Flesh Into Fire

by JA Huss

  “Yeah, well, whatever. You love me. I don’t love good old Ricky. I don’t even know the guy!” I flop back onto the bed where I’ve been sitting and throw my arms above my head. I couldn’t be more of a teenage girl right now if I tried.

  “Listen,” he says in his infuriatingly calm tone, “she’s got the phone, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I pout.

  “And the Ricky guy knows how to get hold of you too, right?”

  “Yeah,” I grudgingly acknowledge.

  “So, look, if she doesn’t reach out to you by the morning, then you can freak out. But she said she would, and my bet is that she will. Give her a little credit. You know her. Worrying like this isn’t helping her and it sure as hell isn’t helping you.”

  I prop myself up on my elbows and watch my best friend, appointed in grey flannel trousers and the most well-tailored white cashmere turtleneck sweater I’ve ever seen, unflinchingly sip his eggnog. He looks like the headmaster at the fancy boys’ school who all the moms, and some of the dads, want to fuck.

  “Give her credit, huh?” I ask.

  He nods, swallows some nog, and says, “Yep.”

  “She’s a total fucking badass, isn’t she?”

  “Always has been, and I see no evidence to suggest that’s changed.”

  I pick my phone up and turn it over and over in my hand. “I just want to know she’s OK. I love her, man.”

  “I know. I love her too.” I open my mouth to start, but he says, “Different. Obvs, bro. But I do. And I’m worried about her too. We lost Scotty. And then we lost her for a long time. And now that we have her back, the last thing I want is to lose her again.” He finishes off his eggnog and turns the empty glass around and around in his hand.

  After a moment’s rumination I say, “If she doesn’t check in before morning…”

  “She will. I feel it in my gut. But if she doesn’t… You’re tracking her? You know where she is?”

  I nod. “Roughly. Yeah. More or less.”

  “Then I’m right there with you when we fucking roll in to get her back.”

  I’ve been looking down at my phone, but that snaps my attention up quick.

  “Dude,” he says, “it’s been a long time since I’ve mixed it up with anyone. I don’t wanna get soft just because I’m settled down. Besides, Robert would never admit it, but he’d think it was hot as shit if I went on some pre-dawn raid on a Mexican drug fortress or whatever the hell it is. Marriage, bro. Gotta keep it spicy.” He winks.

  I sniff and shake my head. “Yeah. OK. Look, man, you get back to your party.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I dunno. Sit here and keep hitting refresh to make sure the phone hasn’t moved.”

  “Nope,” he says, stepping over to grab me by the arm and tug at me.

  “What are you doing? Stop pulling,” I say. (Seriously. I might as well be fifteen and named Britney right now.)

  “Get up, bitch,” he says. “Come out. There’s a shitload more nog and Rodney keeps asking about you.”

  “The fuck’s Rodney?”

  “You met him at Thanksgiving. Owns the salon?”

  “Oh. You mean Mustache?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s him. He’s obsessed with you.”

  “He knows I’m straight, right?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  I take a moment to consider that. “Fair question.”

  “Come on, man. She’ll connect with you soon. I promise,” Evan says.

  I put my hands on my knees and push myself up to head into the party with him, seeing if there’s any way possible I can stop worrying about Maddie for maybe five minutes. I mean, the answer is a resounding no, but I’m nothing if not game.

  “You don’t think Rodney just wants me for my beard, do you?” I ask.

  “I think he wants you in spite of it, man.” Evan claps me on the shoulder and we head into the living room where now we are on to, Five gold rings!

  Please call, Maddie. Please call soon.

  The clock on my phone says four-forty-five AM. I’m lying on my back in my bedroom. The phone is on my chest, staring at me. Mocking me. Toying with me.

  The last of the revelers left over two hours ago. Robert and Evan crawled into bed and Evan told me that I should let him know if Maddie hadn’t called by the time the sun was up. Well, the sun is coming up in a little over an hour and she still hasn’t made contact. I should wait. I should wait one more hour. I should…

  Fuck it.

  I spring out of bed, grab my boots, and lace them up without turning the light on. It’s now officially the morning of Christmas Eve and the late December moonlight streaming in through the window gives me enough visibility to get ready for what I have to do. I grab up my computer. Refresh. Phone’s still there. OK. Good. But not good.

  This is bad. This is very bad. It’s day fucking one and she hasn’t reached out like we talked about. That means one of only two things: One. She’s in a situation where she can’t make contact. Like they’ve got eyes on her twenty-four-seven, or worse, they’ve got her locked down somehow. Or two. They found the phone and also see reason number one.

  There is a third reason why she wouldn’t have called by now, but I won’t even let myself go there. I will not.

  I shove my own phone in my pocket and grab my car keys. And I suddenly wish I still had a gun. I gave the gun I had, Logan’s gun, back to Pete. And Pete took Logan’s other one. Both of them burned up in the fire, presumably. I’m not a big gun guy. I hate them, ironically. But I’d rather have a gun and not need it than need a gun and not have it. (That’s a line from True Romance by Quentin Tarantino. I mean, probably other people have said it too, but Christian Slater says it in that movie right before the whole fucking film turns into one big blood bath. Which, even though I’m hoping this situation won’t… You never know. Shit. Rambling.)

  But I do feel like I need backup. Something that gives me an edge. What I’m about to do is head to an unknown location, without any recon, and no idea of how many hostiles might be fortifying it, to try and confirm the safety of an asset. Shit, no I’m not. Let’s be honest. I’m going on a retrieval mission. Once I get down there and confirm she’s OK (because she has to be), there’s no way I’m leaving without her. So I wish I had a gun. That’s all.

  Because even though I appreciate the offer, I’m not bringing Evan. I can’t. He’s married, and he already puts his life on the line every day. Every day when he goes to work, his husband has no idea of whether Evan will return home at night. And while that’s true for all of us all the time—it’s a dangerous world—that shit is conscious for Evan and Robert. I can’t go into his room and drag him out of his warm bed to go on what might be a very fucked-up mission. I can’t. I won’t. I love him too much.

  And I love Maddie too much not to go.

  But I barely even like myself most of the time, so if one person’s gonna fucking buy the farm in this equation, I vote for me.

  Still… it would be nice to have some kind of backup. Some way of at least knowing what the hell kind of mayhem I might be wandering into.

  And then all of a sudden I realize…

  There is.

  Chapter Sixteen - Maddie

  When I wake up the next morning Carlos is staring at me.

  Not in bed with me, thank God. But sitting in the chair in front of the window. In the same suit he was wearing last night. In the same position as when I closed my eyes after he walked me to my room and waited for me to change into one of the many nighties in the closet. After he pulled the covers back and watched, hungrily, as I got under them. After he tucked me in, or whatever.

  He didn’t touch me. But this man staring at me the entire night was almost worse.

  “Happy Christmas Eve, Madison,” he says.

  Oh, right. Yeah. Happy, happy.

  “Jesus, didn’t you sleep at all?” I ask.

  He just smiles, his face backlit by the rising sun behind
him. “I was too… wound up.”

  He’s referring to the ass-kicking he gave Logan last night at dinner. Beat the ever-loving shit out of him right in front of me. I cannot even imagine what Logan looks like today. Both eyes were already swollen shut last night by the time Ricky pulled Carlos off him. After that all the thugs disappeared, Ricky holding Logan up as he helped him stumble away to wherever one goes after Carlos loses his temper on you. And it was just the two of us. Servants came, cleared the debris as Carlos and I had drinks. They bustled around us like we weren’t even there and set the table again, brought new food.

  And we ate. Like nothing happened.

  Carlos talked about what we’d do today. I offered up the pool as a possibility, since that’s the only thing I’m familiar with and I was shaking so bad after witnessing the extent of his temper, I just said the first thing that came to mind.

  That was his nephew. What would he do to me? Or Ricky? If he knew why we’re really here?

  “And then I was too enthralled by your sleeping face,” he continues. “You’re so beautiful. I didn’t want to close my eyes. Couldn’t close my eyes,” he adds.

  “How sweet,” I say, sitting up in bed. In a very disturbing, psychotic way, I don’t add.

  But, with any luck, I won’t have to worry about Logan anymore. He wouldn’t dare touch me now. Not after… that.

  Shit. I didn’t get a chance to call Tyler and he’s going to be going out of his mind with worry. I mean, my first night and I didn’t check in. All kinds of bad things are probably running through his head.

  Rightly so. Since all kinds of bad things have already happened.

  You think this is bad, Devil says. Wait a few minutes. I’m sure there’s another shit storm coming.

  Yeah, Angel says. This is just the beginning. And you asked for it, so now you gotta deal with it.

  You know you made a serious mistake when both your angel and your devil agree that you’re stupid.

  “Are you hungry?” Carlos asks.

  No. I’m most definitely not hungry. I’m still sick from having to eat food last night, Logan’s bloody face still fresh in my mind. But there are already servants in the room. Probably what woke me up. And they’re setting up a table next to Carlos with plates and plates of food.

  I tossed and turned for hours after getting into bed. But finally, I was so exhausted, the day’s happenings too much for me, there’s no way I couldn’t sleep.

  So… “Yeah,” I say. “Starving.”

  Assimilation is my goal, right? I’ve been here one day. Less than one day, actually. And I’ve had enough. What have I done? What have I agreed to? I just want to get the fuck out of here. Get away from this crazy psycho and put him away for good. But I can’t do that unless he trusts me enough to slip up and give me the information Ricky needs.

  Breakfast it is.

  I do not want to get out of bed wearing this sexy nightie, but what choice do I have? Besides, bad-ass Madison is a stripper. And Carlos’ Madison wouldn’t care about showing her sexy off in front of him.

  So I force myself to get up. Let him look at my legs. My breasts. As I walk slowly to the closet and get a silk robe I saw hanging in there yesterday, and put it on, cinching the sliver of a belt tight around my waist.

  I join Carlos at the table, thankful for the coffee at least, and start picking at my eggs and bacon.

  Carlos eats with enthusiasm. And I start thinking, like really thinking this whole plan through for the first time, and realize this is all normal for him. Beating his nephew to within an inch of his life is just standard practice. You piss off Carlos Castillo and he doesn’t forgive you. No matter who you are.

  Which gets me thinking…

  “You know,” I say. “I have a question for you. But it’s really none of my business.”

  “Ask,” Carlos says, still busy eating his breakfast. “The worst that can happen is that I say nothing.”

  “Is it?” I ask. “Is that the worst that can happen? I mean… you got pretty mean with Logan last night.”

  Carlos stops eating. Fork midway to his mouth. And looks at me.

  Shit.

  “You wanted me to get mean with Logan, Madison. That’s why you told your little story.”

  “OK,” I say, letting out a long breath of air. “Maybe that’s true. But your… your reaction took me by surprise.”

  “He disrespected you,” Carlos growls. “And he lied to me about that day you beat him. He said Pete’s men did that. And then he used that lie for revenge. He used me.”

  “So this is my question,” I say, swallowing down my fear. “If Pete took a woman you loved, then why did you let him live? Why did you let her live? If… if you don’t mind my asking.”

  Carlos places his fork down on the table. Wipes his mouth with his napkin. Takes a sip of water. Then places both hands on the table, leaning in as he stares at me.

  My stomach does this flip thing. That feeling you get when things are about to go terribly wrong. That feeling you get when you realize you’ve made a mistake and nothing good is gonna happen ever again, because this is a major fuckup.

  But I force myself to stare back at him.

  “Because I loved her. And I wanted to keep her safe. And back then… I was young. And stupid. And took too many risks. Pete loved her too, and she loved him. And I realized…” He sits back in his chair, maybe relaxing a little, and takes a deep breath. “I realized… if she stayed with me she’d die. Someone would kill her if she was with me then. I was not yet… the man I am today. So I let her go.”

  “And me?” I ask. “You’re not worried about someone killing me?”

  He smiles. It’s a very evil, drug-lord smile. “No one can touch me now, Madison. You’re perfectly safe.”

  I force myself to sigh with feigned relief. And then I smile. A fake smile that does its job and makes him smile back. Makes him relax even more. And I begin to eat.

  He eats too. And we say nothing for a little bit. Me thinking about all the ways in which he’s gonna kill me when he figures out why I’m here. Him probably planning our wedding. Which is ironic, since he only met me because I was his daughter’s wedding planner. Fucking hilarious. Or not.

  “One more question,” I ask, something else suddenly bothering me.

  “Yes?” Carlos says, finished eating now. Opening up the morning newspaper.

  “Your daughter…”

  He glances up at me over the paper but says nothing.

  “I mean, she…” I swallow hard.

  Don’t say it, Angel says.

  Yeah, Devil agrees. This is a very bad idea.

  But I do anyway. Because I need to know. “She disrespected you too. Didn’t she? Much worse than Logan. So… I just…”

  He clears his throat. “Did I kill her?” he deadpans.

  I nod, afraid of his answer.

  He stares at me. Smiles the creepiest, most unnerving smile I’ve ever seen. And then he folds his paper and stands up. “You wanted to play in the pool again today? Get changed and I’ll meet you out there in a little bit.”

  And then he turns away, walking towards the door.

  “Madison,” he says. I turn my head to look at him. His hand on the doorknob. His back to me.

  “Yes,” I say, almost a whisper.

  “You came here of your own free will. And yes, you like my money and my power, but you’re honest with me. And I like that.” He glances over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine. “As long as you’re honest with me, you have nothing to worry about.”

  I nod as he opens the door.

  But he stops again and says, “Wear a bikini today. I want to see your body.” And then he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

  I force myself not to freak out. Like… I cannot afford to freak out. But when I get in the closet and see my suitcase, it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to grab that sat phone, call Tyler, and beg him to get me out of here right the fuck now.

  Two things
stop me. One. I am sure there’s cameras in here. Positive. And two, I can’t bring Tyler into this. No way am I getting him killed.

  So I deal. I suck it up and deal. I put on the skimpiest bikini in the drawer, the highest stripper shoes on the shelf, and don’t even bother with the cover-up this time.

  I need that information, and I need it fast. Maybe he was a good man once upon a time. Maybe he let Carolina go. But he said it himself. He’s not the same man he was back then.

  He’s worse.

  When I get out to the pool, I’m surprised that there’s a bunch of men sitting with Carlos around the patio table. And when I walk past, meeting Carlos’ appreciative gaze as he checks me out, I wonder if maybe they’re business associates. Possibly? Nobody else is around. Not Ricky, or servants, or anyone. It’s like a secret cabal. Could this be a chance to get the information I’m here for? I should see how far I can insert myself into his business. I have to try. Otherwise, what’s the point?

  So I try to sit in his lap, but even though Carlos’ hands are all over me saying one thing, his mouth says something completely different. “Get in the pool, Madison. And swim around so I can watch you.”

  I nod and obey, walking into the water, fear replacing the refreshing feeling I had yesterday. I swim laps. Back and forth, back and forth for what seems like hours, but they never talk loud enough for me to hear anything. And their Spanish is a lot of slang that I don’t really understand.

  After a while I get tired and start to get out, until Carlos says, “Keep swimming, Madison.”

  So I swim some more, all the while he has his important meeting just twenty yards away and I get no information out of it.

  I will have to stay here for God knows how long. Despite Emily’s insistence that we cap the amount of time I can be here… she’s not here now. Ricky is. And it’s clear that Ricky is ready to let me spend the rest of my life here if that’s what it takes.

  How stupid was I? How naïve was I? To think I could get what I need in one day? That I could stop him from fucking me? That I had any control over this situation at all?

  Hours go by and I eat lunch alone, sitting at a separate table across the pool from Carlos and his pals. All the while I’m sure they’re talking about things I could use. Things that could get me out of here. Things that could save my life.