El Diablo

by Sam Crescent

  Last night he’d broken his own rule and had drunk way too much. It was a stupid move in his line of work, where a sharp mind was essential for survival. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

  He remembered more. The girl with the slit throat. The guilt. Boss raking him over the coals for not following protocol. The blood soaking his shirt. Xavier looked down, moving the comforter aside. He was only wearing his boxer briefs. He remembered nothing after…

  Fucking shit.

  He bolted from the bed, nearly tripping in the blankets. Alesha. He couldn’t remember much, but she was there last night. What had he said? What had she seen?

  “You better take it easy. You got a nasty bump on the head.”

  He turned, completely off his game. Alesha sat on a chair near his dresser. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  “I mean here. In my bedroom.”

  “Do you remember anything from last night?” she asked.

  “Not much. Except the fact I should never have stopped at the liquor store on the way home.” He massaged his temple, the throbbing growing stronger.

  “Yeah, I got the sense you weren’t used to drinking.”

  “Did anything else happen?” he asked with caution. Xavier hoped she’d caught him passed out or mumbling incoherent gibberish.

  “Like what? The part where you said you liked my tits or the part where you said you killed for a living?”

  Motherfucker.

  He began to pace the room, back and forth, back and forth. Alesha was fucking innocent, and because of his stupidity, he’d have to put a bullet in her head. What more had he said? All he knew was that it was too much. Boss would never condone this breach of security. He was already on Boss’s shit list from last night.

  Now he understood the danger of having a civilian working for him. One slip up and he had to clean up his mess.

  But he’d promised to keep her safe.

  “I’m sorry for whatever I said. You know, when guys drink they say stupid shit.”

  “So, you’re not a killer working for a secret group of assassins?”

  He scoffed, forcing a laugh. “That’s a good one. I must have a better imagination than I realized. Too many late-night movies.”

  “And the blood on your clothes?”

  He patted his chest. “Did you undress me, Alesha?”

  “I didn’t have much choice. You knocked yourself out on the floor. I dragged you to bed, took off the bloody clothes, and washed you the best I could. You’ve slept like a baby all night.”

  “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “I told you. All night. I wanted to be sure you woke up okay. Some drunks die choking on their own vomit. I heard some horror stories when I waitressed.”

  He cringed. “Trust me, the drinking part, that’ll never happen again. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “I’d offer you coffee, but I know you won’t drink it.”

  He’d never allowed himself to overthink his feelings for Alesha. His life was fast-paced, and she was his housekeeper. Xavier didn’t do romance or commitment. And nice girls like Alesha were destined for stable men who could provide the whole white picket fence deal. All El Diablo was good for was killing. “You know a lot about me, don’t you?”

  “You kept talking about a sister.”

  His entire body tensed. Graciella had always been his one weakness. She stole his focus, and brought out the worst in him. His desperation to find her had taken over his life. “I have no sister,” he said, trying to back up his argument that everything he’d said last night was bullshit.

  “So, everything was a lie? The woman you said they killed never existed? That’s a really big imagination you have.”

  “Crazy, eh?” He walked over to the dresser, supporting his weight on his hands as he leaned in close to examine his face in the mirror. “I look like shit.”

  He usually kept his shoulder-length hair in a short ponytail. Now it was loose and wild, his eyes red-rimmed. What he needed was a long, cold shower.

  Staying in bed to recover wasn’t in the cards. Boss had an assignment for him today. A punishment for fucking up yesterday. That woman dying on his watch was punishment enough, but he was being sent on a recon mission. Boss knew they bored the fuck out of him.

  It was a black-tie event, some fancy fundraiser. Xavier couldn’t stand those rich snobs, and he had to force a smile and mingle with them all night long. And he needed a date.

  His thoughts shifted to Alesha again. Was this a game they were playing, or did she believe all the lies he was dishing? His hope was to brush this major lapse in judgment off as nothing so he didn’t have to kill her. He didn’t want to kill her. Imagining those pretty blue eyes permanently closed made him bristle.

  “You look good considering,” she said, catching his attention. He glanced sideways at her. “You didn’t tell me about the blood.”

  He internally groaned. “It was a crazy night,” he said, his frustration growing. “I don’t remember much. Must have gotten a cut or something.”

  She stood up, approaching him at the dresser. Alesha shifted him to face her, then ran her fingertips down his chest. It surprised him how good her touch felt. He thought he’d lost all sensation decades ago. “No, not a single scratch. I would have noticed last night. You’re pretty heavy too, by the way. Not very easy to lug to bed.”

  Xavier grabbed her wrist, her fingers still lingering on his skin. She let out a barely audible gasp. “I work hard, but I play hard, too. Sometimes things get a little crazy with all the booze and bitches. I’m sure it’ll come back to me, but I guarantee you won’t want the details.”

  She needed to move on and forget everything she’d seen or heard. He had to push her away. If she kept focusing on things he couldn’t explain to her, it would leave him with only one choice. And he didn’t want to go there.

  “Right. None of my business.”

  He released her hand. “I know it’s a work day, but considering you were up all night because of me, I want you to get some sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Xavier shook his head. She looked exhausted. “No, you’re going to sleep. End of discussion.”

  She headed to the door of his bedroom, and he exhaled in relief. Maybe everything would turn out fine, and she’d move on, never mentioning this shit again. This was the first and last time he drank himself sick.

  He wasted no time getting into his en-suite shower, savoring the cool water washing over his face. If only it could wash away his guilt. He was only a few seconds too late yesterday. If he’d known that fucker was going to slit that girl’s throat, he could have done things differently. If only he’d listened to Viper and waited before acting.

  If only…

  He couldn’t undo the past. Xavier slammed the heel of his hand against the tiles, over and over until a web of cracks appeared. He wanted to cry, but that dam had dried up decades ago. This was fucking ridiculous. Xavier knew better than to let his emotions get the better of him. His job as a hitman was perfect as it required being numb, heartless, ready to go to hell and back for a kill. It had never been an issue, but that woman yesterday had reminded him of Graciella.

  He recalled when he’d freed Chains’s woman from being trapped in his basement last year. Any time he discovered an innocent woman being abused, it sparked that weakness inside him, that protective instinct he couldn’t seem to shake.

  Then his thoughts drifted to Alesha. He could avoid the truth, but he knew damn well he’d hired her because of his attraction to her. Her innocence had pulled him in, and those curves had sealed the deal. It’s not like anything could ever happen between them, but he’d hired her nonetheless. Now he’d put them in an uncomfortable position. A dangerous one.

  Did she believe his stories?

  He’d have to be sure.

  His acting skills would determine if she lived or died. But he’d be a hypocrite if he killed her, no better than the
piece of shit who slit that woman’s throat. Maybe this could be his own test. It was time to put memories of his sister to rest. He needed to rid himself of his weaknesses.

  ****

  Alesha twisted amongst her blankets, the cool fabric rubbing against her freshly shaved legs. She couldn’t believe she’d actually fallen asleep with so much on her mind. Now she felt rested and her level head had returned.

  That wasn’t such a good thing.

  She began to replay the events in her head, over and over, trying to make sense of everything. Xavier had been her boss for a few months now, and she’d never had a single issue until last night, so it wasn’t a pattern. She wanted to believe he’d just screwed up and drunk too much. And had a crazy imagination. But she knew better.

  After dragging him to bed, stripping him, and washing his chest, she’d done some snooping. His wallet had numerous IDs for multiple aliases. His back was scarred, and not from a few childhood mishaps, but deep lashes that had left permanent grooves on his skin. Xavier Moreno wasn’t your average man. His crazy story about murder and mayhem was starting to sound more plausible.

  But if she didn’t believe what he’d told her this morning, the alternative was too scary to contemplate. She wanted to keep her job, wanted everything to stay on the status quo. Alesha decided it would be best to keep her mouth shut. Even though he’d never brought women home, he claimed to be a playboy who partied hard. It made sense, even if she didn’t want to believe it.

  She opened her eyes, the sunset giving her bedroom a wash of pink. How would she face him again?

  Her peripheral vision noticed the slightest movement. She clutched her blankets and looked toward her door. It was open, and Xavier leaned against the doorframe.

  “Where’s my gun?” he asked, his tone clipped.

  “What?”

  “I was wearing a harness last night. You undressed me.”

  She wiggled up to lean against her headboard, her blankets up to her neck. Alesha licked her lips. “I put it away for safekeeping.”

  There was no way she’d leave the loaded weapon lying around when he was drunk. What if he’d woken up in a rage and tried to use it against her?

  He crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Do you plan on giving it back to me?”

  “Y-yes. I’ll just get dressed first. How long have you been standing there?”

  He ignored her question. “And the clothes I was wearing?”

  “They’re in my bathtub soaking. I’m hoping I can scrub the bloodstains out. I have a few tricks I can try.”

  He strode into her room without asking, pushing open her en-suite bathroom door. She heard him draining the water from the tub, then he came out with the bag from her garbage can, his wet clothes in it. “They’re not salvageable.”

  “I didn’t even try yet.”

  Xavier didn’t look like the man she’d seen last night. That man had been broken, lost, torn down the middle. Now he was showered, confident, the same boss she’d seen every day since being hired. Could alcohol mess up a person to that degree, or was there some truth in the things he’d said yesterday?

  What did he do for a living to afford this mansion?

  Why the weird hours?

  She’d never questioned anything about him or his lifestyle before, but now her imagination was on overdrive, her mind trying to piece so many things together. Maybe he wasn’t a reclusive businessman. Maybe he did work for a secret group of assassins. Alesha almost laughed out loud at her own ridiculous thoughts. If anything, he was probably just a dirty businessman.

  He stared at her, his knuckles holding the bag of wet clothing turning white. His intensity made her nipples pebble. God, the man was gorgeous. Why wasn’t he speaking?

  “What size are you?”

  She frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Dress size. Shoe size. What are they?”

  Her hackles went down slightly. At least he wasn’t making fun of her weight. She gave him the numbers, expecting him to grimace, but he didn’t. “Why do you need them? For a uniform?”

  “I’m taking you out with me tonight. Fine dining. We leave in two hours.”

  What the hell is going on? She ran a hand through her hair, the blanket falling to her waist. His eyes darted to her chest, and her cheeks instantly flushed. She needed to get thicker pajamas. “I don’t understand.”

  Xavier stepped closer to her bed. He only wore dark gray joggers and a fitted black tank top. He worked out like a fiend every day after coming home, usually for hours. She could hear the heavy weights clang and his fists making contact with a punching bag. That was all she could decipher since she wasn’t permitted in the basement.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, and her pussy instantly clenched. She squeezed her thighs together, trying not to focus on the broadness of his bare shoulders, the hardness of his biceps, or the dark ink on his skin. It didn’t help that she’d had her hands all over him last night while he was unconscious. She kept telling herself she was just nursing him, doing her job, but that was a total lie.

  This was way too much for her handle. What was he doing to her? Their proximity crossed too many boundaries to count. And she didn’t care.

  “You understand more than you let on, don’t you, Alesha?” He reached out with his free hand and drew a line across the seam of her lips with his finger. “I’m not sure if I can trust you.”

  She said nothing, spellbound by his touch and not sure if she should be afraid of his words.

  “I have a business dinner tonight, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone just yet. Since I need a date, it’s going to work out just fine.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. If this is about last night, I was only trying to help.”

  Why wouldn’t he trust her alone in the house? She was his housekeeper. It was her job to keep things together while he was away.

  “Yes, my curious little lamb.” He stood up, walking towards the door. “You probably don’t realize that this house and property are wired from top to bottom. The very best in high-tech surveillance.”

  She swallowed hard, not liking where this was going. What had he seen her do? Was she in trouble? Did he watch her going through his wallet?

  He turned around once reaching the door. “I’ll have your outfit here within the hour. Let’s call tonight a test of your loyalty, Alesha.”

  “What does that mean?” she whispered.

  “Reputation is everything in my business. I can’t have one person tarnishing everything I’ve worked hard for because of a misunderstanding. That’s all last night was—a misunderstanding.”

  She should have kept her big mouth shut, but it had a mind of its own. “So, you’ve never killed a person?”

  “Have you?”

  Talking to him was like pulling teeth. She should be trying to mend all these broken bridges, agreeing that it was a misunderstanding. But, deep down, she’d felt the sincerity when he spoke last night, even if drunk. He was raw, honest, real. Now, completely sober, she had the growing feeling he was trying to cover up the truth.

  “Sorry, silly question, I guess.” She slipped off the bed with the blanket securely around her body. “I’ll get your gun.”

  He watched her every move as she bent down in front of her dresser and slid open the bottom drawer where she kept her bras and panties. One of her undergarments hooked on the barrel of the gun, and she rushed to pluck it off as she lifted the entire harness out of the drawer. She handed it to him, and he tossed it over his shoulder.

  “Where are we going tonight?” Was this a real date? Did he really not trust her alone in his house now? This wasn’t looking good for her cushy new job.

  “Black-tie fundraiser. I hate them,” he said. “Maybe it’ll be bearable with you there.”

  “Misery loves company?”

  “Something like that,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you invite one of your flings from last night?”

  Alesha wasn
’t exactly arm candy. And her jealousy had been brewing since he’d told her about his bitches and partying. He tilted her chin up, and she didn’t pull away. “If I’m going to pretend I’m with my fiancée, I want to take a woman I’d choose myself. Much more convincing.”

  “So, we’re acting?”

  “It’s a couples only event, and I need to portray a certain image if I want to blend in.”

  “And blending in is good?”

  “I should say fitting in is more appropriate. We won’t be blending in once you’re wearing the dress I’ve picked out for you.”

  Chapter Four

  Xavier regretted the dress the moment she walked downstairs toward him. After he’d ordered her an outfit he’d debated on going with the plain black cocktail dress that molded to her curves, showing off a great deal of cleavage, or the red number. The model had a similar figure to Alesha and he’d wanted to see her in the flesh in a dress. Big mistake on his part.

  She looked sexy as fucking sin.

  The dress molded to her body and flared out at her hips. There were two slits up either side of the dress showing a tantalizing view of leg. The heels she wore made him want to do nothing more than to spread her wide, and fuck her hard.

  He’d been avoiding her since this morning, giving her time to sleep.

  If she gave anything away about their conversation last night, he’d have no choice but to kill her. Boss wouldn’t allow her to live.

  She was a loose end.

  “Do I look okay for the job?”

  Her dirty-blonde hair cascaded around her in loose ringlets.

  She looked stunning, and he had no doubt she’d fit in tonight. The aim was to blend. To look like they were one of the rich and elite. Not an assassin and his housekeeper. It was quite funny now that he thought about it.

  “You look like you’ll do.”

  He watched the smile fade away.

  “All you’ve got to do tonight is stay on my arm. Smile, don’t talk. If someone talks to you, pretend you don’t hear them or understand them.”

  “That seems rude.”

  “Are you going to be difficult?”