The Pimp (Colombian Cartel Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Brook

  I know he’s trying to make me feel better but I’m not convinced. It isn’t normal to enjoy killing. I should be feeling guilt, remorse, something. But I feel no regret. The only thing I feel is the fear of being separated from Diego. His voice interrupts my thoughts.

  “Come on, it’s time to question the girl.”

  He calls Demente’ and tells him to bring her upstairs. Moments later, Demente’ arrives with the mystery woman in tow…and his arm wrapped protectively around her. He doesn’t strike me as the tender type. Maybe he just needed to rescue a damsel in distress. The cartel’s knight in shining black armor. The thought brings a smile to my lips and Diego eyes me suspiciously. I just shrug. Maybe I’ll tell him later, maybe I won’t.

  “Sit.” Diego nods toward a small sitting area in a recessed alcove in the corner of the room near the bed. Demente’ and the woman lower themselves into two high back, ornate chairs that look more like thrones. As big as the chairs are, Demente’s large frame still swallows his up as if it’s non-existent. The woman, on the other hand, is petite in every way. She is slim and well over a foot shorter than Demente, with a long, russet mane of hair that she has swept over one shoulder. She appears to have had a shower and, other than her visible bruises, looks much more composed than the last time I saw her. Perhaps the man holding her hand has something to do with that. Hmm.

  Diego calmly sits on the antique bench at the end of the huge four poster bed and steeples his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches the woman intently.

  “Look at me,” he commands her when she looks down, studying the carpet. “What’s your story, girl?”

  She looks up at Demente’, whose eyes soften as he nods almost imperceptibly at her. With a gulp and a deep, shuddering breath, she tells her story in halting, broken English. The girls who come here from Mexico are encouraged to learn the language, so communicating in English quickly becomes a habit and a source of pride.

  “Santiago…he steal me. He lie and tell me he give me job here, a real job, not drug mule, not prostitute. But when I get here, he give me to that man she save me from.” She takes a minute to look at me. “Thank you. You save me from that animal.”

  “So he brought you here from Sinaloa?” Diego continues, and I frown because I can’t quite place her accent. She doesn’t sound like she’s from Sinaloa.

  “I’m Colombian. I have problems because of that when I live in Sinaloa. Drug war so bad there—they kill people in the street and no one do anything. The people…they no safe. I thought if I come here and get job. You know…maybe a better life for me.”

  “She’s one of ours, boss. Can we keep her?” Demente’ jumps in and I have to resist laughing because he can look so mean and yet he’s being so tender with her now. The term gentle giant comes to mind.

  I raise my eyebrows and smile at Diego. He grins back at me, pretty much reading my mind.

  “She’s not a puppy, Demente’,” Diego answers him. Demente’ frowns, then he and the woman just look at each other like they’re confused.

  “What’s your name?” Diego asks her.

  “Dulce.”

  “Wow, what a combination, the two of you together, demented sweetness,” I say and am rewarded with a genuine smile from Demente. He immediately addresses Diego on Dulce’s behalf, repeating his request with a frown.

  “So can I keep her, boss?”

  The guy’s like a big kid asking his dad for something in a store, but I can read the dynamic between these two men enough to know there is a lot at stake in this moment. The fact that a man as big as Demente’ is clearly asking for Diego’s blessing and probably wouldn’t pursue a relationship with her if Diego said no, hits me hard.

  “How do you know she wants to stay with you?” Diego asks flatly.

  She places her hand on Demente’s arm. “I want to be here. My Demente’…He make me safe.”

  I bet he does, he’s a fucking animal. Boy, is this ever déjà vu. What is it with these guys and damsels in distress?

  Her words seem to make Demente sit even straighter. Diego looks back and forth between them for a long moment before finally acquiescing. “Yes, you can keep her. But she’s your responsibility. Any fuck-ups are on you.”

  A look of solemn understanding passes between them, these two alpha males who put cartel above all else. Dulce doesn’t strike me as an informant or a source of deliberate trouble, but sometimes people can make mistakes and cause problems without meaning to. Demente’ knows that if this woman does anything to betray or damage the cartel, she’s as good as dead – and that he would lose his life because he vouched for her.

  Demente’ is willing to risk everything for a woman he just met. A week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to understand it, but now I do.

  “There won’t be any mistakes, Diego, because I’ll be watching her every move.”

  That I don’t doubt. If these guys are anything, it’s obsessive. When you live a life of chaos, control is a precious commodity. You’re always looking over your shoulder.

  Diego nods, then stands and gestures toward the door. “We’ve got work to do. Take her and go.”

  Demente’ doesn’t waste any time rushing her out of the room, as if he’s worried Diego might change his mind. When the door closes behind them, I can’t help but notice the long, tender silence that reigns outside the door before their footsteps can be heard fading in the distance.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  My Command

  “I’ll do anything you want. Please, don’t do this.”

  I hold the machete up, clasping one of her delicate fingers and running it over the razor-sharp edge, deliberately slicing into the skin. I dip her finger in my mouth, licking the blood and savoring the metallic taste of yet another woman’s fear.

  “I-I’ll make you feel real good if you’ll just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please, let me suck you off. I’ll even let you take my ass, you can do whatever you want. I promise I won’t tell. I promise I won’t tell.”

  She says it again and again, as if repeating it enough will make me believe her. The desperation in her voice is not altogether surprising, considering that her only hope is me – the monster who has her trapped like a rat out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “You’ll let me? Believe me, if your ass was of any interest to me, I’d have split you open by now. No, the only thing that makes me feel good is being in control, having absolute dominion over life…and death.” There’s no point in being coy with this woman. Might as well let her know what she’s in for tonight because she’s never getting out of here alive. “I have to do this, it’s the reason I brought you here. Now be a good girl and hold your arm out straight.”

  When she yanks it away from me, I backhand her, sending her platinum blonde hair sailing over her face as I yank her arm back in my direction, jabbing at veins with my fingertip, looking for one that’s ready to take the contents of the drug-filled syringe I now hold. With all that hair in the way, she doesn’t see the needle coming until it’s too late.

  “Now, don’t be so selfish. You’re here to provide pleasure for men…to make them feel ‘real good’ as you so delicately put it. It’s your job now. It’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

  I’m talking to her in a conversational tone as I inject the drug into her veins, like what I’m doing isn’t wrong, like it isn’t human trafficking, but we both know it is. Some women take more convincing than others do. Judging by her glazed eyes and the smile that teases her lips now, she cares less and less about the lack of propriety in what’s expected of her. By the time I’m finished with her, she’ll eagerly fuck fifty men a day just to get her fix.

  “Selfish? Y’crazy? No one sh’ have to die,” she slurs as the drugs hit their target, drenching her brain’s pleasure receptors with enough juice to render her helpless…and compliant. “Yer cartel. You kill people fer a livin’. Bu’ me? I put assh
oles li’you away fer a livin’. I don’t wah’ your fuckin’ drugs, mmmmm…”

  Her head bobs languidly as she tries to remain lucid, tries to speak, tries to convince herself she isn’t enjoying the heroin. She doesn’t need my drugs…yet, but she sure is enjoying the high.

  I breathe out as if I’m exasperated, “So you say now. After this you’ll beg me for more, and you’ll be willing to do anything and anyone to get it. By the time you’ve been on this shit for a week you’ll be begging to fuck anybody for your next hit. And I’ll expect you to do more than just lay there when you do. That will get you nothing. No, to get this liquid gold in your veins, I’ll expect you to fuck with enthusiasm and stamina and skill, sending each customer away thinking his dick’s the best you’ve ever had.”

  She stares up at me, her eyes widening as at least some of my words hit their mark. She screams long and loud in protest. Our screams begin to blend together, creating a chaotic, discordant cacophony of noise. The jumble of sounds is like sweet music to my ears because it means that she’s in chaos, and I’m in control. All is as it should be.

  A moment later, silence reigns as her head lolls to the side and the drugs overwhelm her system. Every mindfuck is different but this time was so fucking gratifying, and not just because she’s the criminal prosecutor we snatched from the sidewalk after Brook’s one and only drug sale the other night. That was just an unexpected bonus. No, usually these women whine and sniffle like spoiled children, but this one joined in the anarchy and, for the briefest instant, we were one.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Diego

  “Santiago’s deliberately targeting our women, stealing them,” Brook says as she reads Santiago’s book of transaction records.

  “I’m worried he’s doing more than that,” I mutter.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what if that son of a bitch is taking women we don’t even know about? If he’s going to that kind of trouble, he’s not going to have some small operation. Santiago’s a mover and a shaker, and he’s arrogant as hell. What if he’s got his own human trafficking ring going? Hell, we already know he’s using women as mules to get drugs in and out of Mexico. All he’d have to do is get them hooked on drugs and they’d do anything he wants – oldest trick in the book, no pun intended. Let’s face it, women are in endless supply. They can be used as prostitutes or mules. They can even be used to set up enemy cartel.

  “Stealing women is a sure-fire way to generate income his bosses don’t know about. He could be using the ruse of bringing them over to be mules and giving money to the cartel. The ones he sets up as prostitutes could be his source of hidden income. If he plays his cards right, no one would be the wiser.”

  She’s flipping through the book as she listens to me, nodding in agreement. “We really need to look up these coordinates.”

  I follow her over to the computer where she enters the coordinates of one of the locations from the list.

  “Feeling at home on my computer already, I see.” I run my fingers through her long, raven hair as I think out loud. “The natural, silky texture of your hair feels so much better. Why on earth did you curl it and style it so much before?”

  “Oh, you know what they say, the higher the hair the closer to God. I figured, I needed all the help I could get.”

  I can’t help but laugh at the image she creates with her words. “Well, I’m afraid your lofty aspirations for redemption will have to wait. I can’t wait to grab a fistful of this hair while your lips are wrapped around my cock.”

  “If I’m going to be your so called property I may as well be at home here. Okay, look at this; this is showing a wooded area near the river.”

  I squeeze the back of her neck with just enough force to get her attention. “A perfect place for the dead bodies of cartel enemies.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I know plenty, believe me. The less you know, the safer you are.”

  “That’s not true, Diego. I’m not going into this shit blind. How can I be of any help to you if I don’t know what to expect? Now, do you know something I don’t?”

  “I know a lot of things you don’t. Concerning this… I know as much as you do, nothing. We aren’t dealing with just one situation here; we’re dealing with every single person and location in that book. All I do know is Santiago is doing some pretty underhanded deals and if he is part of a human trafficking ring, I’m taking that shit down. It’s one thing for a woman to willingly get involved in prostitution, but it’s another thing entirely for her to be taken against her will and forced into it.”

  “Do you think any of these locations might be stash houses?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. What I do know,” I purr as I bend down and nuzzle her neck and cup a breast, “is that if we’re going to be walking around in the woods, we need to be dressed appropriately. You wouldn’t want to be bitten by a snake, now, would you...”

  She turns her face up toward mine on a sigh, her eyes closing. “Mmm, too late.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Brook

  With the GPS giving us courteous, patient directions to our destination, I can relax and sneak the occasional peek at the man sitting next to me. His black hair gleams with what could almost be hues of blue as street lights cast shadows inside the SUV. An aquiline nose and strong jawline speak of a man of quiet intensity who is capable of ruthless violence. The five o’clock shadow remains in place, ever since I mentioned that I liked it.

  “Querida, you’re making my cock hard staring at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I ask innocently.

  I slide my hand along his thigh, eager to feel between his legs. He speaks the truth; his erection is straining against his zipper. I run my thumb back and forth over the outline of the tip, smiling when he shudders and growls softly.

  He doesn’t stop me as I unzip his jeans and release his impressive cock. The heavy weight of his erection falls into my hand, so hot and so ready. “You look so sexy in jeans, dressed like cartel.”

  “What do you mean?” he mutters indignantly. “Colombian cartel wear suits.”

  “I hear the girls talk. They say Ricardo and Antonio Wayne look hot in jeans, even camo sometimes. So are you saying you look Sinaloan?” I ask him teasingly as I lean down, my grin making it clear that I’m up to no good.

  “Hell, no. I look like me—Colombian through and through.”

  My only response is to lock my lips over the head of his engorged cock and pull him in deep, over and over. When he runs his fingers through my hair and clenches his fist at the roots, I lift my mouth from his cock long enough to say something I’ve never said to any man. “Pull it. Hard.”

  “I’ve created a monster,” he groans. “I told you, you’re a natural. I’m only bringing out what was already inside you.”

  His words spur me on. I plunge my mouth up and down his cock, pausing only to trace the heavy vein with my tongue. When he swells in my mouth, I seal my lips around him, not wanting to waste a drop. A stream of hoarse expletives bursts from his lips as the first stream of cum hits the back of my throat. As the orgasm rolls through him, his thighs tighten and a raspy groan accompanies each tight pump of his hips. When I raise my head, he’s white knuckling the steering wheel, his face and neck muscles clenched and flushed. What he says next throws me completely off guard.

  “As much as I enjoyed that, I have something to say to you. I was waiting for you to bring it up but since you didn’t, it’s up to me. The next time you steal money from one of my enemies and try to hide it, I’m going to take a cattle prod to you until the pain is so excruciating you piss yourself. Thirty thousand dollars you took from Santiago’s safe, Arroyita. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were hiding that money to start a new life without me. I’d kill you before I ever let you outsmart me. How the hell you could think that I would see you take the drugs but miss you taking the money, is beyond me. But not to worry, De
mente has taken care of it already. It is no longer an issue.”

  His voice is the same calm, deceptively smooth tone it always is. As usual, his hard eyes give the real man away. When am I going to learn? I’m basing my perception of how dangerous he is on my past experiences. Men who have screamed and slapped women across the face are all I’ve ever seen. This is different and I’ve underestimated him.

  He’s known about the money ever since I took it from Santiago’s house. He watches and waits, and then…just like the Equis, he strikes with no warning. The problem is, just like with the Equis, the attack always results in death or, at best, a crippling injury. How odd that before I ever knew him, I did the same thing. I didn’t kill Santiago, but I sure as hell maimed him. Perhaps Diego and I are more alike than I thought. And somehow he’s always seen it, that we’re the same.

  “I’m sorry, Diego.”

  “Sorry you stole the money? Sorry you did something that could have given the enemy power because of a peace treaty we have with them? Or sorry you got caught? Which is it?” he asks coldly.

  “I’m sorry…for not trusting you.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Diego

  In time, she’ll see we’re the same. I’ve just had more time and experience to temper my vicious impulses. I see it in her, though; the calm demeanor she has as she studies her surroundings and the people around her. What she doesn’t realize is that she’s in more danger now than she’s ever been.

  We follow the coordinates and make a right turn onto a dirt road that leads deep into some woods.

  “What the hell could be out here?” she asks skeptically.

  “I already told you, dead bodies, buried treasure…more dead bodies.”

  “Please stop talking about dead bodies, Diego.”

  “Why? You’re in the dead body business now. The only time it should bother you is when the body might be yours. Or mine.”