Dark Hunter

by AJ Adams

  Rip was totally still, thinking it over. Then he smiled, “And the name?”

  There was no way I was even hinting at my name. I didn’t want the Zetas Googling me. The thought made me shiver. “I want to be Morgan.”

  “Then Morgan you shall be.”

  Chumillo tried to talk to me, something I really wanted to avoid, but his first question was, “But chica, your hands were cuffed, and you were in the river. Who did that?”

  I couldn’t help it; tears ran down my face. Chumillo looked horrified and backed off immediately while the other two were instant in their comfort.

  “Okay, let’s leave that.”

  “Right. Plenty of time to deal with the capullo after.”

  Rip did the right thing by putting barbecue tongs in my hand. “The fire’s ready. We can talk about the rest later.”

  Keeping busy helped settle me. Rip had me run around, getting plates and cutlery, squeezing lime and sprinkling rock salt over the prawns, and brushing the meat with wine.

  Those waxed paper packs I’d seen were cabrito, that’s goat in Spanish. Sounds ewwwww, right? I wasn’t going to touch it, but after foodie Rip got to work, it looked amazing, and the scent was mouth-watering.

  “Turn the prawns when they turn pink, and brush the meat with the glaze every ten minutes,” Rip was intent but perfectly normal again. The Zetas were relaxing too. As Rip had told me, seeing me getting on made them happy.

  I felt as if I were in a movie, one with a parallel universe, but by the time the food was ready, I had a grip on myself.

  Gordo, Chumillo, and Rafa were chatting up a storm, so I got a smile from Rip and all the prawns and cabrito I could eat. Rip opened up some red wine, too, and he poured me a glass. I took it as a sign of favour.

  Afterwards I sat next to him and closed my eyes. I was tired, but it was also a way to stop any more awkward questions.

  If it hadn’t been for the company, it would’ve been a beautiful evening. As the sky turned pink and then orange, the frogs and birds got busy bug hunting. Then the orange faded into black, so the crickets started up their chorus.

  All the time, the river was flowing by, reflecting the colours of the sky, with the occasional plop of frogs and fishes jumping about. When the night drew in, a million stars popped out, looking close enough to touch. It was glorious.

  When everyone finished eating, I cleared and stacked the dishwasher, which earned me an approving smile. The men had moved away from the table and were seated on the sofas that edged the deck overlooking the river. I curled up next to Rip and was instantly enveloped by that guardian angel sense of safety again.

  This time I didn’t even bother fighting it. After the tension, the rush of reassurance acted like a sedative. I napped off and on, and didn’t dream at all. It was heaven, and I ended up lying with my head in Rip’s lap.

  I was half asleep when Gordo said, “It’s good to see the pobrecita so comfortable with you.”

  Rip’s hand was in my hair, “Thanks. I’m keeping her.”

  There was a short silence, and I felt Rip tense again.

  Then Chumillo said, “Good idea. She has nowhere to go, right?”

  My turn to freeze.

  “We need to find out more about her.” Rafa was on the same page as Kyle.

  “We will,” Gordo said. “Hey, Rip, I never heard of an Englishman making cabrito. Where did you learn to cook?”

  The conversation went into safe channels, and I breathed again. Knowing they couldn’t tell if I was awake or asleep, I lay quietly, watching the stars while the men talked around me.

  They were talking about Tony the Crab, a Gulf cartel leader who’d been arrested by the Mexican feds and who walked out of jail a day later, escorted by his own men.

  “It was just a show for the Americans,” Rafa was saying. “If they’d been serious, they would’ve shot him straight off.”

  Chumillo was nodding, “Right, the Crab is one of their best snitches.”

  “He’s a rat?” Rip exclaimed. “How the hell does that work?”

  “The Gulf are a bunch of evil fuckers, and the Crab is typical of their kind,” Rafa added. “He got jealous of his own sicarios, the hit men who worked for him, so he ratted them out.”

  “That’s how we Zetas started,” Gordo explained to Rip. “We were working hard, making money, doing all the dirty work while those fat-cat lazy Gulf did fucking nothing. Then suddenly those shits start mouthing off about how we don’t show them no respect.”

  “Of course we told them to shove it,” Chumillo said angrily. “It led to an all-out war.”

  “Yeah, every single cartel got drawn in,” Gordo said.

  They were educating Rip, explaining our history, except I knew the Gulf had nurtured the Zetas, until the treacherous weasels had turned on us.

  I thought they might talk more, but it turned personal.

  “My brother got his in Cancun,” Rafa sighed. “That was a bad time, we lost three dozen people in that same week.”

  “But we got our own back,” Chumillo reminded him. “That bomb in Tijuana did a good job.”

  “Those fucks! Remember they carved up Julio’s son?”

  “Yeah, but we got El Raton’s cousin.”

  “But lost Ricky the Squid.”

  “And so we took out their whorehouse.”

  “But they burnt down our hotel.”

  They went for ages, listing the dead, the wounded, and the losses.

  “That war was a game-changer,” Chumillo said. “Two thousand dead and the cartels reformed with the Sinaloa and the Gulf on one side and us Zetas and Beltran-Leyva on the other.”

  “Those fuckers the Sinaloa and the Gulf deserve each other,” Rafa said. “You can’t trust the hijos de putas.”

  Rip just laughed, “Well, that alliance will be taking a beating tonight.”

  They went on talking about shootings, bombings, executions, kidnappings, kneecappings, and stabbings, and after a few minutes there was no way to tell if they were talking about themselves, their friends, or their enemies.

  Me, I was in utter shock. I told myself it had been Neto who’d attacked Aleja, and then Los Osos had torched my home. I hadn’t started it; I’d just given them what they deserved. I knew that was 100% true. And yet, I was thinking that if only I’d let it go, I would still be at home, fixing rides and going dancing at Barnyard.

  Also, I was now wondering if there was more to the story that it had been the Zetas who’d turned on the Gulf.

  That was a thought that made me shiver, but I couldn’t help but compare it to my own tale. With the cartel turning on me and falsely putting it about that I had been dissing Don Valentine, I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, the Zetas hadn’t been totally to blame for splitting away from the Gulf.

  As it was, they were certainly happy that there was trouble.

  “Thanks to you, Rip, those fuckers are in a tailspin,” Chumillo laughed. “The Gulf and the Sinaloa will be slaughtering each other soon.”

  It would be war all over again. My world shimmered and shifted. I couldn’t lie to myself. The truth hit me, and I shivered. All the years I’d tried to fit in with the civilians didn’t count for shit. When it had come right down to it, I’d ignored my friends’ advice and acted like the cartel. I’d been seeing monsters, not realising I was one of them.

  “Well, I’m enjoying myself.” Rip stroked my hair, and I opened my eyes, looking right up into his. What I saw there froze me. “Coming here has opened up all kinds of new horizons.”

  I was seeing past the mask again. Rip was thinking of upping our game, and it was my own fault that I was in his power.

  Chapter Seventeen: Rip

  “Awesome dinner, Rip.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic night!”

  They roared off into the velvet night, laughing and joking as I waved them off. The evening was a complete success, and I was under no delusions as to why. There had been one or two sticky moments, but the Zetas had overlooked th
em, purely because of Morgan. They’d liked seeing her properly awake, but having her sleep in my lap sealed the deal.

  “Ay, she’s suffered,” Quique whispered when he saw her curled up comfortably. “Rip, find out who her ex is, and I’ll help fix the capullo.”

  “We’ll all help,” Gordo assured me. “Anything you need, okay?”

  They were speaking to me as one of their own. They knew what I was, and they weren’t bothered, and it was all because of the girl. It was perfect, and I was determined to keep Morgan forever. She was my ticket to the good life.

  So as they went home, I was delighted. I’d had a perfect hunt, an excellent dinner, and I wanted to finish the day with a bang. “Let’s go to bed.”

  I was half expecting a protest, but Morgan just nodded. She was subdued, and although her nervousness around the Zetas was clear, it hadn’t passed me by that some parts of the conversation had affected her more than others.

  The implications were interesting, but I wasn’t going to push it. At least not for the moment. Right then and there I wanted to dive into her and lose myself again. The plane ride home had given me time to plan, and I was having fantasies of silk ties and gags.

  I piloted her upstairs, and out of sheer habit, undressed her and checked the fading bruises. Morgan shivered but didn’t protest.

  “They’re almost gone,” I told her. “You’re looking great, Morgan.”

  “Yes, Rip.” I looked into her eyes, and my joy shrivelled. Morgan looked like death warmed over. Her face was so pale that the bones stood out like knives, and her eyes were dark with exhaustion.

  I remembered how she’d been hiding under the covers, frightened by her dreams, when I’d come home. She’d been so upset that she’d hugged me. “Morgan, did you sleep at all while I was away?”

  The grey eyes were definitely depressed. “Some.”

  I really wanted to tie her to the bed and ride her till she wailed, but I didn’t want to push my meal ticket too far. I’d be sensible and give her a break. But being a nasty piece of work, I made sure she’d be properly grateful. “You won the game, Morgan, so you get to pick the next one.”

  “I don’t want to play.”

  Just what I’d thought she’d say. But I made the most of it. “Oh, come on. You had a good time. Are you sure you’re not up for some fun?”

  She gazed at me, exhaustion coming off her in waves, and suddenly I was shifting perspective. I had escaped death only to find myself in a strange country and in the hands of a monster.

  I snapped out of it just as quickly, but for a moment I was rocked. It had been effortless, and what’s more, unconscious. What I should have done was remind her of her situation. To ram home that she was helpless would have worked out well—for me. But for some reason I just couldn’t do it.

  Instead, I bundled her under the covers. “Go to sleep, Morgan.”

  “R-really?” She was surprised, tired, and yet nervy.

  “Of course. We made a bet, and you won.”

  I was regretting my decision the second I slid into bed. Morgan’s body was warm and lithe, and she had the softest skin and hair. Gathering her to me, I felt the long smooth muscles bunch and flex. She looked slight, but there was hidden strength under that velvet exterior.

  Her breasts were small, high, and deliciously soft. As I fondled them, her bottom rubbed against me. I was rock solid instantly. The monster in me was yelling that I could just take her—after all, she had no comeback. But the look in her eyes haunted me, and I discovered I just didn’t have it in me.

  “Go to sleep,” I told her. “Just close your eyes.”

  At that, her hand slid into mine, and then she was lying in my arms. She’d curled into me for weeks, but I’d known there had been no conscious thought in it. The drugs had misted her mind. This was different. Personal. Intimate. It hit me like a sledgehammer: she trusted me not to hurt her.

  As if in a dream, I found myself cradling the soft curves as a glow of protective need settled over me. She was my girl, a sleek treasure to be guarded and nurtured. I was nuzzling her hair, enjoying the perfume of sweet herbs that hung around her. It was a rich earthy scent that called to me.

  She sighed and lay in my embrace as I gentled her. That feeling of guardianship turned to tenderness. I wanted to wrap myself around her and keep her safe forever. Time stretched, and with it, my senses went into overdrive. I sank into her curves, welcoming the gentle presence until I was drowning in her silky softness.

  Her hand stroked my arm, and then she turned, curling into me. She wrapped herself around me, loose-limbed with trust. Her lips were on my neck, moving up slowly. As she kissed me, the breath stuck in my chest, and I was suddenly afraid to move or speak. Emotion overwhelmed me. I was balanced on the edge of fear and hope.

  “Rip.” Her whisper went straight to my balls. “No games.”

  It was the strangest experience. We came together in total silence with infinite gentleness. Her hands ran up my back as her soft breasts brushed against my chest. I sank into the warm embrace, losing myself in the sweetness of her touch.

  Her perfume swirled around me, invading my senses as her softness and my hardness melded into perfection. Rocking together in sensual rhythm, I clutched her to me, drowning in sensation. Our bodies danced in exquisite harmony, her moans a counterpoint to my groans.

  We floated in a sea of bliss, each wave driving us further into rapture until she tightened, arched and wailed, sweeping me along into ecstasy. I shattered, my body and soul searing in heavenly release.

  Falling back to earth, that sensation of complete unity was ebbing. Holding onto her, I tried to bring it back, but it was slipping out of my grasp. I clung to her, feeling as if I never wanted to let her go.

  “Rip.” She had a low rich voice, growls mixed with honey. If bears spoke, they’d sound like her. Her hands were on my shoulders. “You’re squeezing.”

  “Sorry.” I realised I was crushing the small bones. I let go, but I felt disoriented. That rush of emotion was disappearing, leaving me empty again. It was ridiculous, but I felt bereft.

  I was alone, but then she curled around me, soft and comforting. The warm rich herbal perfume was all over me, seeping into my soul. “I’m keeping you.” That was my voice, blurred with need. “You’re mine.” I was holding on to her, wrapping myself around her. “You’re not leaving me.”

  There was no answer. Morgan was asleep. I held her in my arms, rocked by my emotions. Stroking the satin skin, that wash of sweet gentleness came rushing back. I wanted to bury myself in her, to drown in peace. I fell asleep, steeped in serenity.

  I woke to bright sunshine and Morgan’s hair tickling my nose. I gazed at the burnished locks, rough-cut and spiky, and soft pale skin, wondering if the night before had been a dream.

  It didn’t seem real, yet the memory of that exquisite closeness was so clear that I yearned to bring it back again. The phone blasted any thoughts about morning reruns.

  “Rip!” It was Arturo, full of the joys of life. “Did I waken you?”

  Morgan was awake, her grey eyes hazy with sleep.

  “No.” It was just before eight. “Trouble?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m calling to tell you we’re all over the news again. Spectacular work, Rip! Amazing!” Arturo’s exuberance came through loud and clear. “You won’t hear this on CNN but the Sinaloa lawyer just had a screaming row with his Gulf counterpart.”

  “Excellent! So the cat’s among the pigeons?”

  “Oh yeah! They just asked him about that hotel development, and he told them to shove it.” Arturo was laughing. “Rip, I’m sending you a bonus.”

  “There’s no need. I enjoyed it.”

  “I insist! And tell me, how’s Morgan?”

  She was lying next to me, listening, but I wasn’t going to tell Arturo. “She’s fine. Did you speak to Kyle?” At that, Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and I could see her straining to listen in.

  “Yes, he reported last night.” Artur
o was brisk. “Rip, do what you think best, okay?”

  That set me on my heels. It argued a huge level of trust. “Thanks.”

  “Look, I know you don’t like my little brother much, but you can depend on him. Kyle’s the best of the best.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Or talk to Chumillo. He’s young, but he’s my cousin, and he grew up in the business.”

  “I will, absolutely.”

  “Good. I’ll be sending more files later today.”

  “Terrific.”

  “The files today are a bit different,” Arturo cautioned me.

  Instantly I tensed. I’d pissed off Tricky by refusing to kill honest coppers, and now I was worried Arturo would want me to break my rules, too.

  “They’re cartel, and they fit your profile,” Arturo continued, “but these are more of the fast jobs I mentioned. Can you do them execution style? Like you killed Tricky?”

  “Sure.” It was such a relief to know he was keeping to our agreement that it didn’t even bother me that he knew about that. “Just tell me who, where, and when.”

  At that, Morgan blinked, and then she was out of bed. By the time Arturo was done, she’d picked a set of clean jammies out of the wardrobe and gone downstairs. I lay in bed, thinking over the conversation.

  Morgan was mine. Arturo would draw off his ‘little brother’, and so nobody would interfere. It was his true bonus. Having Morgan was much more valuable to me than money, and Arturo knew it.

  As I lay back in that sun-filled room, I felt myself truly relax. The Zetas valued my work, needed me for their project, and were determined to keep me. I had definitely found my perfect home. Even better, from the nights with Morgan, both so different yet both intoxicating, I had also found the perfect woman.

  I was looking forward to a life filled with perfect hunts and exciting nights. It didn’t seem quite real, and I had an almost superstitious sense of matters being too perfect. So when I rolled out of bed, I was half wondering what might go wrong.

  Standing in the bathroom, I found that the shower no longer dripped. The sink drained nicely when I shaved, and when I checked the guest suites, they were dry too. Morgan had taken me at my word and fixed them all.