by M. Robinson
As soon as the doors opened, I was struck with a coppery scent I was more than familiar with. There was no mistaking the smell of fear and bodily fluids all around me. She nodded to three more guards standing in front of a set of open double doors, partially blocking our view. They stepped aside, staring me down as I followed her into a vast room that looked like a private office. Where I could possibly end up another murder victim like the two men bleeding out on the floor to our right, and the one who was partially alive, tied to a chair in the middle of the room.
I didn’t pay them any mind.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, District Attorney Damien Montero,” the man behind his desk announced in a thick Albanian accent, leaning back in his chair. “Unlike my guards, I know who you are.”
He was trying to intimidate me, but little did he know I welcomed the unexpected with open arms tonight.
I recognized who he was the second he spoke, though I’d never personally met him. I’d only heard of him underground. His name was Vlad. He’d moved to Miami from the Bronx about four-years-ago, and prior to that he lived in Albania. The man was a known leader of the Albanian Mafia, except, according to him, he washed his hands of it all when he moved to the States.
Like most Albanians, he fit the role nicely. He had a slanted jawline, a slender nose that looked like it had been broken a few times too many, and dark eyebrows that emphasized his blue, murderous stare. His hair was graying down the sides, and his tan skin showed some signs of aging around his eyes. The man was fucking smart, a mastermind when it came to trafficking women and even human organs. The Feds had a hard time pinning anything on him. He was one, bat-shit crazy motherfucker you didn’t want to cross.
I scoffed, taking a seat in front of his desk without being asked. Making myself right at home. “It’s about damn time somebody fucking does, I thought I was losing my charm.”
“By that you mean taking out four of my guards?”
“What can I say? Like you said, I like to make an entrance.”
He nodded to the blonde and his guards, and they left, closing the doors behind them. Vlad wanted me to know he wasn’t intimidated by me as well.
“To what do I owe the honor of you pissing me the fuck off?” he asked, never breaking eye contact with me.
“Your guard swung at me first. By law, I was simply protecting myself.”
“And how many laws are you breaking right now by orchestrating a meeting with me?”
“Not nearly as many as you are by just sitting in front of me. Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? You know who I am, but do you know why I’m here?”
“To give me legal advice?” he mocked, shrugging.
I leaned forward, close to his desk. “The only advice I have for you, is to go fuck yourself.”
He grinned, chuckling.
“I’m here because I want in.”
“Those are big boy words, District Attorney Montero. Is this where we do some more chit-chatting and then you get me to confess something? How do I know you’re not wearing a wire?”
Before he got the last word out, I pulled out my gun. Aiming it straight behind me, toward the man in the chair. Without even turning my stare, I fired it directly into his fucking forehead. Blowing his brains out the back of his head, causing it to splatter on the floor and walls. I executed another man without hesitation, without warning, and without any shame or remorse.
“There. This time I wasn’t trying to protect myself. Now we’ve broken fucking laws. Does that even the playing field for you?”
His blank stare didn’t waver from mine as he reached into his desk and pulled out a revolver. “You want in? Let’s play a little game of roulette. If you live, you’re in, and if you die, well…” He shrugged again. “You know what happens then.”
He was trying to test if I was a narc. I’d be out at this point if I was, knowing I’d have a sixteen percent chance of dying. Instead, I just removed my suit jacket and threw it on the chair next to me.
“No need to get blood on my Armani suit.”
Vlad arched an eyebrow. “Three rounds?” Nodding to the gun firmly in his grasp, trying to call my bluff.
I signaled to him. “How about five? I’m feeling fucking lucky.” Once again, leaning back. Getting comfortable in my seat.
His eyes glazed over, it was quick but I saw it. He was shocked and impressed. “Alright, so you can see there’s only one bullet in the ch—”
“Don’t bother. I trust you,” I chimed in as he was opening the cylinder to prove his point.
He eyed me skeptically for a few seconds, shaking it off. Aiming his revolver over my heart, he cocked back the hammer.
“There’s nothing there. Aim it at my forehead.”
I was empty.
I was numb.
I was dead inside.
There was no point in even pretending to live a decent life knowing she was gone. Not even the adrenaline filled the gaps she left behind.
“You just might be fucking crazier than me,” he scoffed out, shifting his gun to my head. “Any last words?”
“Yeah. Don’t fucking miss.”
He didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger.
Click.
I didn’t even blink.
He cocked it again.
Click.
I started laughing.
Cocked, loaded, and clicked two more times. He pulled the hammer back one last time. “Moment of truth.”
“Or death,” I simply stated.
Click.
I grinned, letting out a malicious groan from deep in my chest. “Even Hell doesn’t want me.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen this happen before.”
“Is playtime over now?”
He threw the revolver on his desk. “You want in on what exactly?”
“Everything.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“Protection. I have boats to transport whatever is needed. Not to mention all corrupt politicians, feds, officers, judges, the list goes on. Up until now, I’ve dabbled in a little of this and that, but I want to play with the big fucking dogs.”
“Why? You got a nice thing going for yourself. Why would you want to fuck it up?”
“Because I have nothing to fucking lose. Besides, wrath has always been my favorite sin.”
He pressed a button on his intercom. “Come clean up this mess.”
“Yes, Sir,” someone said on the other end.
He stood and I followed suit, grabbing my jacket and put it back on.
“Let’s get a drink.”
Music vibrated the speakers throughout the entire mansion. He wanted to make you think he was just setting up the scene, the mood. When in reality, he was trying to drown out the screams.
I wasn’t talking about the ones from pleasure.
We walked through what seemed like an endless stream of hallways and stairs. He typed in more access codes along the way, eventually leading us to a ballroom where there were mostly young women in cages as if they were animals. Waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. My eyes went back to the scene unfolding in front of me. As if on cue, soft light illuminated around the open room. Candles suddenly lit, spreading throughout the entire space as if they magically appeared out of thin air. I didn’t even see anyone light them. It gave the large area a translucent appearance.
In the four corners of the room, women all dressed in nothing but heels were present. All waiting to take center stage, lined up in rows upon rows. I couldn’t take my eyes off them—they were all so beautiful, so flawless, perfection in every form of the word. Their hips swayed to the beat of the music as they put on a performance to be sold. I didn’t have to see the guests faces to know they were all aroused, which was exactly the point. They started to dance provocatively, seducing everyone in the room. Each one of their movements were carnal and sinful. Captivating the attention of every last person in the space. The women moved their way toward one another, dancing on each oth
er. Kissing, tasting, feeling each other. The sensations from their audience, only enticed them to keep going.
I witnessed men starting to pull out their hard cocks, stroking themselves to the visions of the pussies in front of them. It didn’t stop there. More women came into the room, dressed exactly the same, encouraging the guests to touch them, play with them, feeling every last inch of their hard bodies. I surveyed the room, breathing in the smell of lust, abandonment, and pussy.
“You want one?” he asked, glancing over at me. All these women were to be sold.
“No.”
Vlad showed me this for one reason and one reason only—it was another test. He wanted to make sure I could stomach the seediness of his world before he disclosed the only information I wanted from the start. The real reason I was there in the first place.
He handed me a drink and I took it down like a shot, breathing out pure alcohol.
Making him laugh, “It’s Raki, ten times stronger than moonshine. Listen, there’s a meeting next month in Detroit. Everyone who is anyone will be there. The top fucking dogs of organized crime. Consider it a meeting of the masterminds, coming together to unite forces and see what we can offer each other. From blood diamonds to money laundering. Arms dealing, drug cartel, chop shop and of course, sex and organ trafficking. Which, as you can tell, is why I’ll be there. These are just to name a few, though.”
“How do I—”
“I’ll vouch for you. Since you’re offering your boats and the names of high profile people we can use to our advantage.”
“When and where?”
He eyed me warily. “You seem like you’re going through some shit right now, and I’m giving you an out. You have a month to decide if you’re in or out. Because once you’re in, the only way out is in a coffin.”
I looked him dead in the eyes and spoke with conviction, “I’ll be in touch.”
Meaning every last word.
ELEVEN
DAMIEN
Hitting fourth gear in my Audi R8 rental, I sped down I-94 from Detroit Metro Airport just after nine o’clock at night. Getting off the highway at Jefferson Avenue and going through some shady as fuck neighborhoods to reach my final destination. I pulled into a gated lot just after ten, driving through what looked like a scrap metal yard to the back where a rundown warehouse appeared. Graffiti covering the exterior of the place and windows were broken out all around the dump. Not what I was picturing for such an exclusive meeting. I parked the R8, got out, and made my way to the entrance. There was a huge steel door that opened as soon as I stepped foot in front of it.
They are waiting for me.
Once I was inside, I took in my surroundings. Old machinery lined the outer walls, and the stench of rusted metal and dust assaulted my senses. As I walked further in, there was a large rectangular table in the center of the warehouse where several men had gathered, including Vlad. I took the empty seat next to him, surrounded by the exact men he said would be there. Some I recognized, others I didn’t. There were ten of us, including me. My guess was this warehouse was neutral territory for everyone, given the fact that each person in attendance brought something different to the table. Masterminds from all around the world.
It was like a fucked-up version of the United Nations.
I was familiar with these types of setups from my time working for Emilio and from my own connections. Although, it was never anything like this scene. This was on a much greater scale, and I preferred to stay in the background. Watching their mannerisms, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Picking up behaviors and characteristics most people would ignore.
The only rule for tonight was no entourage, you showed up alone. No security detail, which I’m sure was a stretch for these men, considering most of them didn’t even take a shit without being surrounded by armed detail. They were all highly wanted men, and not by the cops but by their own kind. Wanting to take them the fuck out to take their place as kingpin.
“There better be a really good reason why there’s a fucking narc sitting at the table,” the man that called himself Vinny rasped, glaring at me. He was an arms dealer, and one of the few I did recognize.
“They didn’t tell you? I’m here to arrest your sorry ass,” I mocked, void of any expression.
Vlad chuckled, “Vinny, he’s here like the rest of us, wanting to make a deal and offering a hell of a lot of names to protect our asses. Including yours. So, calm the fuck down.”
“How about we make our way around the table. Introduce ourselves that way we can be one big happy family,” Felix chimed in with a French accent, bringing our attention to him. He was sitting at the head of the table. “I’ll start. I’m Felix André, I specialize in money laundering.” He nodded at the man to his left to go next.
“I’m Jonas Schneider,” he introduced himself in a German accent. “I chop cars.”
It went on like this, everyone took their turn until it was mine. “I’m Damien Montero. I come offering my boats for trafficking your guns, your diamonds, your drugs, and whatever the fuck else is needed. I also come bearing names of politicians, feds, and judges. Those are just to name a few who will keep our dirty hands fucking clean.”
“How can we fucking trust you? How do we know the fucking feds aren’t listening right now, waiting to raid this shithole? I don’t fucking like you, and I sure as fuck don’t trust you,” Vinny roared, sitting parallel to me at the table.
“What’s there not to like? I’m giving you everything on a silver platter. I suggest you don’t shit where you eat.”
“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up,” Vlad interrupted. “You both have huge cocks, so kiss and make-up so we can start this meeting.” Signaling to Felix to continue.
“Welcome everyone, we’re only missing—”
The steel doors abruptly opened, and everything proceeded in slow fucking motion like a ticking time bomb about to go off.
Me.
Life changed in a split second. I lived in a world that was black and white, and then suddenly…
There was color.
The hair on my arms stood up and a familiar sensation radiated throughout my entire body. When in walked a woman in a white fucking dress. Her long hair cascaded down to her thin waist, framing her beautiful face.
Except, the bomb inside me didn’t detonate until she confirmed another one of my worst fucking nightmares, aside from thinking she was gone and out of my life for good.
“I’m Amira, your drug lord.”
BOOM.
TWELVE
DAMIEN
I jerked back, her revelation stabbing and slicing me all over. I would be nothing after she was finished with me, living in a nightmare of my own sins.
The loud, booming voice from one of the men called out, “You’re late,” as if his voice was muffled through a tunnel.
I was there, but I wasn’t.
Swallowing hard, choking back the tears from happiness, sorrow, and pure desperation from seeing her again. My heart pounded while my mind was raging war with itself. Her face consuming me and punishing me all at the same time. All twelve years we spent apart came crashing down on me. The truth was too much for me to take.
She was alive.
She was there with me.
Except, now she was a ring leader in my dark and fucked-up world.
The world she never belonged in.
The world I desperately tried to protect her from.
The. World. I. Left. Her. For…
Amira walked into the meeting filled with only men as if she owned the degenerate and depraved space. Portraying a woman, I no longer recognized. No longer the little girl I once knew standing in front of me, but the breathtakingly, stunning woman she’d turned into.
Very much alive and fucking breathing.
My sweet, innocent Muñeca really had died, and in her place stood a confident and sophisticated woman dressed to impress. Wearing a tight white dress that stopped just below her knees, accentuating every curv
e of her body. Her luscious ass, her narrow hips, and her ample breasts, popping at the seams. Sporting diamond earrings, a diamond bracelet, a solitaire diamond necklace, and a Cartier watch. With an oversized designer bag tucked in the nook of her arm. Topping off her outfit with red, sky-high fuck me heels.
Never had I ever seen her look this goddamn sexy, in such a torturous and alluring way.
“I was just reapplying my lipstick,” she teased through her pouty, bright red lips. Striding over to Felix’s seat.
Purposely swaying her hips with each step she took, knowing exactly what every man in the room was thinking. How badly they wanted to fuck her, only fueling the fire inside of me. Amira used her sexuality to get what she wanted, and I silently prayed to God for the first time in I don’t know how long, she didn’t use her pussy in the same way.
We had yet to lock eyes with each other, but mine never wavered from her hypnotic stare. Her big brown eyes were covered with more makeup than I’d ever seen on her before. They always showed me how she was feeling. What she wanted, needed, and couldn’t live without.
Me.
Holding me captive with each flutter of her long lashes. With each breath she took, the way she pursed her lips, how her high cheekbones beamed with each movement of her steps. She was a fucking goddess.
An angel.
Making me realize this was what Hell looked like.
I knew she felt me. It was just the way it had always been between us. Nothing…
Not years.
Not lies.
Not my sins.
Nor truths.
Could ever change that.
Our connection was alive and thriving all around us, especially in our goddamn souls.
As soon as she stood beside Felix, she eye-fucked the shit out of him, seductively smiling till the motherfucker actually got up. Offering his chair to allow her to sit at the head of the table. I resisted the urge to strangle him within an inch of his life, just imagining they may have been intimate. Feeding into another one of my worst fears.
