Hey... *crickets chirping*
Anyways yah. New chapter. Also, the other chapters have been updated and revamped if you're a returning reader.
WARNING: RAPE
WARNING: SPANISH **translations are at the bottom**
Leave a comment or whatever if you liked it. Going on 5 years with this story hell yah. Also, whose pumped for RD:R 2? Just waiting for that sweet sweet confirmation. Come on baby don't disappoint.
- CHAPTER FOUR -
"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty."
Mahatma Gandhi
We had our plan.
I rushed back to Mary's room and stuffed as many of her non-whore outfits as I could into a bag. Most of Mary's fashion sense outside of the brothel was directly opposite of mine. While I liked breezy skirts and riding pants with loose, billowy shirts, Mary liked tight dresses, tight pants, and tight shirts. Tight, tight, tight.
Mary was still asleep with the customer I robbed. I had innocently suggested to Jack that we make our leave immediately - best to avoid any possible future confrontations with Ray, after all!
He agreed and we separated quickly to pack our things. He didn't know I was actually avoiding the wrath of the man I robbed.
"Meet me by the stables in five minutes," he said. I was there in three. While I waited for him, I tacked up Sierra with some of Stanley's prized riding gear. He'd miss it, but I needed it more and I wasn't planning on coming back here ever so, who really cared?
Jack's horse was still tacked. Poor thing. Must be so uncomfortable for him.
Jack approached in the darkness. He was raking his hair off his forehead, trying his best to flatten it. Giving up, he plopped his hat on his head.
I mounted Sierra.
"So you've been to the Great Plains before?" I asked.
He mounted Nero. "I've been there." His voice was short, gruff, and rude. His face was stoic and angry.
So nothing was amiss then.
"It's a long ride, I bet," I said. To make conversation. Jack was having none of that.
"It is."
"How far-,"
"Alright listen Annabelle. Let's set the mood here and draw some lines. I saved your life-,"
"Mhmm."
"- three times? Or is it four?"
"You-,"
"And you lied to me for no reason about being a prostitute. Now I don't trust you. And trust is very important to me."
"I'm sor-,"
He shot me a look. "Will you stop apologizing? And stop-,"
"Okay."
He exhaled, annoyed. He paused for a beat as if to see if I was actually finished, then continued. "Now honesty is important to me, so I'm going to be honest with you, alright? Clear the air a bit, since we're partners now. And in return I'm going to ask something of you. Will you listen?"
"Of cou-,"
"Wordlessly?" he interrupted. I frowned. Lord almighty, Jack was more irritating then twenty mosquitoes. Could he not let me get one word in? I met his gaze, giving him the most sour expression I could muster.
He looked away and sighed again, eyes scanning the horizon. The night was young still, the animals not yet out and about.
"When I first saw you laying in the dirt, in your underclothes, bleeding out, I thought you were the most pathetic thing I'd ever seen."
"Wow."
"So I saved you. Dragged your unconscious body with me back to Armadillo. You thanked me. I left. I thought that would be the end of it. Then you followed me on the train."
"I was getting my horse, not following you." I rolled my eyes.
"Whatever the reason, we were on that train together. And then that bandit was holding you hostage and I could not believe it - you looked even more pathetic."
"Okay.. What- What is this? Are we insulting each other now?"
His lips twisted.
"Then I saved you." His eyes met mine. "Again. And then I jumped on the runaway train. And there you were. Again. But this time you helped me out. We did good as a team considering we had no plan and no time to think and barely any time to communicate. So alright, I was willing to have a drink with you. Because you helped me out."
"So what was the point of that lovely summary of our relationship?" I asked.
'I saved your life three times. You helped me out once. You lied once. I have more to lose from trusting you. I took the bigger chance here."
"Okay..."
"I need to know if you're lying about this map."
I laughed. It sounded cheap and defensive. "It's real, isn't it?"
He didn't say anything, just stared straight ahead, his eyes slits.
"There are a lot of fake maps floating around, but a lot of real ones too. I just need to know that you truly think this is real. I need to know you're not lying to me to abuse my help."
I swallowed, then realized I didn't need to feel guilty. As far as I knew, this map was realer then the Lord Almighty. Sure, I stole it from a drunk idiot. But the map could very well turn out to be real... No matter how unlikely.
"Annabelle, I just need to know this isn't a hustle from the get-go," he continued. He met my gaze and it startled me because his eyes looked-
Well, not angry. For once.
I nodded, swallowing hard. "It's real." Taking a second to gather my composure, I continued, "I trust my source. My source never failed me."
"Who is your source, if you don't mind me asking?"
"My best customer," I bluffed.
"Ah." Jack shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "You usually trust your... Customers?"
"Only the nice ones." Shep's face flashed in my mind. He was anything but nice. I grimaced as I remembered Shep's dick, too. That's the thing about having customers. You remember their genitals almost as clearly as their faces. You spend equal amounts of time with both after all, if not more.
"Jack," I began. "I want you to trust me because I trust you and we're partners now, right? Treasure hunting partners? And partners need trust. So I uh, I'm sorry I lied-,"
"Stop apologizing," Jack snapped, annoyed, "I hate that."
"You hate that. Okay, I promise this will turn both our favours to the better, alright?" I met his gaze, and hoped he could see I meant him no ill will. I just needed to save myself from Ray Stinson. And if treasure and riches came out of this journey... That would be only better.
In fact, I realized with a growing smile, my life had never looked better then it was this night with Jack. I was free from the brothel. I was safe with my sharpshooting treasure hunting partner. And we were hunting for treasure! And going to West Elizabeth!
And if the treasure in the Great Plains turned out to be a bust, I was just a short hop away from Thieves Landing.
The world was looking up for Annabelle Koen.
The world was not looking up for Annabelle Koen.
We stopped for lunch at Ridgewood Farm. I didn't know a lot of my customers lived and worked there. Why the hell were they getting laid at Rathskeller Fork and not Armadillo?
Swallowing lunch, sitting next to all these men I'd fucked, was harder then anything else I've ever had to do. Thankfully, no one brought up my source of employment. But it was the elephant in the room and not talking about it did little to dispel the tension.
I sat along the fireside, with seven gentlemen and Jack. Three of the gentlemen I'd laid with, yet all seven had visited the brothel and all seven I'd exchanged flirts with.
You could cut the air with a knife, the tension was so thick. Perhaps only Jack was oblivious to it all.
Jack was sitting off by himself nibbling on a corn cob. I watched one of the kitchen girls stir the gruel they offered their borders and felt my skin crawl. With a quick glance around - yep, all eyes were on me.
One of the men coughed. I jumped. That made one of them look at me and smile. I grimaced and got to my feet.
"Excuse me," I muttered under my breath, bee-lining for the outhouse. Inside, I laid a hand on my stomach and tried to exhale all the panic and nausea I felt.
"Just get through it. Just survive," I whispered under my breath, shaking my hands out. But there was no denying the dirtiness I felt - the reminder of my life choices.
It had been so easy to separate work from home, Annabelle from Miranda.
All the time I'd spent at Rathskeller had just been for money and nothing else. Now outside of it, I was being hit by all the loose ends of my career choice. The guilt and disgust was an unexpected side effect of the money and glamour of becoming an independent woman.
Sighing, I exited the outhouse none the calmer. There was a gentleman outside.
"Sorry for the wait," I said.
His hand grabbed my wrist and I yelped in surprise.
Immediately my mind went to Ray - was this one of his goons? But he chuckled at my discomfort, releasing my wrist immediately.
"Annabelle Koen, remember me?" he asked.
I blinked at him, mouth agape.
"You sucked my fat dick, don't you recall?"
"I don't."
"That's too bad." He had the audacity to look sad. "Guess there's a lot of other guys, huh? How many would you say you've fucked? Just curious."
"Wow."
"Do you remember my fat dick taking your asshole from behind when I bent you over your couch?"
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist again and slammed me against the outhouse, smiling.
"I wasn't done talking."
"I was."
He pressed his forearm to my throat, his other hand clutching my shirt. My toes were reaching desperately for the ground, but he was practically holding me in the air.
"You look a little rattled," he said.
"That's 'cause... your fat arm is... choking me," I grunted. He squeezed even tighter, pressing on my throat until I saw black at the edges of my vision.
"I want you again," he snarled.
"For what?!"
"Fucking."
"You're insane."
"Yeah, and you fucked this fat cock once before so what's the problem."
"I regret it."
"You took my money all the same greedy dumb bit-,"
"Hey, is there a problem here?" Jack appeared, and suddenly I could breathe again.
I couldn't help it - I was pumped at the sight of him. Knowing how well of a sharpshooter he was, there was a part of me just cheering, waiting for him to whip out that gun and get some sweet revenge. Yes, defend my honour, Jack! You noble son of a bitch!
"No problem," the man said, stepping back. "Just saying hello to an old friend."
"Don't look like friends to me," Jack said.
"I was just leaving."
"Then leave."
"No!" I protested, but the man had already left.
Jack began walking away. I chased after him, tugging at his shirt cuff.
"I wanted to kill that son of a bitch," I whined. "We have history and he-,"
"What is wrong with you?" he hissed, pulling me aside. "We can't just kill everyone who pisses us off, Annabelle."
The day had clouded over, and a distant thunderstorm was looming behind him. The plains smelt of oncoming storm and dew. I shivered, the cool breeze sending goosebumps down my arm.
"Well I thought...,"
"You thought?"
"Nevermind."
"That's what I thought." He turned and stalked off again, took two steps, then stopped. I sighed. He rounded on me again, lecture at the ready.
"We need to figure out how to work as a team," he began. "Everything is-,"
"Is what?" I asked defensively.
"Everything is fucked! I'm still pissed at you for lying! I still don't trust you. The only reason I'm here with you is 'cause I've got nothing better going on. You realize that, right? That you're just a joke to me? Just a side adventure?"
I could feel something inside of me break - I guess the part of me that hoped I wasn't just a joke to be laughed at.
"If you're not having fun, you're free to leave," I said. "I'm the one with the map."
"Fun? What's any of this got to do with having fun? I want money, Annabelle. If I can't get that I'll-,"
"You'll what?"
He threw his hands up and stalked away.
Hunting for treasure seemed a lot more fun in stories. In real life, your partner just wanders off all the time in a huff of annoyance that's barely kept under control.
I stalked off myself, cursing under my breath. I went to the horse coral to stroke Sierra's soft muzzle.
I must have stayed there almost an hour - lolling in Sierra's company, mediating on the better days yet to come my way.
I heard footsteps come up behind me.
"Well I hope you're here to apologize," I said, without turning.
"Doubt zat," said a strange voice I did not recognize, then everything went black.
I awoke in a bedroom, with my hands and ankles tied together, and the man from before leering down at me.
"Oh, thank god."
There was also a stranger in the room, a terrifying-looking man.
"For a moment I thought you were the other kidnappers after me," I explained.
"You're funny," he said.
"I don't even know your name."
"It's Beau."
"And you are?" I turned to the man I hadn't met before. He unbuckled his belt in reply.
"He doesn't like being talked to," said Beau.
"What is this about-?"
The man's belt whipped out, smacking me across the face. His buckle stung my lip, and I tasted blood, could feel it run down my chin. The pain echoed for minutes afterward.
"Do not antagonize za girl," said the stranger.
"I just need a few minutes alone with her," Beau muttered.
"Zat vas not part ov za deal."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"You ver promised zat only if you could procure za girl without my intervention and you failed, Mr. William. So now you've been cut from za deal."
"But I led you here! I told you where she was!"
"I vas already here, Mr. William. All you did vas pass along information. Now it is time for you to move along, if you know vat is best for you." He slapped the buckle in his palm. It dripped with my blood.
Beau William, a man from my past who I let fuck me, left the room and I was alone with the German.
He was dressed nicely, in a suit that looked rather expensive. His blonde hair was gelled back, slick against his head, and he was tall and tiny. His face was caved in, his big, blue eyes dead and hollow. He looked like a skeleton just barely held together with skin.
He looked like death.
Alone with him, he loosened his grip on the belt buckle, yet his eyes remained froward, trained on one spot only. What the hell, was this guy even human? I stared at him - gaped, more like - until the door swung open.
"Sorry I'm late," said a deep, rumble of a voice.
Ray. Fucking. Stinson.
So it was him.
"Your boss vill hear about zis," the German snapped.
"Yeah yeah," Ray brushed off. He had a fat cigar between his lips and a fancy new eye patch.
"Nice eye patch," I muttered.
"What the fuck was that? I thought I heard a piece of shit talking," Ray snarled.
The German looked annoyed.
"Vhy antagonize her?" he asked.
"Because she's caused a lot of problems as of late."
"Haven't ve all?" said the German as he left the room.
Ray began chuckling as soon as we were alone.
"Did you think you were safe?" he asked, walking around the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't know as soon as you set foot in Gaptooth Ridge? I can smell whore from miles away."
"So you had people on the lookout for me."
"I have people on the lookout for you everywhere, Miranda. You will never escape me. You may outrun me for awhile, but I have eyes, ears, hands and cocks everywhere that will hunt you down until you are nothing and no one." I could now hear the unmistakable sound of his pants unbuckling behind me.
I was suddenly acutely aware of how vulnerable I was, tied up like a calf. I panicked, and began rolling, but his hands steadied me.
"Realized it, did you? How helpless you are, and always will be?" His hands pulled off my pants and panties in one fell swoop, bunching them up around my knees.
"Look," he said, finger prodding at my entrance, "Just a plain ol' pussy, same as every other. Yet you think you're so much better." He laughed. His knees sunk into the mattress behind me.
I knew what was coming and in moments like this, when there is nothing to do, there is nothing you can do accept endure and survive.
I could feel calm settle in my bones - it's not like I'd never fucked someone I didn't want to before. This was where I could win. I would not let him have the satisfaction of taking away my power and replacing it with fear.
I was most powerful when I was fucking.
"Just a scared little Mexican girl with nobody left to be loved by, hiding and running away like the rest of her people," he muttered. I could feel the tip of him, prodding at my entrance. My fingers curled into fists as he entered - sharp and sudden - and I swore I would kill him.
I gritted my teeth as he slid deep inside with a grunt. He felt like sandpaper and pain.
His hand wrapped around the back of my neck.
"Beg me to stop," he said.
"No," I hissed. My sight went red with rage. "I like it."
"Gross bitch," Ray said, shoving my face into the bed. He pumped away until he came several minutes later, and all the way I bared it in silence, not ever giving him the satisfaction of a cry or a grunt.
I could feel his residue spilling out of my spread-eagle pussy and every fiber of my being was churning with hate.
He put my panties and pants back on. I could feel the wetness of his residue on the fabric, and it just made me angrier. I could not let my mind wander to the consequences that might be had from his rape.
The room I was raped in was a bedroom in Ridgewood Farm, I learned as he led me from it. The family that owned and lived there had been paid off by Stinson and his gang, it seemed. They had known how this would all go down the minute I walked onto their property and they still let it happen.
Pictures of my face were everywhere in Gaptooth Ridge, urging people to contact a man named Erich Schäfer - the German - upon spotting me. Beau William had been the one to contact Schäfer, all the way back at Rathskeller Fork.
Nowhere was safe.
I was led into a stagecoach and was genuinely surprised to see Jack there, bound and gagged and bloody. His hat was missing, as was his arsenal of guns that was constantly strapped onto him.
"Schäfer's house," said Ray Stinson to the driver. Schäfer himself was in the carriage too, hard to see as he was lurking in the shadows.
"So much trouble for vone girl," he said with a head shake. "Is she vorth it?"
Stinson was looking proud and healed, sucking on a fat cigar. I stared and stared into his face, hoping it would unnerve him but he never looked anything but cheery.
"I don't know about worth," he replied, "But she needed to be eliminated by a big name and we needed some women."
Jack's eyes went to mine. Curious, was he?
"Ve'll see vat za boss thinks," Schäfer said, turning away to rummage in what looked like a woman's bag. "He is usually unimpressed vith messiness. Vhich ve must fix." He produced a vial of pills, pouring two out into his palm.
"Remove ze gags," he said. Ray did just that.
"What the hell is going on?" Jack yelled. Schäfer exchanged a look with Stinson.
"Do you vant another beating?" Schäfer asked Jack.
"Too bad the boss wants him alive," Ray Stinson said. "I'd love to dump his body somewhere the vultures could find."
"Such mindless violence," Schäfer muttered, sounding amused. He held up a pill to the candlelight. "Zis is for you - safe passage."
My eyes slid to Stinson.
"There's no such thing," I spat.
Schäfer gave Stinson a look.
"Vith me zere is. Ozzerwise, ve'll hit you over ze head again and who knows how healthy zat is. Now drink." Somehow, he produced a bottle of water from his bag, too.
Holding the pill to my lip, there was little I could do but accept it into my mouth with a big gulp of water.
Within minutes my eyes grew heavy, and I found sleep.
But the dreams were not pleasant.
I awoke in a bedroom, tied to a bedpost. Guess it was too much to hope for that I'd be free.
Jack was beside me, sleeping soundly, his hair an awkward mess across his face.
The room I was in was lavish - yet not overly so. It obviously belonged to someone with subdued taste yet lots of money.
I wiggled my hands but the knots were tight, so instead I lay there and waited for Jack to wake up. He joined me in the land of the living minutes later.
"How do we get out of here?" I asked, as he yawned. He pulled on his ropes to no avail, too.
"Shit," he cursed.
I sighed. "We need to find a way out, Jack! We can't let this guy win." The panic in my voice was obvious and pained - Jack turned to look at me.
"Is everything...?"
"Just get me out of here," I sniffled. He pulled wildly on the ropes, but they did not budge. Then he used his teeth to try and loosen them. Then he tried to saw them off using the bedpost. Then he tried pulling on the rope with his body until it snapped. Nothing worked.
The door swung open suddenly.
"Velcome to my home," Schäfer said. "My boss has been dying to meet you."
He undid our ropes, freeing us. I took in Schäfer's outfit curiously - he wore fresh clothes, less layers, more colour. He didn't look so terrifying now.
"Why did you free us?" I asked suspiciously.
"Zere is no where to run here," he said with a smile. It was creepy.
I followed Schäfer. There was nothing else to do - and slowly, the realization dawned on me. The style of this house - the ceramic tiles, the rustic, the colours - the heat and humidity. I knew where we were. I knew who his boss was.
The fear I felt was indescribable, like walking up to the hangman's noose.
As we headed through a beautiful library, Jack tumbled, landing ontop of a table covered in books and trinkets.
"Get up," Schäfer snapped, annoyed. "Look at ze mess you've made!"
"I'm sorry, I'm so thirsty-," Schäfer's hand came across Jack's face with a resounding slap.
"Good zat you are thirsty. Suffering builds character."
Schäfer took us through his beautiful home to the backyard. It was raining, the tail-end of the storm in Gaptooth Ridge, yet I could hear splashing and girlish giggling.
Despite there being desert for miles in every direction, Schäfer's mansion in the middle of the Mexican wild was an oasis.
There were many pools under permanent canopies to protect from the weather - sparkling blue, against the bright white marble fixtures and sculptures. We walked among them like ghosts.
We turned a corner and there he was - splashing about in a pool with a harem of women.
Abraham Reyes.
I stopped. Full stop. But I was shoved forward and forced to keep walking.
I can't I can't I can't.
"No puedo hablar con eso rata," I hissed when I was close enough so Abraham could hear. The laughter and chatter stopped and suddenly I was staring at my family's killer - and the man who had set Stinson on me.
"Welcome!" he greeted. "Care to join me in my pool, friends?"
I spat on the ground as he reached for a glass of champagne from the poolside table. He cast me a look of menace.
"Miranda Fortuna," he purred. "At long last." With a wave of his hand he dismissed his ladies.
"You just had to drag me out here," I said.
"To see you for myself, of course! You could have been my sister-in-law. The legend! The beauty! The whore! What's not to like about a woman with those qualities?" He rose from the pool and waded toward us, dripping wet and holding his champagne glass daintily. His hand reached out and grabbed my chin, giving my face a turn. "Not so pretty without makeup, but we can fix that."
I ripped my chin from his touch and glared at him.
"Oh," he sighed, as if I were a precious little girl, "Look - she still thinks she has a choice." His eyes roved over my face, a small, dangerous smile on his lips. "Vaja disfrutar enterrado a mis hijos," he said to me.
"If I am not already carrying," I snapped, the words feeling like poison.
"That was my gift to Stinson for losing an eye," Abraham said with a laugh. "You cannot blame me for rewarding my man."
"I blame you for stealing from me," I said. My voice cracked. There were terrifying emotions thundering right under the surface now - long repressed ones that ached to be validated. I was not just speaking about the rape - but the entire genocide of my family. Why? Why? I wanted to scream. Why them? Why me?
But thinking about the unfairness left nothing but bitter emptiness.
"Que es una cucaracha oara un rey?"
My mouth slammed shut. "Bastardo."
He smiled and turned his attention on Jack.
"What do we have here? Un amante?" asked Abraham, with a glint in his eye.
He wouldn't get the satisfaction of torturing a love of mine again.
"Socio."
"No Mexicana," he said, looking surprised.
"Es el hijo de un asesino," I said.
"Asesino? Estoy interesado." He turned to Jack with a smile. "I was just talking to Miss Fortuna about how lovely it is to see gringos in my land again. I had a lot of help from white men like you. Men without a conscious. That's you, isn't it? Or were all those guns for show? I would not mind. Guns are very sexy! The girls love it!" He laughed.
Jack stared at him.
"You look confused, gringo."
"Who the hell are you?" Jack asked.
"It is quite a shame you don't know already. When I was born, the nuns said everyone would one day know my name. And ever since I was a ninito, I vowed to make this come true. So now, you get to learn who I am and help fulfill my prophecy. I have certainly become quite the fan of you ever since you started running around with Miranda.
"I am ex-President of Mexico, the great Abraham Reyes! And this little creature?" He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks together. "She is ashamed. Hiding like the rest of her family did before I found them. She is Mexican blood, did you not know? Miranda Fortuna, my beloved Louisa's little sister."
"Until she died for you and you betrayed the people-!" I screamed.
"I did NOT betray anyone!" he hissed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "There is no loyalty left, you see," Abraham explain to Jack, his voice calm now. He gestured at me as if I were an example. "The people... they do not know how to recognize those who help, and those who harm. They will take my land down a dark path with their fucking ignorance."
"So what happened to the Presidency?" Jack asked.
'It was ripped from me," Abraham said, anger shaking his voice. "But I still have my life, and for that we must be thankful. Always be grateful for the clothes on your back, the food on your table, and the breath in your lungs. Unfortunately this is something many people forget." He gave me a pointed look.
I spat again.
"Eres tan estupido como un perro," I snarled.
"And you are a puta and if you don't shut up te voy a matar. Okay? I'm trying to be polite here."
"What happened-?"
"Enough questions," Abraham said. "Miranda needs to be handled until she knows not to act up again but as for you, Jack Marston. I have a job for you if you're interested."
"How do you know my name?" Jack asked.
"Accept the job and I'll reward you. Refuse and you die."
"What's the job?" he persisted.
Abraham laughed. "Was my offer not good enough? You get your life, gringo. That's all you should care about."
"A man's dignity is worth more then his life. I don't work for crazy." His eyes narrowed.
"Crazy?" Abraham laughed dryly, pointing at himself. "Me? You think I'm loco?"
"Yeah, I do."
The smile faltered on Abraham's lips.
"What did you say, gringo? I think I misheard you."
"You're fucking insane," Jack said.
Abraham Reyes' hand came up as if to slap Jack.
"Allow me," said Schäfer, who reached his arm back and smacked Jack with all the force he could muster in his small, bony arm.
"Was that satisfying for you?" Jack asked Abraham. "'cause it wasn't for me. I've already been slapped by that guy-,"
Abraham's hand came up, pinching Jack's mouth shut.
"Another word, and my offer is off the table. You can always tell when an America-"
Suddenly, in a flash, Jack's hands were free. He slammed his fist into Abraham's face and I noticed the tiniest of screws wedged between his fingers. I noticed it shortly before it disappeared into Abraham's nose cavity.
While Abraham fell to the floor, Jack turned and pulled Schäfer's gun from his holster, pointing it squarely at his chest. This all happened within seconds, and I was left breezed and impressed.
"Don't move," Jack snarled.
Abraham was struggling on the floor. The nail had sunk through his nostril and traveled up his nose. There was blood gushing in copious amounts, spilling onto the white marble of his patio. But unless he were to die in a few minutes, the damage looked worse then what the wound was.
"Back away from her," Jack said. Schäfer did.
Now free to move, I reached down and pulled the nail out of Abraham's face. It was small - small enough to fit inside a clock, like the one Jack had fell on in Schäfer's library that had been in the middle of a repair, so it seemed.
I looked into Abraham's contorted face as he held his bloody nose.
"We need to go," Jack said. "He doesn't have just one guard hanging around you know. Let's leave while we have the upper hand."
I plunged the nail into Abraham's neck, hardly daring to blink. The gurgling sounds - I smiled with bliss.
"Pudrete en el infierno," I said to him.
"No!" Schäfer cried, bolting forward. He shoved me aside and I scrambled to my feet. Jack and I ran for the greenhouse. The entire property was surrounded by a huge brick wall. We either had to climb or find a way through.
"The stables," I insisted. "We're in the middle of the desert. We need a horse. And water. And food."
"Let's just try to escape with our lives, alright?" Jack asked. "We have," he checked the gun, "six bullets and God knows how many guards to get through."
"We won't have lives if we don't get a horse. The desert is endless here."
Two guards appeared from the other side of the greenhouse. We crouched beside a rose bush and waited for them to pass.
As we waited, I could feel Jack's gaze on my face. When I looked at him, his eyes were clouded over and his brow was stitched together.
"What?" I mouthed. He looked away.
After the guards passed, we made a break for the stables. He had only a few horses - apparently all the riches of an ex-President don't stretch very far.
"The white one," I whined.
"The strongest one," Jack interjected. So we picked out a strong looking brown horse. Without tack we clambered onto the horse's back and prayed he'd behave for us.
He did.
"Ready?" Jack breathed, his breath warming my neck. I sat in front of him. All four of our hands were scrunched up in the horse's mane.
"Wait." I kicked open the stable door so the other horses could follow us out and distract the guards. "Now!"
He nudged the horse forward and I could feel in the way his body moved against me that he was a professional around horses. His body language was taut, powerful and strong.
The rumbling of hooves was hard to ignore, and the guards all appeared in succession at the commotion of horses headed toward the front gate.
Jack took aim and fired. Of course the shot missed the guard - but they all ducked for cover, giving us an extra few seconds to gain distance.
But would it be enough?
The bullets rang out. How terrifying - being out in the open, no protection except speed and other animals to stop a bullet from reaching you.
Jack fired again and it hit its target as we galloped past. The guard slumped over, dead.
Just a few more feet until the gate -
"The gate's locked!" I screamed. The padlock slammed into view. We were leading a herd of well-trained horses right for a brick wall.
Jack shot at the guards again - missed - then turned and aimed for the gate.
"Three bullets," he said. "I only need one." He shot for the padlock - it missed.
"Looks like you need two," I said, and a bullet immediately whizzed into my thigh. I cried out in bitter, shocked laughter. Jack's arm wrapped around me to steady me as I doubled over, hand holding the sudden river of blood that gushed from my thigh.
He fired again - and the gate swung open seconds before our horse crashed through it. Then we were free, riding off into the desert, bullets and horses still whizzing behind us. Sure enough, a few horseback guards that had been patrolling the road outside the mansion followed us out onto the playa. If we didn't have a herd of clueless horses following us, we could have easily lost them.
"There's a canyon up ahead," I said through gritted teeth, my hand still pressing my thigh. "It'll be safer in there."
"Or we end this now," Jack said, taking a hard left to put a rock formation between us and our pursuers. He steered the horse up the steep slope, so that when the guards turned the corner, we would be well above them. The other horses continued running past, oblivious to our plan.
"One bullet," he breathed. "I need your help with this."
"How? With what?!"
"I need you to have my back as best you can, okay? Don't hesitate, just do. Do whatever you think you should. We've got this, don't we? Partner?" He looked into my face frantically and I nodded, mouth hanging open. No, no, we don't got this!
The guards turned the corner and Jack's gun fired before I even dared breathe. The man dropped from his horse - while the other two scrambled to put us in their cross-hairs. Jack leaped, landing on the men, pulling them from their horses. I nudged my horse forward and snatched the rifles from their saddles.
"Guns on the ground," I snarled between heavy breaths. The pain in my leg was astronomical and blinding and hard to talk through. Jack scrambled up, having wrestled a pistol away from one of them. He aimed it at their faces.
"Do as the lady says," he said.
The last guard with a gun threw his pistol aside. Jack dutifully collected it. The third man - the one who was shot - moaned and rolled, clutching his bleeding arm.
"Suck it up, Princess," I muttered. Pulling the lasso of rope from one of their saddles, I passed it to Jack, who hogtied them, ankle-to-wrists.
"Now we've got four horses," Jack said. "So which one would you like?"
I gestured to the white one wordlessly, taking the reins from him as he handed them to me. He tucked our new guns into the saddle holster - a shiny new rifle, and a pistol.
"It's been fun, boys," Jack said as he mounted a strong looking chestnut horse.
"But not nearly as much fun as you're going to have walking back to your palacio without a horse," I said with a sneer.
He smacked the rump of the remaining horse - a palomino - who grunted and hurried off after the disappearing herd, now a mere cloud of dust on the horizon. We had three horses - the white, the chestnut, and the unsaddled brown one.
As we rode away from the hogtied men, I briefly thought of Sierra, again in a strange pen without me, before the pain in my leg was too much to bare.
"I can't ride anymore," I cried once we made it a few miles out. Thank God it was raining, or Jack would see the tears of pain and weakness.
"You need to. But let's move you to the saddled horse now that we're away from those guys, okay?" He dismounted and hurried over, holding his arms out to me.
I tried to use my thigh muscles to help swing my good leg over the horse's back, but it was too much. I cried out and Jack's hands busied themselves, rubbing my ankle and calf.
"Okay, okay," he soothed. "I'll do it. Less tension on the nerves that way."
"Dios mio," I breathed through gritted teeth. "Joderme."
"That's no way to speak," Jack murmured. He hooked his hands into my armpits and pulled my body onto his like I was a baby. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"You can speak Spanish?" I asked. My chin was resting on his shoulder, my cheek pressed to his neck.
"No but I understand some of it. Just the good bits." His arms went to my legs now, lifting and pulling them so I was straddling his waist. Lucky I was a lot smaller then he was. He towered a good foot over me.
"The curses, you mean," I said breathlessly, trying hard as I could not to cry out.
"Like I said, the good bits." He brought me over to the white horse now. He hooked his hands together, forming a seat for me as I shifted my ass onto the saddle.
"It's not as surprising as finding out you are Spanish. And your name is actually Miranda. And the ex-President of the country wants you dead," I said. I swung my good leg over and he helped put by bad leg into its stirrup.
"I knew you were Spanish the minute I saw you. Only an idiot wouldn't. Then you spoke Spanish - often enough - and I kind of clued in you were running from something."
I looked at the saddle horn, feeling nothing but horrible and having nothing to say. Something shifted in the air.
"We don't have to talk about this," he said. "Let's just get back on track." His eyes seemed to avoid mine at all costs as he swung into his saddle. He led the unsaddled brown horse away, the lasso of rope snugly around his neck. We trekked a few miles, getting as much distance between us and the mansion as we could. Our plan was to wander just far enough away from the road to avoid being seen, but to still follow the road to a settlement for aid.
"I lied again," I breathed.
"No."
"I'm sor-,"
"Stop it Annabe- Mira-... What do I call you now?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Who do you want to be?"
I shrugged.
He was quiet. Then he said, "Who are you most comfortable being?"
"I don't know," I said again, voice shaking. "I don't want to be anyone."
"I know how tempting it is, to want to stop existing. But you need to fight. And I know you can. If you need to break down a little first, that's fine. But we're partners. So you need to decide."
"Annabelle," i murmured. "She's always been my protection."
"Then you're Annabelle. But remember that a name doesn't mean anything - she isn't real. You are." He paused. "And what you did, creating a new identity and hiding the old, that's not a lie," Jack insisted. "I know lies well. My father was a great liar. But that was no lie. I don't know the story - I don't want to know. But I pieced together enough to know it-it wasn't good, and you lost a lot of people. And- You were just protecting yourself. I know. It doesn't need to be explained."
My eyes suddenly felt wet, I was so glad. The rain had thoroughly drenched us by now so Jack did not have to see that I was crying. Hard. The tears were spilling in rapid succession, like a waterfall. How much it hurt to be back in Mexico... How much it hurt to see that man again... How much the Stinson encounter had destroyed any dignity I felt for myself, any pride.
Everything, everything was tainted.
But I looked at Jack and my lips perked in the tiniest of smiles because I felt-
"What is it?" he asked. He noticed me smiling.
"I didn't know you fell in the library deliberately," I said. "Not at the time."
"You liked that, did you? A little deception?" He exhaled, almost relieved. It sounded like whew.
"It was brilliant, Jack. Have you considered the stage?"
His smile twisted, amused. "No. I'm just a good storyteller."
"You must like books then." For some reason he didn't answer and the look on his face was suddenly sour. I changed the subject. "Your acting was so brilliant. You said sorry like a totally pathetic hostage. I really believed it. But you hate sorry's and you're too proud for your own good. You wouldn't do that. You'd rather die over apologize like that. It's so obvious now that I'm thinking about it."
"Nothing is obvious when nobody knows you," he said.
"Well, I know you now," I said. "At least a little bit."
He never replied. We rode in silence. I applied a tourniquet to my wound, which staunched the bleeding but not the pain. I went between mewling and sniffling under my breath from the wound, and grinding my teeth in anger thinking about Stinson and how I'd decorate my new house with his intestines.
The hooves of our horses was the only sound for hours, crunching in the dry dirt of Mexico. The dry dirt. How could I forget how much I hated the dry dirt here. It only reminded me of how thirsty I was. How thirsty this whole land was.
"There," he said, pointing to the horizon. On a cliff overlooking the desert valley sat the unblinking white walls of Chuparosa. And I felt sick. Not just because of the blood loss, but because I had vivid memories of this place. Happier memories. Memories of riding in the back of my Father's wagon with Louisa and our dog, going to Chuparosa on a day trip.
Happy memories always taste the worst.
No puedo hablar con eso ratta - I can't talk to that rat.
Vaja disfrutar enterrando a mis hijos - you will enjoy baring my sons.
Que es una cucaracha para un rey? - what is a cockroach to a king?
Un amante? - a lover?
Socio. - partner.
No Mexicana. - not Mexican.
Es el hijo de un asesino - he is the son of a killer.
Asesino? Estoy interesado. - killer? I'm interested.
Eres tan estupido como un perro - you are stupider then the dog.
Te voy a matar - I'm going to kill you.
Pudrete en el infierno - rot in hell.
Palacio - palace.
Dios mio - oh my God.
Joderme. - fuck me.
Hey I actually got my bf to help me out with the Spanish this time :) Any mistakes, blame him.
Next chapter coming before September.
Love you guys, thanks for the support!
Sidenote/debrief - Ohmygod I felt sick writing Miranda's rape so I tried to put as little detail as possible. I still feel sick. I've never written rape before but I knew I wanted to tackle the issue eventually. I've never been raped (sexual assault tho? ✔) but it's something that really angers me about the world we live in. The absolute theft of someone's body autonomy... it's revolting. I hope it doesn't come off as cheap, because I want to address the lingering issues of rape in later chapters.