Sweet Collateral

by LP Lovell

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you see the picture?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She was left at the mansion gate. Along with a note.”

  “What kind of note?”

  “It was addressed to Anna.”

  I lower the phone for a second, grappling with the blind rage that’s crawling up my spine. I put the phone back to my ear. “Dominges?”

  “Apparently, he is going to keep killing whores until Anna returns to him. I’ll send you a picture of the note.”

  “Good, and Samuel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not a word of this near Anna.” The girl is a bleeding heart. It would be just like her to martyr herself, and of course, that’s why he’s doing it. He knows he can’t get to her so now he’s trying to flush her out. It’s stupid though. I would never let her actually see it. I hang up the phone and glance at the image of the dead girl one more time.

  Anna can’t know about this.

  Carlos stares at the screen of his phone. “This can’t be good.”

  I lift a brow. “It seems like a desperate last-ditch attempt to me.”

  “It does.”

  “Where is Anna anyway? I haven’t seen her this morning.” I know he’s asking out of concern. They all guard her like she’s royalty because they know, to me, she is.

  “She’s not up yet.”

  He smirks. “Hungover?”

  I turn towards the door. “Something like that.” Or the fact that I locked her in my room.

  Anna and I are going to talk, and she’s not leaving that room until we do.

  30

  Anna

  I wake up, and my head is pounding. My stomach threatens to rebel with every breath, and my mouth tastes like death. Groaning, I roll over in…Rafael’s bed? I’m sure I went to sleep in Lucas’ bed.

  I sit up, and my stomach instantly turns over. Jumping out of bed, I rush to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. My body heaves and wretches until I finally collapse on the cool tile. I’m dying. Literally dying. Forcing myself to my feet, I strip out of my clothes—the same clothes I was wearing yesterday—and get in the shower. The falling water feels like needles on my sensitive skin, but I also feel gross, so I allow it to wash away the grime of the previous day and night.

  When I’m done, I dry myself, brush my teeth and throw on a sundress. I leave my wet hair hanging down my back before I head for the door. I don’t know what time it is, but the sun is reaching high into the sky. I grab the door handle and twist it…it doesn’t move. I try again. Nothing. What the hell?

  I try twice more, yanking the door as hard as I can. It’s locked. I’m locked in this room! Am I a captive again? No, Rafael wouldn’t do that. Would he? What if Nero has decided he’s not taking no for an answer? What if Rafael has no choice?

  I wrench open the balcony doors which are thankfully unlocked, and rush to the railing, glancing down at the ground only one floor below. Could I jump? I might break something. I can’t think through anything rational other than the fact that I’m locked in. A prisoner. I can’t be stripped of my free will again, even if it’s for my sister. I’d rather take my chances with the desert.

  I hear the sound of the lock turning, and my fingers tighten around the railing as I press myself tightly against it. The door opens, and Rafael steps into the room, his gaze landing on the bed before searching me out. When his eyes find me, his shoulders relax slightly.

  “Avecita.”

  He moves towards me, and I press against the balcony railing so hard I’m in danger of falling over it. He pauses in the doorway to the balcony, taking in my stance. His brows pull into a deep frown.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, warily.

  “What are you doing? You’re giving me to Nero, aren’t you? You said I was free!”

  His frown deepens. “Nero? What?”

  He steps closer and I hold my hand out. “Stop.”

  “Anna, what the fuck?” Without warning, he charges me. I can barely register the movement before he locks his arms around my waist and drags me back inside, locking the patio doors behind him.

  “If you don’t want me anymore, just let me go.” My voice cracks, betraying the barrage of pent up emotions from the last two days.

  With a feral snarl, he storms the short distance between us, his hand slamming around my throat as he throws me down on the bed. “You are pushing my fucking buttons, and I am running out of patience.” His fingers flex against my throat, and I close my eyes as a silent tear trickles over my temple. How did we get here? How did everything become so warped? Warm breath rushes over my face before his lips press to my forehead, so contradictory to the bruising grip he has on my throat. “Listen to me, and listen well. I am never letting you go.” I open my eyes and find him staring down at me. “You are locked in because we need to talk, and you’re not leaving this room until you do.” He releases me and pushes away, leaving me there on the bed.

  Slowly, I sit up. Rafael has taken a seat in the small armchair in the corner of the room. His legs are spread, his elbows resting on his knees. He looks…worn. Tired. He’s silent for long moments— eyes fixed on me.

  “Last night, I was already pissed when I came up here to find you in Lucas’ bed.”

  “He didn’t—”

  He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “I don’t care what happened. You sleep in my bed. Always.”

  I pull my knees to my chest and drag a shaky hand through my damp hair. “It’s not good for you, Rafael.” I’m not good for you.

  “Don’t put it on me. This has nothing to do with me.”

  How could he say that? “It has everything to do with you,” I snap.

  He tilts his head. “You told me to go and fuck someone else. Why?”

  “Because you need to!”

  “No! Because you fucking need me to!” He explodes from the chair, his entire body radiating anger as he jabs a finger in my direction. “You want me to confirm that you’re not good enough so that you can accept that bullshit. It’s easier to accept it than fight for this, isn’t it?”

  He makes me feel like shit with a few sentences. My fragile heart cracks and bleeds, and I can feel the warm liquid seeping into every atom of my body, drowning them. I’m suffocating in this sea of hatred and self-loathing, and I have no idea how to save myself anymore. In many ways, my life was easier as a slave. I had no emotions, no purpose, no need to think or feel or do anything. Surviving was easy. This…living…it’s hard.

  “What do you want from me?” I whisper.

  He stands there, practically trembling with rage. “I want your trust.”

  “You have it.”

  He laughs humorlessly. “Oh, little warrior. I’ve never been so far from having it as I am right now.”

  “I trust you.” I do trust him.

  He moves closer and drops to a crouch right in front of me, his anger retreating. “You did. When I was your captor and you were owned. You trusted me. But now…”

  “I do.” I choke on a sob because he looks so hurt, and I know it’s me hurting him. I reach out and stroke his cheek. “I do.”

  “You have to trust me to know what you need.” He takes my hand and turns it over, brushing his lips over the inside of my wrist. “You need to trust that I love you.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Then trust me to fucking help you because, baby, you hate yourself, and it kills me.” I close my eyes and tears fall down my cheeks. I’m heartbroken and sad, for him, but more for myself. This man loves me, and he’s patient and so strong. I feel like the ghost of a girl, wading through the rubble of something that was once beautiful. And he’s there, holding out his hand, offering to pull me back to life. Only every time I go to take his hand, mine just passes through his.

  “You can’t help me. I’m never going to be fixed, Rafe.” Why can’t he see this?

  “Then break. I’ll be right here to put you back together again.”

  Frustrati
on and anger spike through my bloodstream. “There is no together! This is as good as it gets. I’m a whore—”

  He’s standing in a flash—his fist pulling my hair so hard that he wrenches my head back. He closes his eyes, his jaw ticking erratically. “You are not a whore!”

  I can feel myself spiraling, falling into an abyss and he’s trying to save me because that’s what he does. He loves me, and I can’t even bring myself to give him something that so many other men have had from me. “You’re right. I can’t even fuck you.”

  He releases me and steps back, his anger now a visceral thing, filling the room until I can barely breathe. Up and down, round and round, this is what we do. My emotions playing havoc on us both, as he’s forced to follow me in this toxic dance. He drags his hands through his hair before he loses it and rams his fist into the wall. When he pulls it away, his hand is bleeding, his blood staining the wallpaper.

  “You’re better than this, Anna,” he says through clenched teeth. Shaking his head, he looks at me with sad eyes, his anger mixing with his despair. “You never stepped out of the cage, but the door is still open.” He turns to me and holds out his hand. “Step outside.”

  I stare at his hand, and it’s so much more than just a meaningless gesture. “I just have to trust you?”

  “Completely. All in. Be free, avecita.” Be free. I am free technically, but I know he’s right. I’m not. I’m a prisoner of my own thoughts and fears. A slave to years of conditioning and self-loathing. But how can I escape that? I’ll always be sullied by what I am, by what I was. “Trust that I love you,” he says so quietly I barely hear it, but I feel it, to the very depths of my soul. It whispers to his, pleading with him to save it from its own torment. He loves me. I love him. And maybe he can love me enough for the both of us.

  On a shaky breath, I lift my hand, hesitating before I place it in his. And he doesn’t pass through me. He grabs hold of me in a way that tells me he’ll never let go.

  “I love you,” I breathe.

  31

  Rafael

  “I love you.” So sweet, so innocent, so trusting. I won’t make the mistake of neglecting her again. How was I so unaware that I didn’t see her slipping right back down the slope that she’s spent so long climbing up? She was doing so well. I forget what she’s come from sometimes because she’s so damn strong.

  To free a slave; it should be simple, but of course, it’s not. It’s not that she doesn’t want her freedom—she simply doesn’t know how to take it. And being here, confined to this house. It’s not helping.

  “I’m going to take you somewhere.”

  “Where?” She glances at me—her brows pulled together in confusion.

  “You choose.” She needs to make choices for herself.

  “I thought we were on lockdown?”

  “Anna, choose.”

  “I don’t even know where we are.”

  I sigh. “Just choose, woman. I’ll make it happen.”

  She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “I miss the pond,” she says. And that’s the beauty of Anna. Give her anything, and she chooses something so obscurely simple that it throws me off.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I pull the Hummer off the road and onto the rough desert sand. The suspension bounces and jolts as gravel and dust kick up in a cloud behind us. Anna has the window down, her hair blowing in the wind and a pair of sunglasses covering half of her face.

  I put my foot down, and the car lurches forward, out into what looks like the middle of nowhere. We climb up a rocky hillside, and I stop at the top.

  “Where are we?”

  I cut the engine. “Come and see.” I get out of the car, and she follows, meeting me at the edge of the sheer cliff that drops away below.

  “Wow,” she breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

  Below is a bowl of sorts, surrounded by circular cliff faces all the way around. And at its center is an oasis. A crystal blue lake, surrounded by greenery. It’s such a contrast to the scene behind us that you could almost believe that it’s a mirage. I want to give her something she’ll never forget, but more than that, I want Anna to have a taste of normal.

  “I don’t think many people know about it. My mother once brought my sister and me out here when we were kids. She couldn’t afford to take us to the beach, so this was the next best thing.” I offer her my hand. “Come on. We have to walk from here.”

  The walk down the hillside is perilous at best. Anna squeals as she slips on the loose gravel, skidding into my back. “So graceful.”

  “Hey. You’d have to be part-goat to get down here.”

  By the time we make it to the bottom, she’s so transfixed by the lake that she doesn’t even look at me. At the water’s edge is a small beach, and she drops to a crouch, brushing her fingers over the glassy surface. I tug my shirt over my head and shove my jeans down, kicking them off with my shoes. I wade into the water, and she watches me.

  “Are you coming in?”

  She glances out at the lake before looking at me again. “Are there things living in there?”

  I smirk. “Don’t worry. Nothing will bite you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  She hesitantly pulls down the straps of her sundress until the material pools at her feet, leaving her in only her underwear. The sun dances over the golden hues of her skin, the reflection of the water shimmering over her features. She’s beautiful.

  She carefully walks into the water, staring at it before she takes each step. “Anna, nothing is going to eat you.”

  She pushes her sunglasses up on her head and glares at me. Laughing, I walk over to her and grab her, pulling her into deeper water. She shrieks and throws her arms around my neck, wrapping her legs tightly around my hips. Every inch of her is plastered against me, but I’m not sure she’s even noticed. I definitely have.

  “I swear something touched me.”

  “A lot is touching you right now.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Not you.” She glances at the water around us nervously. “Is this what normal people do for fun?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She doesn’t look impressed. “You just have to…let go. Fear is irrational. Mind over matter.”

  “Mind over matter. Mind over matter.” She slowly releases me and sinks into the water up to her chest. “Okay. Don’t leave me though.” She clutches my arm. “I can’t swim.”

  Of course. Why would she be able to swim? “You should add it to your bucket list.”

  “What’s a bucket list?”

  “It’s a list of things you want to do before you die.”

  “Huh.”

  “You must have one.” She frowns for a second, and I grab her waist, pulling her closer to me for no other reason than the fact that I like touching her. “Now you’re free, little warrior, what are the things you’d like to do?”

  Her eyes meet mine, and she chews on her bottom lip. “I want to go to New Zealand.”

  “Okay. Why New Zealand?”

  “Why not?” She shrugs. “I found it on the globe, and I don’t even know what language they speak there.”

  I smile, stroking her hair away from her neck. “English. What else?”

  “I want to dance in the rain. And eat crepes.” Such simple things. She makes me want to hand her the world, just to see the wonder on her face as she explores it. “What about you?” she asks.

  I slide a hand up the small of her back to the nape of her neck. “I have everything I want,” I tilt her head to the side and bring my lips to her ear. “Right here.”

  “You sure about that?” She cocks a brow, a small smile playing over her lips.

  “Very.”

  Her arms wind around me, her fingers raking through my hair. “There was one more thing on my bucket list, but I’ve already done it.”

  “What’s that?”

  She pulls back just enough to look at
me. “Fall in love,” she whispers. Her eyes drop to my mouth and then she’s leaning in, placing the sweetest kiss on my lips. She tastes like sunshine and desert sand. She feels like simple happiness; swimming in a lake on a hot day, the skipping of my heart when she flashes me a beautiful smile, and pure unadulterated joy.

  This right here in this moment feels precious and unfiltered.

  I’ve spent my whole life striving for more. More power. More money. More territory. I’ve never really appreciated anything outside of those things. She’s my pause button, a reminder to breathe. She makes me want to stop and just capture the moment with her, to create memories.

  Anna Vasiliev is my air in a toxic world.

  32

  Rafael

  I’ve spent two days with Anna, but I can’t avoid the office any longer. Samuel is fussing like a mother hen, and Carlos is convinced World War Three is about to break out on the streets. I have to handle some shit.

  “Jimmy got shanked in broad daylight, Rafe!”

  I lean back in my chair, lighting my cigar and inhaling. “It’s Juarez, Carlos. People get stabbed all the time.”

  He jabs his finger down on my desk. “Not our fucking guys!” Granted, Jimmy was only a gang runner, but with known association to us. That makes a hit on him our problem, and we have to retaliate. Such is the benefit of the gangs working with us. Our name protects them.

  Samuel steps forward and places a hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “We’ll deal with it.”

  I glance at Sam. “Find out who did it. Make an example.” I don’t like gratuitous violence, but sometimes it’s necessary. I can’t afford any kind of miscommunication at this point. I can still feel Dominges hovering near my ass, just waiting to ram himself up there. I fucking know this shit is on him.

  “You need to handle Jimmy’s replacement,” Sam says.

  I nod. “Carlos, make some calls. See if anyone knows who took out Jimmy. I’ll go to Juarez today, and deal with the replacement.” They both leave, and I inhale another breath of my cigar before pushing to my feet. I leave the office, aiming to check in with the guards, when I catch Anna and Lucas sneaking around.