by M Dauphin
“Where are you taking me?” I growl at him.
“The Hit.” His answer is void of any emotion I thought he once had towards me. He’s pissed, but he’s not beating me.
And that right there… the fact that he’s keeping me as healthy as he can… tells me all I need to know.
“You can’t make me do anything,” I growl, shifting in my seat.
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head.
“I can make you do whatever I please, Gwynn. You should rest. And when we get there… you need a shower. You stink.”
I huff and roll my eyes, giving up my search for comfort and lay my head back on the seat.
***
“Get up,” Zeke’s voice wakes me and I open my eyes to see him three inches from my damn face. I have half a mind to head-butt him, but instead I turn my head so we aren’t face to face.
“I can’t move,” I grumble when the door opens. I glance down at my feet then raise an eyebrow at Zeke.
He nods and pauses for a moment, then looks out the open door to the man waiting.
“Carry her,” he barks.
When the guy lifts me out of the car, his hand comes to rest on my thigh, way too damn close to my ass, and I try to wiggle out of his grasp.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sweets,” he growls. “This concrete can be pretty hard on the face if I were to drop you, and Mr. Diaz doesn’t make good money from beat up little girls.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, still wiggling.
He makes the move to drop me as his hands loosen their grip but Zeke yells from behind us.
“Put her the fuck down and untie her feet, Gregory. She’s not going anywhere fast anyway… that rib of hers is so goddamned ugly,” he huffs, eyeing my side. I look down and see what he’s talking about. The shirt that I ripped off earlier is gone and I’m only in a sports bra and my side that’s been giving me so many problems today is currently black and blue. “Get Doc in here, too. And the fucking makeup artist,” he growls, taking my arm after Gregory cuts the ties between my feet. “We need our new dancer healthy and beautiful for tonight’s show.” He winks at me and my stomach drops.
I can’t dance tonight. I’ve seen what those dancers go through.
That can’t be my future.
Eddie
I went to sleep holding a grudge on everyone in this fucking country and woke up just the same. I hate this place. I want to be home, in Texas, with my wife and kids. Instead, I’m waking up in a foreign country, two more steps behind the man we’re here to find than we were when we got here.
FUCK!
I groan and roll out of bed. This mother fucking castle Tatum has us in is too comfortable. I don’t need comfort right now. I want to know where my Red is and I want to beat the living shit out of anyone in my way.
And today I will.
I just don’t know how to yet, being as I have no clue where they are. I’m assuming Tatum would have come and got me if anything big happened while I was asleep. I set my alarm… five hours of sleep. I didn’t think my mind would let me go to sleep and get any rest but I must have been exhausted because the minute I hit the pillow I was out.
My phone dings and I stand slowly, stretching out the sleep, then walk over to it and smile.
SARAH: “We miss you, daddy!”
Her text is attached to a photo of Dax lying on the floor under his activity center with Angel right next to him, holding one of his toys and smiling brightly. The nephews are in the background playing the Xbox and I can see Sarah’s husband, John, in the kitchen.
God what I’d do to have that normalcy in my life right now.
Fuck I miss my kids.
I hit dial and listen to the phone ring while I sit at the desk and open up my computer.
“Hey, little brother,” Sarah answers, the sounds of laughter in the background making me smile.
“Hey, old woman.” I smile. “How are things?”
“Perfect,” she answers, an underlying tone of worry lacing her voice. “I mean, Angel misses you guys something fierce, but having her cousins here is helping.”
“I’m so happy you’ve been able to help so much,” I say, sighing. “I miss her. Give her big old sloppy Daddy kisses for me, ok?”
“Definitely.” I can hear her smiling when she answers.
“How’s Dax doing?”
“Oh, ya know, Uncle John is teaching him the grand art of beer drinking and ball scratching. Hudson has really enjoyed showing Dax his newest obsession of underarm farts. It’s all kinds of fun here.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. Hudson is their nine-year-old and by far my favorite nephew, though I wouldn’t tell the rest of them that. You’re apparently not supposed to have favorites, but dear God that child is hilarious. He’s going to be a handful for Sarah and John when he gets to high school.
“Well, I’m glad you are all doing well. I’m wiring you some money as we speak for groceries and shit.”
I sigh and sit back after hitting send. The line goes silent and I have to look at the phone to see that we’re still connected.
“Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Have you found her yet, Eddie?” Her voice is back to the worried Sarah that was there when we left a couple of days ago.
“Yea…” I trail off and when I hear her gasp I have to backtrack. “No. Yes and no,” I say, groaning. “It’s so fucking dumb here, Sarah. These fuckers are a few steps ahead of us. I thought we had them… I fucking thought we were almost to her. We were at the damn house, and as soon as we were going to head in they blew up the fucking place!”
“They what?! Oh God, Eddie!”
“I know. They know no boundaries, which scares me. Like… what the hell are they doing to her now that they probably know we’re here?”
“Well, you know who has her, so just go take her back!” she cries. “Why the hell can’t you just take her back?!”
“Because if we’re not smart about it we’re all getting killed. Plus, after the explosion that leveled the house I thought she was in, we have no clue where to find them. These men own this entire fucking city it seems. I just woke up and need to get downstairs to check in on things. I’ll keep you in the loop. Keep up the pics, too, big sis. It helps.”
“Absolutely. Be careful, little brother,” she whispers. “I love you.” I roll my eyes at her comment and run my hands through my hair. She’s only been in my life these last couple of years. For the longest time she left me for dead. I mean… it took me falling fucking head over heels, straight to the moon in love with Red to be able to say those words. Saying it to family should be easier, but not when your family is someone that is still trying to make up for leaving you for dead.
“Yea, later ya old woman.”
I end the call and set my phone on the small desk and head to my suitcase to grab a fresh pair of clothes before heading to the shower.
I need a shower to wash off the shit from last night, then it’s time to dig back in, find my girl, and kill the mother fucker Zeke Diaz.
The water from the shower is warm and I let the steam quickly fill the room. After disrobing and standing in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, I don’t see the man Red married. She married a buzzed head, lost boy. Here I am, a multitude more tattoos from recent relaxation sessions, hair just long enough to style, scruff on my face. I stare at the man and, just like every day she’s been gone, think back to that first meeting; I knew she was someone special.
***
I just sat down at this bar and already there’s fucking drama.
It starts with a loud crash, then more yelling. I thought it was just two dudes in there, but now I’m thinking otherwise. I see who I assume is the manager storm out of the room first, followed by...oh shit. Red. It’s fucking her! Damnit! The girl from last night!
“Stop! Randy would you fucking stop walking away and let me explain?!” she screams after him, not taking her eyes off his back as he storms off. I’m not sure if s
he knows I’m here or not, and I’m honestly afraid to move.
“Gwynn, that was the last straw. You have been flaky for the last three years around here. I get it, you had a loss. Well we all have hard times. Find another bar to drown your sorrows in. You’re out!” He points towards the door, towards me, but neither of them make a move. She starts laughing, walking slowly towards him and stops an inch from his face. Shit she’s insane! That dude is ten times bigger than her and angry as piss. I’m too far away to stop him if he wanted to grab her, but it didn’t look like he was making a move.
“Don’t fucking forget who I am, Randy. You kick me out, the money flow stops. I’ll take it to another bar, another ring, but you will FUCKING listen to me. I haven’t had a drop since he died and you know it. That night had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with me protecting a friend. Stop being a twat and leave me to my bar.” She laughs at his earlier comment as if he didn’t just fire her. He’s pissed, and I’m still standing here, like a deer in the headlights.
As soon as the words come out of her mouth, he raises his hand so fast I almost miss it. He was primed to strike, but before his hand makes it to her she has it twisted and behind his back.
“Don’t fucking mess with me. Go home, sleep it off. I’ll be here keeping your dingy-ass bar afloat.”
She shoves him and he trips his way to the door, huffing past me, muttering obscene words towards her. I think I’m in shock. Tiny is actually tough! And holy SHIT if that isn’t hot!
“Enjoy the show?” she asks as she takes her jacket off and stores it under the bar. Shit, I’m still standing here aren’t I? Fuck, now I need words.
“Uh, sorry. Just making sure he wasn’t giving you a hard time.” Fuck Eddie, grow a pair and talk to her! Maybe if I took her upstairs for a quick fuck I could get her out of my system.
“Sure. He does. Nothing I can’t handle.” She shrugs, still not making eye contact with me while she grabs a towel and starts wiping the bar. “You stayin’ for a drink or heading out?” That voice doesn’t belong to the girl I’m looking at. That voice is sweet, light, and innocent. Not the voice of an inked-up, spiked hair, rocker chick. Who is this girl?
I stare at her, wondering what her story is a moment too long. As I’m staring, taking in her beauty, she looks up at me waiting for an answer. Those hazel eyes land on mine and things implode once again.
Fuck me.
***
That was the moment I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave this girl alone. And I didn’t. We went through so much in our first few months together and we made it out stronger. We’ve had two beautiful children while keeping afloat both of our business ventures and we didn’t think anything could stop us. Now here we are… mother fucking Honduras. She’s been gone almost a month and each day that passes without her, my hope dwindles just a little bit more. I know we’re closer than we were just a few days before, but I still don’t have her in my fucking arms.
I need her in my arms.
The steam from the shower billows into the bathroom as I step in. I allow the heat of the water to relax my muscles as much as it can before I soap up. The definition in my muscles has gotten even more so since Red has been gone; working out is the only way to relieve stress anymore so when I need a break, I hit the gym. Hard. I was defined before she was taken, but now it’s a body I’ve never known. My hand traces over the goddamned red butterfly tattoo that Red and I got last year and I chuckle, remembering the entire story behind them. Really, it was more of a bribe than anything. A damn funny one at that.
***
“If you jump from here I’ll go get that tattoo you’ve been wanting us to get,” I tell her as we sit on the top of our fucking house in the dead of summer. Our upstairs has a balcony that has roof access. We’re sitting here on the roof portion that butts up to our pool, watching the sun set and enjoying a quiet night at home while Angel spends the night at Uncle Tatum and Aunt Molly’s house.
“You’re fucking crazy.” She laughs.
“I’m serious! I’ll do it! Plus, you can’t hurt anything. It’s just like jumping off a huge diving board.” I’m only egging her on because I honest to God know she’d never do it.
She looks over the side of the roof and straight down into the water.
“You think I wouldn’t do it, don’t you?”
“How badly do you want that tattoo?” I grin, wiggling my eyebrows at her.
She’s had her eye on this red and black butterfly that somehow she associates with us, for months now. Some shit about overcoming obstacles and the color red that she just loves about it. I’ve told her to go get it, but she wants us both to have it… memories and shit. I think she’s fucking nuts.
“I mean… you’d look pretty damn sexy with a butterfly tattoo.” She smiles and bites her lip.
“You’re not gonna fucking jump, Red. Just forget I said anything.” I laugh when her mouth drops open. Her eyes flick to me, then back to the pool, and then back to me again.
“Can I decide placement of it?”
“Of what? The pool is already set where it’s going, babe. It aint moving.”
“The tattoo. Do I get to decide where it goes?”
I bark out a laugh.
“That’s cute, babe. I’m just shitting you, you know you’re never going to jump. Now sit down before you break your fucking neck.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Tex,” she states, hands on her hip.
“Sure. Whatever. Now come over here… I want to make love to you on the rooftop.”
I reach for her but she backs away, turning towards the pool. I watch her stare at the water, wondering what I just got myself into.
Is she really going to do this?
When she strips off her shirt and throws it back at me, my heart speeds up.
And then when she jumps clear off the fucking rooftop I think I’m going to vomit. I’ve never moved that fast to get to the edge of a roof before.
The splash of the water tells me she made it, but it’s hitting the bottom of the pool from so much momentum that I’m more worried about.
Her head pops up two seconds later and I can finally breathe again.
“Jesus Christ, woman! You’re fucking nuts!” I wail, smiling from ear to ear at my girl.
“Hip!” she hollers.
“Hip what?!” I’m standing on the roof, probably looking like a madman, yelling at someone in the pool.
“On the hip! The butterfly. I want to see it every time I go down on you!” She bursts out laughing and dives back under water, swimming away from my glare.
The fucking hip.
***
It’s a beautiful tattoo, and even more beautiful that it’s because of my Red that I have it. Not much of the ink on my body is because of her. Most is because of times of my childhood I’d rather not relive… but this one is special. Even if it is a bright red and black fucking butterfly.
I make quick work of cleaning myself and get dressed as fast as I can. Relaxation time is over. Now’s the time to hit the computers hard and find out where the fuck my girl is.
“Hey Tatum,” I announce as I walk into the massive office area that’s been set up for us. There’s computer screens all around the room with a set of eyes for each of them. Men watching all around the city and countryside for anyone that resembles my Red. “Find anything?” I grab a cup of coffee from the waiting tray and walk over to him. He’s perched on the corner of the desk, reading the papers in his hand. When I make it to him he finally looks up at me and I see the exhaustion in his eyes.
“Did you know how much of this area Diaz owns?’ He raises his eyebrow and hands the papers over to me.
I take a sip of coffee and grab the papers out of his hand and start reading. In 2009 he started buying property. It started with the outlying areas of San Pedro Sula, but has now stretched all the way to the Bay Islands and on to the coast. The man owns almost the entire northwest corner of this fucking country. How the fuck
does he do this, he just recently got out of jail!
“When was he released from prison?” I ask, finding a computer to shoo someone off of. The kid, probably no more than twenty, scampers off as soon as I pull his seat out from the desk.
“Just about a year ago. He has to have someone helping him. His father was just released too.”
“Right,” I mumble, clicking on the keyboard to bring up the entire Diaz bloodline. Within seconds they’re all there on the screen. “So the mom has no ties to the dad anymore. Ever since he went away for what he was really doing she left him and hasn’t looked back, so I can take her off the list,” I mumble, x’ing out her screen. “There’s an uncle that looks to be close to Dad still, but there’s nothing at all that’s tying him to Zeke.”
“We know that doesn’t matter, though, Eddie. If he’s tied to the dad, somehow he’s tied to Zeke, too.”
“Yea,” I mumble, clicking through the screens. I’m bound and determined to fucking find a connection.
***
Five hours of staring at a screen and my eyes are shot. We’ve sent crews to several different locations where he could be holding her, but so far there’s been no siting of Gwynn nor Zeke.
“I need a break,” I mumble, pushing my chair back. Tatum just got back from taking a nap and should be able to take over while I grab a bite to eat. If I’ve learned something these last few weeks it’s that working tired isn’t working at all.
“I got this. Bring me back some coffee though, could ya?”
“Sure thing,” I mumble, walking out of the room, drained.
I head outside and sit on the front steps of the mansion and look out over the countryside. I know there’s a fuck ton of bad areas in this country, especially this city, but the location of this house… it’s peaceful. You can’t hear the sirens or the rioting or gunshots that riddle the night air each and every night. You can’t see the gangs roaming the streets, shooting at anyone that looks at them wrong.
What you can see is the beautiful side of a crime-ridden city. It’s a shame, really, that this place has to be so prevalent in drug lords and the sort. It’s really pretty when you get past the filth.
