by Madison Faye
Catalina.
I’m not going to play their games, and I’m not going to dance for them. Fuck that. My one and only goal now is her and figuring out a way back to that place where my lips where on hers.
Manual chuckles. “Si, yes you are, bitch.”
I smile. “Make me.”
He pulls his revolver out and cocks it loudly.
I’ve used guns before, countless times in my old life. But even then, with the hothead I was, I knew they were a weak man’s crutch. They’re the threat when the man isn’t threat enough. Manuel is a prime example.
“You gonna shoot me?” I snicker.
He glares back at me as he raises the revolver.
“Si, cabrón, I am.”
I grunt. “Don’t think I can fight if I’m dead, dipshit,” I growl. “Don’t think Jorge would like that.”
Manuel chuckles and lowers the tune. “Okay, okay,” he smiles thinly and cruelly. “The big speech man now, huh?”
I shrug once again.
“You want to play stupid fucking games, puta?”
“My schedule is clear.”
He smiles. “Your schedule is about to be real clear.” He glances over his shoulder. “Hola! Muchachos!” He bellows back down the dank hallway.
“Vamanos!”
Carlos and about seven other faces I recognize come jogging down the hall, and they grin when they see the standoff.
“Que paso?” Carlos mutters through a grin.
Manuel sighs. “El perro here doesn’t want to fight tonight.”
Carlos smiles wickedly, along with Manuel and the rest of them too.
“So,” Manuel chuckles. “We’re going to show him a new place to stay, so he remembers that this place he’s staying now is a fucking presidential suite at the Ritz Carmine.”
“Carlton.”
Manuel turns back to me and frowns. “What?”
“It’s Ritz Carlton.”
“Suck my dick.”
I roll my eyes. “So we doing this or just gabbing about it like a bunch of little girls?”
They all scowl, and I grin as I beckon with my fingers.
Manuel chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the cell door. He mutters something in Spanish, and the guys all crowd the doorway, but no one’s coming in.
I laugh quietly. No one wants to be first.
Manuel hisses in Spanish, and a few of them suddenly pull out tasers.
Shit.
I growl, bracing as they start to flood into my small cell. I throw a punch at the first, but three tasers hit me in the torso at once, and I grunt. I’m twice the size of most of these guys, but with that many taser-shocks to bare skin, I’m not going to be putting up much of a fight.
I growl, my legs giving out under me. I slam a closed fist out and smash one guy right in the fucking mouth. His teeth break, and blood pours from his lips. But then they’re on me like a mob, and I’m down. Taser after taser, and I grunt as the lights dim and I sink to the ground. Manuel is standing over me, chuckling.
“Not so tough now, puta,” he grins.
He leans over and spits on me and I slump to the floor.
“Take him to the hole.”
My arms are yanked my behind my back. Two sets of handcuffs go around my wrists, and another pair goes around my ankles. Eight of them drag me from the cell and down a dark, wet hallway, but I already know where I’m going.
The hole—a literal pit in one of the old cellars of this place. It’s a nightmare of windowless, damp, engulfing darkness—home to your demons and a place where hope goes to die.
But I don’t give a shit. I’ve been down there before. I’ve been in worse holes, figuratively and literally. And they could throw me into hell itself and I’d still find her.
Oh, and I’m going to find her, alright. And when I do, nothing in this world will take her from me.
Chapter Six
Catalina
Down in the ring, the two groups of men crash together in clamor of fists on skin and screams of pain. I wrinkle my nose and turn away to walk over to the bar up in the VIP box.
“Una tequila, por favor,” I say quickly to the private bartender.
He nods stiffly. “Si, absolutamente, señorita.”
“Dos, amigo.”
I turn and smile to see my father standing behind me. The bartender stiffens and nods quickly.
“Como quire, Señor Del Campo,” the man says formally. Of course.
“Gracias,” my father purrs in his Catalonian lilt. His dark eyes twinkle as he looks at me and smiles.
“Mi hija,” he says gently, stroking an errant lock of my hair before tucking it behind my ear. “Not enjoying the fight?”
Behind him, down in the ring, it sounds like something out of a horror movie.
I shrug. “It’s… okay.”
He sighs. “I know, I know. It’s not as much fun to watch without the Beast.”
I frown, but my father doesn’t see as the bartender passes us our glasses.
“Salud,” my father says, clinking his glass to mine. My dad is handsome guy—tall, bronzed, and very, very fit. His dark goatee frames an aristocratic, chiseled jaw and kingly mouth, and he’s got the same regal nose that I do. He’s a rich, good looking widower. And it’s been a question for years between me and Elena why he doesn’t date. But I guess I know why. My mother was my father’s one and only. At times, I think she was the one thing keeping him from going full Apocalypse Now in the “go crazy and build a compound out in the desert” sense of it. Which is why after she died, he did exactly that.
“Where is the… uh, him?”
He’s the entire reason I’m here. The only reason. He’s also the reason I haven’t slept in three nights—why I’ve been taking lots and lots of long showers. He’s the reason I’ve come more times than I can count with my own fingers, just imaging that huge beast of a man just taking me. I’ve had fever dreams of him doing whatever he wants to me, tugging his pants down to show me just how massive that bulge is that I felt.
I blush as my father clears his throat.
“The Beast? Hush Hush?” My dad frowns. “My people say he couldn’t fight tonight. Ask Manuel though. He’s in charge of my fighters.”
“Your prisoners.”
My dad frowns.
“Mi hija, why do I sense resentment?”
“Nothing, papa, I just…” I frown. “They are your prisoners though, right? Hush… he’s your captive?”
He scowls “He’s not a good man, Catalina,” my father growls. “None of them are. The men who fight in that ring…” he scowls. “I’ve never claimed to be the Pope, but these men are scum. Not thieves, or men who were desperate. These are unremorseful rapists, molesters, and murderers. Psychopaths and degenerates.”
I nod. “And Hush Hush?”
He frowns and nods. “Him too.”
I shiver, a cold feeling creeping through me. “What did he do?”
My father’s face darkens, and he slams back his tequila.
“That’s business, mi hija. Pay it no mind.”
I’m never sure if I’m annoyed or glad my dad has never made any sort of moves or suggestions for me to learn the “family business.” I used to wonder if we’d get there to that talk, but we never have. I guess it’s fine, because I have approximately zero interest in running a brutal drug empire, and it’s not like I need the money either. But having something to aspire to in life instead of wandering aimlessly like I am now would be nice.
My father smiles and turns to nod at the bartender.
“Uno mas, gracias,” he growls raising his glass before he looks back at me. “You look sad, princessa,” he says gently. “Are you enjoying being home?”
“This isn’t home, papa.”
He frowns sadly. “I know, mi hija,” he says quietly. “But it is now.”
I look into my glass. “I like being here, dad. I mean I like being with you, and Elena. It’s just…”
I frown, and he puts a
hand on my shoulder. I turn and half smile at my father.
“Just, what am I doing with my life?”
He smiles. “Whatever you want,” he growls gently. “Catalina, anything you want, it’s yours. I can buy you whatever—”
“I don’t want you to buy me anything, dad,” I say quietly. “I want to discover something. I want to find my passion.”
He smiles, chuckling quietly as he shakes his head and brings the fresh glass of tequila to his lips.
“You are so me it hurts, Catalina,” he grins.
My dad turns and eyes me curiously.
“You know why I’ve never asked you about taking over, right?”
“Because you don’t think I could do it?”
He frowns. “No, no not at all,” he scowls. “No, Catalina, I think you could run this empire better than anyone else I could ever hope to know. But I’ve never asked you to, or wanted you to, because you’re too good. You’re too much your mother in that regard, and that’s a very good thing.” He smiles warmly. “You’re enough me with the good parts, and not with the bad parts. That’s a blessing,” he murmurs.
Out in the ring, the announcer barks, and we turn to look out. My stomach churns as the crowd cheers. Most of the fighters are motionless or barely moving on the ground, two are left, from the same team it appears.
“You know why I have the fights, right?”
“Because you love ancient Rome?”
He chuckles. “Yes, but more than that.”
“Justice?”
He frowns and shakes his head as he sips his drink. “No, justice is blind—this is a sport. This is because justice in this country is a joke. I’m proof of it. Every cop and federalé for a hundred miles in any direction would dance if I snapped my fingers. That’s not justice, that’s a perversion. These men…” he growls, nodding out at the ring. “Some would have escaped punishment. Some would have bribed their way out or escaped. This brings it back to the animal in all of us. Kill or be killed. Those two men? The winners?”
He nods at the two remaining men, who look triumphant and bloodied.
“One killed his neighbor to take his wife, and when she resisted, he shot her too.”
My face pales, but my father’s darkens.
“The other is a contract killer for a rival of mine.”
I swallow sickly. “And, if they win…” I blanch. “Do they win their freedom?”
My father smiles thinly and takes a sip.
“No, mi hija. They’ll take a lap of the ring, my guests will collect or pay on their bets, and then those two will be led back to the fort.”
“And then what?”
“The murderer will be taken out back and shot,” my father says simply. “The hitman I’m gifting to the Americans to curry favor and screw over my rival.”
He smiles. “Justice is blind, mi hija. Business is not.”
He finishes his drink and gives me a hug.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” I mutter with a soured stomach.
“Well, come sit with me anyways, please.”
I smile as he brushes a lock of dark hair behind my ear. “Okay, papa.”
He smiles. “I love you so much, princessa.” He grins. “So much like me, and so much like her.”
He turns, and one of his men across the VIP viewing room opens the door for him. Outside, I recognize the leering, cruel face of Manuel, one of my father’s top lieutenants, and also a complete creep.
“Ah, Manuel,” my father says. He strides over and claps the cruel looking man on the shoulder.
“My daughter was saddened that the beast wasn’t here tonight. Could you ease her mind that he’ll be fighting again?” He chuckles. “She’s a fan, you see.” He smiles at me, and I try so hard to swallow the horrible blush on my face and to quell the forbidden thoughts in my head.
“See you at the house, corazón.”
My father leaves, followed by his bodyguards, and I shiver as Manuel leers at me. He’s never too obvious—he’s not stupid, but I know the look, and I shiver at the sickly way his eyes slide over me.
“The beast?” He growls. “Hush hush?” He shrugs. “Sometimes a dog needs to be reminded who the master is.”
I bite my tongue, bile rising inside.
“He’s in his cell?”
Manuel chuckles. “He wishes. He’s in the hole.”
I shiver. “The what?”
“The hole,” he laughs. “It’s… a vacation,” he sneers.
“It doesn’t sound like one.”
He laughs. “Oh, it’s not. It’s down in the old basement of the fort. Hush Hush needed to be reminded he’s a guest, not the master.” His eyes slide over me again, making me nauseous. “Sometimes we all need to know who the master is,” he purrs, making me shiver.
Manuel chuckles. “If you want an autograph…” he moves closer. “You want to see him?”
I swallow. “What?”
“Hush Hush.” He grins sickeningly. “Sometimes girls…” he grins. “They want the thrill of being near a monster. He’s in a cage, princess,” Manuel says. “He can’t hurt you. But you can go down to the old guard’s quarters and see him.”
He winks and licks his lips as his eyes drop down to my chest, and I swallow back bile as I cross my arms over myself.
“Your father doesn’t need to know…” He winks. “I could come with you.”
“My father would hear about that, trust me,” I snap.
Manuel bristles, quickly stepping back from me. But I advance on him, my eyes hardening.
Believe me, I am my father’s daughter.
“Your eyes linger more than that should, Manuel,” I hiss quietly. “Remember who your master is.”
His eyes get enraged, and his face darkens with anger. But again, he’s not stupid, and he swallows it back.
“Just a joke, princess,” he hisses quietly. I say nothing, and with a grunt, he whirls and leaves the room.
So do I, but, it’s not to go to dinner…
Chapter Seven
Catalina
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be anywhere near here, actually. But I’m betting on Manuel being scared enough of my father and what I’ll tell him not to insinuate anything or mention to anyone that I might be here. I shiver, my footsteps louder than they should be in the dark. The stone staircase winds down, almost like I’m in a dark, old haunted castle. I mean there’s not even any freaking lights down here.
But he’s down here.
At the bottom of the stairs, I reach a small foyer of stone. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I slowly see the table, with the lantern on it. And I mean an honest to goodness, actual lantern, with a lighter next to it. I step over to the table, open the side of the lantern, flick the lighter, and the wick catches. I twist the knob, turning the flame up, and then I look around.
God, it’s freaky in here.
I’m in a castle-like cave. Behind me, the stairs, on both sides of me, brick hewn walls. And in front of me… well, another wall with an imposing solid iron door to one side. Only this wall has a small window covered in bars in it, and lower, another hole in the wall, barely big enough for someone to maybe put their head through it.
And it’s silent. I swallow thickly, holding the lantern high.
“What are you doing here, little bird?”
I gasp, jumping a foot back as his voice growls through the darkness. I blink, catching my breath.
“You… how did you know it was me?”
“Footsteps,” he growls.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I look up into the pitch blackness of the barred window in the wall.
“You knew my footsteps?”
“I knew they weren’t a guard’s, and I knew they were a girl’s.”
“You can tell that?”
“You can tell a lot when you’ve spent two years in the dark, princess,” he growls.
I frown. “Are you okay?”
He chuck
les. “In a manner of speaking, relatively, yes.”
I bite my lip and step a little closer to the wall.
“Can you see me?”
There’s a rustling sound, and when his eyes suddenly flicker on the other side of the bars, I realize I’m smiling.
“Now I can,” he purrs deeply.
“Hi,” I whisper with a shy grin. The only thing I can think of—the only thing I’ve been able to think of, is the other night, and the way his lips tasted and the way his hands felt on me.
Hands and… other things.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Your father—”
“I know who and what my father is,” I say tersely. “Let me worry about him.”
He says nothing, and I take a shaky breath.
“You weren’t at the fight.”
“So you came to find me?”
“Yes.”
A shadow crosses his eyes.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Manuel.”
He growls darkly. “He’s dangerous.”
“He’s also a lecherous creep and a pussy,” I shoot back.
Hush chuckles a gruff, rumbling laugh in the darkness.
“That’s my girl.”
I bite my lip, grinning in spite of myself.
My girl.
I blush, but I like the way it sounds, even if it’s silly.
“He likes to look at me more than he should,” I shrug. “I threatened to call my father.”
“Smart,” he praises.
“Do they feed you down here?”
“I’m not hungry.”
I move closer. “I—”
“Why are you here, little bird?” he growls quietly. “Tell the truth.”
“I…”
Because I want you. Because you invade my dreams and haunt my waking thoughts. Because even being here in this creepy dark basement, I’m wet at the sound of your voice. Because no man has ever made me feel like this before.
I clear my throat along with my thoughts.
“I—I just wanted to check on you.”
“Mhmm,” he mutters dryly.
I swallow. “I—I can go,” I whisper.
