Killers

by Olivia Gaines

  "When I first saw you remove the covering, I thought of these lips," Yuńior said, holding her chin.

  He thought of the full mouth that would read books to their children at night before they drift off to dream of new adventures. Lips which would offer him comfort after a hard day of work, whispering words to soothe his soul on days when he didn’t feel strong enough to do a task over and over again. His father had chosen her for him which meant there was a trait, or several in this woman that his father felt would be compatible to him.

  “Lips, that would offer me comfort in times of trouble,” Yuńior said, removing more of the makeup traces from the supple skin.

  “Or lips that will offer kisses and pleasures to you when you come to my bed at night," she said, making him stop. He handed her the cloth, taking two steps from her.

  Irena watched his face. It didn't take much for her to understand that his heart could easily belong to another. That look she knew from her brothers when they too had been chosen to marry to seal the bond between other families. Her brothers were not men of honor and often kept women on the side. She was not willing to share her husband with other women, let alone other women whom he loved, which would make her need to fight to earn his affections. She took two steps from the porch, calling over her shoulder for him to walk with her. Technically, they should not be alone. Physically, they were not.

  Yuńior’s personal guard, Gunther, lurked closed by, and a slender woman, dressed like an FBI agent, with dark hair and intense eyes also trailed along nearby. They were not alone. In his life, there were few times he was ever by himself, even when he slept. The appearance of Gunther and her personal guard was not off-putting to Irena, who wandered down the paths behind the house, taking the desire for a private conversation deep into the wood line.

  Yuńior walked with her, his hands behind his back, deep in his own thoughts, not paying attention to the path they were taking until she spoke. The walk had taken them to the venom house, a building which held the deadliest live snakes in the world. He recounted his father’s laughter when a black Mamba got loose, forcing him to wrangle the snake and put it back in the cage. Several times, the animals broke free to bite the handlers. It would be just his luck that Irena would open the door and get bitten, dying instantly and causing a war between the Czars of South America.

  "What kind of house is this? I see it has a unit on it to regulate the temperature," Irena said, reaching for the door.

  "Please, do not open the door," Yuńior told her, waiting to see if she would. The venom house was not a place for the eyes of a woman. A smile came to his face when he remembered his Papà recounting the father of Saxton the Blakemore entering the house with a snake loose. The man wet his pants. She did not need to see the inside of such a place, yet her hand rested on the door handle.

  Instead of pulling on the handle, she asked, "If I open the door, will it let in too much warm air and impact the content inside?"

  Yuńior knew if she did, in fact, open the door, the residents inside would react as if it were feeding time, striking at the glass and trying to free themselves from the clear cages. He understood the desire of the inhabitants to get away since at times he too felt like the caged vipers. At times, he too wanted to be free to hunt on his own for the woman who would warm his bed at night. A duty to his family and to his Czar prevented the search for a free-spirited vixen who didn’t lie under him in obligation to produce heirs. The thoughts were moot to ponder. In truth, were he to be honest in his own personal desires, is that Yuńior wanted to be free to experience the nasty. The freaky. To revel sordidness of being in the arms of the colorful women of the world who could teach him new ways to experience passion. His current folder of knowledge was limited to a few housekeepers in his Abuela’s home and Melissa.

  His eyes were distant as if he thought of his lover whom he would have to tell about his upcoming wedding. Irena knew that look as well.

  "Then I shall not open the door," she said softly, looking back at the house.

  The ancient structure would be her new home and this man would be her husband, but he had a demon in him that had no room in the bed they would share. Her intended was a good-looking man, confident in his strides and purposeful in his touch. Even in removing the makeup from her face, his care in doing so served as an indicator he’d done it before, for a woman he cared deeply about on an intimate level. A woman who stood between her and this man whom she wanted for herself. Her husband. Her protector. The future father to her children.

  The woman had to leave their relationship.

  Irena blinked several times, touching a strand of hair which had fallen into her face and removing it, to not impair her vision when she asked, "Did you say farewell to her?"

  He blinked several times as well trying to understand what she was saying. "Pardon?"

  "The woman you believe yourself to be in love with—did you have a chance to say farewell to her, knowing I would be arriving, and the contract had to be signed?" Irena asked.

  For the first time since meeting Irena, he actually took the time to take the whole woman into consideration. She had a fire in her, which he admired. A strong woman who listened to the caution in his voice when he said she shouldn’t open the door. It touched him unexpectedly and made him question the questions questioning his heart.

  "Is this a concern of yours that my heart will belong to another as I share your bed at night?" he wanted to know. "Does this worry you?"

  "Would it concern you if I am lying under you but my thoughts are of another?"

  "Señorita, I cannot fight an enemy I cannot see. If there is another who holds your heart and commands your affections, then neither of us should sign the contract," Yuńior said, "family obligation or not."

  "You have been the third potential husband my father has presented to me," Irena told him. "The first was a Fop who wore more makeup than me. The second was a snake whose beady eyes raked over my body as he licked his lips. I will not have myself attached to a lecherous man who cannot control his baser desires."

  "And what of me?" Yuńior asked. "It intrigues me to know about your assessment of me."

  Irena faced him, looking into the dark eyes. He was a handsome man, just the right height of six feet, or if not, then close. He had a tight frame with muscles earned by working his lands but neatly groomed with dark hair seated on his head with the aid of gel. She imagined it loose and hanging over his eyes. It was a certainty that his body held a full tattoo which she almost wanted to ask to see.

  "Señor, I am here until Saturday," Irena said. "My assessment is that you need to go to her and close that chapter of your life. On Friday, you return to me and we sign the contract. At that time, you place my engagement ring on this finger and we begin our courtship. If you choose to not sign the contract, I shall depart with no hard feelings and hope that we could become friends."

  "Amigos, you and I? That would be a hard notion to process," he said.

  "No, if I am to be your wife, I too would also want to be your friend," Irena said, lowering her eyes as her cheeks warmed under a furious blush. "It is a given that I will be your lover once you teach me what pleases you."

  Yuńior found himself smiling at her. Showing the woman what few often saw, the entirety of his teeth. He offered her his arm to escort her back to the house. He looked down at her, offering a genuine heartfelt grin, "Señorita, this conversation pleases me a great deal."

  Friday.

  Today was Sunday.

  It would be enough time to make the determination of whether a choice for his life path was indeed a choice, that is, if he survived his father's wrath. A couple of days would be absolutely perfect to close out that chapter of his life so that he could begin a new one. Uncertainty plagued his steps as he toyed with the idea of attempting a free life with Melissa or the future laid out for him by Eduardo Delgado. The hesitation came in the realization that his father would more than likely skin him alive for even asking to take the time, bu
t he wasn’t a coward. Courage, he had in spades.

  Irena’s plan had merit, but his father had a fist he didn’t want to meet. However, in order for him truly to be happy, he needed answers. Yuñior planned to get them in the next days.

  Chapter Two – Making a Difference

  AUGUST 5, 2017

  It was difficult to comprehend that two years had passed in his relationship with Melissa. Late-night conversations over bottles of wine she couldn’t pronounce as his rough, calloused hands ran over her smooth skin, and the moments such as these had become like a balm to his soul. He would listen to her rationale as she tried to understand her place in the world, knowing full well that his amante didn’t understand the role her lover held in the world of the Cartel. Recalling the conversation, nearly two years prior when she first decided on his nickname.

  “Ed, I’m trying to get you to understand that I want to be more than what my circumstances have given me,” Melissa said to Yuńior.

  He liked the nickname she’d given him and used when they were alone. A year had passed since the purchase of the vehicle at the Blakemore ranch, and several times since then he’d been back to Texas. Once for the wedding of Connard Blakemore and Louise Macon, then again for the American vacation of Thanksgiving where a large, dry, flightless bird was served in celebration of the holiday. In the previous two visits, he’d learned a great deal about the blond woman, and each time he had been drawn closer, desiring more.

  “Melissa, is that not what every person has a burning desire to achieve?” he asked, touching a strand of the golden hair.

  “It’s easy for you to make a difference in the world. You have resources and money, and your family is influential,” Melissa said, looking at him with eyes so blue he’d often lose his train of thought.

  “There are limits to what any one person is able to do to make an impact,” he said softly. The blue eyes reminded Yuńior of the clear gentle waters of the Caribbean, a place he longed to take Melissa for a weekend away from it all. However, first an understanding had to be reached.

  “I want to make an impact in the world. I’ve spent four years in college discussing solutions and plausible plans,” she said. “I sit and listen to those Blakemore women who have gotten out there into the world, gotten their hands dirty and made a difference.”

  “Sí, but those two women are married to powerful Blakemore men,” he said to her. “If they were to go missing, people would come for them.”

  “So, what are you saying, Ed, that if I went missing, I would only get a blurb below the fold?”

  Yunior’s brow crinkled as he watched the passion in her eyes. They lit up like the little blue lights on the holiday tree he’d seen in the Blakemore home. He liked the fire in Melissa. She amused him and brought joy to his heart.

  “I do not understand this term, below the fold,” he said, cocking his head.

  “It’s a newspaper term,” Melissa offered. “Where the newspaper folds in half determines the importance of a story. Above the fold is a headline, and below the fold is other news of things happening in the world.”

  “Ah, sí,” he said comprehending her meaning, but not understanding the rationale. “Your family would not come to your rescue?”

  “My family is probably not going to come to my graduation,” she said in a loud sigh. “Ed, I’m tired of scraping to get by. Even when I graduate next month, I have to get a full-time job, which is not going to be enough to get me started in life.”

  Melissa Statham, a lovely college student Yuńior had met at the Blakemores the prior year, had become a primary reason for his eagerness to get to Texas. The vehicle which she drove was nothing more than an accident waiting to happen, prompting him to replace it with a trustworthy vehicle that wouldn’t break down on the side of the road. He went one step further in speaking with Jason, Connard Blakemore’s lover, suggesting he hire the young woman to work in the wing of the Blakemore home in service to Louise, a steady job that worked around her school hours, offered benefits, and steady meals. Yet, Yuńior wanted her to himself. As his paramour.

  “I would come for you,” he said softly, running a finger down the jawline.

  “Whatevs,” Melissa said. “You’ve come to Texas three times and not once have you even kissed me. I don’t get you.”

  “My hopes were to offer you my friendship first,” he said, twirling a lock of her golden hair around his finger. His mind danced in delightful thoughts of being alone with her, and he was ready to make the offer.

  “I have enough friends,” she said, placing her hand on his thigh. “I just feel like you’re holding so much back from me, Ed. You know, I mean, sometimes, it’s like I don’t know you at all.”

  “We can change that,” Yuńior told her.

  “Sheesh, I hope so,” Melissa said, pressing her hand to his thigh. “The whole mysterious thing is sexy as hell, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know. This just feels off to me.”

  “Off? What is this off?”

  “Off means that it is non simpatico, that we’re not connecting on a deeper level,” Melissa said. “I have dreams, ambitions, and goals, Ed. I have no idea what yours are.”

  “Come,” he said, standing. A few bills were thrown on the table of the eatery chain that served frozen food, reheated and slathered in sauce. To him it was unpalatable, yet Melissa said it was one of her favorite places to eat.

  Hand in hand he led her from the restaurant to her vehicle. This was not a sanctioned trip to the U.S., and his father was unaware he was not in Argentina. At 19 years of age, the heir apparent had a few plans of his own. One was seated next to him in the vehicle he’d purchased last year.

  Yuñior drove past the campus to an exclusive side of town mid-way between the Busy B and the University that Melissa attended. The condominiums sat behind a gate which required a password to enter. Rolling down the window, he punched in the code 0815, repeating the number to his companion.

  “What do those numbers stand for?” Melissa asked.

  “It is the day of my birth,” Yuńior told her as he pulled up to the second building. The Nissan, an all-wheel drive vehicle, was placed in park. He removed the keys and walked around to the passenger door of the car, opening it wide for Melissa to get out. She pelted his back with questions as he led her up the stairs to a front facing apartment. From his front pocket, he pulled out two door keys, inserting the metal into both locks and listening to the tumblers free themselves from the bolts.

  “What is this place?” Melissa asked, looking about the dimly lit condo. A bottle of chilled champagne rested in a cooler with two crystal goblets. The furniture was basic, just a couch and a large chair in front a big screen television. A square ottoman that rested in the middle of the floor took minimal space. The layout was almost perfect with the small galley kitchen and minor dining table for two.

  “It’s yours, if you want it,” Yuńior said, opening the champagne.

  “What?” Melissa asked, confused. “I mean, what do I have to do for this place? I’m not your whore, Ed!”

  “I never said you were, nor am I asking you to be,” he said, pouring champagne into each goblet. “Your words, Melissa, were that you were tired of scraping to get by, so I am helping.”

  “Yes, but what do I have to do for this help?” she asked, refusing the glass he handed to her.

  “You are causing me much confusion. You complain that I do not kiss you, nor have I touched you. Melissa you worry constantly about making the bills meet together at the ends, yet I offer you this... and you question my motives,” Yuńior said.

  “I’m going to have to fuck you, aren’t I?”

  “Wasn’t that your intention, anyway?”

  “Well, yeah, but now, if I accept this place, I’m going to have to do it whether I feel like it or not,” she said. “Then you’re going to want me to be at your beck and call each time you step foot on the continent. Ed, that makes me your whore.”

  “No, it would make you my woman,�
�� he said, sipping the champagne. “Before you say no, please, take a look around, starting with the closet.”

  Yuńior removed his Saffiano leather jacket and black boots, taking a stand behind the kitchen counter. He’d barely touched his meal at the restaurant and searched the fridge for fruits and the cabinets for nuts and located a wedge of cheese and crackers. The fridge had been stocked earlier by a service that Gunther, his right hand, found on the internet. He enjoyed the American internet with so many services to make a person lazy. Sipping on the champagne, Yuńior waited for his cue to join her in the bedroom. He heard a loud squeal from the back room and knew she’d opened the wardrobe doors. An entire wardrobe, including several pairs of shoes, handbags, and accessories were waiting for her perusal.

  The condo was purchased for selfish reasons on his part because the apartment Melissa shared with three other girls was a sty, not fit for pigs. Each of the young women entertained men in the small domicile, and he didn’t like Melissa staying there. The women shared clothing, a matter which seem to trouble Melissa, especially since the roommates were not all the same size. Her clothes often were ill fitting, dropping in places the fabric shouldn’t or stretched in the seams from the ass of a much larger bottom. The closet would make her happy. He smiled a bit at the thought of the sparkling blue eyes lighting up. She came out of the room with a wide grin.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “You’re getting fucked. Those shoes alone grant you at least two blowjobs and a rimmer.”

  “What is this rimmer?” he asked, trying not to smile too wide.

  Melissa explained it to him in laymen’s terms. Yuńior held the piece of cheese to his lips, uncertain if that was a thing he wanted to happen. It sounded rather unsanitary.

  “I take it you are pleased, no?”

  “Pleased? Shit, Imma get naked right now and wait for you in the middle of bed,” Melissa said, reaching for her blouse and stopped. “Wait, Ed, how much is the rent for this place? I mean what happens when you stop coming to Texas? What happens when you tire of me or have to marry some raven-haired beauty who speaks six languages and bears you little dark swarthy children?”