Luxury and Larceny, Part 2 Read online

  One of his men roughly grabbed her. They didn’t have to force her inside. Anywhere was better than hanging from warehouse rafters.

  Once inside the villa, they placed her on her feet. Her knees wobbled. She could barely keep herself standing.

  “Go in there and clean yourself up. You stink,” Cinco said. China was afraid to move. It was like he had asked her a trick question.

  “What you waiting for? Move,” he said. “Go wash your ass, first bedroom to your left. Towels are in the master bathroom, under the cabinet.”

  China shuffled her feet slowly, reluctantly, as she walked towards the bathroom. She was afraid to move.

  “Go ahead,” Cinco urged. His tone was flat, impatient, and China ambled towards the bathroom.

  When she was behind the safety of the closed door, she locked it and covered her mouth as she wept. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but she knew she was in no condition to run. The only thing she could do was clean herself up. She searched for something to barricade the door with. She didn’t know Cinco’s angle and feared that this was a sick way for him to take the last piece of dignity she had left. Realizing that the lock would have to suffice, she shed her clothes and pulled back the shower curtain before stepping into the tub. She kept the curtain slightly ajar so that she could see the door. Her nerves were shot. She trembled as she willed her legs to maintain their strength. The flow of water from the showerhead caused blood and urine to dirty the tub as it swirled around her feet before going down the drain. She washed herself quickly, her hands moving over her body frantically as she kept her eyes on the door. When she was done, she stepped out and reached under the sink for a towel. As she pulled it out, she noticed a gun sitting in the back of the cabinet. She gasped and reached for it.

  Oh my God, she thought, a glimmer of hope filling her. She instantly knew what she had to do. She had to kill Cinco. She wouldn’t get another chance. It was him or her. Now or never. She was so terrified that she dropped the gun. She grimaced at the loud thud it made. She picked up the gun in one hand and struggled to put her clothes back on with the other. She didn’t care that she was stepping into the same grimy clothing that she had just taken off. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. She pointed the gun at the door in case Cinco came barging inside before she was ready, but to her surprise, he let her shower uninterrupted. It took her a full ten minutes to talk herself into stepping out of the bathroom.

  She jumped when she saw Cinco sitting on the bed, leaning over with his elbows on his knees and his fingers forming a steeple under his chin. She feared him, but with the gun in her hand, she was ready to go all out. Her aim was steady.

  Cinco shook his head. “I untied you and this is how you play it,” he said. He stood up and the smile on his face didn’t match the predicament he was in. China frowned.

  “I just want to go. I don’t want any smoke. Just let me leave. I don’t want to pull this trigger, but I will if you make me,” China said. She didn’t understand why he was still advancing on her.

  “Stay right there!” she shouted. “Don’t move!”

  Cinco walked into her space until the gun pressed into his chest.

  “You want to get out of here. You got to pull that trigger. You got to earn that freedom. Shoot me,” he taunted.

  China gritted her teeth. “Agh,” she yelled as her finger curled on the trigger.

  The sound of the empty chamber clicking made China’s heart drop. She knew she had made a terrible mistake. She hadn’t checked to see if the gun was loaded.

  SLAP!

  Cinco’s hand crossed her face so swiftly that she never saw it coming. The force of the vicious blow sent her flying to the floor.

  “Do you think I would be stupid enough to give you a loaded gun?!” Cinco barked. “I was testing you. You don’t know who your fucking master is yet. I own you, bitch, and it’s time you learned to obey your owner.” China recoiled as he bent over her and grabbed her hair roughly. “You gonna shoot me? Your balls that big? You gonna shoot me, bitch?” he growled, foaming at the mouth as he fisted her hair tightly. The yanking made it feel as if her neck would break at any moment.

  “Agh!” she cried out. He was gripping her so tightly it felt like he was pulling every single hair out of her scalp all at once.

  “Good. You’re going to need some heart to pull this off,” Cinco said. “But first…” He paused. China cringed while gripping his wrists, trying to get him to loosen his hold on her. He tossed her, flinging her backwards. She flew headfirst into the nightstand. “First, I’m going to teach you to act right.” Cinco reached for his waistband.

  “Please,” she pleaded, her lip quivering. “Don’t kill me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. He was reaching, going into his waistband, preparing to give her the bullet that would end her … or so she thought. It wasn’t until she felt the lick of the leather against her skin that she realized a quick death was not Cinco’s intention. He was going to whip her. Cinco was determined to beat her until she was compliant.

  The blow chased a sound of agony out of her mouth, and her eyes popped open just in time to see the belt in his hands come down across her body again. She backed up until the wall stopped her from going any further. “Cinco, please. Just let me go.… I’ll do anything.”

  Cinco paused, hand raised in midswing as his eyes darkened. “Not yet, but you will.”

  China’s squinted in confusion and her heart beat wildly in panic as they stared at one another—her in fear and him in twisted anticipation. She knew that he had cruel intentions towards her. She had brought this upon herself. Her karma had come full circle, and all she could do was let tears of regret slide down her cheeks. Cinco lunged for her, grabbing her by the ankle as he dragged her across the room. China grabbed and kicked and fought, but she knew she was helpless. She wouldn’t gain her freedom until she earned it. She was a slave to his malice, a slave to the consequences of her actions. She clawed and scratched but her attempts were futile. They did nothing to free her and only enraged him. He hauled back, this time with a closed fist, and delivered a blow that made stars appear before her eyes.

  She turned onto all fours and crawled towards the door. She didn’t know why she was even trying to escape. There was no getting out of this, but still she tried. She sent her foot flying up between his legs, doubling him over in agony as she bolted for the door. She ran down the hall, knocking over lamps and decorative tables on her way, in an attempt to slow his pursuit. She made it to the front door, but when she pulled it open she ran directly into the backs of Cinco’s hired hands.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” one of them taunted as he grabbed her by her neck.

  “Tie the bitch up in the bathroom,” Cinco ordered as he came out, panting and bending over, gritting his teeth from the blow she had delivered between his legs. “If she tries anything stupid, break her fucking neck. I’m tired of playing with her.”

  China didn’t resist. She wanted every moment of what was left of her life. She sobbed so hard that she hyperventilated. Her gut twisted as they hoisted her into the bathtub, binding her hands to the metal shower rod over her head. Her feet barely touched the bottom of the porcelain tub.

  Cinco stood directly in front of her, malice in his gaze as he wrapped the end of the leather belt around his clenched fist.

  “Cinco,” she whispered pleadingly, but his eyes held no sympathy, no hesitation.

  WHIP!

  The leather cut through the air with a whistle before it struck her. The thin fabric of her clothes provided barely any relief.

  Her body contorted, bending with every lash of the belt. Flinching. Twisting. Turning.

  “Put something in that mouth to shut her up,” Cinco said.

  China’s eyes bulged in horror. Cinco chuckled. “I don’t want to fuck you into submission. Any bitch will betray a nigga she’s fucking. Look at what you did to my man Bree.”

  Cinco snatched one of the bathroom towels fro
m the countertop and stuffed it roughly into her mouth. One of the goons then put duct tape over it, wrapping it around her entire head for good measure. She could barely breathe, as it covered part of her nose as well.

  “See,” Cinco taunted. “I’m not going to fuck you into submission. I’m going to beat you into it.”

  Cinco nodded towards his goons as he pulled at the end of the leather belt. “Take her clothes off.”

  Each blow felt like her skin was being set ablaze. The bite of the leather ripping into her skin was torture. Cinco was known for being brutal in his tactics. He was the devil’s child. She was his puppet for evildoing, and he was unremorseful as he inflicted the greatest pain that China had ever endured. She was a slave to his whipping. Her howls fell on deaf ears. He didn’t stop until he tired. Her body was his canvas for pain, and every stroke of his belt had left a mark. She was covered in welts, some bleeding where his repeated strikes had broken her skin. Her body was so raw that even the breeze from the air conditioner caused her to cringe.

  Her cries and wails were now mere whimpers as tears flowed down her face, her head hanging low. Even Cinco’s goons were appalled. She resembled a piece of raw meat hanging there, helpless.

  Cinco walked over to her and brought his face close to her ear. “You disobey me and I’m-a beat that ass again,” Cinco said. He turned to his men. “Get her down,” he instructed.

  China’s legs didn’t even attempt to hold her up. As soon as the men untied her, she crumpled into the tub. She curled up in a ball and cried her eyes out as they left the room. This was hell on earth. In fact, it was worse than hell, it was karma coming back to get her. Now she was in Cinco’s clutches and the only way out would be to give him what he wanted: her cooperation.

  Chapter 4

  The sun was shining. It burned the sky, sending long rays of light down over the barefoot children who played football on the unpaved Tijuana street. Laughter filled the air as they played, rambunctiously vying for their shot to kick the black-and-white ball between the two trash cans that served as the goal.

  Sandoza chuckled to himself as he rested his chin against his hand. These were his streets. From the abuela shaking out her homemade rug from the second-story balcony above, to the local prostitute working the corners in the red light district … these were his people. These were his neighborhoods, his home, his empire. He had been born into the Sandoza Cartel. His father had run Tijuana, and his grandfather before him. This was home, and he respected the streets so they respected him back. He had every material thing he could want in this world. It was the things that he couldn’t touch that evaded him. It was the things he couldn’t buy that were a void in his life. His brow furrowed as his mind raced. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders. He had so many things to see to, and so little time to do so. He had wasted a lot of time getting rich or, better yet, richer. He equated money with power, but his wealth couldn’t buy what he so desperately needed.

  He spent a lot of time here in the back of his chauffeured black car, riding through the streets. Trying, desperately, to connect to memories of years past. He wished that he could burn them into his mind. His mama, his papa, his cousins and uncles, even his son and daughter. He wanted to etch them all in his memory, forever. If he could, he would pay the most skilled artist to paint the images in his head. Like cavemen did to stone, he wanted to paint his entire life, his legacy, on a wall in front of him so that people would remember … so that he would remember. Tears welled in his eyes and he cleared his throat, uncomfortable with his own emotion. He composed himself before saying, “Back to the villa, por favor.”

  The city streets blurred outside his window as the driver picked up speed. That’s how he remembered all of the days before now; it was all one big blur. When his car pulled up to the gates of his villa, the armed guard peered inside.

  “Good afternoon Mr. Sandoza,” he said.

  Sandoza nodded his greeting, not because he wanted to be rude, not because he was standoffish, but because he was drawing a blank on the man who had stood guard at his home for the last decade. It happened a lot these days.

  “You have a guest,” the guard informed him.

  “Thank you…” Sandoza paused.

  “Raul,” the guard said. “It’s Raul, sir.”

  Sandoza tightened his lips, giving a faint smile as the car rolled through the steel gates.

  His driver came to a stop in the circular drive. Sandoza noticed his right hand, Miguel, had arrived as instructed. Sandoza exited his vehicle as Miguel and another man approached.

  “Miguel,” Sandoza greeted his colleague, extending his hand for a firm shake. “Thank you, my dear friend.” He then turned to the other man.

  “You must be Dr. Garcia,” Sandoza said. The man nodded, obviously out of sorts, as worry filled his widened eyes.

  “Dr. Garcia, I apologize for bringing you here like this. I know that my friend Miguel here can be a bit of a brute at times. I gave specific instructions to retrieve you. I hope he did not frighten you,” Sandoza said.

  “Why am I here?” the doctor asked uncertainly.

  “Please, join me in my study,” Sandoza said. He noticed the doctor’s hesitation. “I assume my reputation proceeds me. I can assure you that you are not in any danger, Dr. Garcia. I simply need a consult.”

  Sandoza turned to Miguel. “This is a private matter.” There wasn’t much that Sandoza didn’t share with Miguel, but this wasn’t something he wanted anyone to be privy to. Miguel nodded and remained outside as Sandoza led the way into the house. The opulence of his massive villa was breathtaking. Each painting and sculpture, every detail, had been handpicked by his lovely wife. She had made a home fit for a king. He had financed it, but it was she who had filled it. She had passed away in a brutal war, but her touch was all over the place. It was one memory he could never forget. Sandoza sat behind a large desk as he watched Dr. Garcia fidget in his seat.

  “I have early onset Alzheimer’s,” Sandoza revealed. “I hear you are the only doctor in the world with advanced and extensive research. I need your help.”

  Dr. Garcia visibly relaxed. “I don’t know how much help I can give. I have research and I’m dedicated to finding a cure to this disease, but I haven’t found it yet. I can’t cure this for you Mr. Sandoza.”

  Sandoza sighed. “I will pay you…”

  “Unfortunately there isn’t a price that you can pay to make this go away,” Dr. Garcia responded. “This is a degenerative disease. Every week it will get worse. You will need assistance, perhaps twenty-four-hour care, once it advances. I can recommend a nurse who is very good with this type of thing. She understands discretion and will take great care of you.”

  Sandoza hit the desk in frustration. “I don’t need someone to take care of me. I need you to fix me. To help me … clear the fog in my head. I’ve just been a little overwhelmed lately. My mind is a little tired. Weary…” His words trailed off as he looked down at his trembling hands. He clasped them quickly, uncomfortable with the idea of someone else seeing him so rattled. He had never shown weakness a day in his life. He wasn’t used to the newfound terror that filled his gut. It consumed. The thought of one day waking up and not remembering anything.… He would be completely dependent on others to help him. He would be powerless. Even the most habitual task he would forget. The empire he had built would fall to ruin. “I don’t think you understand what I have at stake here, doctor. I will pay whatever.”

  “Money is not the issue. There is no cure…”

  Sandoza pounded his fist against the desk again, causing the doctor to jump in alarm.

  “Then find one!” Sandoza shouted. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool, and he quickly gathered himself. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. The doctor spoke first.

  “Listen, Mr. Sandoza. I have the utmost respect for you and I am sorry about your circumstances. If there was anything I could do to help you, I would. But let me be clear: There is no cure
for Alzheimer’s. It is important you focus on quality of life for the time you have left. My suggestion would be to have twenty-four-hour care. You will need it, and it is smart to hire your help now, while you are still lucid enough to develop a relationship with your caregiver. If you aren’t comfortable with a stranger, perhaps your children…”

  Sandoza held up his hand while shaking his head. He didn’t want them to know. He needed time to hand over his kingdom before letting Cinco know that he was sick. And Tan—Tan would not be able to handle this, not in addition to her impending divorce.

  “If you can recommend someone, it would be a great help,” Sandoza said.

  The doctor stood hastily, gathering his briefcase as he looked nervously at Sandoza. It was obvious that he wanted out of there as soon as possible.

  He fumbled with his briefcase, retrieving a pen, and leaned over to write on a piece of paper on the desk. “This is the number of a company that specializes in outpatient care. Since money isn’t an obstacle, they will be able to appoint you a very capable nurse.” The doctor stood. “Good luck, Mr. Sandoza.”

  Sandoza nodded and watched silently as the doctor retreated.

  Sandoza’s lip quivered in anger and he placed both palms flat on the wood in front of him. For a powerful man, being weak was torture.

  “Agh!” he shouted in frustration, sweeping everything from his desk. It was time he got his affairs in order. He needed to hand over the reins before he was no longer in his right mind to make a sound decision. Most men would look to their eldest son, but Sandoza knew Cinco couldn’t handle the burden. With great power came great responsibility. Cinco’s arrogance would lead to the demise of all he had built. He refused to let that happen. If he had his way, his son-in-law, Iman, would step into his place, but the other Mexican cartels would never respect that play. Iman wasn’t blood, and on top of that, he was half black. As soon as Sandoza was dead, the other families would declare full war on Iman and take over the Sandoza territory. Sandoza had some decisions to make and he had to make them fast, before all was lost.