Ms. Dreamy, parts of this chapter are for YOU!!!!
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DOUBLE TROUBLE
Alca Huete had his own hideout in Chicago. It was actually in a high-rise apartment building. He had a penthouse suite, of course. He wouldn't settle for anything less than that. He hadn't made all his money by peddling flesh and he was still into trafficking, but he normally used his girls to do all the dirty work. Most of them were so strung out, they weren't able to squeal. By the time they withdrew from cocaine, he would slip back into their lives, and tempt them again. Of course, the girls always came back, and the cycle began again. The girls would continue to prostitute themselves; he would pay them in cocaine, and force them to traffic for him. It was perfect. At this point, he felt as if he would never go down. The Ortiz gang would have survived if they hadn't relied solely on Dominguez and Luis. They should have dealt in flesh as well, and Ortiz would still be a free man. Ah well, like it mattered.
Huete was happy to be in the states again. He had been here once before, but slipped out of town after being picked up on a rape charge. He had slipped away while on bail, changed his appearance a bit, and laid low. It was during that time that his former hermano introduced him to Primera. She was exquisitely lovely and exotic. He knew that Mateo and the women were sleeping together, but neither seemed entirely interested in the other. It was plainly a physical thing. Huete had been the man who introduced her to the numbing effects of cocaine. She became addicted very quickly and began stealing from the gang. He had ordered her shot, but a strange twist of fate had prevented her death. She had slept with his assassin and begged for her life. He paid her with cocaine from his personal stash. When he heard, a wonder idea sprang into his head. Flesh for coke, flesh for cash, whores to become mules…ah…beautiful. His first recruit, his best recruit was the biggest mule of them all. She brought the women in, she kept his mission alive, and he paid her well. Unfortunately for him [and her as well], she had left, had slipped away from South America to parts unknown to him. He often wondered if she had gone in search of Mateo. But then, that didn't seem right, either. She didn't care for Mateo that much. Wherever she was, he wanted to find her. She would either submit to his demands or he would kill her. It was as simple as that. Primera belonged to no one else but him. He glanced at the clock and noticed the hour. It was time to go out hunting again for a fresh crop of women. Perhaps he would run into Primera. Wouldn't that be lovely?
* * *
Farron Donovan could not sleep. He knew he should have been exhausted, but he wasn't. He had fallen into an uncomfortable nap on Kara's couch. They had spent so much time talking; he had never spoken that much in his life. She had been shocked by his confession that he dealt in drugs, and he was afraid she would send him away. After all, it seemed as if they were such different people. However, she did not ask him to leave. She accepted it as his 'past,' and didn't blink an eye. Farron had never met anyone like her before. Kara eventually invited him to spend the night, and he had agreed readily enough. However, the night didn't exactly go as one would have thought. It was somewhat standard for Farron to want to sleep with her, but he held back. At first, they had begun talking and before he knew it, they were down on the couch, feeling each other up. With extreme self-control, Farron withdrew from her. Her eyes were literally begging him to make love to her again, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't use her; he wanted to know her, to get inside her heart and mind before he ever made love to her again.
Although he had decided to turn over a new leaf, so to speak, he wasn't a choirboy by any stretch of the imagination. He asked her to take him to her bedroom. She was certain they would make love again, but he didn't have that on his mind [not exactly, anyway]. He instructed her to go into the bathroom and strip down to her underwear. She followed his instructions to the letter, shaking the entire time. Once she reentered the bedroom, the sight of her made his blood boil and groin ache. This would be so hard. He told her to get down on the bed and to lie on her stomach. She smiled a little, thinking that he had something kinky in mind, but she again followed his instructions without a thought. He had then leaned beside her, kneeling, and moved her hair away from her neck. After placing a gentle kiss between her shoulders, he moved away a bit.
"Do you have a middle name," he asked suddenly.
What a bizarre question. I'm lying here, waiting for him to strip out of his clothes, and he wants to know my middle name? "Yes," she said, "it's Michelle. Why do you ask?"
He smiled. "Ah. Michelle. Very good." His hands fell on her shoulders and his large hands began kneading them with force, but not enough to hurt her, just enough to soothe her. "I enjoy giving women nicknames. Do you mind if I call you Shel?"
She liked the sound of that. In fact, he could probably call her 'poopie-kaka' and she wouldn't have minded. His hands felt like heaven. She suddenly wanted them all over her. "Sure," she said, "that's nice."
"Wonderful," he said softly, "I want you to relax and think of nothing but my hands. When I want you to move, I'll ask. Okay?"
"Mmm hmmm," she sighed.
His hands moved away from her neck and shoulders and progressed down the slope of her back. She didn't know where he had learned this skill, but he was damn good at it. She found herself relaxing immensely, and she closed her eyes, only concentrating on the feel of his hands just as he had said. The only sound that erupted out of her at all was when both of his hands went to her sides. She gasped a little at the tender stroking motion. Kara was extremely ticklish in that area, and she didn't want to laugh at him. She bit down hard on her lip as he caressed, kneaded, and squeezed. If he didn't move away soon, she wouldn't be able to stay still much longer. He must have sensed this was a sensitive spot, but he didn't hurry to move away. Smiling a little, he could hear the soft grunt emitting from her lips at each touch. Deciding to suspend the torture [for the moment], he allowed his hands to move lower to the small of her back. She began to relax again and hoped he didn't touch her ass. If he touched her ass, she'd die. Of course, Farron wasn't an idiot. He ignored all erogenous zones. He wanted to pleasure her, but not in a sexual way. Not yet. Not tonight.
As his hands moved down to her legs, he found himself wishing he had brought in some lotion. Ah well. It was a sensual addition, but not necessary. By the time he progressed to her feet, she groaned a little and bit her lip again. He was so cruel to do this to her, and he had yet to touch her other side at all. Dear Lord, I hope I live through this, she thought.
"Shel," he whispered, "turn to your back."
She sighed a little. His soft whisper tickled her as much as his roaming hands. She loved the sound of her name leaving his lips. Without hesitation, she turned to her back and waited expectantly. Her nipples were straining desperately against the lace of her bra, and she was aching way far down below her waist. Instead of progressing from top to bottom as he had done with her back, he used his lips instead. They touched her eyelids, nose, lips, chin, and then her neck. He placed a gentle kiss in the valley between her breasts, but he didn't touch them. His lips went past her heaving breasts and fell upon her ribcage. He ran his tongue along her ribs as if they were a xylophone. She shuddered and whispered a phrase he hadn't yet heard her say: 'ah, fuck.' His tongue moved down the slope of her abdomen before dipping briefly into her navel. Her back arched against him, presenting more of her body to his wandering lips and tongue. He avoided yet another erogenous zone and allowed his lips to caress her upper thighs, then her knees, then the calves of her legs, before moving to her feet. He placed gentle kisses on each toe. By then, she was whimpering, undulating against the bed. If he didn't make love to her, she thought she might go mad.
"Please, oh please, don't do this to me," she begged. "I need you, I want you," she said with a sigh.
He followed the same trail up as he made on his way down and ended with a soft kiss on her lips. She wanted more, but he drew away. "No, Shel," he said. "I won't make love to you until it feels right. Lay back and let me touch you, let me show you pleasure without making love." How could she argue?
Farron smiled a little as he thought back to what had transpired between them. She had begged him, pleaded with him to make love to her, but he held back. The shift in his life was a pleasant feeling. It was something he had never experienced before. Of course, he wasn't aware that he had enemies scheming against him, against his happiness, and his brother.
* * *
Every Colombian jefe had a right hand man. Of course, Huete was no exception. His hermano was Enfermo Torcido [Fermo for short]. He was the best man Huete had on his team. Of course, he was also the cruelest. Torcido was usually the first man in the gang to get a taste of the new girls brought in. Occasionally, he kept a girl around for a few weeks until he literally wore her out. When that happened, he would take the poor addled girl to a secluded spot and shoot her between the eyes. More than a few had been carrying his child at the time of their deaths. A gentle man he was not, but that didn't matter. Huete trusted him with his life. He didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder while Torcido was present. If Torcido wanted something, he didn't steal it, he simply asked and his wish was granted. It was how he ended up with his own woman from time-to-time.
"Many pardons, Alca," Torcido began. His jefe had his hand underneath the skirt of one of the new girls. She barely noticed. All she wanted was another hit, he could stick his finger up her nose, and she wouldn't care, not as long as she received her candy. "You have an interesting visitor."
Alca smiled as he grabbed the girl's breast. He gave it a hard squeeze and licked the side of her cheek. "More interesting than this? I will send her to you tonight. She is quite…good."
Torcido nodded. "Oh yes, jefe. When you see her, you'll be very happy. Primera has returned to you."
Roughly, he shoved the dazed whore off his lap. She fell to the floor with a soft thud. Only partially stunned, she gazed up at her pimp and waited to be paid. "Take her now, Fermo. Bring Primera to me. Bring her now."
Torcido grabbed the girl's arm and literally dragged her out of the room. After a moment, he brought Primera in. He was gentler with her than the girl. He wouldn't rough her up, not in front of Huete. Primera was special to him. Huete's first impulse was to have her taken out and shot, but something about her expression stopped him. She didn't appear scared or nervous. She was almost…smug. Her expression held his interest, and he wanted to hear her out before he murdered her.
Once he asked Torcido to leave, he demanded, "Why do you come here, Primera?"
"My dear Alca," she said. "Your operation will soon be infiltrated by the FBI. I know you remember Mateo, don't you? Have you heard of Frank Donovan? Most men in your position have. Mateo's name is really Farron Donovan, and he is Frank's twin brother. I know this, because both men were my lovers. Frank has a specialized team, and he's sending in a female agent to pretend she's a cocaine addict. You might wonder how I know this? Well, darling, I was there for it all."
Huete was furious. "And how do I know that your being here isn't part of the act?"
"Up until I broke free, I was your prime whore catcher, Alca. I worked for you many years, giving up much of my life. You can choose to trust me, or you can choose to kill me. Either way, you're going to be invaded by Frank and his merry band of FBI vagabonds. I can tell you who's coming and what they'll be doing. I don't care what you do to the agent; kill her, fuck her; give her to Torcido for all I care. Frank has a wife and a baby daughter; I can probably find them for you as well. Again, I don't care what you do to them or what happens. My only concern is Frank. I want Frank Donovan. I want him reserved specifically for me. Will you help me like I'm helping you?"
He considered it for approximately five seconds. "What do you think, Primera? I will work with you on this; I will let you take Frank Donovan. But you must be punished for what you did to me. You left the fold, left me high and dry. Your punishment is a night with Torcido. If you endure it, I'll do everything in my power to help you get Donovan."
A night with Enfermo Torcido was like a night in a torture device. The state of her body the next day would be horrendous. Torcido liked to bite and he had an affinity for unnatural sex acts. He refused to wear condoms, and she wasn't sure how many deadly diseases he had contracted through the years. Even with all that, she still wanted Frank, still wanted him so badly, she could taste it. "I will be his punching bag for the night."
Huete smiled. The girl had spirit. He offered her a tiny brown vial of cocaine. "Would you like some of this before you go to him? It might help."
"Tempting as it is, I must refuse. I don't want to be under the influence of any substance when I take Donovan's life. Call your friend, Alca, tell him he has a whore."
* * *
Donovan couldn't sleep. Tomorrow night would see the group on the streets of skid row Chicago as Alex posed as a crack-addicted prostitute. Of course, they weren't sure if Huete's gang would spot her or even care about her. According to the bitch [Donovan refused to utter her name], Huete preferred much younger girls, teenagers, and no one could mistake Alex for a teenager. He would be glad to see it all end. He wasn't comfortable working near the bitch, because he didn't quite trust her. He knew she hadn't been an evil person in the past, but she was a totally different person now. She had tried to destroy his marriage, and he didn't doubt she would work on destroying him. He had felt uneasy before a big showdown hundreds of times, but something seemed a bit more out of place, and he couldn't immediately put his finger on it. It had more to do with the bitch than anything. She had a forked tongue, and he thought he might need to put a tail on her for a few days. They could make no mistakes.
Loralei awoke and noticed that her husband had his hands leaned against the window frame. There was little light filtering in through the window, and she couldn't see his face, but his body language indicated that he was disturbed. "Frank? Are you okay?"
He turned toward the bed. She could see his silhouette nodding. "Yes, I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep."
"Is there anything I can do," she asked.
He smiled a little and shook his head. "Nope. I'm preoccupied, as you well know. We must use the bitch for her knowledge, but I'm not altogether sure we can trust her. She's a viper and her venom has already touched us, and now it's reaching out for everything else I hold dear."
She sighed. "Frank, I know this is a long shot, but why don't you try thinking of something else for now? I know it won't be easy, but you have to separate the shit. I've seen you do it a thousand times with a thousand other cases. This one isn't any different, it just involves a woman you once loved, but now hate. You are now forced to put your trust in her, a trust she betrayed before. Let it go, at least when you're away from her."
Donovan realized that she was right. She had kicked his ass back in shape yet again. He moved toward the bed and climbed in beside her. He held her close against him and fingered her hair. "So, how about another distraction? This is one totally outside the realm of the bitch."
"Okay," she said. Her finger began to trace delicate lines across his chest. "I'm game."
"This new kid," he said suddenly, "When did you find out?"
She smiled a little. She wondered when he was going to ask that. "I did an EPT the Sunday following the party, and it was positive. We'd had false positives before, so I didn't really think anything. I mean, I was suspicious. I'd had morning sickness for a couple of days and noticed I was late, but never thought seriously I was pregnant. But if you notice, I didn't exactly drink as much as it seemed. Mostly, I was acting stupid."
Her words struck him a little. How much had she drunk? "Wait a minute," he said. "That morning when you were sick, that wasn't a hangover?"
"No duh," she spat. "That's what prompted me to go through with the EPT. It happened a couple of times, but I conveniently hid from you. No one knew…well…that's not true. Alex caught me doing the EPT."
"I knew it. I knew she knew something. She tried to push me to go home the night we attempted to have dinner. Jesus, where the hell was I?"
"You drifted, but that's okay. You know now, that's the important thing."
"How far along?"
"Probably six weeks by now, four when I saw the doctor. What do you want this time," she asked.
He smiled wickedly. "Twins."
"You would," she said, a trace of forced annoyance in her voice. "If you impregnated me with twins, I swear, I will perform a vasectomy on you myself."
He kissed her gently. "Ow, kinky."
* * *
Much, much later, Loralei drifted off to sleep, but Donovan did not. Regardless of their intimate banter a few hours ago, he still felt uneasy and preoccupied. Something was going to happen. Something bad.