Always Room for Cupcakes (16 page)

When my ex moved closer, my instinct was to move farther away, but I stood my ground and looked him in the eye.

“So this guy, he’s just like a fling, right?”

“What?” I asked, confused by the change in conversation, and that we were having it on the street in front of my place with the children present.

“He’s not your type.”

“My
type
?”

My ex pointed to himself, and I took in his manicured hands, nice loafers, and perfectly styled hair. Then I thought of Cade, a huge beast of a man with dangerous eyes and luscious hair. The two couldn’t be more different. And not just looks either, in the way they thought, acted, and lived their lives.

I was smiling when I answered, “No, he’s not a fling.”

I waited for him to respond, then watched as his eyes got wide at something over my shoulder. I turned my head to see a big black van barreling toward us. It headed our way and screeched to a halt before making contact. I saw Hector and a couple of men I’d never seen jump out and run at me.

It was so much like a scene out of a movie that I didn’t react at first, I just watched, stunned, as if I were looking at it happen to someone else.

Then, when I realized who it was and that they were after me, I turned back to my ex and screamed, “
Eric, get the kids out of here
!”

I saw him grab Elin, then Elena by their waists and lift them, one under each arm in a football hold, then take off running.

When I turned back to start kicking, or scratching, hoping to run myself, Hector was already there. Before I could do anything, two man grabbed me, each one holding an arm.

“Hey, Red,” Hector said, pulling my attention to him. He lifted a hand and blew something in my face, dazing me for a second. I shook my head and noticed Eric and the kids had just entered the apartment complex and the door was slamming behind them, but I did so in a fog, not really caring.

Hector told me to get in the van, so I followed him to the open door and climbed up inside. I was seated next to one of the guys who’d helped hold me down. I looked at everyone in the van with disinterest, noting there were three guys with Hector, and that the van smelled like Burger King Whoppers.

“I’ve never really seen how this stuff works,” the guy to my left said. I glanced over at him briefly, noting he was ugly as sin, with a sinister-looking smile.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he ordered.

I lifted my hands and began unbuttoning my shirt.

Things were kind of hazy, almost like a dream, and their voices sounded like they were coming at me through a funnel.

“Stop fucking around. That’s not what this is about; button your shirt back up,” Hector said, and I noted that
ugly as sin
stiffened next to me, obviously upset that he’d been overruled.

I changed course and began buttoning my shirt back up.

I felt a tug on my hair and turned slightly to see
ugly as sin
twirling a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Unbutton,” he mouthed, barely a whisper coming out. So I changed course again and went back to unbuttoning my shirt.

This time, I finished my task then waited, my fingers holding the bottom of my shirt.

“Open it,” he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

I spread the shirt open and felt his eyes on me. It didn’t bother me. It didn’t
not
bother me. It just was…

“Show me your tits,” he said next.

As I moved to comply, the guy on the other side of me muttered, “
Jefe
,” which got Hector’s attention.

Hector turned around, saw what was going on in the backseat, told me to “Put your shit back on,” and started screaming at
ugly as sin
in rapid-fire Spanish.

I didn’t know how long we’d been driving, but when my shirt was back to rights, we slowed down and then the van stopped.

“Get out.”

I followed the tattle-tale guy out of the van, then waited to see where we were going next.

Hector took me by the arm and led me in to an old warehouse, looked over his shoulder and gave the guy behind us some sort of instructions in Spanish, and I heard a gun fire.

I glanced behind me to see what had happened, and watched with disinterest as
ugly as sin
dropped to the street behind me. Dead.

Turning my head back, I let Hector guide me inside without making a peep.

We walked into the dark warehouse, through a large open area, then into an office of some sort. We kept going through another door into a large bay that was sectioned off. There was a light in the distance, and we headed toward that.

When we turned the corner and into the lit space, I saw three folding chairs. One was empty. One had a gun, a saw, a sledge hammer, and pliers laying across it. And, in the last one sat a barely conscious, obviously beaten, Moose.

“What’d you do to her?” Moose asked, his voice hoarse as if he’d been yelling, or screaming.

His head was rolled to the side, his hands tied behind his back, and he had his good eye trained on me. His other was swollen shut.

Unsure of what I should do, and distracted by an overhead light that’s fluorescent light kept blinking and buzzing, I stood there waiting for instruction, my attention moving from Moose to the light above me.

“Hey, Red.” Hector snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me away from the flickering light and back to him.

“Don’t call me that,” I said automatically.

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, bitch, now go pick up the pliers then sit in that chair.”

I didn’t flinch when he yelled in my face, rather just moved to do what he’d told me to.

When I was in the chair, pliers in hand, I looked at him expectantly.

“Use the pliers to break your finger.”

I lifted my left hand, spreading my hands out in a fan before looking back at Hector in question.

“Pointer,” was his response.

Placing the pliers around my finger, I began to squeeze, feeling a faint twinge of pain. I looked back at Hector, who yelled, “Do it!”

I put more pressure on the handles as Moose started pleading, “No, no, Lila, don’t do it.”

“Break it,” Hector ordered.

I squeezed the handles with all my might then jerked my right hand up as I pulled my left down, twisting as I did. I felt the white-hot pain at the same time I heard the satisfying sound of the bone crush beneath the pliers.

I bit back a wave of nausea and was aware of the sweat running down my face; still, I looked up at Hector and waited further instruction.

“Good, Red,” He said, and I felt the sudden urge to turn the pliers on him and take out an eye. Hector must have read my intent, because his face hardened and he bit out, “Don’t even think about it. Put the pliers down.”

I tossed them down, the clang of metal hitting the floor echoing in the room.

“Now, stand up and pick up the sledgehammer,” Hector commanded.

I did what he said, favoring my left hand as I walked to the chair and picked up the sledgehammer, then turned, holding it in both hands, and waited.

“What are you doing?” Moose asked, his eye moving between Hector and me, before stopping to stare at the hammer in my hands, his face conveying his obvious terror. “You can’t…”

“Jorge said you’ve been uncooperative,” Hector answered, walking forward then crouching in front of Moose and waving his hand back at me. “I thought maybe your partner would be more persuasive.”

“Take out his knee,” Hector demanded, rising and moving to the right to give me access.

“Nooooo,” Moose bellowed, and I paused.

Suddenly Hector was right in my face, his hand clenching my jaw tightly.

“You don’t listen to him; you listen to me … Take out his fucking knee.”

Without further ado, I lifted the sledgehammer high over my shoulder, aware of the pain in my hand but still intent on following his order. I marched to Moose, swinging as I moved, and hit his knee so hard, I could hear the bone shatter seconds before he let out a blood-curdling scream.

I looked over my shoulder at Hector, sweating pouring down my face now.

“The other one,” he said, taking a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket in the front of his shirt and lighting it.

“No, please, God, no,” Moose pleaded between sobs and wheezes.

I paused, wiping the sweat from my brow with my forearm.

“Who hired you?” Hector asked, taking a drag.

“I can’t … He’ll kill me.”

“What the fuck do you think we’re doing right now,
ese
?”

“
Lila, please
,” Moose begged, trying to reason with me, even though he obviously knew I was beyond reason.

Heedless to his begging, I awaited instruction from Hector.

“You want to know the funniest part,
ese
? The shit she’s on … She’s going to tell me everything I want to know anyway.” He looked back at me and said, “Do the other one.”

Hector had barely finished his sentence before I was swinging back and connecting with Moose’s left knee.

Screams echoed off the walls of the warehouse, and I wondered how the entire city didn’t hear Moose’s pain.

“Bitch, who hired you?”

I turned my attention from Moose to Hector and said monosyllabically, “Your brother, Carlos.”

Hector’s rage mingled with Moose’s cries filling the space as he moved, his gun aimed at Moose’s head.

Moose had a moment to look at me and whisper, “Sorry,” before Hector unloaded the clip in his face.

Bits of blood, skin, bone, and possibly brain splattered across my face, chest, arms, and torso, yet still I stood, silently holding the sledgehammer.

“Everything okay,
jefe
?” one of Hector’s men asked, stepping into the room.

“Carlos is on his way,” Hector managed, right before the sound of gunfire rang outside the walls.

Hector and his man ran out, toward the action, leaving me behind without a word.

After standing there for a moment, my eyes on the door they’d just left, I walked over to the folding chair and put the sledgehammer back where I got it. Then I went and sat in the empty chair next to it, listening to the sounds of yelling and shots being fired.

I don’t know how long I sat there, with Moose’s ravaged body next to me, the smell of feces and death swimming all around me. But, eventually, the sound of footsteps had me looking up from my injured hand and I saw a tall, handsome man step through the door.

He surveyed the room dispassionately then asked, “You the photographer?”

I nodded.

“Your man is on his way,” he said strangely, then left as quickly as he’d arrived.

I waited, drifting along in a fog as I thought about absolutely nothing.

After a while, bits and pieces of clarity began to take hold of me, and I began to shake. Just a little bit at first, then more and more, until my entire body was rattling. I hugged my hands around myself to try and stave it off, but it only got worse as my senses came alive.

Next the smells in the room registered, and the magnitude of everything that had happened began to hit me. I dropped to my knees as the tears began to fall, and I looked to my right.

Moose.

I think that’s when the wailing began … As I looked over at Moose’s lifeless body, all of my focus on the knees that
I
had broken, the pain I’d inflicted on the man who’d been my boss.

I was throwing up on the ground in front of me when Cade hit the room at a full sprint.

“
Mother fucker!”
he exploded, but I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or Moose, because I was still dry heaving on the floor.

I felt a presence at my back and the hair being pulled off the nape of my neck, then the heat of Cade’s breath against my ear.

“
Lila, darlin’ … fuck
…”

His hand rubbed small circles on my back until I stopped heaving, then I was lifted into his arms and he was carrying me out of the warehouse.

As we neared the exit, I could hear the sound of sirens outside, and I looked at Cade dazedly.

“How’d you find me?”

Cade looked into my eyes sharply and asked, “They give you something?”

I nodded, then flinched when the bright morning light hit my face.

“What time?” I managed, watching as Bea rushed toward me.

“It’s about eight AM. You were taken yesterday around four, according to your ex.”

Surprised, I brought my eyes to his face, taking in his beautiful features, drawn tight in angry lines, and a little more reality slipped in. Although it had felt like very little time had passed for me during the ordeal, I was obviously gone much longer than I thought.

“My kids?” I asked, suddenly filled with the terror that had evaded me for the last sixteen or so hours.

“Fine,” Cade answered instantly. “Your ex has them.”

“Are you okay?” Bea asked anxiously when she reached us.

I looked at my friend, my eyes filling with tears and answered truthfully, “No.”

“She needs a hospital,” Cade butt in gruffly. “You can get her statement later.”

I saw Bea stiffen, offended that Cade would think she’d take her profession more seriously than her friend’s abduction, but she looked at me, her face filled with worry, and rather than tearing him a new one she simply agreed, “Yeah, the ambulance is two minutes out. We’ll get you checked out.”