I can see in his eyes that he knows he’s succeeded. This is hurting me more than any other torture he could have devised.
And we’ve only just begun.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Andrews
My captive is quiet for a while after that, just hanging by her wrists, tits out, glowering at me. I leave her for a moment to deal with the uncontrollable cockstand in my jeans and get us something solid to eat, and when I return, she seems to be back to her usual mouthy self.
“Is this the only way you can get a woman?” she spits as I cross the empty floor. “All tied up so she can’t fight back?”
“It’s not the only way,” I tell her truthfully. “But it’s what I prefer.”
Her eyes flare.
“Usually they’re more than happy to be bound,” I go on, setting the bag of fast food down on the corner of the mattress. “You’ll be too, sooner or later.”
I stab a straw into one of the plastic cups and bring it to her. Her eyes are still angry, but I also see some confusion. Miel Conde doesn’t know a damn thing about kink.
Despite her attitude, she accepts the drink without hesitation, wrapping plump lips around the straw. She probably expects water, and her eyes dart up at me when the Dr. Pepper hits her tongue. I don’t react, and she carefully masks her own expression, but she greedily guzzles down the sugary soda.
“It’s called bondage,” I say after a moment, pulling the drink away. She watches me suspiciously as I crinkle open the paper wrapper of a cheap burger. “People like me get off on consensually restraining our partners in ropes or cuffs, giving us total control over the scene.”
“That’s not special,” Miel says, refusing the burger I’m now holding at her lips. “That’s just what men do.”
I contemplate this for a moment, and Miel finally takes a bite.
“No,” I say, turning the burger a little bit so Miel can take a bigger bite. “Any asshole can tie someone up and use them. It’s not the same as what I do. The pleasures of bondage go both ways, if you’re doing it right. You have to know what you’re doing.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Miel says through a full mouth. There’s a bit of ketchup smeared by her mouth, but she pulls back when I instinctively reach up to wipe it away. “Why would anyone want to be tied up and helpless?”
“There’s a freedom in letting go,” I tell her, feeding her another bite. Submission has never really done it for me, but I can understand the appeal. “When you’re restrained, you don’t have to get caught up in what you ‘should’ think or do. You have no choice but to submit to the pleasure. Some people need that kind of release, at the hands of someone they trust.”
“I’ll never trust you.”
“You will,” I say simply, crumpling up the empty wrapper and grabbing my own sandwich.
“And then you’ll kill me?” Miel asks. I meet her hard gaze and hold it for a moment.
“And then I’ll kill you.”
I take Miel to the restroom to relieve herself and clean up, then lead her back to the mattress. I straddle her waist to keep her in place as I bind her as best I can under the circumstances, arms and legs spread for me. She doesn’t fight me like I expect her to, going totally limp as soon as I put my weight on her. She keeps her eyes closed, but I can still see reality and the past wage war across her face. Once I’m done with my ties, I move to the side of the mattress and grab her chin, hard, forcing her to open her eyes and look at me.
“Stay with me, woman,” I tell her in my most commanding tone, the one I use both in interrogations and in the bedroom. “Today, you’re mine. I don’t like sharing, not even with ghosts.”
This snaps her out of her flashbacks, her face now a mask of bitter hatred, directed with laserlike focus at me. It makes me smirk, and that only serves to make her angrier.
“You can tie me up all you want,” she says, eyes following me warily as I move to the bottom of the mattress. “But even you can’t control what’s in my head.”
“Oh, I think I can,” I murmur, leaning up and giving her nipples a quick pinch. She fights to hide it, but I see the wave of pleasure dance over her face, the tiny arch in her back. A couple hours ago, her reaction would have been completely different. I meant what I said—I know what I’m doing here. I don’t just know how to dominate a woman’s body. I know how to get inside her head, twist her thoughts into whatever I want them to be. I’ve never used the talent for evil before, but it’s an addictive feeling.
I gently kiss her abused nipples, then work my way down, trailing my lips down her sternum and the hard muscle of her abs, teasing the waistband of her panties. I can feel her breathing hard beneath me, see the tiny tremor in her legs. She has no idea what I’m doing, and that brings me a sick thrill. I saw how she reacted when I tore her bra off with my hands, so I use the knife to cut through the thin fabric of her underwear and toss the scraps aside. Beneath, soft black curls shroud her sex. Keeping my hands on her hips to still her, I kiss and suckle my way up the insides of her thick thighs, deliciously warm and golden and capable of crushing my skull, given the opportunity. I use my fingers to find her slit and spread her lower lips open, and I feel her body go slack in the worst kind of surrender. Before she has time to dissociate again, I lean in close and blow a cool breath on her pussy, causing her to jolt in surprise, and then I dive in.
She gasps when the tip of my tongue hits her clit, tensing her whole body. Her breathing comes fast and hard as I explore the meeting of her legs, in all the ways I know she’s never experienced before. Licking, sucking, dipping, swirling. It takes some work to finally force her body to relax into acceptance, and I begin to taste her tentative wetness, slick and feminine. She makes no sound, but I have to fight the urge to groan in pleasure, my cock throbbing in my jeans. Some men might see it as submission, to be on your knees for a woman, but this feels just as powerful to me as any other part of the game. In this moment, Miel is completely at my mercy, forced to take whatever pain or pleasure I may decide to inflict. I feel the tremor she’s trying so hard to fight, hear her screaming heartrate, taste her inner turmoil. She won’t admit it, but she is completely under my control.
I’ve won.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Miel
Andrews leaves me on the mattress when he’s done with me, tied up, spread out, and utterly confused. I don’t understand what he just did to me. He touched me in all the places where I’ve only known hurt before, and papered the scars over with… pleasure. That’s a stupid word, but it’s the only one I can think of.
I felt trapped at first, completely unable to move and at his mercy. I wanted to disappear into myself, turn it all off, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me firmly tethered in reality with his big hands, his evil tongue. He peeled me back layer by layer, lie by lie, until I was forced to feel it, feel it all.
And it felt fucking good.
I wish he would just waterboard me a little and leave it at that.
Whatever this is, it’s fucking with my mind more than any other torture could. He’s turning me against myself, rewriting my reality, one touch at a time. I hate him, and I hate what he’s doing to me, and I hate how just the thought of his tongue back on me makes my darkest places throb with need. I’m exhausted from fighting to keep my body from reacting, fighting to keep my treacherous thoughts locked away.
I want to give in.
With every cell of my being, I want to give in to his torturous game.
That’s exactly why I can’t.
I don’t care what it costs me. I’m not spending my last days on earth being a goddamn pussy.
Eventually Andrews unties me and lets me sit up on the mattress, though he keeps my ankles and wrists bound, hobbling me. He doesn’t use the fancy knots he did before, the ones that braided up my legs, every brush of his knuckles a hitch in my breath. I never knew rope could look beautiful.
I never knew I could see beauty at all.
The t
iny voice inside of me that I’m spending every waking second trying to smother reminds me that Reggie Andrews is a fucking masterpiece, a god sculpted in onyx and gold. He’s built to inspire fear, the kind of fear that forces you on your knees in worship. Is that beauty, too?
Can something be beautiful and lethal at the same time?
“Here,” he says, placing an open bottle of water between my palms. His stash is running low; he’ll have to buy us more soon.
Unless he’s planning to kill me tonight, tomorrow at the latest. It doesn’t make sense to keep me alive for much longer. He’s just wasting money keeping me fed and hydrated. Not to mention, I’m starting to smell. He’ll have to let me have a proper shower sooner or later.
When I’m done with the water, he has another Cubano ready for me. It’s the same as the first one, arrived in the same styrofoam box. Wherever these are from, the place must be nearby. I start to run possibilities through my head, what that means for me, but then I remind myself that this time, I’m not trying to escape. Andrews is right. This is what I deserve, and I’m done fighting my fate.
“What are you going to do after you kill me?” I ask, finding that I’m genuinely curious. “Will you go back to Atlanta, get your old job back?”
He shrugs, already polishing off the last of his sandwich. He’s the one eating like he’s a starved captive. My Tia Ofelia always said that’s just how boys eat. I guess she was right.
“I’ll need to go visit my mom for a bit,” he says, surprising me both with the content of his answer and the fact that he’s answering at all. “She’s gonna have my ass, after all this time I’ve been gone.”
“How long have you been gone?” I ask. I knew he lost his job before we even met, but I always figured he’d stuck around Atlanta until he showed up here a couple weeks ago.
“Almost a year,” he says, sitting back, as if getting comfortable for a long conversation. “Been on a wild goose chase trying to find you since Selina Palacios burned her mansion down.”
My eyes flick up at him, and I choke down a bite that needed a little more chewing. “Wait, you know it was her?”
“Not for sure,” he says. “But I knew that bitch was capable of anything.”
I nod. Selina changed her fate, time and time again. She demolished the only life she’d ever known, just to write herself a new ending. Something squeezes inside me, the part of me that tries to hate my only friend for abandoning me, but mostly just misses her.
“Wait,” I say, registering his full meaning. “You were looking for me that whole time?”
Andrews seems defensive. “Well, I found you eventually, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, I…” I trail off, not sure what I’m trying to think, let alone say. I glance up and stare into his whiskey eyes, hoping to find the answer there. I don’t. He’s keeping his emotions as heavily masked as I am. “I never thought anyone would spend that much time trying to find me, is all.”
Looking for me, thinking of me, wanting me. I take up more room in this man’s head than everyone else I’ve ever known, combined.
“Well, that’s me,” Andrews says with a tired sigh, standing and taking my empty wad of tin foil and replacing it with a wet wipe. I absently scrub at the mustard at the corners of my mouth and wipe the grease off my chin. Listen, you try eating something with your hands tied together and not get shit all over your face. “Determined, to a fault.”
I think back to his vendetta against Selina and Javier, bordering on obsession. The question pops out of my mouth before I can process it myself.
“Are you obsessed with me?”
He doesn’t seem surprised by the question, only hesitating for a moment.
“Yeah, Miel. I am.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Andrews
It’s been three days since I took Miel.
And I’m nowhere close to being done with her.
I take the long way to the store, stopping by Hard Candy and Sunset Cliffs. I park across the street from the club, and it’s too early for it to be open yet, but everything seems as it should be. The Small One and a kid who looks way too young to be stripping are bickering as she unlocks the side door and lets them in. The parking lot is empty, and there’s no signage on the front entrance to indicate it’s not business as usual. Good. Whatever Miel’s real job was at this establishment, it was nothing that couldn’t be easily replaced.
As I pull back out onto the road, I remember what she said, about there not being anyone else who would look for her as long as I did. I guess she’s right. I would have spent a lifetime hunting her down if I had to, but to the rest of the world, she’s disposable.
At Sunset Cliffs, I’m feeling confident, so I park in her designated spot and jog up the stairs to her unit. No mail to pile up, no notices on her door. With the blinds drawn, there’s nothing to draw anyone’s attention, and I am betting my life that Miel has no friends here to miss her.
The blinds next door shudder as I turn to leave, and I remember the creepy fucker watching me last time. I wait for a moment, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone there. Whatever. A greaseball like that isn’t going to call the cops, no matter what he sees.
I drop by the nearest Winn-Dixie and grab another case of water and the cheapest shit that can still almost pass as a meal, then as an after thought, a bar of soap and a beach towel. Miel was complaining about needing a shower, which is an impossibility, but she can try to clean up in the sink.
My phone starts buzzing when I get to the Mazda, and I dump my bags into the trunk before checking who the caller is. Gabrielle, my middle sister. For a moment, I consider hanging up, but at the last second I accept the call, an action I’m sure to regret.
“Gabs,” I say, shutting the trunk and leaning against it. “What’s good?”
No greeting from my little sister. She takes after our mom like that.
“Alexis told me.”
Fuck.
“Alright, listen—”
“Zuri misses her Uncle Reggie, and Akilah barely even remembers you anymore. And for what?”
I scrub at my tired eyes, only managing to rub more sweat into them.
“I’m not going to waste my time trying to explain myself,” I say, in the inexcusably rude tone you can only use with siblings. “Like I told Mom and Alexis, I’ll be back soon. I’m almost done here.”
A quiet pause. Unlike Alexis, Gabby is old enough to remember Dad’s shooting. She understands why I am the way that I am, but she doesn’t agree with it. She hates that I even became a cop. She was probably happy to hear I got fired.
But of course she’s not, because that’s not who our middle sister is.
“What happened, Reg?” she asks, in a quiet tone that means she’s trying to keep her daughters from eavesdropping. “What are you after that’s worth blowing up your whole damn life?”
Not what. Who.
“I gotta make things right, Gabs,” I say, unintentionally reflecting her quiet tone. “I’m so fucking close.”
“Just come home. It’s not worth it, I promise you.”
When it became clear justice would never be served for our father’s death, my sister took it in stride. She somehow found it in her to forgive, forget, and make a life for herself. But I never gave up. And as much as I love my mom and my sisters, it felt like a betrayal when they decided to heal and move on. Now I’m the last open wound left, tearing myself apart to do the impossible and keep history from repeating itself. Even I have to admit it’s a losing battle, but it’s too late to stop now. I’m long past the point of no return. There’s no fixing me now, so all that’s left to do is take Miel down with me. One last case, one last criminal. I’ll make her pay for the lives she ruined, the way my father’s killers never did, and then… I don’t fucking know what happens then.
“Reg, at least tell me you’re being safe,” my sister’s voice tries again, gentle and indestructible. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t take it too far. Don’t do anything yo
u can’t come back from.”
Too late.
“I’ll be home soon,” is all I say aloud, pushing up from where I’ve been leaning against my car and walking around toward the driver’s seat. “Everyone needs to leave me the hell alone until then.”
I hang up before she has a chance to make me feel any guiltier than I already do, and crank the car.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Miel
I can’t find Javier.
I wander through the warehouse where they’ve been keeping us for the past few weeks. Javier never came back last night, and I’m starting to freak out. I’m too scared to ask anyone about it, though.
“Ay, pendeja.” A strong hand grabs my bony arm, twisting me around. Alejandro. My stomach twists instinctively. “Te estaba buscando.”
“¿Dónde está Javier?” I ask, trying not to let my voice tremble as much as it wants to.
“He got busted,” Alejandro answers, pulling me in the opposite direction of where he usually takes us mules. I stumble along behind him. The sole of my left shoe is almost halfway separated from the rest of the sneaker, and I keep tripping over it. “He’s not gonna be back for a while.”
My lungs gasp for air, my heart crashing wildly against my ribs. Is he going to be okay? Will I be okay, here without him?
“Where are we going?” I ask hesitantly when we get to the darkened corner of the warehouse Javier usually tells me to stay away from. While the rest of the place is already bustling, most of the women on the mattresses here are still dead asleep. “Am I not going out with you today?”
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