DAMIEN

 

 

I had a fucking death wish.

After Joseph delivered the blow that Amira had perished, and we had been chasing a fucking ghost, I shut down. The pain was too much, yet I welcomed it. I deserved it. The last shred of humanity I was clenching onto snapped with the click of the gun that night. Burying El Santo and embracing El Pecador. My demons raising a fucking glass, greeting me at the gates of Hell, taking bets on how many brushes with death I could survive.

Which led me to this point in time.

A few weeks later, I was walking through a set of wrought iron doors that led into a mansion, where an invite only, black tie affair was being held at a secluded resort in Miami. The only setback was I didn’t have an invite, although I was wearing a black fucking tie.

I wouldn’t need an invite. 

At least not by my standards, and as far as I was concerned, those were the only ones that mattered.

“Good evening, Sir. I need your name, driver’s license, and invitation please,” the security personnel greeted, standing front and center at the entrance. Along with an arsenal of others all dressed to the nines, covering their posts in the surrounding area.

“I don’t need an invitation,” I casually replied.

“No invite, no entrance.”

I eyed him up and down, cocking my head to the side. “I beg to fucking differ.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I’m District Attorney Damien Montero, and I want to meet your boss. I’m not talking about the man you answer to. I want to meet the motherfucker you’re not allowed to talk about. If you don’t make it happen right now, I’ll call this little soirée in for a raid. Inviting my own officers to come figure out how many laws are being broken here tonight. How’s that sound? Is that form of invitation enough for you?”

I wasn’t surprised in the least when he swung at me. In fact, I was expecting it. I ducked, grabbing ahold of his wrist, twisting him around so his back was against my chest. Cranking up his arm behind him like he was under arrest. My gun to his head before he even saw it coming. In two seconds flat, every guard had their guns out, aiming them directly at us.

“Goddamn! Now, it’s a party!” I excitedly roused, digging my gun deeper into his temple. “Allow me to introduce myself to the rest of you, I’m District Attorney Damien Montero and as I was so graciously informing este hijo de puta,” I announced, “this son of a bitch” in Spanish. “I want to meet the man in charge of all the illegal activity happening here tonight. If one of you doesn’t make it happen right fucking now, I’ll invite more guests by calling in a search warrant. Turn this black-tie event into a real fucking party. Do I make myself clear?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? We’re not scared of you, motherfucker,” the guard to the right of us gritted out.  

“No?” I mocked, shoving the man in my hold away from me. Immediately shooting him in the back of the head on his way down, killing him point blank. Pulling out my other gun from my holster, taking down three others with single shots to their knees, no sooner than they could blink. Sparing their lives for now. I redirected the aim of my guns at the shit-talking guard, standing at my right and stated, “How about now?”

His eyes widened, taking in the scene laid out in front of him.

“We both know what’s going to happen if you kill me. You’re smart enough to realize I would cover my tracks. Anyone who matters has the knowledge of my whereabouts. Even if you hid my body, it’s still going to fall back on your boss. I will look like a hero who was trying to take down a sex-trafficking ring, while he spends the rest of his life in fucking prison. Getting gang raped in el culo by Chester and his friends. I mean, killing you, of course, after he tortures you and more than likely your entire family.”

He knew what I was saying was the truth. I could see it in his beady expression.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if I die… Can you say the same?” I paused, allowing my words to sink in. Lowering my guns to my sides, ending the standoff.

It was over.

I won.

“I suggest you use your earpiece and tell whoever the fuck you answer to, I’ll be waiting at the bar inside.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply, holstering my guns as I made my way toward the front doors. “He has ten minutes to send someone for me, or I’m going to place a call,” I added, never once looking back.

As soon as I walked into the infamous party, I could feel the same aura and magnetic pull of all the whorehouses I’d been in. The smell of pussy and sex instantly assaulted my senses. It was hard to ignore when it was all around you, which was the point of these establishments. It suffocated people with the need to fuck, paying a shitload of money to own a slave for the night or even take one home with you.

I walked past the foyer, over to two of the most elegant grand staircases that flowed seamlessly to the marble floors, opposite of each other. There was translucent lighting everywhere with half-naked girls dancing seductively in certain areas around the open room. Food laid on the bare skin of both men and women, and the waitresses walked around topless, wearing nothing but G-strings and a fucking smile.

Some were straddling men, others were going at it with women, and some were even in groups. Taking it in every hole simultaneously. I watched as they sucked cock and ate pussy, being fucked and receiving pleasure. None of it got my cock hard. I was desensitized to shit shows like these. Especially since I knew this was just a cover up for the main fucking event, on display somewhere behind these walls.

“So, you’re the one who’s been misbehaving,” a busty blonde announced, stepping out in front of me. Catching my attention straightaway. “I’m Cecilia.”

“Is that supposed to impress me? I’m assuming you’re the one who’s going to take me to your boss.”

She smiled wider, placing her hand on my chest. “Wow, way to hurt a girl’s feelings. I thought we could do some talking first. Perhaps grab a drink.”

“The only talking I want to do is with your boss. I’m done playing games, take me to him. Now.” 

She reluctantly nodded, leading the way. I followed close behind as we took the staircase to the second floor, leading us to a private elevator with more guards standing around. Cecilia set her index finger on the security screen, making the doors open. Punching in a code on the keypad once we were both inside. I stood on the opposite end of the elevator, the furthest spot away from her. My eyes stayed focused out in front of me, and her eyes stayed locked on the side of my face as we ascended to the top floor.

As soon as the doors opened, I was struck with a coppery scent I was more than familiar with. There was no mistaking the smell of fear and bodily fluids all around me. She nodded to three more guards standing in front of a set of open double doors, partially blocking our view. They stepped aside, staring me down as I followed her into a vast room that looked like a private office. Where I could possibly end up another murder victim like the two men bleeding out on the floor to our right, and the one who was partially alive, tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

I didn’t pay them any mind.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, District Attorney Damien Montero,” the man behind his desk announced in a thick Albanian accent, leaning back in his chair. “Unlike my guards, I know who you are.”

He was trying to intimidate me, but little did he know I welcomed the unexpected with open arms tonight.

I recognized who he was the second he spoke, though I’d never personally met him. I’d only heard of him underground. His name was Vlad. He’d moved to Miami from the Bronx about four-years-ago, and prior to that he lived in Albania. The man was a known leader of the Albanian Mafia, except, according to him, he washed his hands of it all when he moved to the States.

Like most Albanians, he fit the role nicely. He had a slanted jawline, a slender nose that looked like it had been broken a few times too many, and dark eyebrows that emphasized his blue, murderous stare. His hair was graying down the sides, and his tan skin showed some signs of aging around his eyes. The man was fucking smart, a mastermind when it came to trafficking women and even human organs. The Feds had a hard time pinning anything on him. He was one, bat-shit crazy motherfucker you didn’t want to cross.

I scoffed, taking a seat in front of his desk without being asked. Making myself right at home. “It’s about damn time somebody fucking does, I thought I was losing my charm.”

“By that you mean taking out four of my guards?”

“What can I say? Like you said, I like to make an entrance.”

He nodded to the blonde and his guards, and they left, closing the doors behind them. Vlad wanted me to know he wasn’t intimidated by me as well.

“To what do I owe the honor of you pissing me the fuck off?” he asked, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Your guard swung at me first. By law, I was simply protecting myself.”

“And how many laws are you breaking right now by orchestrating a meeting with me?”

“Not nearly as many as you are by just sitting in front of me. Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? You know who I am, but do you know why I’m here?”

“To give me legal advice?” he mocked, shrugging.

I leaned forward, close to his desk. “The only advice I have for you, is to go fuck yourself.”

He grinned, chuckling.

“I’m here because I want in.”

“Those are big boy words, District Attorney Montero. Is this where we do some more chit-chatting and then you get me to confess something? How do I know you’re not wearing a wire?”

Before he got the last word out, I pulled out my gun. Aiming it straight behind me, toward the man in the chair. Without even turning my stare, I fired it directly into his fucking forehead. Blowing his brains out the back of his head, causing it to splatter on the floor and walls. I executed another man without hesitation, without warning, and without any shame or remorse.

“There. This time I wasn’t trying to protect myself. Now we’ve broken fucking laws. Does that even the playing field for you?”

His blank stare didn’t waver from mine as he reached into his desk and pulled out a revolver. “You want in? Let’s play a little game of roulette. If you live, you’re in, and if you die, well…” He shrugged again. “You know what happens then.”

He was trying to test if I was a narc. I’d be out at this point if I was, knowing I’d have a sixteen percent chance of dying. Instead, I just removed my suit jacket and threw it on the chair next to me.

“No need to get blood on my Armani suit.”

Vlad arched an eyebrow. “Three rounds?” Nodding to the gun firmly in his grasp, trying to call my bluff.

I signaled to him. “How about five? I’m feeling fucking lucky.” Once again, leaning back. Getting comfortable in my seat.

His eyes glazed over, it was quick but I saw it. He was shocked and impressed. “Alright, so you can see there’s only one bullet in the ch—”

“Don’t bother. I trust you,” I chimed in as he was opening the cylinder to prove his point. 

He eyed me skeptically for a few seconds, shaking it off. Aiming his revolver over my heart, he cocked back the hammer.

“There’s nothing there. Aim it at my forehead.”

I was empty.

I was numb.

I was dead inside.

There was no point in even pretending to live a decent life knowing she was gone. Not even the adrenaline filled the gaps she left behind.

“You just might be fucking crazier than me,” he scoffed out, shifting his gun to my head. “Any last words?”

“Yeah. Don’t fucking miss.”

He didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger.

Click.

I didn’t even blink.

He cocked it again.  

Click.

I started laughing.

Cocked, loaded, and clicked two more times. He pulled the hammer back one last time. “Moment of truth.”

“Or death,” I simply stated.

Click.

I grinned, letting out a malicious groan from deep in my chest. “Even Hell doesn’t want me.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen this happen before.”

“Is playtime over now?”

He threw the revolver on his desk. “You want in on what exactly?”

“Everything.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Protection. I have boats to transport whatever is needed. Not to mention all corrupt politicians, feds, officers, judges, the list goes on. Up until now, I’ve dabbled in a little of this and that, but I want to play with the big fucking dogs.”

“Why? You got a nice thing going for yourself. Why would you want to fuck it up?”

“Because I have nothing to fucking lose. Besides, wrath has always been my favorite sin.”

He pressed a button on his intercom. “Come clean up this mess.”

“Yes, Sir,” someone said on the other end.

He stood and I followed suit, grabbing my jacket and put it back on.

“Let’s get a drink.” 

Music vibrated the speakers throughout the entire mansion. He wanted to make you think he was just setting up the scene, the mood. When in reality, he was trying to drown out the screams.

I wasn’t talking about the ones from pleasure.

We walked through what seemed like an endless stream of hallways and stairs. He typed in more access codes along the way, eventually leading us to a ballroom where there were mostly young women in cages as if they were animals. Waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. My eyes went back to the scene unfolding in front of me. As if on cue, soft light illuminated around the open room. Candles suddenly lit, spreading throughout the entire space as if they magically appeared out of thin air. I didn’t even see anyone light them. It gave the large area a translucent appearance.

In the four corners of the room, women all dressed in nothing but heels were present. All waiting to take center stage, lined up in rows upon rows. I couldn’t take my eyes off them—they were all so beautiful, so flawless, perfection in every form of the word. Their hips swayed to the beat of the music as they put on a performance to be sold. I didn’t have to see the guests faces to know they were all aroused, which was exactly the point. They started to dance provocatively, seducing everyone in the room. Each one of their movements were carnal and sinful. Captivating the attention of every last person in the space. The women moved their way toward one another, dancing on each other. Kissing, tasting, feeling each other. The sensations from their audience, only enticed them to keep going.

I witnessed men starting to pull out their hard cocks, stroking themselves to the visions of the pussies in front of them. It didn’t stop there. More women came into the room, dressed exactly the same, encouraging the guests to touch them, play with them, feeling every last inch of their hard bodies. I surveyed the room, breathing in the smell of lust, abandonment, and pussy.

“You want one?” he asked, glancing over at me. All these women were to be sold. 

“No.”

Vlad showed me this for one reason and one reason only—it was another test. He wanted to make sure I could stomach the seediness of his world before he disclosed the only information I wanted from the start. The real reason I was there in the first place.

He handed me a drink and I took it down like a shot, breathing out pure alcohol.

Making him laugh, “It’s Raki, ten times stronger than moonshine. Listen, there’s a meeting next month in Detroit. Everyone who is anyone will be there. The top fucking dogs of organized crime. Consider it a meeting of the masterminds, coming together to unite forces and see what we can offer each other. From blood diamonds to money laundering. Arms dealing, drug cartel, chop shop and of course, sex and organ trafficking. Which, as you can tell, is why I’ll be there. These are just to name a few, though.”

“How do I—”

“I’ll vouch for you. Since you’re offering your boats and the names of high profile people we can use to our advantage.”

“When and where?”

He eyed me warily. “You seem like you’re going through some shit right now, and I’m giving you an out. You have a month to decide if you’re in or out. Because once you’re in, the only way out is in a coffin.”

I looked him dead in the eyes and spoke with conviction, “I’ll be in touch.”

Meaning every last word.