El Diablo (The Devil 1)

“You’re lying. I don’t believe you.”

“My word is all I have, Amari.”

She bit her lip, contemplating if she should tell me or not. She shook her head. “Fine… we were hanging out after the football game last night, and this guy from another school started talking to me while Michael was shooting the shit with his boys. So—”

“He left you by yourself?” I interrupted, putting my hand out to stop her. Needing clarification.

“No. What? He was mad because I was talking with another guy. We got into a huge fight over it. He’s pissed at me. I don’t know what to do to make it better. I told him we were just talking. It didn’t mean anything, but he says he could tell I was flirting or some shit like that. I don’t want Michael thinking I’m a slut or a cock tease.”

“One, he shouldn’t have left you by yourself if he’s that insecure. Two, if he called you a slut, I will fucking rip his—”

“Oh my God, he didn’t leave me by myself. We were at a party. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk to you about it. You’re just going to put all the blame on him. You’re supposed to be helping me, not pointing fingers.”

“I could break his fingers. But, instead I’m here just listening to you.”

“Alejandro…”

“Amari, don’t whine. It’s fucking annoying,” I scoffed, pissed off that she was defending him.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You know, for someone who claims to be a ‘take charge’ kind of guy, you’re still number two and you sure are pussyfooting around—”

“Pussyfooting? The only thing I do with pussy is fuck it. You want me to tell you what I’m thinking right now? My opinion? Because, sweetheart, you’re not going to like it.”

“You’re vile,” she spat, getting up from where we sat. I followed suit, not backing down.

“I’m honest. Your boyfriend is an insecure little bitch, who would rather call you a slut than walk over to you and claim what he thinks is his. He wants to fuck you, Amari. And the fact that he’s acting so possessive can only mean one thing. You haven’t spread your legs for him, yet.”

Her eyes widened from my revelation of her truth.

“How about that for honesty?”

She shook her head, backing away from me. I grabbed her wrist stopping her.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me. Words, Amari. Fucking speak.”

“Let go of me,” she gritted out, trying to tear her arm out of my grasp. “You think you’re so high and mighty, Alejandro! But here you are, Dad’s lapdog. Marching in line with every last thing he says. You’re nothing but his bitch.”

“At least I’m not weak, Amari,” I countered, letting her go.

She didn’t falter. “I’d rather be weak than be condemned to this life of hell. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to leave. I want nothing to do with this life. I will be out that door and out of this purgatory as soon as I fucking can.”

“With Michael?” I mocked in a condescending tone, standing close to her. “You think he can protect you? From. Me? Your own flesh and blood. I’ll always be your brother, and I’m not going anywhere. Even if you think you are.”

Her chest rose and descended with each word that left my mouth.

“I’m not scared of you, Alejandro. I know who you really are, in here,” she paused, placing her hand over my heart. “So stop pretending like I don’t. You don’t intimidate me. You need to worry about your own life and stay the hell out of mine. You’ve made your own choices, now you need to let me make mine. Maybe it’s time you stopped pussyfooting around with what’s been right in your goddamn face for a long time. How about you claim what you want to be yours? Since it’s so easy for you—”

“Enough, Amari,” I ordered, putting my hand out in front of me. She shoved it away from her face.

“She’s waiting for you. You know that, right? She thinks you’re her fucking hero, her savior ever since that night. She’s loved you since the first day she laid eyes on you, and I’m certain the feeling is mutual. Maybe it’s time for you to grow some balls and actually do something about it. She’s going to be here in a few minutes.”

“Get the fuck out of my face!”

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, brother?” She smiled before turning around to leave, never looking back.

I stood there alone for I don’t know how long, contemplating everything she had just said. Taking a few deep breaths, trying not to let my temper get the best of me. It was a Martinez trait. We could go from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. My father already warned me on several occasions that I needed to learn how to keep my emotions in check. Protecting what’s mine without showing any weakness. Never backing down. It only took one wrong move in this life to end up with a bullet in your goddamn head.

Your enemies couldn’t hurt you if they didn’t know what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking.

It was the code of life.

A very thin fucking line between being dead, or alive.

I took another deep breath as an unrecognizable feeling washed over me. It was a strong force, a pull drawing me, making me gravitate toward the window. My hands securely placed in the pockets of my slacks, rubbing my fingers together. A calming gesture I had acquired somewhere along the way. I felt her before I saw her.

Sophia.

She started coming around more in the last month. I had seen her a few times in school between classes, always struggling with her fucking locker. She'd caught me staring at her on more than one occasion and would smile shyly at me from a distance. I'd always look away, never acknowledging her, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

I wanted to remember the way she used to look at me, rather than the way she looked at me now.

She was in the daisy field behind our house. Amari was nowhere to be found, but I assumed she was there for her. There was no taking my eyes off her. I couldn’t, and I didn’t fucking want to. She was breathtakingly beautiful, sitting there in a teal sundress. Her long legs placed out in front of her, leaning back on her hands for support. Her dark brown hair gleamed in the rays of the sun, gently blowing in the breeze. Her soft, creamy skin flawless. I could see her bright green eyes shining from the distance between us. She looked like a dream.

My dream.

Before I could give it any thought, I went to her. Taking the attic ladder two steps at a time. Hoping she was still sitting there alone by the time I got downstairs. She didn’t turn toward me or even acknowledge that I was there. She was in her own little world. A world I desperately wanted to become a part of. I sat down beside her, gazing at the side of her beautiful face. Willing her to say something, but her eyes remained looking front and center toward the Manhattan Bridge in the distance, while mine remained on her.

“It’s been a while,” she said loud enough for me to hear, breaking the silence. Her tone laced with nothing but worry. “Your sister let me in. She said to go out back and you would find me. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not here for Amari, I’m here for you.”

“Why?” I found myself asking, holding back the desire to reach over and touch her, knowing it would only frighten her.

“You never gave me a chance to say thank you after that horrible night. They were about to rape me and God knows what else. It has taken me months to wrap my head around it. I’ve been trying to heal, both physically and mentally. When you found us, I remember thinking God sent us an angel. You saved my life, Alejandro,” she paused, letting her words linger. “I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am. Thank you for—”

“Now, tell me why you’re really here,” I interrupted, needing to know.

This was all very touching, but I was tired of the bullshit. I had enough of that in my life.

She immediately turned to look at me, locking eyes. Her intense gaze lit me on fire in a way I hadn’t ever experienced before. I never wanted to kiss someone as much as I did her at that moment. There were so many what ifs racing through my mind

in an instant, so many consequences and scenarios that could happen, so many fucking choices that could be right or wrong. She needed to stay away from me. That was the right thing to do. I was no good for her.

She looked at me as a savior, her hero, when I was anything but those things.

I reached over and caressed the side of her face. She leaned into my embrace like she had been waiting for me to do it since the second I sat down beside her. My thumb moved toward her pouty lips, rubbing off the lipstick that she wore for me.

I didn’t want her to pretend to be anything but what she was. She closed her eyes, melting into my touch.

Her breathing hitched when I pulled on her bottom lip. My hand suddenly moved to grip the back of her neck and bring her toward me.

I knew this was wrong.

I knew I should have stopped.

I knew there was no coming back from this.

I gently pecked her lips, beckoning them to open for me. She did, releasing a soft moan when she felt my tongue in her mouth.

See, I also knew I was going to Hell.

I just never imagined…

I would be taking her with me.

“How many assault rifles are in the crates?” Dad asked the black-market arms broker during a meeting at one of his warehouses downtown.

He had me attend more and more meetings over the last year, molding me into the prodigal son. Always reminding me that this would all be mine one day.

As if I could forget.

We all sat around a rectangular mahogany table in the middle of a wide-open space. It looked like a scene from a mobster movie. My dad was at the head of the table¸ of course, and I was sitting beside him. The two arms brokers were sitting across from me, with smug looks on their faces. There were three bodyguards behind my dad, and one behind me. Two more stood watch by the door.

If the two motherfuckers tried to pull anything, they wouldn't be walking out of there alive.

“Four to five,” he replied in a thick Russian accent.

“It’s either four or it’s five. Which one is it? I don't have time for your bullshit.”

“Usually four.”

“Usted lo que esta dicendo es…” Dad snapped, “So what you’re saying… is that you were trying to fuck me when you already knew it was four. You just wanted me to pay for five?”

“No, that’s—”

He put his hand up in the air, silencing him. “That wasn’t a question. My reputation speaks for itself. Would you like me to remind you what I’m known for, hijos de putas?” Dad sneered, “Son of bitches.”

The arms brokers looked at each other suspiciously then back at my dad. By the look on their faces they wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but they knew better. Dad sat there with his head cocked to the side, sizing the men up. Lazily spinning the Glock sitting in front of him like a roulette wheel. Stopping it every time it pointed to the Russians.

“I want a thousand rounds of ammunition for each of those rifles.”

“We can do five hundred.”

He didn’t falter, arguing, “If I wanted five hundred, I would have said five hundred. Four assault rifles per crate. I want a hundred crates. I’ll pay you two thousand a crate, five hundred per rifle and fifty thousand for the ammo. That’s two hundred and fifty thousand total.”

“That’s too low. We need—”

The gun spun one last time and before I knew it he had it off the table, holding it casually out in front of him instead.

“The crates need safe transportation until offload at the shipping port downtown. I’ll pay you half now, half when they get delivered.”

“Let’s nego—”

“If you want to negotiate then get the fuck out of my office, pedazos de mierda,” Dad roared, “Pieces of shit.”

“We take high risk doing this and you’re offering—”

“Quarter of a million. It’s an offer you shouldn’t refuse. Your risk is well compensated. These are wholesale rifles. I’m moving them onto the streets. The serial numbers need to be shaved off so it’s going to cost me money. If you don’t want to take the deal, I can reach out to the Albanians. You’re not the only pendejos I can buy from, take or leave it. But next time you try to come in here, don’t waste my fucking time with bullshit excuses. We’re not selling Girl Scout cookies, motherfuckers. We’re in the business of making things happen. Either you make it happen, or I’ll find someone who will.”

The arms broker cleared his throat. “Right… we will have them delivered next week.”

My dad pounded his hand that was holding the gun on the table. The three bodyguards behind him stepped forward.

“Thursday,” he gritted out.

Which was three days from today then he casually stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. I followed suit. From the sound of things the meeting was over.

They nodded, clenching their jaws. “Thursday, amigo.”

My father shook his head with a cocky grin. “I’m not your friend.”

Grabbing the briefcase that was under the table, Dad placed it out in front of them. He slid open the locks, revealing stacks of hundred dollar bills perfectly placed in a row. Filling the entire briefcase from top to bottom.

“Since you think I’m your amigo, I’m assuming you don’t need to count it,” Dad crudely mocked, shutting the briefcase and sliding it across the table. The arms broker intercepted it.

“You interested in the women we picked up? I have a mother and daughter, beautiful women with big tits and voluptuous asses. A few other women as well, all young. Fresh. We had our go with them. They’re ready to be transported. If you’re—”

“No,” Dad cut him off without missing a beat.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion at the sick fucks sitting in front of me.

“Are you sure? They make good business. Make you a lot of money for—”

“Did I fucking stutter? Take your money and get the fuck out. My men will see you on Thursday.”

“How will we—”

“They’ll know.”

They stood up. I watched them leave without so much as a second glance.

“Say it,” Dad ordered, reading me like a goddamn book as soon as the doors closed behind them.

“You let them take those women?”

“I didn't let them do shit. I don't traffic women, Alejandro. But some of the men I know do. Everyone has a mother or a child. Those are two things that I don’t fuck with. You understand me?”

I peered down at the table. “Yes.”

My mind was spinning at what was going to happen to those women. All I could think of was Amari and Sophia, I would fucking kill anyone if they tried to take them. I proved that to be true already.

“You look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you, hijo. My patience is wearing very thin with having to remind you.”

I looked up, staring into his dark, cold, daunting eyes that never showed any emotion. There were times like these where all I wanted was to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

Especially, to know whether he loved me or not. Always feeling as though I was just another card that he brought to the table.

Power.

“Some people may never like me, and I will never give a fuck. Everything I do, I do it for all of you. At the end of the day, family is all that matters.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in his words.

“Respect is not given, it’s earned. Until that day, you will look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you. One day you’ll stand where I am, and you’ll thank me for making you who you are.”

We rode home in silence. I stared out the limo window the whole way home, contemplating everything I had learned that day. When we got home my dad went straight to his office like he always did, and I headed up to my room. I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, thinking about my life and how Sophia fit into it. She was never far from my thoughts. She knew who my family was. What the future held for me. We didn’t discu

ss it, but we didn’t have to. The truth was blatantly staring us in the face. Except when I was with her, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. It was like living a double life. Sophia’s Alejandro, the sixteen-year-old kid, and Alejandro Martinez, son of the notorious crime boss.

Destined to take over one day.

Over the last year, Sophia and I had gotten closer. Close in ways I never imagined could be possible. I had pussy thrown at me left and right. Women literally threw themselves on my dick when they saw me walking in with my father. That’s all it took for them to want to get on their knees and suck my cock.

All I wanted was Sophia.

No one else existed in my eyes. She was there when I needed her, and even when I didn’t. I tried to keep that part of my life private from my father. I knew he was becoming suspicious, since I never took those women up on their offers like I had before. Fucking every single one of them without thinking twice about it. Now I just worried that he would try to take her away from me.

He couldn’t.

There wasn’t a chance in Hell I’d ever let him. She was mine. End of story.

A few days later I finally had some down time and got to spend some alone time with Sophia. My face turned into the palm of her hand and I softly kissed it. We were lying on my bed, paying no attention to the movie playing in the background. My parents were gone for the night. It was their anniversary, and my dad took my mom out. Ever since the incident with John and Marco, Dad was extra diligent with whom he hired to protect us. There were always extra bodyguards on staff now, specifically around me. Dad said I had become a target, enemies craving to put a bullet in my fucking head the second I stepped foot into a meeting with him.

I started to appreciate life, or whatever the fuck I was living because nothing was guaranteed.

Especially my life.

Sophia came over for a sleepover with Amari, and Michael stopped by shortly after. Much to my fucking disapproval.

In the eyes of Sophia’s grandparents, my father was her savior. I don’t know what bullshit story he told them about what happened that night, and I didn’t give a flying fuck because my girl was in my bed.