by LP Lovell
My blood paints the canvas bag, but still I keep hitting. Three months of Una’s training have left my knuckles calloused and scarred. And even as they split and bleed, I barely feel it. The image of Rafael’s bloodstained knuckles flashes through my mind, his words whispering out of my memories as if he were standing right beside me, breathing them against my ear. Sometimes you break something to make it stronger. Why does everything come back to him?
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice Una until I’m flat on my back staring up at her. My chest heaves as she glares at me.
“Pay attention,” she snaps.
Blinking, I push to my feet and steady the swinging punchbag. “I’m trying to clear my mind,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter. You always stay alert.” This is her world, the only one she knows. I don’t think it would be possible to sneak up on my sister. “You’re upset because of those girls,” she says, her brows pulled tightly together. She looks at me like I’m a puzzle she simply cannot piece together.
“No… I mean, yes, but…” I hesitate, struggling to express myself around her. We may be sisters, but we’re still very much strangers in so many ways. “How did it feel…when you killed Nicholai?”
“He was hunting me. He wanted Dante. Nicholai’s death was as much necessity as anything else. I was relieved my son was safe.” She sighs and looks straight at me, imprisoning me with her gaze. “You don’t feel the way you thought you would after killing Alexandru.”
“I just…I thought it would be…more…” I wrap my arms tightly around myself. “I thought I’d feel this huge satisfaction, but I don’t.”
“I’ve killed many men for many reasons. They may deserve it, they may not, I don’t really think about it, but that man deserved it, Anna. It doesn’t change what happened to you. It doesn’t make it better, but it’s as close as you’re going to get to justice. The rest…you have to figure out for yourself.” I nod, and we fall into silence. I jump when I feel her fingers brush over my shoulder. “You know, I never really hated Nicholai before Dante. What he did was wrong, but he made me strong. In a way, Alexandru made you strong.”
“He broke me.” How can she see what he did as anything other than cruel?
“And broken things—”
“Heal stronger,” I whisper.
She shrugs one shoulder. “You can look at your entire life as a negative or you can try and build from the wreckage, something better.”
“I don’t know what to do now,” I admit.
“What do you want to do?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. She said I needed purpose in life, and the only time I’ve ever felt that is when I walked out of that house with those girls, knowing that the man who had tortured us was dead. In a way, I’m angry that he’s dead. That my revenge was over so quickly because now there’s this void like an absence.
“I don’t know. I wanted to kill Alexandru.”
“And now you have.”
“Yes. But it’s not enough.”
“So, what would be enough?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I want them all. Every single one. Every man who hurt and raped me, who would willingly destroy girls like me, girls like Zara. “I want the Sinaloa.”
“You mean Dominges?”
“I mean the Sinaloa.”
She blows out a breath. “You can’t take down an entire cartel, Anna. No matter how much they’ve wronged you.” But it’s an entire cartel that was responsible for my suffering. It’s an entire cartel that traffics young women, enslaves them and rapes them for profit and pleasure.
“A cartel is only made up of men.” Flesh and blood men who can be killed.
“One or two kills is a hit. Hundreds is a war, and I am not equipped for a war.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. “If Dominges falls, what happens?”
“Someone will replace him.”
“Who?”
"His brother, or one of his closest men.”
“So, what if we were to kill his entire inner circle, long enough to weaken them?” Long enough for the Juarez cartel to end this. Rafael wouldn’t even have to know. Una and Sasha are stealthy, fast, in and out, leaving only death in their wake. We could take out the inner circle, and the cartel war would naturally favor Rafe’s side.
“You can’t fight Rafael’s war for him, Anna.”
“I’m not, but I need this." I’m caught between pining for a man I can’t have and needing something to fill that void. In the back of my mind, I know this will bring me closer to him, or at least into the same country. Maybe I secretly like the idea of helping him in his war without him even knowing it. Being the strong woman he doesn’t think I am without him even knowing. For once, I would be an asset to him instead of a weakness. I’ve changed, trained, and honed myself under Una’s watchful eye. This situation is not what it was a few months ago.
This is purpose. This is more than survival, it’s living. And I choose to live for revenge right now. I want the Sinaloa cartel dead and buried.
Una drags her hand through her long hair, and I can see the resignation in her features. “Fine, Anna, but I’m not doing your dirty work for you. You’re going to have to train a lot harder if you want to stand against men like Dominges.”
“I will.”
“And this will take a lot of planning.”
I catch sight of someone in the doorway behind Una. Nero steps into the light of the gym and in the blink of an eye Una has a gun pointed at his head without even turning to look at him.
He rolls his eyes. “Every time,” he mumbles, grabbing her wrist and pulling it behind her back. She allows it. Of course, if she didn’t want him to, he’d have a broken nose by now. He kisses her neck and the tiny sign of affection has a pang of longing spiking through my gut.
“You shouldn’t creep up on me,” she says, an indulgent smile on her lips.
“It’s not creeping when you can hear me from a mile away. Anyway, what are you planning?”
“Nothing,” I say defensively, probably because I know he’ll think this entire plan is ridiculous.
A smirk dances over his handsome features, and I look away from his intense gaze. Nero is beautiful but terrifying, and I’m not sure why. He lacks Rafe’s bulk or obvious sense of danger. But that’s all part of his allure. He looks like he should be adorning the pages of a fashion magazine with his expensive suit and his perfect hair, but I know he would open a man’s throat with a smile. He’s the only man who could possibly handle my sister and that in itself is enough to make me wary of him. He lacks any of the empathy that Rafael has. Well, for anyone but Una and Dante that is.
“Anna wants to go after the Sinaloa,” Una says, pulling her arm away from her back and tucking her gun into a holster. She leans back against him, and he grips her hip possessively.
Nero’s face becomes stony. “You want to start a cartel war. Tsk, tsk, Anna. You’re learning too much from that man of yours. Rafael should know better than to start wars, and so should you. It’s bad for business.”
“This isn’t about business.”
“Everything is about business.”
“Not this,” Una intervenes, and I’m grateful. I can’t handle both of them being against me.
“Morte,” he warns, calling her by the name he’s so fond of for her. Death.
“She’s my sister. I’ll give her what she needs.” She turns to face him.
“We’ll talk about this later.” He kisses her forehead before he’s walking out of the room.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “I will do this with you, Anna, but you need to decide where the line is. Draw one, or you will find yourself forever reaching.”
61
Rafael
I dial the number that I could recite by heart, waiting anxiously as I hope this is the time she’ll pick up. I’m desperate for just a slither of light in this eternal darkness. I need her, but I can’t have her. The line cuts
off…and she won’t even give me this.
I clasp the phone between my hands and release a long breath, trying to tamp down my crushing disappointment. Pushing to my feet, I leave the office and walk through the warehouse. The factory floor is in full swing, with girls packing coke and the guys loading it into crates ready for shipping. This is my domain, my empire, something that meant everything until her, and now I find a hollow kind of satisfaction in it.
Carlos and Lucas checking over a shipment of weapons we just received from the Russians when I approach them.
“Lucas.”
I jerk my head to the side and he drops what he’s doing and rushes after me. I lead him back to the office and close the door. The kid looks like he’s about to shit himself. “Sit,” I say, clapping a hand over his shoulder. He does, his spine bolt straight. “Calm down, Lucas.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” I swipe a hand over my jaw in agitation. “I need you to call, Anna.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“You talk to her, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but…I mean, it’s not…it’s not like that…”
“I know.”
“We’re friends.”
“I know. Which is why I need you to call her.”
“And say what?”
I inhale a deep breath and reach for a cigar from my jacket pocket. “Just talk to her.” I just need to hear her voice. I fucking crave it like a madman. With a sigh, he takes his phone out of his pocket and stares down at the screen, his brows tightly pinched together. He presses a few buttons. “Put it on speaker.” I feel like a complete creep, but this is what I’m reduced to. This is what the girl does to me. I sent her away to keep her safe, but as the days go by, it’s starting to feel like I simply cut off my own oxygen supply.
Lucas’ lips press together in a hard line, and I can see the indecision written all over his face. “You aren’t being disloyal, Lucas. I just want to hear her voice,” I admit. Weak. It’s so weak, but I’m beyond caring. She’s my one weakness.
On a resigned nod, he dials her number, and I listen to the foreign ringtone indicating that she’s an entire country away from me. It rings and rings until finally, she picks up. “Lucas,” she says, and she sounds both relieved and bitterly sad.
“Anna. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t sound fine though, and that constant ache in my chest digs in just a little harder. “How is your rehab going?”
“Good. I’m walking almost completely without a limp now.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she says, her voice softening the same way it always does around Lucas. She’s always been fond of him. “How are all the guys?”
Lucas glances up at me, fidgeting in his seat. “As good as they can be. Still grieving.”
“Of course,” she whispers. “I still feel terrible that I wasn’t at the funeral.”
“It’s okay. I told you; Maria wouldn’t want you in danger.”
There’s a long pause, and I can practically feel the tension from here. “I would have been there if I could. For him.”
He avoids my gaze. “I know.”
“How is he now?” she asks quietly, and suddenly I feel like an intruder. How is he now? That implies she’s asked the question before.
Lucas looks at me as he speaks. “He’s Rafael D’Cruze. He’ll make sure her killers atone for it.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“You haven’t been answering his calls.”
“I can’t talk to him, Lucas. It hurts too much.”
“You can’t avoid him forever. I mean, you’re coming back, aren’t you?”
There’s a long pause. “I don’t think I can.”
My heart jolts in my chest, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking up, because as much as I’m fucking bleeding for her, I know she shouldn’t come back. And how much of a selfish bastard does that make me for trying to call her? How twisted am I that I need to hear her voice so badly that I’m making Lucas betray her trust.
“I need you to come back, Anna.”
“You’re my best friend, Lucas. I love you. I’m only a phone call away.”
I clench my fists as she says those three words to him. I love you. They should be mine and mine alone, but he’s the person she wants to talk to. He’s her comfort, and I’m her pain. I know that, and I fucking hate it. There’s the faint sound of a baby’s cry in the background. “I have to go, but we’ll speak soon. Okay?”
“Okay,” he whispers. The line goes dead, and it takes a few seconds for Lucas to look at me.
Leaning back in my chair, I drag a hand through my hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re going to bring her back, right?”
I place my cigar between my lips and light it. “Not if I can avoid it.”
“But you love her.”
“I do. You’re dismissed, Lucas.”
He stands up and leaves the room—his shoulders slumped in defeat.
He’s too young and naive to fully understand this, much like Anna. Maybe that’s why she likes him so much. They both possess that same fragile innocence. Neither of them realizes the implications of her standing at my side. Such a fragile flower cannot survive the harsh conditions of the cartel. I managed to let her go once. I know I won’t be able to do it again. If she comes back here, it’s for good. She’ll always be in danger. Always be the weak point in my armor. And I’m so selfish, I won’t care as long as I have her.
It’s a fine line to walk, loving her, needing her, and yet constantly being at risk of losing her. Is it better to love and lose or to simply love and long from afar?
Samuel leans against the pickup, a cigarette pressed to his lips and a cloud of smoke billowing around him. When he sees me, he pushes away and tosses the cigarette to the ground sending little sparks skittering over the tarmac.
“Rafe, you don’t need to do this.”
We’ve already spoken about this. “I’m not sending you in alone, Sam.”
“I can take Carlos.”
I glance into the bed of the truck, eyeing the two rifles lying there and the box of ammunition.
“You know I wouldn’t do that either.” Dominges might see his men as nothing but soldiers, cannon fodder sent out to protect him, but I don’t. I wouldn’t ask Sam or Carlos to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. I won’t send them out just to protect myself.
He sighs. “Without you…”
“Without me, you or Carlos could step up and run this shit with your eyes closed. This isn’t a fucking birthright, Sam, and you know it.” My father was the boss before me, and that definitely helped the transition when it came to the men that were loyal to him, but that’s as far as it went. Running the cartel is about strength and loyalty. Plain and simple.
“I don’t fucking care about the cartel, Rafe. This shit is getting more and more dangerous by the day. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before someone finally manages to take you out.” His lips press together in a grim line. We’re guys, and we’re bad guys. We don’t talk about emotions, but I know what he wants to say because I feel exactly the same about him and Carlos. They’re my brothers in every way but blood. We’ve all lost a lot and suffered. We’ve fought together and clawed our way to this point. We’re bonded. But this is the life we’ve chosen, the risks we take. Until this point, we’ve been near enough invincible, the ruling cartel, completely uncontested. The idea that we may actually be in real danger doesn’t sit well with any of us.
I brush it off with a smirk. “Did you forget? I’m Rafael D’Cruze.”
He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you’re bulletproof, fucker.”
I pick up one of the rifles and check the sights. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We get out of the truck and cut through the darkness to the fence that surrounds the old, abandoned looking warehouse. I have a man inside the Sinaloa who told us that Miguel, Dominges brother is m
aking a deal here tonight. That’s too good an opportunity to pass up, which means it could be a trap. Hence why it’s just Sam and me. We should be able to slip in and out undetected. In theory. The urge to deal a real emotional blow to Dominges over rides the risk. We make it through a hole in the fence before using the shadows to approach a back door.
Dropping to a crouch, Sam quickly fiddles the lock. Samuel, Carlos, and I learned fast how to pick a lock. By the time we were thirteen, we were stealing cars to order and breaking and entering like it was our right. Such is the way of impoverished kids in a cartel-run city. The door eases open and we both pause, waiting, listening. The door leads into a hallway that looks like a sectioned off office within the warehouse. I step inside, making sure my steps are slow and silent over the worn commercial carpet. The low hum of voices drifts from somewhere deep within the building.
At the end of the hall is a door on one side and a staircase on the other. We have two choices; go out into the warehouse or go up the stairs. He points up, so I go with it, climbing the stairs silently. The office at the top is empty, and the window up here gives a perfect view of the entire warehouse below. There’s a van, an SUV, and about five men standing between them, pouring over the contents of one of the metal crates. Inside the crates are racks of neatly lined up rifles. In another, there’s a 50. Cal heavy gun, and in another; grenades. I came here to kill Miguel, but I have no doubt that the Sinaloa are buying this shit to use against my cartel. Taking it off them won’t exactly be a hardship. I push one window open, and Samuel crosses the hall to the other office, doing the same. I stare down the sights, fixing Miguel in the crosshairs. He looks just like Dominges: slimy and smug with a layer of corruption that clings to him like the filthy individual he is. I smile as my finger brushes the trigger. I’ve taken a lot of Dominges’ good men from him in the last few weeks. Lieutenants, enforcers, sicarios. His own personal enforcer fell victim to a rogue car bomb just two days ago. I didn’t set that one, so it would seem he’s got more problems than just me.
