Dirty Promises

“I’m sorry, did you need me to pat you on the back, maybe make you burp a little?”


Este made a disgruntled noise and got out of his chair. “You know what, Javier? You may be the patron and this may be your cartel, and you may think that you earned it, but there is something other narcos do that you don’t, and that’s treat their brothers with respect.”

I blinked at him, actually caught off-guard for once. “This isn’t a preschool, Este. I will give you respect if you deserve it.”

“And what about your wife?”

A block of ice froze in my chest and my eyes became cold as I glared at him. “What business is it of yours to even mention her?”

I could practically watch him think. He knew the wrong thing would get him in a lot of trouble. And he knew what I’d been up to lately, more than once. Sometimes he helped.

“No business at all,” he said after some time. He started for the door, then paused. “Though I should tell you that your appointment is here. Should I show her in?”

After his comment, I should have said no. But while it made me think twice about what I was doing, it also made me mad. Still, maybe this one wouldn’t piss me off tonight. It didn’t always end in blood.

I nodded at him, and in that moment, I wondered if it made me seem weak. I knew Este was no better when it came to women. Maybe I only thought that because I used to be better.

He disappeared down the hall and I quickly checked the clock on the wall. It was already ten p.m. Luisa would be settling down for bed herself.

I was about to call after Este and tell him I’d changed my mind when he appeared at the door with a tall, striking woman. She didn’t look like any of the other whores. Though all of them were beautiful, this woman had her nose right in the air, as if she were better than me, better than her whole profession.

I immediately disliked her. Perhaps there would be blood after all.

“This is Judia,” Este said.

Judia? Named after a bean?

Este turned to leave but I called out after him. “Actually, Este, you can have her.”

He stopped and gave me a funny look. I knew he didn’t need my charity in this regard but I thought I’d offer it anyway. Even with the scar down the side of his face and his teenage clothes, Este was a ladykiller.

Then again, so was I.

“No offense, Judia,” he said to her before eyeing me, “but I don’t need anything you think I can have.”

Judia smirked at him. “Am I supposed to be flattered, two men not fighting over me? What, are you both gay?”

I had to laugh. I hadn’t laughed in a long time and the sound was jarring to my own ears.

“Yes, completely gay,” I said, getting out of my chair and walking over to her. “Gayest patron that ever was.”

She shrugged with one shoulder and looked down at me. “That will make things easier. I don’t get off with men who are shorter than me anyway.”

Este sucked in his breath. My mouth gaped open slightly. Did this puta just have the nerve to make fun of my height?

I nodded at her, unable to keep the smile from stretching across my face, and walked back to the desk. “You’re very honest, Judia. And daring, really. But I don’t think it’s a very good career decision to be so choosy, especially with patrons.”

My fingers slipped under the desk and closed around a wide, wooden handle, the cut on my hand stinging from last night. I wore my smile well.

“You know, I am five foot nine, which is fairly average for a man,” I told her, keeping my movements quiet. I may have added an inch. “How tall are you?”

She swallowed hard, seeming nervous for the first time. I’ve been told my smile can be unnerving if I use it long enough.

“Five foot eleven,” she said.

I licked my lips, feeling my blood run hot and wild. “So I only need to take off about three inches or so.”

Her eyes widened in a mix of confusion and then horror as I brought the machete out from underneath my desk. I’d been trained for this, to maximize force in a small space. It’s all in the legs, in the way you spring. In one smooth motion I swung the machete better than any golf club, swiping across her legs mid-calf.

She screamed as she became an amputee in an instant, blood spilling to the ground as she fell to one side and her severed legs fell to the other. I guess I took off more than three inches, but it was better to overachieve than under.

“There,” I said as I peered down at her face, an arc of blood spurting from her legs in time with her fading heartbeat. “Now you are shorter than me. Think you can come now?”

Judia screamed again, but her voice was fading, choked in her throat as shock overtook her. I sighed and stared at the sheepskin rug. First dirty with Este’s feet, now this.

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