
Buttoned. Unbuttoned. Buttoned. Unbuttoned. The guy couldn’t stay still, and when I heard him sniff again, I guessed why.
He’d been sampling the goods.
‘If he let it go to voicemail every time he got a call in the middle of shooting someone,’ the Suit said, ‘well, he’d have a lot of fucking voicemails.’ He tilted his head as he spoke, just adding to the psychotic vibe he was giving off. His accent was distinctly American.
I threw him a disgusted look before returning my gaze to my father.
I’m sorry
, he mouthed, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It was a bit late for sorry, and he just looked pathetic trying to apologise while he was on his knees at gunpoint. I shook my head minutely and stared at the ceiling instead, making sure to keep the Suit in my peripheral vision at all times. No way was I turning my back on that crazy-looking bastard.
Emilio returned to the room, tucking his cellphone into his suit as he walked with purpose. ‘Time to go,’ he barked.
‘Can I at least pack some things?’ I asked, my brain screaming at me to stall what was happening.
What the goddamn was happening?
Este was probably still lying dead in the alleyway, and my entire life was disintegrating in front of my very eyes.
And the worst part was, I wasn’t even surprised. I’d been waiting for this moment since the day I found out what my father really did.
Emilio almost laughed. ‘This isn’t a holiday,
bambina
. You are not a person any longer, do you understand? You just became a piece of property.
My property.
’
Panic bubbled within me. ‘Your property is going to be cold at night without her coat,’ I said stubbornly. ‘Please —’
‘No,’ Emilio said. ‘Don’t make me shoot you all,
cholita
. You
will
obey me.’
My head was spinning, and for a moment my vision blurred.
‘Can I at least say goodbye?’
‘No.’ He snapped his fingers, gesturing to me, and the Suit pushed off from the wall he was leaning against, approaching me.
No!
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Suit smile. It was so small I barely caught it at all, but it was there. My hands began to shake.
‘Enjoying the show?’ I shot, before I could stop myself.
He laughed, feigning amusement, but the tightly bunched muscles in his neck told a different story. ‘You’re riding with me on the way back,’ he said, his weird eyes going even wider. ‘So yes, I
am
enjoying this.’
The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a scowl, as he pushed past me, deliberately knocking me.
Motherfucker.
The guy who’d been watching guard over my brother and father was suddenly beside me. ‘Walk,’ he said, pushing the tip of his gun into my ribs. I recoiled from the gun, hurrying quickly behind Emilio and the Suit.
‘I’ll be okay, Mama,’ I called out in a shaky voice that teetered on hysteria.
I didn’t look at my mother as I left the house I had grown up in. The house where I had spent almost my entire life. I couldn’t look her in the eye, because if I did, I would have reneged on the deal, ran to her, and let her hold me in her arms as bullets ripped us all apart.
I looked at the floor instead, and tried feverishly to ignore her sobbing, the protests of my sister, the muttered swearing of my father. I pushed it all away, focusing only on the bright tiles on the floor.
The Suit appeared in front of me, looking excited as he held a black piece of hessian material in his hands.
A bag. And I knew exactly where he was going to put it.
‘We’re going to have so much fun,’ he said, grinning.
My hurt blossomed into a steadily increasing rage as he seemed to feast upon my family’s misery. I longed to strike out, to channel my rage physically with a fist to his face, pushing my nails into his eyes until I heard two meaty pops, but I pushed it down, delayed it. Later. Use it later. Instead, I hung my head, and waited as the black bag went over my face. The world turned dark as the thick material covered my eyes, and I struggled to contain my rising panic as ropes at the bottom of the bag were pulled tight around my neck, making it hard to breathe. A firm prod to my back with the gun, and I walked from the only home I had ever known, the last sounds to reach my ears being my mother screaming my name, and my father cursing the cartel.
It was entirely disconcerting to be wearing a hood over my head in the back of a car, with no idea where I was going. Even worse, I wasn’t sure who was with me. I guessed the Suit was in the car, but I couldn’t be sure who else was in there. My legs stretched out in front of me without end, suggesting we were in some kind of a limousine. The car drove for what seemed like hours before anyone spoke.
‘Excited?’ the Suit asked, sarcasm dripping from his words. I jerked upright at the sudden noise, muffled as it was through the bag on my head. He was somewhere in front of me. We had to be in a limousine. I imagined the fuck-you grin he was sporting, and pushed away thoughts of launching out of my seat and flying at him. I wasn’t even entirely sure if he was sitting opposite me or further away. And even though I was regretting my rash move to offer myself up, I still didn’t want a bullet in my head.
So instead of biting back at him I remained silent, chewing on my lip to try and distract myself.
‘Not in a talking mood, huh?’ he attempted casually. I chewed harder, not wanting to give him anything.
Cold fingers touched my bare knee and I jumped. He chuckled, but kept his hand there, squeezing my leg.
‘You’ve got a pretty face, Ana,’ he said, and my name from his mouth sounded wrong. But not as wrong as what he said next.
‘I liked watching you come before,’ he whispered, squeezing my knee hard for effect.
‘What?’ I replied sharply, playing right into his game.
Damn.
‘In the alleyway,’ he drawled, dragging his hand higher up my leg. I clenched my thighs together as tight as I could to stop him from going any higher. I remembered how Este had pushed me up against the wall behind a shop selling tacky tourist souvenirs and fucked me — made
love
to me — hard and fast, the fireworks in that alley as bright as the fireworks in the night sky. Tears burned at my eyes as I realised that it had only been a few hours ago that he had been alive, warm as his arms held me tightly, and now he was dead.
‘You weren’t there,’ I scoffed, my eyes burning, my heart thudding wildly. ‘You were already at the house when I arrived.’
He chuckled, a sound that made the hairs on my bare arms prickle uncomfortably. ‘I left once I saw your little boyfriend bleed out on the ground,’ he taunted. ‘So, yeah. I saw you in the alley with your skirt up around your head. They have rooms you can rent by the hour, you know?’
His words were razor sharp, laden with derision, and it bewildered me. This guy didn’t even know me! Why did he seem so offended by my sexual proclivities?
More to the point, why was he getting under my skin so badly?
‘You were spying on us?’ I asked in disbelief, as embarrassment and indignation flushed my face. For the first time, I was thankful I was wearing the black bag on my head and that he couldn’t see me blush.
‘You weren’t exactly hard to spot,’ he said, placing a hand on each of my knees and wrenching them apart as I cried out in horror. ‘You’re obviously up for a good time.’
I didn’t care what the rules were meant to be, if I was meant to comply now that I was ‘property’ and let this guy have his way with me. My hands weren’t tied anymore and I pushed that bastard’s creepy hands away as hard as I could, raking my fingernails along his flesh for effect.
His entire body tensed up and I cringed in my seat, waiting for a blow that never came.
‘Stop.’ A voice cut through the tension. Emilio.
‘I’m going to kill you, you little whore,’ the Suit spat.
‘Stop!’ Emilio’s voice rang out again, filling the car.
Relief flooded through my limbs as I realised he was in the car. It was swiftly followed by confusion and then shame, that I was happy my new owner and likely murderer was present.
‘The little slut made me bleed,’ the Suit protested, and I heard Emilio tut.
‘You should have been more careful, Murphy.’
Murphy? A stupid name for an asshole of a man.
I sniffed, placing my palms on my thighs, tugging my dress down to cover as much skin as possible.
‘You crying under that bag, sweetheart?’ Murphy mocked me. ‘Because where we’re going, tears are weakness. Those boys’ll tear you apart, and I’ll watch the show.’
‘Fuck you,’ I said bitterly, the material muffling my voice as I slouched back in my seat.
‘Oh, no,’ he drawled, and I could picture the smirk on his lips. ‘You’ll be screaming, they’ll be fucking you, and
I’ll
bring the popcorn.’
I had never felt so alone in my life, and shit was going to get a whole lot worse before it got any better.
The drive ground on for what seemed like days. Weeks.
Years
. I was desperately thirsty, but didn’t dare ask for any water. Didn’t dare ask for anything. Every time I relaxed, felt myself drifting on a daydream of numbed shock, I would remind myself who I was in the car with. That knowledge would cause me to sit upright, as my heart rate skyrocketed and fresh sweat formed a slick on my palms. I was tired, and terrified, and I desperately needed to pee.
When the car finally did come to an abrupt halt, I wasn’t prepared for the sudden braking. I was thrown forward, and I gasped as I caught myself on my hands and knees on the carpeted floor.
Murphy laughed, and I felt his long, ice-cold fingers at my neck as he undid the rope that secured the bag over my head. When he pulled it off I winced, his arrogant face the first thing that swam into my vision.
I realised I was on all fours, my face way too close to his lap. I scrambled backwards into my seat just as my door was opened. A hand closed around my upper arm and tugged. ‘Out.’ I fought the urge to scream and stepped out of the limo, jumping as the door was slammed loudly behind me.
‘Nunio!’ Emilio said sharply. ‘It’s not a fucking
chingalera
, so why are you treating it like one?’
Nunio looked ruefully at Emilio, who had just told him not to treat the car like a piece of shit. ‘Sorry, boss,’ he said, tugging me along. I looked up at the tall building we were in front of, the cars parked in a large, opulent circular driveway.
‘You live here?’ I asked Emilio.
He looked at me like I was an idiot. ‘This is a hotel,’ he said, and gestured at the big red and gold sign hanging above the double glass doors. ‘I thought you were smart,
cholita
.’
I chose not to answer that as I was marched into the hotel between Nunio and Murphy, Emilio leading our odd-looking entourage. I looked behind me, wondering if I could make a run for it, but I was met by the glares of the three guys from the house as they stood guard at the entrance.
Fabulous.
The plush hotel foyer was completely deserted as we made our way through, my bright blue Havaianas making a dull thwack each time I lifted my foot and then put it back down on the marble floor. I clenched my fists, trying to stave off the urge to let go and pee all over the shiny floor. Still, if it hit Murphy’s feet, that would be a plus.
I smiled to myself, imagining that scenario as Emilio punched a button for the elevator. I got a firm push into the elevator when it arrived, and I stumbled to stop myself from falling flat on my face.
‘What the fuck are you smiling at?’ Murphy asked.
Emilio looked peeved. ‘Murphy,’ he said, as the doors slid shut, ‘give it a rest.’
‘I want to know what the little Colombian
chocho
thinks is so funny.’
Did he just call me a cunt? He did. Asshole.
Emilio sighed, massaging his temples. ‘And I want some peace and quiet, so shut the fuck up. I only let you come along because you said you’d stay out of it.’
Murphy rolled his freaky blue eyes as the doors opened smoothly. I fought the urge to flinch as their hands were on me again and I was herded out into a carpeted hallway.
‘I said I’d stay out of it when I thought we were going to off them,’ he said. ‘I didn’t even get to play with her sexy sister.’
Emilio stopped and turned so sharply, I collided with his chest. He wore a look of annoyance like it was an old friend.
‘Come on,’ Murphy wheedled, as Nunio swiped a card against the door we were crowded in front of. ‘Can’t I at least stick my dick in her mouth? Look at those lips, Emilio.’
‘Look at these teeth,’ I added, as Nunio shoved me inside. If Murphy thought any part of him was going to get anywhere near my mouth, he was in for a rude shock.
Emilio pointed to an overstuffed leather couch that looked over the city. ‘Sit down,’ he said, in a tone that didn’t inspire me to argue.
‘Can I use the bathroom first?’ I asked, hating that I had to ask permission for such a basic thing.
Emilio waved his hand, and I took that to mean yes. I walked down the hallway of the lavish suite, in the general direction he had gestured. I spotted the bathroom and practically ran inside. I might have been about to begin the worst possible part of my life so far, but at least I’d spare myself the indignation of pissing my pants in front of these bastards.
As I turned to close the door, I nearly did pee my pants. Murphy was standing in the doorway, the bright light in the bathroom bouncing off his weird eyes and making him look like a complete psychopath. He grinned, opening his mouth to speak, but I slammed the door as fast and as hard as I could, snapping the lock into place.
‘Bitch!’ I heard on the other side of the door.
‘Go away!’ I yelled. I rushed to the toilet, threw the lid open, wrenched my panties down, and sighed at the blissful relief that followed.
Once I’d finished, I washed my shaking hands with some strong-smelling hand soap. I dried my hands on an expensive-looking towel, white and fluffy, nervously going through the motions as I distastefully surveyed the opulence of a room designed exclusively for washing and eliminating bodily waste. A room that looked more expensive than my entire house back in Villanueva.
A man who had enough money to spend on hotel rooms like this shouldn’t miss five hundred thousand dollars, let alone thirty thousand dollars. It made me want to scream.
Este
. I pushed him out of my mind right then, because thinking about him was going to send me over the edge so fast I wouldn’t be able to come back.
I’m sorry, Este, baby
.
I love you so much
.
I’m going to make these bastards pay for what they did to you. I’m going to make them suffer.
I smiled, catching a glimpse of myself in the large gold-framed mirror that hung above the basin. Yes. I would be the faithful servant, the piece of property, the slave girl. I would bide my time. Keep my sorrow locked tightly away. Push thoughts of my loved ones to the farthest recesses of my mind.
I would be an obedient little
chocho
. And once I gained their trust, even if it took me the rest of my life, I would find a way to make these fuckers pay.