Dirty (RAW Family 2)

“On the floor! Hands up!”

“Put your weapon down!”

“Where is Baris? Huh?” A heavy thud sounds, followed by a long, pained groan. “Where is Egon Baris?”

“If you do not comply, I will shoot you. Do you understand me?”

“It’s okay, miss. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Get down. Get down. I said get down!”

The law is tedious work. If it were me here on my own, they’d have never heard me coming. The last thing they’d have seen was the barrel of my gun between their eyes and then bam.

It was a mercy, my way, really. Quick and concise. No life flashing before their eyes, no nothing.

Just fade to black.

The end.

Game over.

Yeah.

It was definitely a kindness, my way.

The fight, the struggle for control, it sends the blood humming through my veins. Truth be told, I’m not needed here. With sixteen armed men including Ethan Black and myself, the war is already won.

But I get it. I understand the need to battle. After all, you back a dog into a corner and they’re gonna bite. Same goes for people.

Scattered bodies of both men and women litter the floor, some still moving but visibly injured, while others lay with their eyes open, their faces in a state of shock, the light dimmed in their cold, dead stare.

Carnage.

It’s my life.

The only thing better than sex is taking the life from someone who really fucking deserves it. Nothing can satisfy like that. Not even busting a nut.

I follow one of the men around the corner to the already breached entrance of the basement, when a shadow comes forward in the corner of my eye. Without a second thought, I lift my arm as high as I can and bring it down so fast that the baton makes a whooshing noise through the air, followed by a loud snap as I break the arm of one of Egon’s men.

He howls in pain, falling to the ground, clutching at his arm, and Black’s man, the one in front of me, turns at the agonizing cry. He looks down at the man as I lift my leg, bringing it down, stomping on the man’s face. Blood spurts from his nose as I feel the crunch of the bones breaking in his face beneath my heel. I do this again and again, not because I need to, not because I need to disarm this man, but because it feels so fucking good to break something in this all too perfect world. The man grunts, then again, and once more, softer this time, till nothing escapes his parted mouth, his eyes completely hollow.

That’s when I decide to step away. I pant and swallow and inhale deeply, as the soldier boy by my side utters, “Not bad.”

And I huff out a half laugh, fighting to breathe. “Says the guy with a gun.”

The dude smiles then, and I tail him as he enters the basement. Four of Egon’s men have been disarmed, and Black looks around at the weapons in the room. With a shake of his head, he turns to me before speaking into his earpiece. “Copy that.” He runs his fingers over a Russian APS assault rifle. “The fuck was he preparing for, World War III?”

“Men like Baris don’t ask questions,” I admit gruffly. “We sell to the highest bidder.”

Black moves to walk past me, but stills when he reaches my side. “We got him. He tried to escape through an intricately built rabbit warren of underground tunnels, but we got him.”

My response is artless. “Good.”

It was good. That was one down, one less thing stopping me from rejoining my family.

Oh yeah, it was definitely good.

More trucks roll in, and the house is torn apart. Evidence is collected, the injured are carted off to the hospital, the dead are bagged and tagged, and Black comes to stand by me. “You did what you said you would, Falco.” He looks uncomfortable to concede, “I wasn’t sure you would, but you pulled through. You brought us a big fish. Good job.”

I don’t care for sentiment. It makes my stomach coil. So as always, I bring a dose of real to the table. “Don’t you fucking thank me. I didn’t do this for you.” I blow out a long breath, then mutter, “Fuck, I’ll empty the entire motherfucking sea if it means I get to go home, Black.” A moment’s pause, then, “Tired of other people getting my son.” I swallow hard. “I just want to be with my son.”

“You will,” Black replies immediately, before moving up the stairs of the basement and out of sight.

That sounded like an oath to me.

I’m hoping it was, because if Ethan Black doesn’t fulfill his promise, no hurricane nor hellfire could stop me from making his wife a widow.

The loud dance music booms its bass beat right through my chest, forcing my heart to thump to the tune of Calvin Harris and Rihanna’s “This Is What You Came For,” and the flashing blue neon lights darting across the darkened club hurt my eyes, but I don’t dare complain, because regardless of what I feel, I’m out of the house, and that trumps all else right now. Irrespective of the fact that I’m out on the town with Ling, this evening feels somewhat ordinary. A kind of normal I hadn’t experienced before in my sheltered life. Tonight, we aren’t abductor and captive, but just two women going out for a drink in an obviously popular nightspot.

The fact that Ling has brought me here somewhat eases my mind. Logic tells me that she wouldn’t have taken me somewhere so congested if she planned on killing me. A definite bonus.

I wish I had a cell phone. I wish I could call Julius and tell him where I am, or perhaps just text him, hoping to hear that ping and feel the reassurance of his response.

Whenever we had friends and family over, Dino and I would play the role of loving couple so well that by the time people began to leave, I would sometimes forget it was all an act. And when the ball dropped, and Dino would commence being master of my body, dictator of my mind, a slow sadness would seep into my very soul. I would feel nothing but the cold reality that was my life, a life I would’ve traded in a heartbeat to the first taker. Dino had the ability to make me feel higher than the tallest mountain, but I came to realize he only made me feel that way so he could push me over the edge and watch me fall, stumbling to my death, over and over again. Round and round we went.

It was hard living my life, and doing it in ladylike silence.

The truth is, I am not unlike any other woman. I want to be with a man who accepts me for who I am. I would like for a man to love me for all my small quirks rather than shame me for them. And above all, I crave the affection of a man who will give it to me freely, not use it as a weapon against me.

At this moment in my life, I am tired, but I am strong. And I will keep going as far as the road takes me, as far as there is road to travel.

I’ve paid my unjust dues for more than ten lifetimes with my marriage to Dino. I’m not giving up this life, not one I’ve earned with the scars of my misery, not without a fight.

It takes me back to something my brother told me when I asked how it felt to kill a person. Miguel explained, “Ana, bebita, we all come into this world kicking, and screaming, and covered in somebody else’s blood. You got to decide if you have a problem going out the same damn way. And me? I do not.”

As per all the children in my family, I had been taught to handle a gun. My father wasn’t interested in having us girls know about weapons, not until Miguel pointed out that, regardless of how safe we think we are, knowledge is power, and he assured our father that the lessons would not corrupt his little ladies. To say he was impressed with how well we took to our shooting classes was an understatement, and on my wedding night, my father gave me a gift.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, a gold-plated .22-caliber semi-automatic pistol with rose-gold budding roses engraved into it, the spiked vines coming up the grip to decorate the barrel. It was love at first sight, and I cherished it, taking it with me everywhere I went thanks to a concealed weapons permit. Until one fateful night, the first of many nights where Dino and Gio would push me so far over the edge that careening to my death sounded a wonderful reprieve from my shitty existence.

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After being mentally abused for what seemed like hours, Dino had tied me naked to the bed with a ball gag in my mouth and a sheer blindfold over my eyes, and I listened to Gio describe the ways in which he would deflower my then nine-year-old sister. When she was ready, of course. Dino laughed and told Gio he would have to wait a while. Gio just replied a cool, “Oh, do I?”

Dino laughed, but I heard the threat clear as crystal.

Gio wanted my sister Rosa for his own.

I sobbed violently behind the blindfold, spittle dripping down my chin around the ball gag. I knew I had to do something to keep Gio away from her. But a man like Gio was not easily swayed. He needed persuasion in a manner of which he understood.

So when Dino released me, smacking me lightly on the bottom and telling me to get myself cleaned up, I kept my head lowered tamely and moved across the room, heading toward the bathroom, while Dino poured Gio another glass of overpriced, disgusting whiskey. I knew it was dreadful. After all, I’d had it poured down my throat a number of times.

On my way to the bathroom, I stopped just before I made it to the doorway. Reaching over to my purse, which hung innocently enough on a golden hook, I took out my gun, dropping my purse onto the floor, and I turned. Holding my weapon in both of my hands, I only had one man in sight, arms raised, pistol poised with the promise of eternal deliverance.

My vision blurred as I began to speak, my entire body shaking with pent-up anger. Breathing deeply through my nose, I spoke low, only for him. “She’s just a child.”

Somewhere in the room, a firm voice spoke. “Alejandra, what do you think you’re doing?”