Vice

by Callie Hart

  “Sam! Please, come back!”

  I have no idea how Natalia remembers to call me by my cover name, but she does, thank god. She sounds stricken with fear, but I am no longer in control of my own body. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I stride across the lawn, fire slamming through my veins. When I see Harrison holding out the gun, when I see that it is, in fact, my gun, I break into a run.

  No fucking way is he shooting Plato with my gun.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  Harrison sees me coming. A wicked, morbid smile spreads across his face as he pivots, redirecting the gun, aiming it at me. He’s not a marksman, though. He couldn’t hit a moving target if his life depended on it. He clearly didn’t get to practice his aim all that much as a private contractor out in the desert. I duck to the left and he doesn’t even bother to fire. He knows it would be a wasted shot. He plants his feet, bracing, as though, he’s getting ready for me, and I almost burst into laughter. He’s the same height as me, the same build as me, but we are not equal opponents. Not even fucking close.

  I barrel into him, one arm already extended, hitting him in the neck. With my other arm I grab hold of him firmly around his waist. He’s winded, unable to breathe. At the same time he’s trapped, unable to escape me to right himself.

  He makes a broken huffing sound as I take him to the ground.

  These guys, these fucking idiots, posers like him…they’re all about the powerful right hook. That’s all they have in them. Me, on the other hand? I’m trained in Krav Maga. I’m a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I’ve been training in Muay Thai for as long as I can fucking remember. I’m so much more than a mean right hook. I’m a devastating chokehold. I’m a brutal roundhouse kick to the head. Basically, I’m way more than this fucker can handle, and he’s about to fucking die.

  “Get…off…me…mother…fucker!” Harrison gurgles, straining as he tries to get the words out. I don’t get off. I jam my knuckles into his throat, making it even harder for him to breathe.

  “Don’t! God, please, don’t!” Plato, still with his hands tied behind his back, is crawling towards us on his knees. “Don’t! Fuck, man, please, just back the fuck off!”

  I’m so close to killing this fucker. So close to wrapping my legs around him, pinning him to the ground, and grinding his face into the dirt. I’d do it. I would finish the job in a fucking heartbeat, but then Harrison’s men are on me, eight rifles pointed in my face, and suddenly my death is upon me.

  If this is the way I’m going to die, then so fucking be it. Plato risked his ass for mine. It’s only right that I hand mine over to save his. There’s so much going on around me that it’s hard to differentiate sound. I hear two or three of the guys priming their rifles, metallic clicking all around me, but everything else is just white noise.

  “Release him. Now,” one of Harrison’s men snaps. He’s an American too, by the sounds of things. Another of them jabs me in the back with the butt of his rifle, hard enough to bruise. I know I need to let Harrison go, but I’m a stubborn asshole. A very large part of me would rather die than let him win this one.

  “Sam, please!”

  It’s not Plato pleading with me now; it’s Natalia. She arrives in front of me, dropping to her knees at my side, and she’s crying hard. “There’s already too much death,” she whispers. “Persephone was enough. Don’t you die, too. Don’t you fucking die. You’re supposed to take me away from this place.”

  The words are like a slap in the face. I’ve daydreamed about asking her to leave with me sure enough, but I never thought she’d straight up ask to come with me when I leave. If I leave. I feel the fire draining from my body. Letting go of Harrison, I shove the son of a bitch forward, and he topples over, falling face first into the grass.

  “You have no idea…how fucked you are now, my friend,” he rasps out. “Fernando’s not going to be happy when he finds out you’ve been messing around with his daughter. When he confirms you’ve been messing around with her.”

  “Shut your mouth, asshole. You’re lucky I don’t try and stick something sharp and serrated up your ass.”

  Harrison’s men draw closer. He’s mad. So fucking mad. Mad enough that I expect him to order one of them to shoot, but before he can say the words, an enraged shout goes up on the other side of the lawn. It’s Fernando. And he has his ball hammer in his hand.

  The wolves appear to be done with their meal. Most of them have gone, vanished back into the forest. I see two of them slowly heading away from the house, melting into the shadows once more, leaving Persephone’s remains strewn across the lawn. Fernando is the epitome of madness; he stalks across the grass, smashing his hammer into whatever pieces of her he can find—a leg, stripped to the bone; the hollowed-out shell of her torso; her skull—and the sound of shattering bone fills my ears.

  So. Fucked. Up.

  Natalia stifles a gasp when she sees what her father is doing. Harrison grins. “That’s what he’s going to do to lover boy here when I tell him what I just heard. You’re supposed to take me away from this place,” he snaps, mimicking Natalia is a high-pitched voice. “How long has he kept you here for, little Natalia? How hard has he worked to ensure you never leave? And now this cunt shows up and he plans on taking you away from him? Oh, no. No, no, no. He’s not going to like that one bit.”

  Natalia looks like she’s about to fly at the bastard. I want to stop her from trying to scratch his eyes out, but I still have eight rifles aimed at my head, and one false move will get me killed. “Natalia. Stay calm. He’s not going to say anything to Fernando.”

  Harrison wears a look of mock surprise. “I’m not? Why the fuck would I sit on a juicy piece of information like that? You’ve embarrassed me. Made a fool out of me. You just tried to strangle me to death. Hasn’t done much to cement a brotherly camaraderie between us, Garrett.”

  “If you think you can get the words out of your mouth and order your men to shoot me before I kill you, then by all means, go ahead. But ask yourself…while you were sitting around on your ass, wearing those J Crew khakis of yours in Afghanistan, what do you think I was doing? Was I sipping motherfucking mai tais and relaxing by the pool? Or was I killing countless motherfuckers with my bare hands?”

  “Kechu! Natalia! I was beginning to wonder where you had both gotten to! You missed all of the fun.” Fernando arrives at Harrison’s side, still holding on to his ball hammer. His face is splattered with blood, his hair standing on end, and his shirt is ripped at the collar. I can picture all too well Persephone struggling with him as he dragged her across the lawn. He wouldn’t have cared. He wouldn’t have blinked an eyelid as he hauled her out in front of everyone toward her death.

  “My, my, Kechu. You have guns pointed at your head again. You have a real knack for getting yourself into trouble, it would seem. Might I ask, Harrison, what our guest has done to warrant such unfriendly behavior this time?” He sounds so civilized, so reasonable, his voice calm and even, and yet it looks like he’s just crawled out of hell.

  Harrison shoots me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. He wants to tell Fernando what he just heard Natalia say, but he’s also considering what I just said to him as well. I’ll fucking kill him if he opens his mouth. Fernando will keep me chained on the lawn until tomorrow, when the wolves return hungry again, but it’s the potential repercussions Natalia might have to endure that are bothering me most. Harrison must see the look on my face. He must see that I fucking meant what I said, and he must be pretty confident in my abilities to carry about my promise. He grinds his teeth together, scowling. “I was trying to punish this little punk, and he came out of nowhere. He prevented me from carrying out your justice.”

  Fernando frowns. “Why would you do that, Kechu? This man belongs to me,” he says, pointing to Plato. He interfered when I brought that treacherous bitch out here. He tried to assault me in order to set her free. Surely you don’t think I can tolerate that kind of behavior? If I did, the fragile ecosystem here would
quickly fall into disarray. My business would not operate anymore. I would no longer be able to provide comfort and security for my daughter.”

  He sounds legitimately hurt, like he can’t understand why I might possibly consider doing such a thing to him. “He’s a human being,” I snarl. “And you were about to kill his friend. He can’t help caring. He can’t help wanting to save her.”

  Fernando considers this. He looks down at his hammer, and I can already see him taking it to me in my mind. He spins the weapon around in his hand, looking perplexed. “What is it you Americans say all the time? You are walking a fine line? You are skating on thin ice? One of those things. Here in Orellana, we say, ‘you are dangerously close to angering Fernando Villalobos.’ It’s simpler, I feel. More to the point. Please do not get in the way of my employees again, Kechu. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to take action. It’s only my respect for you, and for the deal that we have made, that stays my hand here.”

  I’m shocked. I didn’t try and butter him up; the look I gave him was contemptuous to say the least. And here he is, letting me off the hook? I’m either lucky or cursed to be in this man’s good graces. Only time will tell. He gestures up at the house. “Why don’t you go back inside, Kechu? There is some business I must take care of here, and I wish to speak to my daughter in private. Once I am done with her, I would like to speak with you also. I have some questions I must ask you.”

  Harrison looks devastated. I’m sure he thought I was about to get murdered brutally right before his eyes. Fernando turns and walks past him without even acknowledging him. Fixing Plato in his sights, he raises up his hammer. I think he’s going to taunt Plato with it, just scare him a little, but that’s not what happens. Plato flinches as Fernando brings the hammer down on the side of his knee. It’s a devastating blow, and Plato screams, falling onto his side, unable to break his fall with his hands still tied behind his back. My stomach twists. I step forward, seconds from trying to stop this madness again, but Plato shakes his head, just the tiniest of shakes, and I know what he’s trying to tell me: Don’t. You’ll only make it worse. Please, just let it go.

  I turn and I bolt back into the house, trying not to listen to the anguished cries of the stranger who did his best to save me.

  ******

  “You see, Kechu, I’ve been under a lot of pressure. Pressure makes me a little crazy sometimes. Plato understands that. He knows he cannot act against me without reprisal. He’s hurt right now, but he will recover soon enough. When he is healed and ready to go back to work, he will be a little more mindful of his place here in the estate. I have to be heavy handed with them on occasion. If you were in my position, I’m sure you would sympathize.”

  I’m sure I fucking wouldn’t. Then again, I would never be in his position. Nothing could ever tempt me into the kind of life Fernando leads. He sits across from me, shuffling papers from one end of his desk to the other, and I’m hit once more by how straight-laced he appears from the outside. He looks like an administrator, or business advisor of some kind. Now that he’s cleaned off the blood and gore of earlier, that is.

  “I’m especially tense since we have so many guests with us at the moment. Normally when we have a large group come and visit, we hold a party in their honor. I had hoped that might be avoided this time, but my clients were disappointed that a celebration wasn’t on the cards. As such, we will be holding a party in three days’ time. I wanted to make sure you are aware of what is about to happen here at the house, and advise you that any discord between my guests is strictly prohibited during these times. There will be no fighting. There will be no disorderly conduct. If need be, there will be no interaction between warring factions. Do I make myself clear, Kechu? You are a guest here, just as my other clients are, however one foot wrong will see you clearly into troublemaker territory, and once there…it is remarkably difficult to go back. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Kechu?”

  I grunt, staring at the heavy metal pen on his desk. In my head, I lean across, snatch up the pen, and I jam the thing right into his fucking jugular. “Yeah, I hear you. Toe the line, or I’m out.”

  “More than out, Kechu. You are dead. And, strangely, I have come to enjoy your presence here at the estate. Your fiery attitude is refreshing, when so many people come here grovelling and scraping. But there is a limit to what I find entertaining. I would hate to have to cut short this newly forged business relationship, when it could prove so lucrative to both sides. Don’t you agree?”

  “One hundred percent.” I’m concealing my hatred right now like a boss. It’s difficult, though. I just keep thinking of that mass grave. Natalia is so desperate to believe Fernando buried Laura up there on the hillside, overlooking the valley and the river below, but I know better. He buried her there, with his family? With his dead wife, and his dead father? I don’t fucking think so. Fernando’s disregard for life is phenomenal. He wouldn’t have cared about Laura any more than he cared about Persephone, and look what happened to her. I didn’t see anyone picking up the remains of that poor girl, collecting her up in order to take her up the side of the mountain to bury her. No. Laura met with a far more gruesome fate than Natalia is prepared to accept, and I am having no problem picturing it. It fucking haunts me as I sit on the other side of the desk from Fernando, smiling easily, agreeing to his terms.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’ve been very rude. Our cultures and our households are very different. I promise, I’ll respect your way of doing things from here on out. You don’t need to worry. I won’t interfere in your affairs any further. And I definitely won’t cause any trouble at your party. In fact, I’m actually looking forward to it. If I’m invited, of course.”

  Fernando smiles, his thin lips stretching across his skeletal face. “Of course you are invited, Kechu. It would make me very happy if you would help me oversee the event, in fact. As I’m sure you are already personally aware, Harrison takes his job very seriously. Another pair of eyes and ears on the ground cannot hurt, though. Do you think you’re up for the task?”

  Oh, he has no fucking idea. I’m up for the task all right. I’m seriously up for the task. “I’d be thrilled to help out,” I say. And in the back of my mind, I’m already planning how to use this event to my advantage. It’s the perfect opportunity to strike against him. With so many people here, milling about in the house, strangers with unfamiliar faces, it will be easy for me to slip in and out of the crowd.

  “Good,” Fernando says, sitting back in his chair. “I would also like you to do me a personal favor. My daughter, Natalia, is very beautiful, as I am sure you will have noticed. Some of the men who come here get caught up in the atmosphere at these parties. It is a constant worry to me that one of them will overstep and try to harm her in some way. I would be very grateful if you would make sure that does not happen.” There’s a tone to his voice, something edgy and sharp that makes his words sound like a warning. Don’t you overstep. Don’t you harm her. If he really suspected that there was any chance I might do that, though, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. Not in a million years. I would be wolf bait.

  “It gives me great comfort to know you are on my side, Kechu,” Fernando tells me, rising from his chair. “I’m not afraid to tell you that I will be disappointed when you have to leave Orellana. If you decide on staying longer, you would be more than welcome here in my home.”

  ******

  Later, in my room, I’m expecting Harrison to drop by and pay me a visit (along with a pair of knuckle dusters). He didn’t seem happy at all that Fernando didn’t punish me for attacking him, and revenge seems like it would be his M.O. What I’m not expecting is Natalia, rapping against the French doors on my balcony at eight minutes after midnight, dressed in a tiny silk slip of material that makes my dick instantly hard. Her nipples are peaked, very visible through the thin fabric, and I want to run my hands over them. I don’t know why the tension of the afternoon has made me crazy. It seems every tim
e I’m about to go on a killing spree, all I want to do is fuck this girl. Seriously.

  I open the French doors, letting her into the room. “I think this is supposed to be the other way around,” I tell her. “Aren’t I supposed to climb through your bedroom window?”

  She smiles a small, nervous smile. There are dark shadows under her eyes, dark and bruised-looking. “I just…I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I wanted to see you. To see if…you are okay?”

  “I’m fine.” This is only half true. I’m calmer than I was earlier, but I’m also almost certain now that Laura ended up in an open grave, with god knows how many other bodies piled in on top of hers, and that is not putting me in a good headspace.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Persephone,” Natalia says sadly. “I should have been here, back at the house. I would have been able to talk him down.”

  “How many times have you tried to stop him from doing something like that before?” I ask. “And how many times has he ignored you and done it anyway?” I can tell from the way her jaw is set and her cheeks are flushed that the answer to my question, though she won’t admit it, is many. “Today wouldn’t have been any different, Natalia. You can’t hold yourself accountable for every evil thing your father does.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she says. “Sometimes I wonder if I could try harder to reach him, though. I wonder if my own fear of him gets in the way of trying to help these people.”

  “Stop. You’re beating yourself up over something you have no control over. There isn’t a doctor out there who wouldn’t diagnose your father as clinically insane. It’s okay that you’re afraid of him. Even if you did stand up to him, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

  Natalia sits down on the edge of my bed, head hanging low. “I just can’t stop thinking that—”