Javier
Red.
Red.
Fucking red.
I’ve never seen a woman so broken in my entire life. So fucking terrified. And she’s not just any woman. She’s my woman. My brave, intelligent, sexy Rosa.
That asshole raped her.
Stuck his worthless dick inside of something that belongs to Javier Motherfucking Estrada. He just made the biggest mistake of his goddamned life. I will hunt that man down and the things I’ve done to Velez or Mendez will seem like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to Michael.
He broke her.
He broke my sweet Rosa.
I’ve managed to undress us both and have pulled her under the hot stream of the shower. Still, she clings to me. Desperately so. If I had any fears or suspicions about her, they’ve been squashed for the time being. She needs me. Rosa Delgado, my maid turned lover, needs my protection.
“What hurts?” I ask as I run the bar of soap over her body.
“Everything,” she whimpers. Her tears have slowed now that she realizes I’m not going to kill her. I don’t know where she got the idea I would take her life over something she had no control over. If anything, it’s a testament to her loyalty to me.
“What hurts the worst? Your pussy?” I set the soap down and rinse us both off.
She shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. My face hurts where he punched me, though.” Her fingers brush along her temple. “And where he hit me with the tequila bottle.”
My blood boils, but I refrain from raging and destroying my entire goddamned house. Instead, I pepper kisses on her sad face.
“A man should not hit a woman. Ever.” My words are icy and hate-filled. “He will pay.”
Her brows scrunch together, but she nods. Whatever friendship she thought she would continue to carry on with him bleeds from her and gets sucked down into the drain at our feet.
“I feel so dirty,” she whispers. “I don’t like that he was inside me.”
I can tell where she’s going with this and I don’t know what to fucking do. I don’t like the idea of him inside of her either.
“Javier…” she trails off.
I grit my teeth and nod. “I’ll make him go away.”
She clutches onto my shoulders as I grip her ass. I lift her and her legs wrap around my waist. My mouth presses to her swollen lips and I kiss her gently. She reaches between us, guiding my cock inside of her. A sob catches in her throat, causing me to pull away.
“Rosa…”
“Don’t stop,” she begs tearfully. “Please.”
I kiss her in a way that promises no one will ever hurt her again. My hips slowly thrust against her. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to help her not feel so dirty. She doesn’t come, not that I expect her to.
We kiss until my balls seize up. It satisfies me as my cock spurts out my seed, marking her once again as mine. Michael is nothing more than a bad memory to us.
But for him?
His motherfucking nightmare is just beginning.
I will spend every second of every day hunting his ass down.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her body trembling.
“You’re mine. Don’t ever forget, manzanita.”
I shove my Desert Eagle into my holster that’s strapped to my chest and pull on a jacket over it. I’m wearing dark jeans and my steel-toed boots. My body thrums with fury.
Michael.
He’s going to die by my hand.
“Does the last name check out?” I ask Arturo as we storm out to Alejandro’s Hummer.
“No, jefe. It’s a fake. Marco Antonio searched the room Michael Brown stayed in, but he’d already vacated the premises by the time he got there.” He holds his fist out to me. “He found these.”
At seeing Rosa’s panties in his grip, a growl rumbles in my chest. I snatch them from his hand and shove them in my pocket. “I want you to find out everything you can about him.”
“And Rosa?” he asks.
I climb into the Hummer and fire up the engine. “I want Michael.”
“Sí,” he answers as he hops in beside me.
Alejandro rode with my father and Marco Antonio to the hotel but turned up nothing. They’ve headed north into the city to expand their hunt. I’ve left Rosa in Tania’s hands. My stepmother may be a party girl, but she’s maternal in nature and was horrified to learn of what happened to Rosa. With my father’s men still at the estate, I feel as though I’ve left her in good hands.
“I want to go to the hotel,” I tell him and point in the direction. “Keep your eyes peeled for a fat fuck, white-ass American prowling the streets. I want you to get the word out. There’s a hefty reward for whoever brings him to me alive. Five million pesos.”
He leans back in his seat and starts texting. Arturo has many contacts all over Mexico and in the United States. I have no doubts in his abilities to dig up information on anyone.
Anyone.
Everyone.
He will find me Michael no matter the cost.
That motherfucking pig will pay and soon.
When we arrive at the hotel, people loiter outside, but once they see me climb out, they run. I pull my Desert Eagle from my holster and stalk into the building. There’s no front desk person when we arrive. Marco Antonio already told me he found the room, so we head straight for it.
Arturo is at my back as we rush down the putrid hallway to the only rented room in the building. I kick the door open, cracking it off its hinges, and stalk inside. It appears as though it’s been hastily packed and vacated. The used condom on the floor near the bed has my blood boiling again. We ransack the place looking for clues, even though I know Marco Antonio did a thorough job, as to where Michael went. When we turn up nothing, I pull a pack of matches from my pocket.
“He won’t be coming back,” I tell Arturo as I pluck out a match and swipe it along the back of the pack to ignite it. Once I toss it on the bed, I wait to make sure it catches fire. As soon as it alights, it moves quickly across the cheap fabric. “Let’s go.”
We exit the room and push through the doors where the Hummer waits. It won’t be long before this shitty-ass hotel burns to the ground. All memories of where that fat fuck raped Rosa will be incinerated.
He’s next.
I climb into the Hummer and turn the engine over. I barely wait for Arturo to get in before I’m peeling out, headed for the shed. Michael’s not there obviously, but I have a plan. Rage blazes within me. I wish I could go back home and hold my sweet Rosa, but vengeance is what fuels me.
Nobody touches what’s fucking mine and lives to tell about it.
We pull up to the shed and I rush inside, eager to fuck someone up. If Velez is still breathing, he won’t be for much longer. I can hear the kid hollering, but Velez is quiet. When I burst through the doors, my lip curls up in disgust.
“Fuck, it stinks in here,” I grumble.
“He’s dead,” Angel moans. “He’s rotting and I can’t feel my leg.” He’s no longer hanging by the ceiling but is chained by his ankle to a bolt in the floor. Vomit is on the floor around him. I’d fucking puke too if I had to smell this shit all day.
“Cut him loose, Arturo,” I bark and motion for Angel.
“W-What? You’re letting me go?” Angel chokes out.
“You want to be El Malo so bad,” I say as I approach Velez. “Now’s your chance to prove yourself.”
“I won’t let you d-down, jefe,” he vows, his teeth chattering with adrenaline.
“I know,” I tell him simply. “If you do, I’ll squeeze your nuts from your body like Velez here, but I’ll make you eat them.”
He gags and I laugh. Squatting, I inspect Velez. His arm is stretched in the air, purple and ugly looking. The rope tied around his cock is doing its job. His puny pecker is stretched beyond what looks humanly possible and is the same color as his arm. Green puss bleeds from his piss hole. Soft, raspy breathing is coming from him, but he’s out of it. Time to wake up. I stand and stalk over to where my apron hangs. I pull it over my head and find my hammer. By the time I turn around, Arturo is watching me with an expectant gleam in his eyes. Angel is shivering, but his stare is glued on me.
“Velez,” I bark as I tap the blunt end of the hammer on the top of his skull.
He groans and lifts his head. Drool hangs from his mouth and his eyes are bloodshot. “Uhnnn.”
I bend over so I can look straight into his dead eyes. “If an American was seeking safety in Guerrero, where would he go?”
His eyes roll back in his head and it lolls to the side. Not good enough. I step back and swing the hammer hard across the side of his knee. The crack is loud, but his scream is louder. I smirk, knowing I just broke his kneecap.
“If an American was seeking safety in Guerrero, where would he go?”
“I-I don’t know—”
Whack!
This time, I hit his other knee. He vomits and it sprays me. Thank fuck I’m wearing my apron. I nudge the ice pack between his thighs, hoping to inflict some pain. He groans some, but when I tap his stretched out cock with the hammer in a threatening way, he starts sobbing like a little bitch.
“I-I t-think attorney g-general Lucas Lorenzo.” He hisses in pain. “Please kill me.”
“Tell me what I want to know and I will,” I seethe.
He nods quickly. “Uh, Lorenzo lives n-north of t-the city. If t-there was an American seeking shelter, he’d w-want that f-for his p-political g-gain.”
Turning to Arturo and Angel, I point at the kid. “Get him some clothes. His task is to bring me Michael. Alive. I want him sitting in this chair.”
“I will find him,” Angel vows.
“And me?” Arturo asks. “What will I do?”
I stand and eye Velez’s stinking body. Without warning, I swing the clawed end of the hammer against the side of his skull. It lodges itself in his head, killing him on impact. “Take care of the fucking corpse.”