by Tillie Cole
I let go of my champagne glass, to the one object that was keeping me tethered to the ground. The weight that was keeping me from falling apart. And I leaned forward, placing both of my hands on Diego’s cheeks. I didn’t know if he could feel the slight tremble in my touch. If he did, he didn’t say so. I closed my eyes and willed myself forward. As my lips met his, I felt nothing. Nothing but a cold and stale brushing of lips. I wouldn’t let my brain register his taste or his scent. I refused to let anything cast Tanner from my heart.
When I pulled back, I whispered, “Yes.” I disguised the tremor in my voice. I sheltered the guests from the breaking of my heart. I glanced at my papa again and saw him smiling. He gave me a secret nod. And I knew what that nod meant: I had done well. My father knew I didn’t want to marry Diego. Yet he would have planned this with Diego—the son he never had. I loved my papa, and he loved me. He was the only family I had. I never crossed him. Even as his daughter, I would never dare. I wasn’t naïve about our family’s “business”; in fact I made it my mission to understand every facet of what we did. We were cartel. And my papa was the biggest cartel boss in the country. This engagement . . . he wouldn’t tolerate being a humiliation.
Diego slipped the ring on my left hand, then crushed his lips to mine. The table broke out in applause, and my papa rose to his feet and came toward us. He shook hands with Diego. “Finally,” he said to his right-hand man. “The son I always wanted will be joining the family under God.”
He turned to me and wrapped his arms around me. “Adelita,” he whispered. “I am so happy for you.” He patted my back, telling me without words that I had not disappointed him. It was both a compliment and a warning.
Charley put her arms around my neck, appearing the ecstatic best friend she was expected to be. But her mouth came to my ear so no one could hear her ask, “Are you okay, Lita?”
“Please . . . not now,” I begged in a whisper, and forced a wide smile at her as I pulled back from the embrace. “I am very happy, thank you, Charley.” She played her role to perfection . . . but I saw the sympathy she had for me in her stormy eyes. Like me, she was the daughter of a crime boss. She and I had lived parallel lives although we lived in different countries. We were both pieces in the same game.
It’s why I treasured her as a friend. But right now, I couldn’t be near her. I had to keep my emotions in check. Charley’s worry for me would make me crumble.
I was pulled into hug after hug by my father’s guests. On the outside I was smiling, showing the guests my new diamond ring with pride. But on the inside . . . on the inside my blood and heart and soul were crying.
Diego slipped his hand into mine as my father moved away to be congratulated by his guests. “A quick wedding,” my father said loudly, and eradicated any trace of strength I had left inside me. The mood sobered when he added, “Given recent events concerning our business, it is best to have this wedding soon to avoid any complications.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The war. The war with the motorcycle club from America—the Hades Hangmen. The Quintana cartel dealt in drugs, mainly cocaine. We had taken a poor rural village and turned it into an empire. But, as a woman, I was kept at arm’s length from the inner workings of my father’s operation. Much to my annoyance.
It was why he loved Diego so much. Diego’s papa had been my father’s closest friend. When he was shot dead by Faron Valdez, a rival cartel when Diego was only a young boy, my father had taken Diego on as his own. Unlike Diego, I never attended inner-circle meetings. Relegated to a pretty showpiece to parade in front of the villagers and workers.
I knew we were at war. I could go nowhere without constant monitoring and protection. I was an easy target. I didn’t know this motorcycle club, but from what Carmen, my maid, had told me when she had managed to get snippets from the other staff, they were as bad an enemy as we could get. This wasn’t the first time we’d been at war since I’d been old enough to comprehend what that meant. But each time it was hard. Because people died. And I feared that, one day, it could be my father . . . or even me. So I wanted to know everything I could about the Hades Hangmen—their hierarchy, their structure, their weaknesses, in case one day there was no one left to protect me from them.
I wanted to be able to protect myself.
The dinner moved from a meeting of casual acquaintances to an engagement celebration. I couldn’t have said what the food was or what the dessert tasted like. I was numb, smiling and answering questions when asked, but certainly not present in spirit. My body was on autopilot as my mind tried to work out a way to contact Tanner. To tell him everything had gone wrong. To see if . . . I gasped for air, feeling a pang of pain in my chest so great it ached . . . to see if he still loved me. If he still wanted me as much as I wanted him.
To tell him our time was up if we were to ever be together.
And my heart . . . my heart was shredding, each slice of flesh that fell away causing me to suck in a tight breath as the agony took hold of my entire body. All the time I feared I was falling apart, Diego never let go of my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss as he talked to the cartel men over dinner.
As with my father, Diego wasn’t a man to be crossed. I’d heard the rumors, And Charley had informed me of some home truths. Some activities he got up to in California when he was there on “family business”. Of what he’d done to past lovers. The pain I’d heard he had caused them. The roughness with which he’d handled them. He was an aggressive man. To me, he had only ever been sweet. But he was feared by the men at this table. Even my father, due to his age, wanted to keep Diego close. The alternative wouldn’t be worth risking.
If I was honest with myself . . . I feared him too. I feared what would happen if I refused him. It didn’t bear thinking about.
I had always sensed something unstable within him. I had always kept him at arm’s length. But now I was firmly in his embrace . . . and I had to find a way to survive the suffocation.
Diego had been bold in his move to propose to me. It was his greatest play. He was as close as one could get to my father. My hand in marriage would firmly lock him in place. My father wasn’t naïve to this. Papa knew how Diego had always wanted me. And to secure Diego’s unwavering loyalty, he’d thrown me to the wolves. I didn’t know how to get out of this. I didn’t know how to break off this engagement. I didn’t know where Tanner even was. I knew my father and Diego were still working with the Klan. But they no longer came to our house. All those months of being with Tanner, being able to have him in my bed, by my side, had long gone.
Ice flooded my veins when I thought of the inevitable. The day when the Klan and the cartel would go to war against each other. This pact they had entered into wouldn’t last—couldn’t last. My enemy’s enemy is my friend.
Once the Hangmen were dealt with, and when the contract they had entered into expired . . . war would ensue. It would be cartel against Klan. A fight to be the strongest power in the crime underworld. My stomach flipped at the thought. At the knowledge that the man I loved and my family, the only people I cared about in this world, would be intent on killing each other.
“Let me walk you to your suite,” Diego said as he got up from the table. He guided me up with his hand, and I let him lead me away. My father kissed my free hand as I passed. I smiled, but only for the sake of keeping up appearances.
As we approached the rooms I had as my own on my papa’s estate, Diego’s hand tightened in mine. He hurried us through the hallways, my father’s men stationed along the way for our protection. When we entered my suite, Diego spun me around and pushed me back against the wall. My heart raced. His eyes were wide and he licked his lips. He took hold of both my wrists and slowly raised them above my head. He moved in to my lips, but I turned my head away at the last minute. “Diego,” I whispered, clenching my eyes shut as I gathered my lost breath. “Not yet . . .”
His forehead fell against mine. He was pressed against me; his scent infused the air a
round us and I could smell the red wine on his breath. He had drunk a lot. “Adelita,” he murmured, frustrated. “Cariño . . .” I winced at the term of endearment. I didn’t want to be his cariño. I didn’t want to be anything to him. He moved one of his hands from my wrists and slid it down my hair, over my cheek, and down to my chest. I whimpered when he palmed my breast.
“Diego—”
“Shh.” His hand squeezed at the flesh until it bordered on painful.
“You’re hurting me.”
He smiled, and it wasn’t a smile I had ever received from him before. His attention on me had always been sweet, endearing . . . This smile was cold and cruel. The alcohol had clearly lowered his control over the dangerous man inside. He released my breast, but then his hand started traveling south. My thighs clenched together when his fingers passed over my torso. But it was no use trying to stop him. He was bigger and stronger than me. Diego was the most determined man I’d ever met.
“You’re a cocktease, cariño. Always have been.” I shook my head, but he shushed me again, the sound harsh and sharp. “A face made by God to torment we who walk with the devil.” His hand cupped me between my legs. I made a garbled sound and tried to push him off, but he didn’t move. I held my breath as his fingers ran along my panties. I felt him getting hard against my leg. My bottom lip started to shake in anger. But I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. Men like Diego got off on seeing women cry.
Diego kissed up my neck and over my cheek. “But I like that you’re untouched. I like that you’re a virgin and I get to be the first cock your pussy will ever have.” He groaned. “The first and last.”
I sucked in a breath. It shook. I stopped breathing so he couldn’t tell he’d unnerved me. That his touch repulsed me. I shut my eyes as he worked his hand under my panties. I needed to shut him out. To take myself away from this moment.
Only one face came to mind, taking me back to that first day . . .
“Papa?”
“Adelita, is that you? Come here, princesa.” I walked into my father’s office. I had just arrived back from shopping with Carmen and wanted to show him the tie I had bought for him to go with his new suit. But when I walked into the room, a strange man was sitting at my father’s desk. That wasn’t new. He always had businessmen coming in and out.
“I didn’t realize you had company, Papa. I’ll leave you alone.” I went to turn, but I crashed into someone behind me. Strong hands steadied me, then immediately let me go. When I looked up, the biggest man I had ever seen was before me, dressed in a white shirt that clung to his muscled body, and blue jeans with black boots. He had tattoos all over his skin, and a shaved head. The tattoos crept up to his neck. It took me a minute to realize what the tattoos were. But their symbology quickly became apparent.
Nazi tattoos.
A stern look of superiority crossed his face. He folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at me.
“Adelita?” My papa’s voice made me turn. “These are our guests. They will be staying in the guest apartments while we conduct some business over the coming months. I expect you to be courteous to them when they are in our household.”
My skin prickled feeling the man’s eyes on me from behind. “This is William and Tanner Ayers. Father and son, from Texas.” I heard the tone in my father’s voice. They were here for business, but he didn’t trust them. If they were staying in the guest apartments and not in a nearby hotel it was so my father’s men could keep an eye on them, not because my father had a sudden need to play host. They were Ku Klux Klan. I had read the name on Tanner’s arm. The reason for my father’s distrust was obvious. The Klan and Nazis hated anyone who wasn’t white.
“You will need to show Tanner around soon, while his father and I talk business.”
My eyes widened. “Can’t Diego—?”
“Diego has gone away for a while. He will be away during most of their stay. He’ll be back toward the end.” On “family business,” no doubt. Something I wasn’t allowed to know anything about.
A warning flashed in my papa’s eyes. “It would be my pleasure,” I said, and gave Señor Ayers a forced smile. I turned, and I was immediately caught in Tanner Ayers’s harsh ice-blue stare. I could almost see the instant dislike for me dripping off him waves.
Tanner Ayers . . . The White Prince of the Ku Klux Klan. And me, Adelita Quintana, princesa of the Quintana cartel . . . this would be interesting . . .
“You’ll be so tight,” Diego said, cutting through the memory of that fated meeting. “And we’ll be married soon . . .” He sucked in a breath. “I’ll get to watch you bleed for me, cariño.”
For once, I let a slither of fear strike me. Because he wouldn’t. I had already given myself to a man—only one. Diego could never find that out.
He suddenly stopped, moved his hand from between my legs, then smacked his hand off the wall above me. “But not yet,” he said tightly. “As much as it frustrates me not to be inside you, I’m going to wait until we are married. I want this to be right, with you.” His hand dropped to my cheek and stroked it gently. “I’ve wanted you for too long not to have you the way you’re meant to be taken.”
Diego crushed his mouth to mine so hard it was almost bruising. He quickly pulled away, then turned and moved for the door. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll fuck you, cariño. I’ll take you to your bed and I’ll fuck you into the mattress.” His lip flicked up in amusement. “And as much as he loves me, I’m sure your father would have me killed for deflowering his little girl before she’s wed. He’s worked incredibly hard to keep you pure.”
He left, the door slamming behind him. I listened to twenty-six footsteps echoing on the marble floor of the hallway before I even dared breathe. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t erase the feel of him from my body, his scent from my nose, or the taste of him from my mouth. I ran to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth so hard that the water ran red with the blood from my gums.
Turning off the faucet, I looked up at myself in the mirror. My eyeliner—which I always ensured looked perfect—was smeared. My red lipstick was smudged off my lips.
I stared at the woman before me. The woman who was two years without the one she loved. The woman who no longer looked like the innocent girl Tanner Ayers fell in love with. The woman who wasn’t that girl. Just the thought of Tanner made me feel sick. The thought of how his blue eyes would soften when they looked upon me. How he never smiled, but would, just a fraction, for me.
I washed my face until there wasn’t a scrap of makeup left on it. I blinked as I looked at my reflection in the mirror again . . . then I let the tears fall. My shoulders shook as the tears fell harder, the sobs racking my body and loosening my grip on the composure I held so tightly onto. I dropped my head away from my reflection. I wouldn’t see myself cry. I wouldn’t give in. I had made it this far. I could make it further . . . I could . . . I could . . . I must . . .
I stood, gripping the porcelain of the sink until all the tears within me had been shed. I heard the sound of footsteps too late to pull myself together. My papa suddenly appeared in the doorway. Taking a deep breath, I straightened and looked him in the eye. I waited for him to speak. His suit was perfect, as usual, not a wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. Not a hair out of place.
“Princesa,” he said, his voice low. His head tipped to the side in sympathy—well, as much sympathy as I knew he would have for me in this situation.
“I’m fine.” I wiped my tears and cleared my throat. My shoulders straightened and I took a deep breath.
Papa nodded, and gestured for me to follow him out into the sitting area of my suite. I sat on the chair opposite him, smoothed down the silk of my dress, then raised my head high. Papa sat back, relaxed, but watching me closely.
“You could do worse than Diego, princesa.” Papa folded his hands together and placed them on his lap.
“I don’t love him,” I said, trying my hardest not to lose my composure. My father didn’t like, in hi
s words, hysterical women. Women who let emotions rule their actions. It was why he hadn’t a single woman working for him. Why—as much as he loved me—he never truly let me in.
Simply put, Papa believed women were to know their place—below men.
My papa threw up his hands. But it was there, the flash of pain that always burst in his dark eyes when I mentioned love. My mama had died in childbirth, and her death had ruined my papa. Carmen had told me that when my mama was alive, the men around him had said he was happy. Ruthless, but happy with my mama. When she died, they said that the kindness and the friendliness he possessed died too. Only I, his daughter, saw glimpses of the man he had once been. It was why I could never hate him for the way he sometimes treated me. I was the reason my mama was taken from him. I was the reason he suffered.
I was the only family he had.
I had never even seen a picture of my mama. My papa found it too hard to keep them around. I didn’t want to cause him pain, so I quickly learned as a child never to ask to see one. Though Carmen said she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Long dark hair, deep chocolate eyes, pretty and strong.
She told me I looked just like her.
“What does love have to do with anything?” Papa said, and the last flicker of hope that he would stop this engagement faded from my heart. Papa glanced out of the window. His mind drifted out of this room and to somewhere else. “It’s better not to love too hard, princesa.” I felt my bottom lip tremble for the pain he was in. His, and my own. Because there was some truth to his words. The love I felt for Tanner . . . Sometimes, in my darkest of moments, I wondered if this level of love, this soul-shattering kind of possession, was worth all the pain and the heartache.
It was like being tethered to the ground by an unyielding rope, when all you wanted to do was let go and float away.
