Caged: Retribution

Chapter 12

Rico's breath caught at the sound of Blanco stepping into the room and he smiled in relief, the barest of smiles at knowing his lion was back at Sylvia's casita. And he thought maybe they would go dancing together now, maybe they would share a drink, several drinks, because he so needed to get out of this room where the story had overflowed, where the story had cut him to pieces. Maybe, he thought, they would take Abram and run in the rolling waves at the beach, run, run, run hard and far into the water, forgetting the storm overhead, where maybe the cold would stem the soulful bleed inside of him. Yes, yes, he thought, all the suppositions and worries and thoughts of abandonment had been for nothing … and he turned to the gruff opening of the bedroom door.

And there Todd stood, magnificent as always, rained-upon, wind blown, a man to be feared with a hellish black dog circling him. "Hey," he said. Hey. His lips parted as if to say more, only a dead silence followed.

And with that single syllable, hey, all Rico's ideas smashed to the floor. The expression on his lion's face told Rico the world had shifted and it felt like a sharp slap across the mouth.

Téa Delgado was all over Todd Manning.

Even her perfume seemed to drift off him, whipping Rico. The bearded man in the doorway was achingly in love with his wife, had children with her, had a rich, full life that was calling for him the way an ocean calls to sailors. The water is where they belong.

He couldn't say why he saw this, he simply did.

Rico turned back to the rain and watched the drops. The downpour had begun moments ago but… it seemed like an ever-closing of the final curtain at a play…

The performance is over, thank you, dear audience. I hope you have enjoyed the story, I hope you have enjoyed the escape, I hope the two hours or maybe three felt like a lifetime of freedom, I hope the love felt REAL. Thank you, my friends, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…

He sucked on the cigarette and swallowed hard, eyes burning with heavy hurt. Tears threatened to fall. Where was the surprise in this, cabron?! This moment had been waiting for a long time in the shadows like a murderer in the Maze, like his dead brothers had waited for him. They were laughing in hell at him! He looked down at this chest and could swear he heard a cracking deep inside of him. Abram might have heard it too because the dog sniffled now at Rico's foot and like a wounded child he kicked at him and hissed, "Basta! Vayas!"

He heard Todd usher him out the room with a soft, "Come on," sending him to Raquel downstairs. The door closed quietly. Footsteps approached.

"Rico…"

"Cállate, Blanco."

"I- I- I can't, I need to know-"

Eyes flashed and they glistened with sorrow, nothing short of devastation. "Do NOT TALK TO ME!"

Earlier, before Kenneth had arrived, Rico had awakened alone in the heavy-aired pitch-black room. The sheets were twisted and he was covered in sweat and shaking and breathing fast. Nobody had been there to catch him, to remind him the hell was only a dream. The tears came hot and fast and his voice got muffled under his hands. He never dreamed this way before because as long as he was on the streets, battling his abusers, being in charge of them… the hell was managed. And now, as his lion's kept lover… the dreams had come like a force of nature, raging and bloody. Over and over he saw the murders he witnessed, felt the assaults. And it hurt. He hurt all over and there was nothing to do except get through another day.

Todd cleared his throat and pleaded, "What's the matter? I'm here."

Only a whisper followed, "You are not… here."

In the dark, Rico immediately guessed Blanco was with Téa. Just as quickly as the idea had come to him it disappeared and all sorts of alternative realities took over. El León was with MK men or was working on his great plan of revenge against the Macias brothers or Caro or maybe he'd gone to the policia after all and they were looking at all the evidence he and Rico had pulled together. He could be high somewhere, huddled in a found room. Just until morning. Nothing would change.

His lion would return and he would climb back in bed.

Rico's bed.

Rico glanced down at his tight black jeans, puffing on the cigarette and ignoring Todd. He didn't see denim. He saw soft pajama bottoms, Blanco pulling them off in the alcove at the beach house, huffed jerks at the pants after Rico had well and slowly caressed him to the point of agony in those early first experiences together.

"You were not like the others," Rico murmured to nobody, lost in trying to understand the brokenness. He heard his name but couldn't look at the man who said it so softly.

Those early times were a choreographed dance that began with an invitation. He did it as a thank you, of sorts. After such an ugly start to their relationship, Rico had begun to feel safe in the beach house. He had finally listened to Blanco, his story, and, had at last understood the secret plan to end Caro and the child pornography ring. Never in his life had he met someone who wanted to kill the great Caro machine.

And to THAT, he wanted to say he was on Blanco's side.

So Rico chose a night when the lion had stumbled into the room late, after Gloria had fallen asleep. He took a chance. He offered himself. Over and over, he chose nights where Todd was a little drunk, a little tired, but not asleep and not reaching for Gloria. When the space made itself known, Rico would get up from his bed in the alcove. He'd walk slowly, like a cat, the light showing his gentle approach. He'd stand next to the bed or next to the chair on the patio… and would extend his hand, caressing Todd's.

Gentle, gentle.

Reluctance was part of that dance. Todd would look up at Rico with those hard hazel eyes, no expression on his face, no evidence of any kind of desire, nor anger or disgust or judgement either. He would not touch Rico's hand back. The dance required that Rico let go and begin a walk back to the alcove alone…

But then the bed would groan with movement or the chair would creak as it released its occupant followed by the whoosh of the balcony door as it opened and shut. He would feel the air behind him shift like the change in weather. Heat would turn to cold or cold to heat. Rico would climb into his small bed in the alcove and Todd would watch him a moment, tall, mysterious, shadowed in the moonlight. Then, the decision was made. Todd Manning, El Diablo Blanco, call him what you will, HE would get into the bed. He would CHOOSE Rico. Long minutes they would not move, simply feeling the warmth of each other's bodies. Then Rico would reach for Todd and begin the careful, hesitant touching of his tight chest and arms and thighs, caressing his face, testing a kiss or two, a tentative taste of surprisingly soft, full lips, sweet whiskey on his breath, the beard scratching Rico's skin.

And the time! How long it would take for his lion to relax, how many long smooth caresses until Blanco stopped fighting his natural responses. How Rico loved when he felt and saw his stiffened cock and could hear his breathing hasten. It was the ultimate show of Rico's superior abilities as a lover, his power to "change" a straight man. A joke among the hustlers. How he loved to gaze into his lion's agonized, fear-filled eyes as he stroked that imposing cock, seeing his lion spread his knees ever so slightly to let Rico get to more of him. How Rico loved pushing him to the dance's next steps.

Yes, yes, it was sublime to get Blanco to grab Rico and press him to his trembling body, kissing him with more intensity, his tongue reaching for Rico's, the man finally touching, too. Hard hands on Rico's ass, legs, back, shoulders. A hand gripping his neck, his hair, his head… Rico imagined a woman might feel this way in Blanco's arms, light, fluid, easy to break.

After the clothes came off, the undulating would begin, body parts mashed together, dancing, dancing in the bed and in the low light... until that last gasp punctuated by the pulsing, choking come. Hot, wet and bitter.

Now the tears fell, hot, wet and bitter, too, only far more cutting.

He heard Todd sigh, curse under his breath, "Fuck."

It wasn't the sex, it was the breathtaking trust this man gave to Rico. The great and true respect. The passion. The fear. The agreement to keep Rico safe against his dark impulses. The madness. The friendship. Their strange inexplicable equality.

It was unexpected… love.

Coño! Fuck!

Rico was... in love!

With a furious grunt, he flicked the cigarette out the window, watching it disappear into the rain. He shook with this horrible realization, this absurdity! The salt ran down his cheeks and he felt the wetness on his neck. This was the worst joke on him.

Todd stood right behind him and he said in a quiet voice, his fingers lightly touching Rico's arm, "I am so sorry I wasn't here when Kenneth came. I should have been here."

He had no choice but to sniffle because not only were his eyes leaking, so was his nose. He sniffled wetly and wiped his face roughly with his hands. He shrugged, a cringing kind of action, trying to push away Blanco because the end had come and it was so much harder than he thought it would be.

But this was all on him.

He's going to hurt you, Macias! He's nothing but a customer, just like all the others. They all say the same things, make all the same promises. The sun rises in the morning and with the sun, they leave your bed. So will he. Count on it.

Yes, he knew these things!

It was why he'd kept Blanco at bay by staying in business, by going to the clubs and selling himself for so long. It was why he kept his things at the brothel. And all the time, he swore he was just the same as always. He believed deep down that even when the sex got regular, frequent, intense… once Gloria got absolutely put to the side… he would be protected by the thick layers of skin… the unscarred prettiness of his body and face and voice...

He should never have stopped being a whore.

"Mari?"

Rico gasped and flew off the dresser, eyes wild, hands in whipping fists. Yelled, "No SOY tu MARI! You are nothing to me! Fuck you! Fuck your dog! Fuck your life!"

Todd stepped back at the sight of the pain on Rico's face, nothing like he'd ever seen. Not the post-nightmares, not the anger at Todd's abuse of Gloria that one time, nothing. He wasn't just empty, he was splayed open, heart, lungs, liver… everything for anyone to see. He huffed and knew his own face showed the shock.

Confusion.

Todd stuttered, "I- I- should have called or something? I'm so sorry. Talking to Kenneth musta been hard on you. Raquel was here... I- I thought-"

Rico stood now, still, trembling. The hurt loud and wild and teetering on the edge of an explosion.

"Rico, que pasó?"

"YOU happened! You fucking bastard!"

After a second of stunned silence, Todd's mouth dropped open in a long ohhhhhh… He glanced at his clothes, he touched the necklace Rico had given him, he pulled his hair back. He'd been gone for far too long when Rico was oh-so-damaged by his brothers and where else would he have been but with Téa… and Rico was no idiot, probably seeing home all over Todd and home definitely looked like an ending. Like Todd had chosen.

And apparently, so had Rico.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Rico walked past him, "Don't talk to me, Blanco. I am nothing. Go, go… go back to your family. I will figure everything out." He sat on the bed and played at tying his shoes and the tears kept coming and he groaned in aggravation. Cursed in Spanish under his breath. He finally stopped and just sat there. After a moment, Todd moved to sit next to him but Rico jumped to his feet.

He refused to look at Todd. He breathed hard, trying to regain some sense of dignity. He was in the middle of the room and there was nothing to hold onto… he reached for something and there was nothing.

"You're angry at me," Todd murmured, stating the obvious. "Nothing has changed. I am still here, I still have to deal with Caro and MK… I've made no choices..."

"Todo ha cambiado. I can SEE it. Your mouth moves but you LIE."

Todd didn't know what to say. Funny, how the putative leader of MK was struck dumb by this… uncomplicated, uneducated, bereft… man. And he was suddenly like a child. He almost wanted to cry. And he had no idea why. He looked at his shaky hand. He was all fuckin' nerves.

Had he chosen Téa? Had he chosen Llanview?

"Tell me what happened today," he said, referring to Kenneth. Yes, yes, talk about something that had a clear answer, something defined, straightforward.

Rico laughed bitterly and then his voice hardened. "I am an American citizen. You must have known this. "

"What?! No-"

"Did you laugh at me when I spoke of my place en La Habana? I was a big joke, yes? The stupid whore who thinks he is Cubano, who does not know he was taken from his family."

"No, God, no, no, I didn't know!" Emotion gripped Todd, defense, promise. He moved towards Rico, reaching for him, but not touching him. "I had ideas, I wondered, I figured the worst of Caro! That he took you!"

"I don't believe you!"

"Rico, please, I swear I had no idea." A long quiet ensued. Rico eyed him a moment, shook his head in derision, then grabbed a bag in the corner of the room. He sniffed noisily as he angrily picked up clothes and shoved them into the bag. Obviously leaving.

Todd broke the silence, asking timidly, "He took you?"

"Yes, cabrón! From a family in New York."

More quiet as the hunt for clothes and belongings and notebooks continued. He seemed to have found everything but kept searching.

"I never laughed at you, mari. Not once, not ever."

Rico asked coldly, "Where is my blue scarf? And my belt?" He stood aghast with his bag in his hand, haunted eyes, hurt all over his face.

"I uh… got rid of them.."

Laughing sadly, punctuated by a disbelieving snort, Rico snapped, "You think that will stop me? There are always scarves and belts to find and plenty of men to help me do it."

"Please don't go anywhere."

"Fuck you, Blanco. You had no trouble leaving me alone last night. Staying away… today. I could have left a hundred times. How would you have stopped me then?"

"I know you're angry at a lot of things…"

"As if you care about ME?! What does it matter what I am angry at! Fuck you! FUCK everything you ARE, you fucking faggot!"

Todd felt that punch, low and in his gut. He almost grunted at the pain of it.

Rico shouldered his bag. Flew past Todd and grabbed the doorknob. Just as he turned it to get the fuck out, Todd grabbed him from behind and held him to his chest, his body, breathing in his ear, "I'm sorry, mí amor, I am so sorry for leaving you alone, for making you think the future would just be me. I am sorry, so sorry… I am so fucking sorry."

"Don't say sorry to me, maricon," Rico groaned, sorrowful tears erupting again, but fighting the hold on him, bending over, trying to pull away. "Sorry is a stupid word. I am nothing to you. I am the one who is sorry..."

The tears were hard to bear, hurt coming from a place far deeper than the tears for the killing of his friend, Yanko. Even from the nightmares. Todd tightened his arms around him, huffing, "What you want, huh? Come on..." His voice dropped low and he rasped thickly, "Don't leave like this… you're not nothing to me, you fucking know that, yeah?"

"Let go of me, please… let go..."

"I'm not gonna… 'cause... I love you, okay? I don't say that shit every day, yeah? And I kinda think…I- I- kinda think you're trying to say you love me back… yeah? Is that what's happening here? Rico? Huh? Is that it?"

The man in his arms crumpled now, a hard sob not able to be suppressed any more because this…love… was true.

"You have killed me, Blanco! You have broken me…"

There was nothing to say to THAT. Todd didn't let go of him and the two fell to the floor in a huddle, Rico curled into Todd's chest. The pain was deep and real and pointed. Rico sobbed until he wasn't anymore, then kicked and hit at Todd until he was well away and sitting on the bed. His face was streaked with tears, creased with wretched grief.

"I must remember who I was before YOU," he said, urgently. "I have to be that! I don't know who you think YOU are, but I know who I am. I have always KNOWN! Everything made sense until YOU!" He tried saying more words but nothing came without tears so he stopped trying. He just cried into his hands, rocking on the bed. "I have to go back to the time before you…I must go back…"

Todd felt sick and responsible and selfish. Everything Téa had ever accused him of being. Ravaging someone's heart and life was nothing new except… Rico had no resources, at least none he recognized. Téa was tough, a goddamn palm tree, bending, bending, never breaking at the force of Todd, the fucking, who-gives-a-shit hurricane he could be.

Rico was nothing like Téa.

On the floor, blocking the door like a bulldog, Todd settled back and looked distantly at his mari. An artist. A kid stolen from his mother, his family, his home. A kid raped repeatedly and forced into prostitution. A man who'd grown up into a sexual warrior, fighting and killing his rapists the only way he knew how.

By being someone they wanted and could never have. And THAT was in his entire control. THAT was his power.

Until Blanco.

Without much of a thought, Todd had taken Rico's last shred of control. He made Rico love him without ever asking what the future of THAT would be. Fuckin' hell.

He wanted to vomit. He held his head in his hands and breathed through a powerful wave of brilliant HATE. His ever-present saving grace. Caro and Peter stood by grinning and bleeding all over the room, babies in their hands, baby parts in their mouths… mocking Todd, reminding him of his arrogance, laughing at the fact that in the end, Todd was no different.

The white blissful nothing closed in on the edges of his mind and he breathed. No amount of heroin could remove his culpability. He breathed to stay here because he needed to make things right. He could not leave Rico behind this way. He had plucked this kid out of his carefully constructed world and fucked it all up. He could have laughed, one of those huge belly laughs, at the absolute annihilation of Rico's life.

Rico dragged himself off the bed and Todd got to his feet. He stood in front of the door… his face full of dark warning he hadn't intended but was there anyway.

"What are you going to do, Blanco? Beat me to stay here? You will have to kill me this time."

A firm, steady voice met Rico. Todd said, "I am not leaving you here en La Habana for you to… strangle yourself."

"Por que? You don't want to be deprived of the pleasure? You want one last fuck?"

Another good hard punch. Todd's own sorrowful eyes held Rico's, his voice full of hurt as he pleaded, "Rico, you are not alone anymore. You have a home with my family. They will be there for YOU when you meet yours. My people are here for YOU, lawyers, accountants, whatever you need. You just have to ask. My sister will LOVE you. My children will LOVE you. And the fact that you're American makes all this a whole lot fuckin' easier. You are so much more than what you think you are, what you say you are."

Rico fired up at THAT, a whole lot of hate flying at Todd, fast and HOT. "Oh, I am more than a whore? You did not seem to mind it whenever we FUCKED, puto! And you know what? Being a whore is much better than being your lover, you fuck! That life? That brothel? I was my own kind of King! So MOVE!"

Like a big dog that had it with the puppy, Todd grabbed Rico's arms and shook him hard, eyes lit up and demanding. "I am not FUCKING abandoning you! I need you to know this and you need to tell me you understand! I can't have you walking out this door to the same fucking world you left! Do you hear me?! Do you?!"

Rico growled and shoved Todd hard in the chest, a reminder of hidden strength, pushing him away. "You cannot stop anything! Being what I am means I will not dream the bad dreams!"

The two men stood at arm's length now, breathing hard, ready to fight. Todd couldn't deny Rico's truth: yes, he wrecked his life. Yes, the dreams had come on hard and unrelenting. But… but… this was not how he wanted to part ways. What would have been the point of… them?

Just as Todd thought he might have to deflect a fist to his face, to his throat, Rico calmed. Absolute hate changed to something slightly less than that. And then… he furrowed his brows in a brooding fuming study. Seconds rolled by.

"Your family…your people… your sister…your children...," he said in a low voice. He eyed Todd a long minute. His voice dropped even further, barely above a whisper. "And where will you be in that picture of me? Where are YOU, Blanco?"

The question was a baseball bat to his head. Todd closed his eyes a moment or two at the breaking he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe. He was stunned into a quiet that seemed to last a lifetime.

"I don't know," he whispered.

The rain was coming down hard, crashing against the building and the ground and he did not want to move. The air was heavy like the previous night and he wished he could live in this place of nothingness forever. No decisions to make, no choices, no consequences for every single fucking thing he did. He did not want the weight of responsibility for the people who he affected. For the people he created. He wished he was free to simply LIVE and LOVE and BREATHE.

When he lifted his head, Rico was close to him. He had stumbled onto Todd's true confusion. His future. Their fight, Rico's fury, suddenly evaporated into the ether. He laid a hand on the side of Todd's face. That beautiful tenor voice swam across the space, haunted eyes on him.

"You do not know where you are in that picture because… you do not believe you will be alive."

Todd said nothing. He felt Rico's hand on his hip and he just looked at it. He swallowed hard and a swell of sadness bubbled up inside of him. He licked his lips and slowly raised his head again. Rico seemed ages older. He held Todd hard with those eyes of his. He said quietly, "This question of… who to come home to…has no meaning. You have not chosen Téa or me... because it does not matter."

Hazel eyes got shut away and Todd dipped his head once more.

"Madre de dios…," Rico sighed. "You are saying you are going to die. Not a question but a certainty."

"Yes," he finally said.

Todd loved Téa more than his own life. When he was with her, he was home. She saw him so clearly, so unburdened. Beautiful warrior. She saw through the shit and loved his pure self. And GOD he saw HER. She was everything a person SHOULD be. Fierce, gentle, wise, passionate. He loved the children they made. He didn't have to dig deep to know he wanted his life back at Llanview. He wanted everything back the way it was, or at least… the possibility of it.

And Rico? Yeah, he loved him, loved who he was, how he survived. Kinda wanted to laugh raucously at being Rico's first love. Not AT Rico… but at the sad awful happenstance of it. What dumb luck his heart should be broken for the first time in his life… by fucking Todd Manning. Shit. But no doubt, Rico was fierce in his own way. Todd saw strength and kindness and patience and a seemingly endless capacity for joy in the darkest places. He didn't know how he could fit him into his own wished-for Llanview life but he'd like to try even if they never shared a bed again.

But like Rico said, none of that mattered. There was no future as long as Caro and any of his crew were alive. And if he made them dead, there was no future for Todd Manning.

Maybe he HAD chosen.

He looked at Rico and Rico looked at him. Rico stepped closer and hovered, Todd feeling the warmth of his breath on his lips. Curiosity, anger, hate, love, and a hundred other possible traits colored Rico. Brown eyes searched Todd's, his mouth, his cheeks… the tear that broke free and ran into his beard.

"Don't you want to live, Blanco?"

"Yeah…'course..." Head down, slight shake of his head. He could feel more damn tears welling up. God, God…. fuck.

"Then what is this? I do not… I…"

Todd smiled, a sad, pathetic smile. "I have to kill Caro and his men. If I do that, though, I won't live past it."

"You do not think you'll survive killing Caro?"

"No," Todd rasped, biting his tongue, trying to cut the sadness. God why did this hurt so much? He was not afraid to fucking DIE. And yet… he sighed, then laughed in an ugly bitter way… "You see? Choosing between you and Téa or… whatever… is a luxury I don't have."

Rico blinked, glanced away, at nothing. "Turn them over to the police. Forget your plans."

"I can't. I have to end them. We've talked about this."

"Yes. But your death was not in our talk, Blanco."

Stepping back, Rico now had the face of man trying to imagine what it must be like to see the world through a thousand eyes, like a fly. His heart was broken because his lover had spent a glorious night with his wife-he didn't admit it but Rico knew it was true. He could see that Blanco had imagined a beautiful life once again with his woman, a life that had no place in it for him. It hurt terribly…it felt like a knife to his throat... it felt like his "love" was a lie.

But this.. lover… did not lie when he said he was going to die.

He reached out and held Todd's hand. As they finally caught each other's ladened gazes, Rico saw a dark glinting of light in those greenish brown eyes of his lion, darkness that was his true driving force, darkness that gave him his name, El Diablo Blanco. He suddenly wondered if Todd Manning could live without such hate, if he could ever be free of the things that happened to him to even be with Téa Delgado like he wanted.

Would that dark light in his eyes ever disappear… even after killing Caro and his men?

To answer, Rico just had to ask the same question about himself. And his answer would be… NO. The darkness would never go away because it had no bounds. And he understood this. He understood the bottomless HATE. He wanted to kill Caro, too. He wanted to see that house full of those monsters go up in smoke, too. And that would only be the beginning.

Yes, yes, Rico knew the hate.

And in that cloud of awareness, he pushed himself forward and kissed Todd hard on the mouth, a hand grabbing his shirt.

Surprised by the kiss, Todd backed up against the door and turned away like a scared motherfucking virgin, thinking of Téa, of that life he wanted, of his children, of Llanview, his home. His chest rose and fell and his heart raced as Rico delicately rubbed his nose on his cheek, nuzzling the beard and speaking in Spanish, trying to change the goddamn future.

Rico breathed, "You took the scarf away because you are afraid that I might kill myself… so tell me, mí león, what can I take away from you to stop you from dying?"

Todd shook his head, no, no, no, "It's nothing like that…"

"How is it different, Blanco?"

Rico's voice was so soft, so gentle, so…careful, like his first touches. His first kisses. Todd lifted his hand and placed his fingertips on Rico's lips.

"You have a choice."

"I do?"

He gazed at Rico and saw in those haunted eyes their horrible upbringing. There, he saw the remains of breathtaking powerlessness, a complete inability to fight, and at the bottom of everything… an undeniable desire to die because there was no way out. How many times had they both desperately wished to die rather than face yet another violation of their bodies? No choice, no choice. He could have dropped to his knees and wailed because it wasn't FAIR. They didn't ask for this. They were not BORN this way.

Rico said in a soft voice, "If there is nothing to take away from you, then I will stand next to you through everything. I will stop you from strangling yourself with my own hands."

Todd closed his eyes at the innocence of Rico's promise, made without knowing the specifics of the plan, the extremeness of it. Rico wouldn't be anywhere near that house when it went up. Todd would make sure of it. He watched the dark rain across the room, wishing saving his life was as simple as taking away a scarf, or standing by and holding his hand to keep him safe. Rico kissed him again and it was hot and deep and seemed to be an effort at resuscitation, as if he was trying to reach inside of him and pump that heart to get it beating again. Tears stung at the effort as he met those kisses.

Rico stepped back and led Todd by the hand to the bed. The dance. He let go and got on the bed. Eyes on Todd as he stood next to the bed, tall, mysterious, shadowed.

"Why?" Todd asked. "I hurt you. I broke you. Why do you want me now?"

"Because I want to feel like I'm going to die, too."

After more decision-making, Todd got on the bed. He reached for Rico, lightly caressing his face, a handsome face, open, expectant. To love someone was an amazing thing. To be loved was… divine. Todd had so much of it in his life but could never fully embrace it because Peter Manning had robbed him of the ability to FEEL love, to HONOR it, to hold it inside of him in any significant way.

And with that, his destiny lit up like fucking New York City. Bright, clear, forever.

He would be the reigning KING of HELL.

He absolutely was going to murder Caro and all the men beneath him. And when that house went, Todd would be going with it because there is no coming back from that kind of crime.

This he knew.

He lay his hand on Rico's belly, slipping his hand beneath the silk. He touched him from navel up, touched his chest, touched his nipples. Long smooth caresses. Rico was tight and nervous and patient. Todd sat up and took off his shirt and Rico did the same, resting back on the bed once again. More touches, more stroking caresses. He held Rico's cheeks in both his hands and kissed him tenderly, carefully. Rico touched his hair and ran fingertips down his back and arms. He sat up and kissed Todd's chest, a tongue wetting over and over his nipple and he saw Todd rock his head back and move to get closer to Rico's body. They continued to touch and lick and kiss until Rico felt that great response he loved. The heat intensified and the two men panted as they rolled and kissed and pressed against each other.

Todd broke free and glared at Rico as if he could kill him. As if he could throw him out of the window. As if he could throw himself out that window.

The storm raged beyond them. Rain blew into the room and the air was heavy once more with wetness. Wind pressed on the walls and the lamp flickered.

"I have not been able to say what we are," Todd said raggedly.

"We are… something. Love. Hate. Imagined life. People who are DYING."

Todd's history awakened at the very thought of being free to be ANYTHING he wanted. To be something unexpected, expected. To be what a person dreamed of being. To be a good husband. To be a good father, a good brother.

A good man.

He couldn't be any of those things. He was CUT OFF just like Rico. They were DYING because history killed everything. Yes, yes, his history sprouted all around him and extended its tentacles around his body like vines or chains or snakes or… like the crown of thorns smashed onto his head, painful, blinding, blood dripping into his hair, down his cheeks.

He unbuttoned the black denim jeans, one button at a time… and glanced at Rico who was trembling and desirous and full of brazen love. No more hiding in his whore-dom, in his kept-lover status. No more pretending love was NOT what he was feeling.

"You said you did not like zippers," Rico whispered. "I threw away every pair I had."

"I do hate them. My father wore zippers."

"So did Caro."

Todd shoved the jeans down and held Rico like he mattered, like he wasn't just body parts. The soft scrotum, the silky cock. He pressed his mouth to Rico's lips, deeply kissing him. He was forceful and needy and full of sorrow. He stroked Rico, feeling his dick become the terrifying sword, stroked until he was breathing hard and wanting more. He knew what was going to happen now. He was fucking in control and in charge and… people were going to pay for making him and Rico into the lost children they were. They were going to pay for all the repeated killings. They were never going to be able to harm another child again.

Above all, Téa would be spared the misery of Todd's un-healable, ever-bleeding wounds. His children would be spared any further damage, especially Jedediah. MK would just fucking be whatever the fuck it was supposed to be. And Rico… he'd be free, too. He'd feel the release from across the city and he'd get on a plane and begin LIVING.

Rico groaned and rolled over onto his side, turning back to look at his lion, offering himself up. He looked behind him and held Todd's gaze, no words needed. Todd burrowed against Rico's back, whispering, "I'm afraid of it."

"It is nothing. It is just a little tighter than what you know. It is nothing like what happened to you. Do not be afraid, mí león. You are not going to hurt me." Todd hugged Rico to him, considering, considering. He pressed his hips against Rico's ass, the need to come building powerfully, along with the wish to give Rico what he wanted so much.

Nothing mattered, really. If yesterday was a goodbye to Téa, tonight then was a goodbye to Rico.

With an unstoppable tremble, he unbuttoned his jeans and wiggled them down, Rico reaching back and grabbing hold of his cock. Todd groaned and rocked into Rico's capable grip, flesh hardened with excruciating want, with a great sense of Rico not being the only one needing this. To penetrate him was a last kind of fear that had gripped him since the madness of remembering Peter's crimes. Rico pulled his hand away and spit into his palm. He reached back and wetted Todd's cock and when Todd placed the flared head at Rico's core, Rico whimpered with anticipation. Todd then added his own spit, letting a long string of wetness slather his flesh.

"It's okay," Rico huffed, "it is enough… I am-"

Todd didn't let him finish his words. He entered him not gently and Rico half-shouted into the sheets at the shock of it. Tears sprung to his eyes at the pain of it, at the bliss of it. He shook as Todd stilled, adjusting to the tightness, letting Rico adjust to him. Todd was making a sound like an animal, a throaty primal groan that seemed far beyond his control. He moved back out and then in. He held onto Rico like a vice, Rico grunting at all of it, pulling the sheets into his fists and cursing in Spanish.

If he felt he could break at their early trysts, he felt utterly destroyed in the way only people like him desired. He pulled Todd's hand to his throat. He was dying, dying...

Rocking in the tight space, Todd quaked with the intense sensation of being inside Rico… with every thrust, he felt closer to his end.

What did any of it matter? He knew his destiny NOW.

Rico gripped the bed and held on, hearing their strained grunts and feeling every fucking inch of his lion. Each violent push sent a thrill into his own cock and his belly felt full and he reached back and grabbed Todd's hair, grasping it with tight fingers and bringing his head to him. Todd's fingers dug into the bones of Rico's neck and they kissed madly, wetly, lips bruising while working the back and forth rhythms.

They were both sweating at the effort and were all arms and legs and belly-to-back. Todd needed more leverage and so with his whole body, adjusted Rico, getting him onto his stomach. Todd was up on his hands and fucking Rico unabashedly and unapologetically, a knee hard on the mattress, jeans down and scratching Rico's flawless skin. Rico reached back and held Todd's ass as he pistoned inside, grunting loudly, honestly, at every thrust.

The bed shook, the mattress hitting the nightstand as Todd moved on Rico. A glass of water crashed to the floor and the rain hit the house harder than before. The friction of Rico's cock against the mattress got to him and he reached down to stroke himself because he was close and needed to come. But even more… Todd was deep and it hit the most precious place in a man and it made Rico mad with sexual frenzy.

Todd growled, "Do it… lemme see you come." He fell hard to the bed and they were on their sides once more and Todd could see over Rico's shoulder. Rico's cock was visible in the low light, large and free to urge on, throbbing on its own as if it was screaming. Rico grabbed it and stroked like he was on a mission, tight against Todd's chest, arms embracing him, their legs entwined, and before long, Rico jerked violently, groaning and cursing, "Madre… madre…," ejaculate flying, plenty of it, his breath cut off at the intensity. He kissed Todd, more bruising deep kisses, groaning through it, his voice reverberating into Todd.

And at that…excited as always at the sight of that mad final moment, Todd moved Rico, stomach down once more. He spat onto his dick, adding to his own natural wetness, making things smoother now, and pumped into him, hips slamming against Rico's ass with all that strength he had, with all that sexual power he only used when he was the most free and unthinking, or the most full of HATE. He moved noisily, his mind focused solely on the basest chase of all men until he cried out with a kind of sheer agony…plain words, "God, GOD, I'm coming, oh… fuck," as Rico felt the warmth shoot deep inside of him. Todd didn't stop moving, humping through the orgasm until he had nothing left inside of him. He fell at last on top of Rico, the two exhausted with their work, both shaking from the sheer ferociousness of the sex and the pain of their undeniable realities…

The falling rain soon softened its blows and Rico could hardly breathe for the weight of Todd on top of him, from the vice-like grip his lion had around his body.

"Fuck," Todd rasped. He refused to let go, huddling even tighter against his lover like he was holding onto life.

"I love you," he said. "I hope you know that."

"Sí," Rico answered, "I know. And… I love you, mí león. I will say that now."

With the rain as their music, the lamp as their moonlight, the time ticked away. They didn't talk, there didn't seem to be more to say.

After a long while, Todd got up off the bed, releasing Rico at last. He rubbed his thighs and groaned with relief. He pulled up his jeans to button them. He hadn't exactly intended any of this but once he KNEW the home he was destined for, there were no chains holding him back. Fuck. He eyed Rico as he pulled himself together, the man bare-ass up.

Rico rolled over, pants down to his ankles, shirtless, arms spread with eyes hooded and protective. He wished he could save his lion from the war he insisted on. He hoped he could. He didn't know if it was possible. Téa was on his mind. They were... strange friends. Despite the threat of her, he wondered if, together, they could do something. He could have laughed at how different he felt at the moment. How the hurt had subsided…

… with one last fuck.

He didn't.

"I have to see Pedro Moreno tonight," Todd said. "I need to set up a meeting with Caro and his people at the old city house." He paused. "Are you still angry at me?"

Rico sat up on his elbows and glanced down at his indecency. "I want to go dancing."

Immediate worry colored Todd's face. "Will you be okay? The last time you went to a club, your brothers nearly killed you."

"They are dead."

"Yeah, they are. And you are… about that…?"

A moment or two passed and Rico shrugged. "I dreamed about it for a long time. I am… what do you say, relieved. I will be fine tonight. I will come back here. Tomorrow I will speak with Kenneth on what I am supposed to do about my… citizenship."

"What do you want to do with it?"

Todd seemed oddly…different. After a second, Rico decided it was his weakness on display. He searched for the word and heard… vulnerable. Todd seemed terribly human in his gentle inquiries. All that power and anger and hate… seemed put aside for the moment. But there was also a terrible clarity in his eyes and it had to be his decision on Manuel Caro. Those dark plans. The explosives.

"I will return to my family," Rico said, his voice deep and melodic once again, "when we are done with Caro."

Yes, that was it. Clarity.

Blanco nodded… soothed. Rico sounded hopeful. Maybe even seeing life after… this. In a second or two, he repeated his question, "Are you still angry with me?" He knew it sounded strange and childlike and ridiculous.

Rico shrugged, hurt lingering, perhaps a kind of hurt that always was there, would always be there. "Yes, mí león, you left me alone with my nightmares… and have no interest in letting me be myself again. As long as I am not a whore, I will dream the bad dreams. And you are telling me, you will be leaving me with them...for always. Yes, I'm very angry at you."

Todd looked into the distance and said, "I will come find you later tonight."

"I will be at the latest place." He smiled a little. "I am a little sore, but I will be dancing anyway."

Todd thoughtfully rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, watching Rico. Long hair glistened in the light, the scar shadowed, trailing into his beard. He eyed Rico a little longer, a flash of something on his face.

"You will be safe? Promise me?"

"Yes, Blanco, I promise you. I will not pursue the thing I love… because you already did that for me. I felt… tonight… like I was dying."

They held each other's gaze a moment more and then Todd stepped to Rico, planting a gentle unhurried kiss on tender lips. He stood at the bed, bent over him. His unforgiving hands tightened on Rico's arms, his light eyes searching, reaching, for a few quiet, tension-filled seconds. No words could capture what lay between them, what connected them.

Then he left.

The door shut and it felt like the end of a great storm, as if all the air had suddenly stopped moving. The bathroom door slammed and he could tell his lion was in the shower. There was a groaning of pipes in the house. Before long, there were hard footsteps down the stairs and out the door.

Rico gasped at the silence, breathless and unmoving.

When he finally regained himself, he buttoned up, tied his shoes, neatened his hair and shirt. He sat on the bed, thinking about the night, trying to soothe his squeezed heart and sore body, Hearing the bedroom door click open, he lifted his eyes to Raquel. She looked worried. Her voice was sharp and full of hate. Her arms were crossed on her chest and her knife gleamed in the hallway light.

"I heard different noises today," she growled in Spanish. "So much... different."

Sighing like an exasperated son, Rico said, "I am fully aware of what I do, doctora. I am not stupid nor am I a child." He got up and pulled money out of his bag, shoving it into his pocket.

"Do you know if he has a disease?" She was walking around the room, her head down, eyes on the floor and peaking in the trash. "I do not see a condom."

"He is fine, mama, and so am I, as you know."

She grunted disapprovingly.

"I am going out," he said. "I am fine. Please don't worry." He paused and evaluated the rain. Decided against a jacket. He wanted to feel the air through his shirt. Added, "I was hurt. I thought…things. I see things differently now."

"He used you. He fucks you to keep you in place and today he got more serious with his fucking."

"No, no…" He hunched as if tired, studied Raquel's fuming, loving face. He continued, "… we understand each other. Please, mama… I am fine."

She hugged him tightly to her and broke into tears herself, softly saying, "Mí chiquito, mí chiquito…"

He soon tore away and marched out of the casita. When he walked in the rain, he tasted the water and the drops hid his own tears as they darkened his red silk shirt. He did not care. He was going to dance the night away. He was going to be free for a little while.

Caro was waiting and he was going to eat him piece by piece.

It was getting late, near ten already. Rolon Lopez felt like it was goddamn two in the morning. He was in the back of an MK-bar, nursing a beer. It had been a long day of asking questions on the sly and desperately trying to learn Todd's nasty little plan. The rain only JUST let up. The storm hadn't helped his investigation. What he ended up learning was ugly and reflective of his friend's total madness. And now he was stuck between a rock and a goddamn hard place. Though he hadn't shared the information yet, Téa had a smart idea from earlier - get Benito Juarez to arrest the Mad King before all hell blew up in their faces. Literally.

Rolon was strongly considering it.

A waitress brought him a fresh beer and he smiled at her. He had left Téa a little while ago. Went to her room to make sure that woman was locked up tight. After dinner, he made her get into bed, dragging her from the balcony with a glass of wine in her hand. She reminded him that "wine is FINE for babies, you judgmental ass!" They bickered and then she slammed the bathroom door, came out in her nightgown and got in to bed. "There! I'm in bed. Happy?" Of course, he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her. He left her there, her eyes hiding shit. She smiled at him like a fucking Cheshire cat. He was sorely tempted to steal her shoes.

He didn't.

When he looked up from his drink, his mood darkened even further at the sight of the King-in-waiting heading his way.

"Son of a bitch," he growled before shooing away a lesser soldier from the table. The crowd parted like the motherfuckin' Red Sea as Todd moved with that just-you-try-it limp-swagger in trashed jeans, black knit shirt, and black shit-kicking boots. The expression on his face chased visitors away - dark eyes, black soul, big fuckin' dick. He dragged a chair out and plopped down on it, long legs stretched out and his feet up on the table. He scanned the room, making sure nobody approached him.

He was well accommodated.

"Gotta cigarette?" He rumbled.

Rolon handed him one from his pack and lit it for him. As Todd bent to allow the light, Rolon smelled the fresh scent of soap, shampoo. Straight out of a shower. Rolon grunted to himself - how much he'd bet the bastard just crawled out of bed with that goddamn hustler? Why Téa continued… he did not know.

Todd breathed in the smoke, blowing it back out, head back. He closed his eyes, the thing seeming delicious. He glanced at Rolon. "Did you learn of the readiness? Is Cuban MK on board with me?" Todd took in the crowd. There was nothing but curiosity directed at him.

After a moment or two, Rolon grunted an assent. An absolute truth. "Hell yes. They fuckin' believe in you, you motherfucker."

Todd grinned and grabbed Rolon's waiting fresh beer. He sucked it down. He knew his beefing up the black market was going to sway the men. They believed he pushed them forward, moving them into the 21st century.

"Is Pedro in town?"

Rolon studied Todd. "Why?"

"I wanna talk to him. I wanna negotiate the change. It's time. I'm done waiting in the fuckin' wings."

"Yeah? That puts us at risk."

"It's covered. My lawyer has the thing tied up. Pedro will be protected. Everyone else is going up in smoke, separate and apart from innocents in MK."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Pretty much."

"Yes, he's still in Havana, still holed up with Caro at the beach house."

"Really?"

"Pedro hasn't let Caro out of his sight since you put the brakes on that guy. Current King is actually waiting for you to come to your fucking senses and deal with him."

"Let him know I'm coming then."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. Now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' sure."

Rolon put his hands up, grumbling a sarcastic, "Sorr-Y." He eyed irritatedly the warm bottle in his hands, annoyed that Todd had finished the freshie.

"Guess we're done here then," Todd snapped. With a hard sniff, he stood up and dropped the cigarette butt into Rolon's beer, Rolon cursing in Spanish.

As he began to move away, Rolon grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Todd looked at the contact point and glared at Rolon.

Not letting go, his soldier asked, "What do you have planned? For Caro. For the others."

"Something good, my pretty. Something fitting."

"If anything happens to Téa…"

Todd bristled hard at that and bent low, hissing, "Don't you fuckin' forget your place. She is my life, my family. I would never do anything to risk her. Fuck you for even thinking that shit."

He shoved off and began to walk away, except he turned back. A little less hostility on his face. "But you stay by her if I'm dead. Yeah?"

Rolon couldn't dismiss the seriousness on his friend's face and neither the casualness. He nodded and spat, "Yeah, o'course. Now get the fuck outta here."

The Mad King walked out of the club, disappearing like the goddamn devil he was. Rolon knew one thing already, that Todd had sold the killers of Yanko to a very connected member of MK who in turn... gave Todd a name of a very dangerous munitions expert.

For the first time in his life, Rolon was afraid. This was terrorist kinda shit, man. Yeah, maybe Blanco was the one who needed to get put down.

Sonofabitch.

Todd took a taxi to the beach house and approached the front door with a commitment deep in his gut. He did not know exactly when the knowledge happened. He did not know why it had become so very clear to him. But his plan had crystallized in the middle of his tete-a-tete with Rico. Something had cracked open inside of him that killed all other options.

The door opened and Pedro was there. He looked aged and weary but not surprised.

"My son," he said.

Todd tilted his head like a dog and snarled, "I am not your goddamn son."

He walked in and saw Gloria in the kitchen. She was cleaning and she looked pretty and delicate and warm. He remembered how good she was to him and how badly he treated her. She glanced at him and stopped. A thing passed between them. Familiarity, likeness. Todd walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, knees apart and hate running through him, deep and true. He found it hard to keep still.

Pedro sighed and sat across from him. Patient. Didn't have to wait that long.

"Where is Caro?"

"He is upstairs. I have kept him here."

"Yeah, I heard that. Bring him down. I wanna speak to him… and you."

In minutes, Caro was in the living room. Todd dragged his gaze across the floor and finally landed on the man himself. A nasty taste flooded his mouth. He trembled with restraint, wanting to jump at him, to rip his throat out with his bare hands, with his teeth, the words do it now, do it now, now nownownowNOW banging inside his head, but he thought more on what was to come and it settled him. Caro was bruised badly from a beating. Todd had seen a bit of it the last time he was nearby, the night he took a swim in the sea. He'd stood outside and watched through the windows. Pedro kicked the shit out Caro. He had lost weight. His dark clothes hung on him, silk pants and silk shirt. Inappropriate for a hostage. He was still too healthy-looking for Todd's taste. The mere sight brought the white bliss to life, the white drifting again at the edge of Todd's vision. He was shaking even more so and his chest was tight. He bit down on his teeth and breathed.

Todd then said quietly to him, "I want you to call a meeting of your main customers in Havana and whatever workers you have under you. Meet at the house in the Old City."

"What for?"

Caro's voice was weak. He was afraid.

"I want to get organized. I want ideas on how to get them out of the trouble they are in. I am allowing their input."

"What trouble?"

"Be patient and I'll tell you."

Caro cursed, "You're mad. They won't come. You killed the Canadians!"

Pedro didn't react. Clearly he already knew that.

"Oh they'll come if they want to avoid the Cuban and American and European governments from hunting them down like animals. I am giving them an opportunity for FUCKING salvation."

"And for me?"

"Yes, you too... Caro." He spit the name.

"What kind of salvation for me? What are you saying?"

Todd sniffed and glanced around. He saw a cigarette pack. He grabbed it up and took out a cigarette. He lit up. He breathed in the smoke and settled into his chair. "I have documentation that will prove your business… activities… for the past thirty years. Including those... " He huffed, the air in his lungs diminishing… "Those films in which you have killed children. Your NAME is all over them. I have PROOF of all of it." He turned to Pedro. "And for you. I have documentation on every connection YOU have made with your… brother. You both will go to prison for the rest of your fucking pathetic LIVES. And you won't last long THERE, not with this shit on your record."

Pedro sighed and closed his eyes a moment. Breathed. Finally. It was all out there. "Are you talking to the police?"

"I will. They are interested in me, thinking I know shit. It would not take very much to get their attention."

"What do you want from me?" Pedro asked tiredly.

"I am SO glad you asked. I want you to step down from leading MK. I want you to pronounce me KING."

Pedro nodded, not surprised. Manning had long been in line for it. Pedro had long seen him as his second. But for the heroin addiction, he might have retired already.

"How do I know you will not kill me or give me up, even after I step down?"

Todd's face softened, the expression sad, but strangely loving. "You saved my life in prison, Padre. I cannot kill you. You ARE a father to me in ways nobody has ever been. I am asking that you… retire. That you return home to your family. That you walk away from MK. I will make sure of its legitimacy as we have talked for several years. MK will be the great Cuban-American monopoly that it's meant to be. Young men will get out of drugs and guns and… child pornography… and become solid citizens. Healthy, successful. PROUD."

"And me?"

Todd turned to Caro and stared a moment or two. The words crawled out of his mouth like spiders from a hole in the dirt. "The same for you. Retirement provided you promise that you will never touch a child again."

"Of course… I promise! I am full of regret!"

Todd grunted softly, his face crumpling with disgust. He rubbed his shoulder and neck. He had to fight the compulsion to puke all over himself and the floor. He knew if he did, it would be nothing but blood. He said in a soft voice, a tired voice, "I have not been sleeping well. Aching muscles."

Pedro looked at Caro then at Todd. "How do you know I won't kill you, my son?"

Todd sniffed, sitting back on the chair. He eyed Pedro a long while. "Because… I believe you feel I AM your son. Because you know my rage is justified. Because… you know I am RIGHT in my request of you." The room was quiet, the rain having gentled. In the background, the waves from the beach rolled and rolled. Todd then added, his hands out as if this last thing was so very obvious. Which it was.

"If you kill me, Padre, or touch any of my loved ones, Rico Macias and Rolon Lopez included, all my documentation goes public. You will be eviscerated."

"What if your death isn't because of me?"

Todd got up and stood at the window. His back to the men. He knew he could be shot right now, ended. He could see their reflections in the glass and they were still. He spoke without turning, the beach in the darkened distance.

"If something happens to me," he said, his voice steady and strong, "and I am dead, and it's not due to you and my people conclude the same, the documentation will be safe. I would think in such a case, you may lobby to return as leader to MK… or perhaps pass on the leadership to someone I would have approved of." He took a breath, taking in the amazing darkness of the night and imagining the sea's cold water and its embrace of him. "I would hope you would find someone good and decent and interested in the legitimacy of MK."

Pedro hmmd. Not disapproving.

Now Todd turned. "But don't think me stupid," he rumbled, "… American courts acquit defendants if there is reasonable doubt they committed a crime. For you, Padre...'" He eyed Pedro with a pointed gaze. "There cannot be ANY doubt as to your innocence of the killing or wounding of myself or any of my loved ones. If there is even suspicion you are involved… the information goes public."

"So if something happens to you, I better make damn sure I cover all my tracks."

Todd chuckled coldly, "I do have good hound dogs though. And you KNOW that."

Pedro and Todd gazed at each other for some seconds and Pedro thought he heard something in that long threat. Something that sounded like forgiveness. His son looked terribly tired, now that Pedro got a good look. He looked beaten down and yet… he looked dangerous as the devil himself. The coldness in his demeanor was… mature. Like the oldest man in the village… no, more like an immortal killer.

Todd walked up to Caro and eyed him from head to toe, the smallness of him, the ease with which he'd be made dead. A thing bubbled up in Todd's chest that made him grunt and he knew it sounded like a cross between a sexual exclamation and the sound of dying. Plain revulsion. He growled. "Call your workers and your customers and set a time for the day after tomorrow. You tell them their lives are OVER. You tell them they have one shot at redemption…" Todd leaned in and breathed hard in Caro's face… "ME."

"Do you have a preferred time?" He asked sarcastically, a little life left in him.

"Sure…. make it a comfy ten in the morning. Let them have their pan y cafe con leche before they get their only shot."

Todd glanced one last time at Pedro and walked out the door. The rain had finally let up and he decided to hoof the long way into the city like he had so many times before. He swallowed hard, a grief coming up inside of him. He would never see his children again, he would never hold his wife again, he would never breathe the sweet air of the forest behind their house. He would never know what greatness Rico would find in this world. He fell to his knees and moaned in the dirt, his heart torn to pieces, his soul pouring out to the point of nothingness.

This was the only way.

He had no choice. He had no options.

The crown on his head dug deep into his skin and the blood tasted like eternity.

To be continued...