by Vivian Gray
Chapter Two
Maria
“Maria? Maria, are you even listening to me? Maria?” My father’s voice intoned over the music playing in my room.
“Not particularly. No, dad,” I tell my father, who’s standing in my doorway seemingly insistent on making my life a living hell.
Dad sighs and yells over the music, “Could you at least – could you at least turn that shit down, Maria? Come on.”
I acquiesce and turn down the Bluetooth speaker laying on the nightstand next to my bed. I’ve made it pretty clear to him that I don’t want to talk, but as often happens in the Espinoza family, when Dad wants to talk, he gets to talk, no matter what.
He comes over and sits down on the edge of my bed. I involuntarily scootch over to allow him some room, forgetting momentarily that it’s my room and my bed.
“Listen, honey,” he says casually, trying, I think, to sound less frustrated with me than he is, “you know you and your sister are absolutely everything to me, right?”
“Yes, Dad,” I respond with sarcasm.
“Don’t get fresh with me,” Dad says sharply. “What I’m trying to say is important, Maria. Your sister, Carmen, was a good girl until she left, but you and I both know she doesn’t have your smarts.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your favorite daughter,” I say, suppressing a mild grin.
“I don’t play favorites, Maria. But I am also… realistic. Look at your grades in school versus hers. You’re top of your class. You have the know-how. That’s how I know you’re going to be great when you take over the family business.”
At this, I scoff. “Are you kidding me?” I practically shout at him. “Dad, we’ve been over this. I don’t want to take over the family business. I have no interest in it whatsoever.”
“I need you, Maria,” Dad says, almost in an earnest sort of voice. “I’m getting older, and with your sister gone…”
“Did you ever think she left because she didn’t want this, either?” I demand.
He’s taken aback by that, momentarily speechless. I know it was a low blow, but ever since Carmen went off and married that dumbass Blake Cartwright, Dad’s been on my ass about taking over “the family business”, which is his awful euphemism for the illegal shit he’s had going on for decades.
And it’s something I have no interest in whatsoever.
I look at my dad, and I see the fury in his eyes – fury and pain. When Carmen did what she did, she broke my dad’s heart. For all his hemming and hawing about how I’m the smart one and he wants me to take over the business, the truth is, I’m his only option at this point now that Carmen is gone. She’s the older sister, and he almost certainly wanted her in that role more than he wants me.
But it does not matter. She’s… wherever she is, and I’m here.
“I have thought about that,” Dad finally says, in a voice quieter than I think I’ve ever heard him speak before. “I’ve thought about it a lot, in fact. And the truth is, I don’t care. Things happen for a reason, don’t they? And for us, the reason is because you were always the better candidate, the better daughter. You were always the one who was supposed to take over the business. Maybe at one time, I couldn’t see that, but my eyes are wide open now. You are the one I anoint, Maria.”
“Dad,” I say, trying to keep my patience but beginning to fail miserably, “I do not want to be in this position. What about this is hard for you to understand? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: I am going to college, and after that, law school. I want to be a lawyer. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was three years old. You know this.”
“But why?” he demands. “Why would you pass up an opportunity like this? Maria, these kinds of things, they don’t come up out of nowhere or overnight. It is important that you take me seriously here.”
“I am taking you seriously!” I explode, rage filling me up. “Dad, I don’t want it because I actually give a shit about the law! I know you don’t – I know it’s ‘cool’ or whatever to do whatever you want like a badass – but that’s not me. I want to be a lawyer so I can help people, and if I stay here and ‘take over the business’, I’m going to be running a criminal enterprise, and that’s just something I can’t do!”
“Can’t, or don’t want to?” he pokes me verbally.
“Okay, fine, Dad,” I seethe. “You want to play it that way? We can play it that way. I. Don’t. Want. To. Are you happy now? I don’t want to take over your stupid gang. I don’t want to be involved with crime and drugs and all the rest. I don’t want your life! I want my own!”
“So there it is,” he yells, his face contorting in anger. “There’s the big girl, all grown up now, so she knows better than her father, does she? Yeah, she does. She’s gonna go off and be a lawyer and turn her back on her family. You know what? Fine. But when you need money, who’s going to be there? It sure as hell isn’t going to be me! You turn your back on me, you get nothing. You turn your back on this, and I’ll see to it that you’re cut off, just like your worthless bitch of a sister.”
“‘Worthless bitch?’” I scream back at him. “Listen to yourself! You’re a maniac! That’s your daughter you’re referring to as a ‘worthless bitch’. How could you even be like that? Who does that?”
“A father whose heart is absolutely broken,” he spits back. “Because you and your sister, who I’ve given everything to, who I’ve given up everything for, don’t give a fuck about our family. You’d rather I hand the reigns of our business off to a stranger than take them yourselves. You know what you are, Maria? You’re a coward. And you’re a traitor.”
“My God, Dad, could you be any more of a drama queen?” I shout, perhaps a little overdramatically myself. “A ‘coward’? A ‘traitor’? Because I don’t want to be a fucking criminal like you?”
“You watch your mouth, young lady.”
“No, you know what?” I glare at him, staring him down until he moves out of the doorway. “I’m done. I’m absolutely done, Dad.”
I push past him, out of my room, and head for the front door.
He grabs my arm to prevent me from leaving.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Even though he’s still angry, I hear the faintest bit of fear in his voice.
Good.
“I’m going out,” I reply simply. “I can’t be in this house with you anymore.”
“This house? This roof that I keep over your head?”
“Let go of me!” I demand, and he loosens his grip just enough for me to yank my arm away from him. “Yes, this roof that you keep over my head with your drug money and your gang warfare – this house – it’s all built on lies, Dad!”
“Maria, get back here,” he says a little softer, but no less demanding. “Come on. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Dad,” I tell him, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m not Carmen. This was never the life I wanted. I always wanted to be more. And all you can think about is yourself and your stupid legacy. I’m done.”
With that, I spin on my heel and walk out of the house. Behind me, my dad calls again, “Maria, come back here – Maria!”
But it’s too late – I’m in my car, key in the ignition, and driving away from the only home I’ve ever known.
Of course, I have nowhere to run to. And the truth is, I’m not sure where I would be able to go even if I did. My dad has tons of enemies, and they’re always on the lookout for ways to get to him. If there were ever a tantalizing target, I would be one.
But that’s not my fault, and it’s not my problem. My dad is a criminal. I’ve known that since I was, like, thirteen. He and his crew – some of whom are related to me, some of whom are just hired goons – are deep, deep into the drug trade. And they use violence to get their way. That’s just not something I want for myself. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted.
When I was a little kid, I remember my mom watching cop TV shows and always being imp
ressed by the lawyers in the fancy suits, especially the ones who represented innocent people. I wanted to be that person – the person telling the cops to knock it off, stop harassing my client. Hell, I’d even defend Dad because I truly believe everyone deserves and is worthy of good legal representation. In fact, it’s part of my animating focus. I could help him when he inevitably gets in trouble. I could be that person who comes to his aid just in the nick of time. It would be perfect.
But Dad doesn’t see it that way. He’s Juan fucking Espinoza, and he gets whatever he wants. If he wants his daughter to take over the business for him, and the first daughter goes off and marries a fucking moron, well, that’s why he had a spare, right? And that’s exactly what I am for him – a spare daughter, one he can invest his legacy in. But he’s never really asked me if that’s what I wanted. And the truth is, I never wanted it. What I’ve always wanted was to be my own person. And that’s something Dad just can’t handle.
After driving around for a while and venting my anger by speeding and taking the turns a little too sharply, I find my stomach rumbling. I turn off the highway and drive into a truck stop and go inside.
The clerk sitting behind the counter looks half asleep and possibly (probably) stoned, so I take my time picking out a candy bar and a bottle of soda. I bring it up to him, and he yawns as he scans them and puts them into a bag.
I put my debit card into the reader and put in my PIN, and he sleepily mutters, “Have a good day,” as I take it out, grab the bag, and head back out to my car.
When I get back to my car, I hear a voice behind me call out, “Hey, you there! I got a question for you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, turning around, expecting to see a homeless person or something like that. Instead, I’m surprised to see a vaguely familiar face. “Hey, I know you,” I tell the attractive, hulking man approaching me. “You… you used to date my sister. You’re…”
“Slash,” he says, grinning. “And you’re Maria Espinoza, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“Yeah, I thought it was you. I couldn’t believe it. When I saw you riding up, I said to my buddy, ‘Hey, I think I know that girl.’”
“Your buddy?” I ask, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see someone coming behind him.
“Yeah,” he says smugly, “the one who’s going to knock you out right now.”
“I – huh?” I ask before I feel a thud on the back of my skull. The world swirls around me, and I feel my eyes roll up into the back of my head.
The last thing I hear before I completely lose consciousness is, “Get her on the bike, get her in the sidecar.”
Then, silence, and sweet, sweet sleep.
Chapter Three
Blade
“We got her, boss,” I tell Crusher when we get back to HQ.
I motion to the woman lying unconscious in the sidecar of my bike. We’ve drugged her just enough so that she’ll stay asleep for a few hours. That’s all we’ll need to get her tied up.
“Already?” Crusher asks, bemused. “How in the fuck did you guys get her already? I figured you were going to take a few days at least.”
“It all came together by chance,” I explain to him. “We were stopped off at this truck stop, refueling the bikes, right? And I just so happen to see this girl who looks an awful lot like Maria Espinoza. So I go over towards her car, and as she’s coming out of the Quick Mart, sure as shit, it is Maria Espinoza. Couldn’t believe our luck. So Hammer over here, he knocks her out – pistol whips her in the back of the head – and we put her in my sidecar. It couldn’t have been easier.”
“Cameras? Is there any way any of Espinoza’s men could’ve seen you?”
“None,” I reassure him. “No cameras, and no one around. Honest to God, boss, it went smoother than we ever could’ve dreamed. I don’t know how we could’ve had a plan that would’ve gone better.”
“Well, you boys did a hell of a job,” Crusher praises us. “Now listen up, and listen good: we can’t keep her here. This’ll be the first place Espinoza’s goons come looking for her when he realizes she’s gone. We’ve got to keep her somewhere else. Blade, how about your house?”
“My house?” I ask, bewildered. “Boss, I don’t mind doin’ the dirty work for ya, but I’m not exactly… you know, equipped to keep a bitch around my house. Besides, I’d rather be on the front lines for ya. That’s what I do.”
What I don’t tell Crusher is that I really have no interest in babysitting this cartel princess, especially given that she knows me. If she manages to get out, Juan Espinoza is going to come looking not just for the Blood Ravens but for me. And while I can certainly hold my own against those Espinoza fucks, I would prefer to not have to defend myself.
Besides, I’ve got a history with this bitch’s sister; I have very little desire to watch over her, given just how much she looks like and reminds me of Carmen. That seems rather shitty.
But I don’t breathe a word of this to Crusher – not that he’d give a shit anyway.
Instead, he shrugs and tilts his head sideways, saying to me in a low voice, “Listen, Blade. I know this isn’t an ideal situation for you to be in. I hate putting you into it, to be honest. But quite frankly, there aren’t a lot of guys I can really trust to take this assignment seriously. You’re the best person for the job, and I need to know this girl is being cared for… properly. I know you’re not going to touch her or rough her up or anything. I can’t say the same about Hammer or Slime or any of the other guys. So I’m trusting you. I presume my trust isn’t misplaced?”
“No way, boss,” I answer him earnestly. “If this is the way it has to be, then this is the way it has to be. I’ll watch her for now.”
“Good. Now go on, get out of here. Get her tied up at your place. Last thing we need is for her to wake up and figure out where she is – or where our headquarters is at.”
With a nod, I’m back on my bike and out the door. Crusher is right, of course. None of the other guys can be trusted with her. They’d probably try to rough her up – or worse. The last thing I want is for this girl to be tortured by the aptly named Slime or end up getting raped. There’s a lot of shit I’m willing to put up with, up to and including violence, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and that’s my fucking red line.
Unless she’s willing, you best not be spilling. But then there’s the whole “what do I do with her now?” thing.
I take her back to my place and bring her down to the basement, where I’ve got a bed set up for just such an occasion. I mean, usually, it’s for guys to crash on, but this works, too. I go into a drawer in the dresser upstairs and pick out a pair of handcuffs that I generally use for… well, let’s just say they’re for business and pleasure. But right now, they’re all business.
Back in the basement, I begin undressing Maria – standard operating procedure for “guests” we hold. I pause a moment to reflect on how glad I am I bought this house the way I did. I liked that it had a basement, and I sound-proofed the little bedroom downstairs just in case I ever had to have a “guest” over.
I always assumed it would be for some lowlife scumbag who owed the Blood Ravens money, though, not for a cute little number like Maria Espinoza. And I have to admit, she is indeed a cute little number. I wiggle her shirt off, which exposes her lacy bra and rather surprisingly large breasts. As I unhook the bra and toss it to the ground, I’m transfixed for a moment on her brown nipples and areolas, which harden involuntarily in the cool basement.
I break my stare and move to her tight jeans, easing them off, not too jerkily or fast to avoid waking her. When I get down her panties, I stop again. They’re black, lacy, and sexy as hell – surprising, considering we had only just happened upon her. Had she been going off for a date? That could end up being a problem later on if she were, but I don’t have time to think about it now.
Instead, I slide the panties down her long, brown legs. Then, I get my first real good look at her. I have to admit, she’s g
orgeous – better than even Carmen was, and Carmen was fine as hell. She’s laying on her back, her legs spread just short of obscenely in front of me. I feel a bit of stirring in my pants as I gaze upon her nude form, and it’s almost as if she’s begging me to get on top of her and take advantage of this situation.
But no. That’s not what I do. I’m very against such things. Besides, if I really needed pussy that badly, I could get me some pussy.
But dammit if that pussy don’t look nice.
I pull her up towards the bed as she groggily waves her head around. I move one arm up behind the metal headboard, then the other, and click the handcuffs into place. There’s no way she’s going to be moving now. She can flail about all she wants, but she’s stuck on the bed. I nod to myself, then look her over one more time. She has the most amazing legs, starting at the crease by her pussy, then moving down her thighs, and her calves – she’s sexy as all hell, I have to admit.
