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Images of Juan beating the crap out of me came flas
hing through my mind. His cackling laugh, the joy in his eyes as he broke my jaw with punch after punch, my screams and pleading for him to stop. His forceful blows as he made me stand in a corner and watch the way he was beating up my friends.
“You’re never going to shoot me, Jesus…you can’t. We’re brothers, we’ve been through too much,” his voice sizzled in the air, and I blinked. I could feel a drop of sweat bouncing off my eyelid and falling on my cheek.
“Just stand down, Jesus. Let’s just sit and talk,” I heard him say through the white noise in my head and that was when I knew…Juan was afraid. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in his eyes. In the eyes of the guy I had always despised, who I had been too afraid of as a kid. Whose memories I had buried deep in the back of my mind somewhere. Now, he was the one at my mercy. He knew I had him and his men in a corner. Not this time Juan, this time I have you, and you’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.
I didn’t have to say it aloud, all I had to do was pull the trigger. I pulled my finger back.
The bullet left my gun in a fraction of a second. I saw it in slow motion as it flew in the air and punctured a hole in Juan’s gut. On his side. Blood seeped through his shiny cream shirt and spread quickly. Juan’s hand flew to cover the wound, and then he looked up at me, his mouth gaping open; like I had betrayed him.
A shot rang out beside me, and I whipped around with my gun in the air. A Muerte Viviente member slumped to the floor beside me; a bullet had passed clean through his skull. The silver of his dagger caught a glint of the light and sparkled in my eye. He was charging at me; he was about to stab me. I looked up and saw Commando’s gun still pointed in his direction. He tipped his head at me, and I looked back at Juan.
Two of his men had rushed to him and were trying to keep him balanced up. His legs were giving way, and his knees were buckling.
“You shot me! You fucking bastard! You shot me!” he blubbered, and spittle flew out from his mouth. The men were trying to wrap his arms around their shoulders.
“Where is Valentina?” I asked and pointed the gun at him again. His men were trying to drag him away, but they couldn’t do it fast enough. Juan was too heavy for them. I followed their slow movement with my gun. The rest of the Muerte Viviente were either dead or knocked out cold.
“Tell me where she is, or the next bullet is going to go through your skull,” I hissed, and I heard a loud wail. It was coming from the back room.
“King! Jesus! I’m here!” it was Valentina’s voice.
I forgot about Juan in a second and rushed towards the door. One Muerte Viviente stood in my way, trying to hold me back and I pointed my gun at him, and he quickly stepped away. Bunch of pussies. All of them.
I kicked open the door and ran in. Valentina was on the floor; her hands were tied behind a chair that she was stuck to. Her dress was soiled, her hair was in tangles, and her makeup was running down her cheeks. I ran to her, crawling down on the floor so that I could kiss her cheek.
“I’m here, baby, I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, feeling for the knots that the rope was tied with.
“Juan…he’s out there…” she was choking up as she spoke and I started pulling the knots apart.
“I got him,” I said.
“Did you shoot him?”
“Yes, I shot him. I hope the fucker dies,” I replied, just as I untangled the knots and the rope fell away from her hands and the chair.
Valentina sat up, the wide skirt of her beautiful yellow dress ballooned around her.
“King…” she began to say, but I grabbed her waist and pulled her close to me.
“We’re going to get out of here, c’mon,” I said, and I was about to stand up, but she tugged at me and pulled me back down to kiss me.
She was able to overpower me with just her lips, forcing my mouth open so that my tongue could thrust into hers. She was whimpering as I kissed her, and I stroked her matted hair. I didn’t even want to imagine the horrors that Juan had put her through this time.
“Take me home, King,” she whispered when I pulled away from her.
I lifted her up in my arms, and her legs dangled as I carried her across the room and out through the door.
Outside, the bar had cleared out more. Most of the Muerte Viviente gang members that were still breathing had made a run for it, especially when they saw their leader shot and scurrying away in fear. Commando was standing over Girth, who was on his knees on the floor, beating the shit out of one of the guys, who still had a pocket knife in his hands.
Commando looked over and smiled at me, and I sensed him exchanging a look with Valentina as well.
She didn’t move in my arms as I carried her through the bar. None of the remaining Muerte Viviente guys even dared to come near us. They just cleared a path for me, and I carried her outside.
I didn’t stop till I had placed her safely on my bike.
“Are you strong enough to hold on to me for the ride, babe?” I asked as she swayed where she sat. Valentina nodded her head, and I could see that she looked weak. Juan had been beating her up. A purple wound was beginning to bloom on her cheek where he must have slapped and hit her. I had already noticed the bruises from the rope burns on her wrists, which had made my blood boil.
