Vicious Minds Page 7

  CALLIOPE

  I was on my knees when I felt someone one sit beside me. I knew it was him. But I didn’t rush to sit up, moving to the next section on my rosary. “Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee—”

  “But is the lord with you?” He asked from behind me and I felt the gun at the side of my head. Sighing, I got up and sat back on the pew, putting the rosary back on my hand and glanced over to him. He was dressed in all black, his hair a bit wet from the rain outside, true murderous intent in his eyes.

  “Are you upset about something?”

  “Many things” he replied, moving the gun from my head. “Do you think I’m a man you play these games with?”

  My eyebrow rose at that. “Games? No. War? Yes.”

  “Are you stupid or delusional?” he sneered. “You think just because you burn a few fields you can stand toe to toe with me? With my family? My little sister could rip you apart blindfolded.”

  He said ‘little sister’ like she was twelve and not the same age as me. Pushing that away, I focused on the first part of his statement. “Burn a few fields? What are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. I know you—”

  “Cordelia!”

  I looked to Father Santos as he came back into the church dressed in his blacks. From the corner of my eye I observed Ethan putting the gun away. Smiling, I got up and took his hands. “Hello Father, how are you?”

  “As good as I was when I saw you an hour ago, and an hour before that. You’ve been to every Mass today, is something the matter child?” He asked me, concerned. He glanced over to Ethan and then gave me a look, squeezing my hand. I squeezed back and smiled, telling him I was fine.

  “Father, this is a friend of mine, Ethan.”

  Ethan stood up and took his hand. “Father.”

  Father Santos looked him over and relaxed a bit when he didn’t see any visible tattoos and heard his accent. “Welcome, Ethan, how do you know our Cordelia?”

  “Childhood friends,” he replied and his attention shifted to me. “She used to hate church though.”

  Making up stories, are we?

  “You?” Father Santos asked, shocked.

  I giggled softly and nodded. “Yes, he always loves telling people that part, and not how he brought me to church.”

  “Really?” He smiled, truly happy and no longer worried.

  “Yes. When were children, we were playing in the woods, and he fell and broke his leg. I was so scared and I didn’t know the way back home. But he wasn’t moving or waking up. I had to get help, but I didn’t know the way. I held on to my rosary praying for help and all of sudden I saw a woman walking back to the camp. I followed her and found our parents and got back to him. When I went to look for the woman, no one else saw her. From then on, I truly believed mother Mary helped me then…though Ethan here…” When I faced him, he was doing his best not to glare but I frowned. “He thinks it was the adrenaline. I keep telling him to come to Mass, but he’s not very big on church.”

  Father nodded, completely enraptured. “Sometimes, the miracles we are shown are meant to bolster our own faith so that we may be a light to others. Just your presence here brings him to church and that’s a beautiful thing.” He gave his attention to Ethan, who was completely over this conversation. “I know it may seem a bit out there for you, but I hope you open your heart and see the blessings that have been set out for you. The fact that you are here is proof that the Lord is trying to you use for great and beautiful things.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Ethan said to him and then added, “I’ll try, and I’ll come back to talk to you for sure, however my aunt told me to come get Cordelia. I think she’s worried she’s planning on joining the convent.”

  He laughed and nodded, “Well, if you’re serious, Cordelia, you and I could talk later. But even nuns rest. Go home before you end up staying for Monday morning Mass too. Goodbye.”

  “Yes sir, have a good day.” I took my purse and linked hands with Ethan, following him back out the door. When we got to the doors, I could see the downpour outside. “I hope all this rain helps those fires.”

  His jaw tensed, giving me a little thrill. I leaned in closely. “If I was here, how the hell could I cause a fire two hours away?”

  “You make it seem like it’s hard to pay off a priest,” he muttered.

  “There are cameras in the church,” I lifted my phone to show him. “Let’s pray no one saw you pull me on a gun on me. That was sloppy on your part, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t reply, just kept watching me. I stepped out into the rain shivering as the water hit my skin and drenched my clothes. I was making my way to my car when…

  BANG!

  I jumped and turned back to see him pointing a gun at me.

  “I’ll kill the priest and burn down the church after I kill you,” he growled.

  “Sloppy. You’ll never know how your fields were found, how they were burned, or who burned them. Not knowing would drive me crazy but maybe that’s just me. Hold on.” I brushed my wet hair behind my ears and straightened my blouse a bit. “Okay, go ahead now, I’m ready. Wait…one last thing… check your phone.”

  He just stared.

  “I promise, you won’t think I’m as rude,” I answered. He didn’t move. “Ethan, this rain is cold. Either kill me or read the damn news so I can move.”

  Eyeing me warily, he slipped his phone from his pocket. He holstered his gun, allowing me to climb the steps towards him. “Does it say twelve corrupt cops burned down cocaine fields to hide their involvement in the illegal drug trade and over 12 tons of cocaine, with a U.S. market value estimated to be around $432 million, is missing?”

  “It does.” His jaw was set and he stalked towards me. “But it’s not missing, is it?”

  “I’m sure someone is missing it…just not me.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  I looked down at my stomach then back to Ethan. Reaching down, I pulled out the needle and held it up between us.

  “You have a strange way of saying thank you.”

  “I don’t say thank you at all. The poison you used, I was able to get it too,” he replied. As I closed my eyes and collapsed into his arms the last thing I heard was, “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it.”

  ETHAN

  She was not just no one.

  It was impossible for her to do everything she did if she was just a crazy woman.

  That was the only reason she was alive. Why does it feel like I’m trying to convince myself that was the only reason?

  “I know you’re awake,” I stated as she stirred in the bed. Her head tossed a bit before her eyes snapped open. Slowly she sat up, rubbing her temples. When she moved her legs and noticed the shackles she heaved out a breath then gave me her attention.

  “If you want to tie me up and strip me down, Ethan, all you have do is ask.” She settled back on the pillows. “What are we about to fight about now?”

  “You shot and poisoned me for one, you crazy—”

  “You had me kidnapped, motherfucker. Were you expecting me to be sweet?” she shot back. “I matched what you dished out. You wanted to be underhanded and crazy and I gave it back to you. Next time just ask me out for fucking coffee.”

  Why am I not killing her?

  “How many people work for you?” I asked remembering my job…how the hell did I forget that?

  The smile on her face grew wider. “Do you think I’m in the cartel? A rival family or something?”

  “How do you have a mole in the Colombia police?”

  “If I did, don’t you think your mole in the Colombia police would have told you about another mole? Or do you have shitty moles too?” she questioned, resting her chin on her palms now that she was laying on her stomach facing me.

  “Where are the drugs?”

  She smirked. “That’s an important question. Twelve tons is a lot, but to be fair, I doubt it was stolen from you all at one time. They m
ust have been taking it bit by bit for a while. Does that upset you?”

  For every question I asked she asked one in return, and she so obviously did it as an affront to me. I stared at her and she stared back.

  “Should I torture her? Should I pretend to be kind? Should I just kill her?” she whispered softly, still looking at me. “You’re juggling those options right now, aren’t you?”

  She bothers me.

  “It bothers you that I know what you’re thinking, doesn’t it?” She giggled.

  She bothers me a lot.

  “Are you going to answer my questions?” I asked, ignoring her other statements.

  “Yes, but in my own time, not yours.” She looked completely at ease. Amused, even.

  “Why don’t you fear me?” I hadn’t meant to ask her that, but it just came out.

  “Aww, that’s cute,” she replied and shook her head. “You look truly confused. You’re normally cold and sexy, but I like this look too.”

  Kill her.

  “To answer your question,” she smiled, “people only fear what they do not understand. I understand you.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I know your brokenness.” She tilted her head to the side as she looked me over. “It looks exactly like mine. Parents do the most damage, don’t they?”

  I reached into my jacket and pulled out a vial and syringe. Instead of panicking, she came closer and offered her arm to me. I met her gaze, her grey eyes on mine, wide, clear, innocent, and calm. I said nothing as I stuck the needle into her arm. She didn’t flinch or look away as I injected the antidote into her.

  “It’s cocaine,” I lied.

  A smile spread across her face as she leaned closer. “I’ll live.”

  “Because you’re determined to be my wife?” I slowly pulled the needle from her arm.

  “No, because I’m determined to live a long life and die of natural causes, no matter what.” She fell back onto the bed.

  “Then marrying me should not be your plan.”

  “Why can’t I marry you and live a long life?” She snuggled into the fluffy pilllows. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

  “You’re chained to the bed against your will,” I reminded her.

  She tried not to laugh, “Do you really think I don’t know how to pick a lock? I’m here because I’m fine being here. When I’m ready to go I’ll make sure you know.”

  “I’ve already searched you—”

  “How well?” she asked with dangerous grin on her face. “You’re calmer today. I prefer you this way. Plus, you brought me back to your side again. If you thought I was a threat wouldn’t you have just killed me already? You keep hesitating; you keep coming back to me.”

  “You are a threat. I simply want answers.”

  “The desire for answers is the same as having an interest in something. I’m sure you’re smart enough to piece together what I’ve done after you kill me. You don’t need me for work related answers…you are interested in me personally.” She reached up and touched the side of my face. “You’re cute when you’re clueless about your own emotions.”

  I grabbed her wrist, halting her motion. “My emotions are not your concern. Do you think I can’t see what you are? You’re a manipulative, megalomaniacal, social climber with no shame and a twisted sense of morals.”

  “And so?” She nodded innocently. “You’re all of those same things, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t need to climb; I’m already at the top.” I stated coldly.

  “True. Is it as lonely as they say at the top?”

  “I get on fine.”

  “Liar.” Disappointment was etched across her face.

  “Excuse me—”

  “How the hell can you be getting on fine?” She pushed back. “You have everything and when you have everything already, all you can do is go downhill from there. How afraid are you of failing? You must be afraid of not living up to the legacy your parents dropped in your lap, but also of not being able to surpass them. You have so much to protect, and no one protect you. Your brother’s rebelling, wanting to leave the family and your sister, bless her heart, cares mostly about herself. Your cousins are still children; your uncles are still treating you like a child. On top of that, the Italians and Irish are tired of your fucking family. And if I’m hearing the whispers of other families that want to crush yours, I’m damn sure you are too. You must be all things, father, brother, mother, cousin, grandson, shield, weapon, leader of the pack, ruthless, and ingenious. There is no room for mistakes. When you succeed, you get scorn from everyone, when you fail, they circle like vultures. You don’t feel it now, but you know, in the back of your mind, you see it coming, that moment when you can’t carry it all—”

  “Enough.” I snapped at her.

  She shook her head no. “You are not fine. No matter how twisted your morals are in comparison to the world, it is not possible for you to simply be fine…even those who are dead inside still know they aren’t fine.”

  “You know a lot about my family.” A little too much actually.

  “I’m Chicago-born Italian, of course I know your family. I still hear about them even if I’m not there.”

  Speaking on that. “You haven’t been to Chicago in a long time. In fact, growing up I only saw you that once.”

  “Your grandfather killed my uncles. Of course—”

  “No, I saw your father,” I cut in before she could talk her way out of this. “But you were never around. I thought you left to get tougher. But I have a feeling that isn’t your whole story.”

  I meant to unnerve her…as she had tried to do me but instead, she smiled. “Yesterday you said I was nothing. Today you want to know my life story. By tomorrow there very well may be a ring on my finger. Side note…the flashier and more expensive the ring, the better. Also, are you going to feed me any time soon?”

  I didn’t understand how she was so…bright. She didn’t seem like the type of person who had any real darkness in her soul and yet her actions and words said otherwise. How she was two things at once? Innocent and vicious. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t make sense.

  “I want to kill you,” I said to her.

  “The fact that you haven’t means you like me, Ethan, even if you don’t want to admit it.” She laughed. “You’re able to ascertain all that about me because you’re exactly the same…well without looking innocent; you look just as dangerous as you are, but my point is the same. You and I are alike…and that must be jarring for you. But I’ve known that since we were kids, so I’m used to it now. I’ve come to acknowledge my brokenness; I don’t try piecing myself together as if I’m normal. Instead I make a mosaic with the broken pieces of myself.”

  “That’s very cheesy.”

  “But it makes sense and that’s all that matters.” She giggled and nodded, glancing around. “Seriously, I’m fucking hungry. Can you chain me to the kitchen instead?”

  Do not trust her.

  She’s dangerous.

  This is trap.

  All those things went through my mind and yet…I didn’t know what it was about her that shook my resolve like this. Thinking about it only made me more confused, and despite my efforts to ignore how her skirt rose and her blouse shifted down each time she moved on the bed, I noticed how soft her skin looked, and how she smelled like rose water.

  “Strip,” I told her. I didn’t want to think or talk anymore. I was going to just do what I fucking wanted. Without another word she reached up and pulled off her blouse, throwing it to the side. After her that went her bra, her pink nipples hard. She wriggled out of her skirt and underwear and pushed them down her long legs to the chain at her ankle. Rising from the chair, I walked to the bed, and when I came closer she laid back as I got on top of her.

  I pulled off my belt and undid my pants. My cock, despite my best efforts to stay calm, was erect and aching for her, and she spread her legs for me. Grabbing her thighs, I dragged her closer to me. Ne
ither of us broke eye contact as I slowly entered her already wet pussy. It was only when I was fully seated did her lips part, allowing a satisfied breath to escape. I started slow, getting used to her tightness around me. But I soon lost all control, ramming myself into her over and over. Her breasts bounced for me and I bent to kiss them. She held a tight grip on my hair. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to ruin it. All I could hear were her breaths mingling with mine.

  Just as quickly as it started, we both came undone.

  Covered in sweat, I rested on top of her, her limbs wrapped around me. I listened to her heart race in her chest.

  “Are you still hungry?” I asked softly as her hands moved through my hair.

  “This will only take five minutes. I can make it,” she teased, grinning back at me.

  She was dangerous and most likely insane…which was probably why I liked her and couldn’t kill her…yet.

  This could very well be a mistake. But if she was going to be my downfall …part of me wanted to see how she’d do it, which also proved how insane I was too.

  Chapter 5

  “She has the laugh of an angel

  and the smile of the Devil.

  She's a wicked, wild, and wreckless thing.”

  * * *

  ~Jordan Sarah Weatherhead

  ETHAN – AGE 23

  Bogotá, Colombia

  Monday, July 1st

  What am I doing? I didn’t understand. I really didn’t. Why was I naked in bed with her? Why?

  “How many women have you brought here to fuck?” She softly ran her fingers over my chest.

  “I’ve lost count,” I lied, staring the ceiling when her face blocked my view. Her long brown hair fell around us. Her grey gaze was on my face as she looked me over as if she were reading a book.

  “Liar,” she murmured before kissing my lips gently, neither of us closing our eyes or looking away.

  “You’re right,” I muttered back. “I’ve brought back five.”

  Her eyebrow raised before her gaze narrowed. She grazed her lips over mine again, and just before we kissed she whispered, “Liar.”