Surreptitious Read online

  I have nothing left to say to him. I've been done with this conversation for a while now. "Adios, Mateo."

  Driving home, I contemplate how this will work out. Martin lives in Cuba, and I am in Mexico. I don't even know why these thoughts cross my mind, yet they do. I haven't been in a relationship since I was nineteen. I wasn't aware my father was keeping track of me until he found out I was seeing a man. My punishment for going against his rules was setting my boyfriend's dick on fire. It killed him when it spread over his body. Charred flesh and screams broke loose the man I kept hidden. I admit I have anger control issues when someone hurts those I love. I took a fire poker to my father's skull. He died that night. Sometimes I feel sorry about it, and other times I wish I had done it sooner. My father wasn't a kind man.

  Pulling into my driveway, I see a car parked at the curb. I wasn't expecting anyone. I move towards the door and notice it is slightly cracked. Grabbing my gun, I creep inside and search the rooms one by one until I see someone in my bedroom. I throw the person against the wall and cock my gun inches away from the back of his head.

  "What a welcome. Is this foreplay?" a voice I know questions.

  Martin. Martin knows how to pick a lock it seems. I have yet to work out what he does for work, but apparently breaking and entering is one. Removing my gun from his head, I walk out of the room. I would have killed anyone else.

  Pouring myself a glass of water, I offer him one when he follows me into the kitchen. "What are you doing here? Why the need to break in?" I demand.

  His husky laugh booms in my small home. "You learn more about someone when you look at the things in their home. Like the fact that, there is no sign of another male, but we both know Mateo would give his left nut to live with you. Besides, you wouldn't have let me in if I had asked."

  We both know I wouldn't have, it was the one place he hasn't infected with his presence. Changing the subject, I ask the questions that have stumped me, "What exactly do you do for your father? Why haven't you gone home?"

  Shrugging, Martin walks out of the kitchen and sits on the couch. "I'm a private investigator of sorts; I can locate even the ones that don't want to be. I haven't gone home yet because here I am able to be myself."

  Fire shoots through my veins at his response. Be himself. If his father is anything like mine was, I'll kill him. Sitting in the recliner, I am lost in my thoughts when I feel the heat of his body. Standing in front of me, Martin doesn't speak. Instead, begins to unbutton his jeans. I don't tend to bottom at all. With Martin things are different, I want to do all these things.

  "Don't think. I will stop everything if you do. I'm not some little fucking puppet like that boy," he spits out.

  I know he is talking about Mateo. The authority in his voice causes me to grow even harder; I never knew I could be this way for a man who is just as commanding as me. Pushing his pants down over his hips, he tugs out his cock and bends forward taking me by surprise as his tongue tangles with mine. I want to grab his head and fuck his face, but I won't. Not today at least.

  Breaking the kiss, Martin guides my face, his dick slapping against my cheek. Wrapping my hand around him, I open my mouth teasing him as I take him in, only to pull away. Grunting, he grabs my hair holding me still, the way I imagine doing to him. Driving his hips forward, he slowly pulls back, thrusting in harder than before until he is practically down my throat. Martin isn't small by any mean, no this fucking man is hung. Groaning, Martin doesn't warn me at all. My mouth filling with his come, I swallow every fucking bit. The weight of what I did settles.

  "Leave!" I bellow causing him to flinch.

  I let him control me. I can't allow him to affect me. It's best if he leaves and never comes back.

  5

  Roman

  It's been three days since I sent Martin away and I haven't seen him. Tony won't even look at me which lets me know I fucked up. Rosalina casually mentioned that Martin left for Cuba the night before during our meeting this morning and I'm shocked I didn't know.

  My phone ringing brings me back to the moment. Hernando is calling again.

  Answering the phone, I roll my eyes when he starts with, "Where the hell is my daughter?"

  "Hello to you, Hernando. Or have you forgotten your manners in your old age?" I muse.

  I know where Amalia is, I've known since she was sent to Australia. I just don't want him to know. Hernando isn't good for her to be around especially now.

  "Roman, tell me where she is. I have business to deal with, and she is involved. I need her home now!" He screeches as if that will make a difference.

  Tapping my fingers on the desk, I finally answer, "Amalia is in another country with a man who works for Rosalina. He is making sure she is safe, you know since she was taken and who knows what else."

  Click. The prick didn't even ask if Amalia is alright before he hung up the phone. Putting thoughts of Hernando and Amalia out of my mind, I dive into the files in front of me. We have ten shipments coming in during the next month, and I need to vet all of the men involved.

  One of these jobs gives me a funny feeling, looking closer doesn't make me feel any better. I will mention it to Tony so that if he is free, he can go with Rosalina. If he can't then I will. Pushing all my files aside, I contemplate what I am feeling. I don't want him here, and yet I do.

  6

  Martin

  Fucking Cuba. It's hot and sticky. I hate being here but I couldn't put it off any longer without my father wondering why. He owns me. I work for him, I live on his property, and I come when called like a damn dog. I'm twenty-seven, and I still cower around him. I'm a pussy, but I have my reasons. Fernando De Los Santos is an asshole. I knew I was gay when I turned fourteen and got hard for men over women. He tried to fuck it out of me when I was sixteen, prostitutes were made to frequently climb on top of me, and I faked it the best I could.

  When I was eighteen, I told him I would always be gay no matter what he did. I spent a week locked in the basement with the dead body of my then boyfriend. I haven't brought a man around since. One day, I will have enough money put away to escape him. Thankfully, he doesn't know I still work as an investigator otherwise he would find a way to inflict pain. After I turned twenty, Fernando realized he would have to up his game, and he did. I have the brand to prove it, an ‘S' is burned into my shoulder blade. Most would think it was a symbol of our family, it's just how he proved to me that he owned me.

  Flicking my cigarette, I take one last drag and throw it down onto his immaculate grass. Only this man would have the deepest shade of green when everyone else is having to save water for the drought that has hit this part of Cuba. I don't even knock, choosing to walk right in, removing my shoes as the door closes behind me. My mother would freak out if I tracked dirt across her floors. She may not be a big woman, but her and those sandals she wears are enough to scare anyone when she throws them.

  "Ma! Donde Esta?" I call out.

  I can hear her yelling at me from the kitchen. Glancing at my watch, I make my way towards where she is. I notice it's close to noon, so it makes sense for her to be working on father's lunch. Kissing her cheek, I move to the stove to take over for her. Ma works too hard to please my father, but she was taught growing up to be the perfect wife. I hate that she feels the need to do things for him yet I understand too. I would willingly do whatever I could for Roman.

  I want to go back to Mexico where he is. As it is he told me to leave, and I did. It doesn't mean I won't go back. Hell, I would leave for Mexico tomorrow if he wanted me to stay. It's been a long time since I have found someone who is enough for me.

  "Martin," my father, greets me.

  "Father." He knows I don't want to be here, but he has a job for me. Now that Anthony is married to Rosalina, my father expects me to take over his position. I'm not a ruthless killer like Anthony is though; I've only dealt with the men here who owe my father. I've been a lackey in every sense of the word; when my father says to go collect money from his bus
inesses, I do.

  "After I eat, come to my office. I have a job for you." That's it. My father isn't one to talk business around my mother.

  Sitting down at the dinner table, he waits on my ma to serve him. Fucker. I'm not hungry much to my mother's dismay. I'm just sexually frustrated at this point. I need someone to take the edge off. However, the only one I want is Roman. He's nearly twice my age. He holds himself to a higher standard, he shows his restraint and his power. To a man like myself, it causes me to want him, to break him, to cause him to say ‘fuck the rules' and follow his needs.

  7

  Roman

  Three damn weeks and no one knows where Martin is or what he is doing. No one has told me at least, and it's driving me insane. Anthony only says he is doing a job for his father from what his father told him, but something feels off. Of course, then Anthony asked me why I even cared where Martin is. I didn't answer for a few minutes finally deciding on the lie that I needed him to do a job for me. He nodded, but I can tell he didn't believe the bullshit I was spewing.

  Walking down to my office, I slam the door closed behind me. I'm generally calm, then again I can usually locate anyone I want to find. I may not be Nico, but I do know a few things. Reaching out to Nico could be what I need; that man is a contract killer and knows how to keep a secret. I reach for my phone already trying to figure out how I will explain what I need from him.

  "Bueno?" Nico's voice comes across the line.

  Taking a deep breath, I dive right in, "Nico es Roman. I need you to find someone for me."

  "Name, age and last location." I hear him rummaging around on his end.

  Fuck how old is Martin? I would guess twenty-five, but I'm unsure.

  "Roman? I can't do my job without some information. Tell me what you do know if you can't give me that."

  Sighing, I speak the name that has had me in knots since he arrived close to two months ago. "Martin De Los Santos, last seen in Cuba."

  Chuckling Nico replies, "Did Martin fuck you, then leave?"

  I don't speak. There is no way that Nico knows, I've never told him which lets me know he sees more than he says.

  "How did you know?" I question. I need to know if others would know and if so, have they done something to him.

  I'm not stupid. I know that there are others in the mafia lifestyle that would kill someone for being gay, even now.

  "I make it my job to know everything about everyone, it's how I do my job so well," Nico explains.

  Nodding even when he can't see me, "Well the answer is no, I just need you to find him." I don't get another word in. Instead, I end the call.

  8

  Roman

  Nico hasn't gotten back to me yet. It's been almost a week, and I haven't been doing my job because of it. The only thing filling my mind is Martin. I even took off for the day to shoot at the range, trying to release some tension.

  Pulling into my driveway, I see a familiar car. Mateo's. Groaning, I remember I never got my damn key from him after the last time. I throw my keys down and find Mateo in my bedroom. Flashes of the one time Martin was in here stop me in my tracks. Mateo isn't Martin, that's a good thing. I won't feel bad about throwing him out on his ass.

  "Get the fuck out," I seethe.

  Moving closer to me, Mateo doesn't look as if he will.

  "That guy is gone. Who knows if his father will ever let him come back here? You know his father hates men like us, and he owns that piece of shit."

  My hand acts all on its own, wrapping around Mateo's throat and slamming him into the wall. I underestimated him. How he knew about Martin and me. I don't know, but I will find out. I didn't get my position by being a weak, spineless fuck. I apply enough pressure to cause him to pass out, but not kill him. I need answers.

  Picking him up, I place him in my car and drive to Rosalina's home. They have the perfect room for what I need. Hauling Mateo to the guardhouse, I creep to the "torture room." It was set up by Rosalina's father, my best friend, years ago. Soundproof with no exits, now with a drain in the middle for when things got messy.

  Jerking awake, Mateo's eyes find mine. He must see the devil lurking just under my skin peeking out at him. He struggles to free himself from the ropes binding his arms and legs to the chair I put him in.

  Letting out a small whimper, he looks behind me at the few things I have set out. I just hope he doesn't piss himself. I can't stand that shit. Mateo starts to speak, but I silence him by placing my finger to my lips in the universal shhh gesture. Minutes pass, and neither of us speaks. I want him to be scared, he should be.

  I reach behind me for the pliers and move toward him. "What do you know about Martin?" I ask, lifting the pliers to his fingers. I don't think he will take much longer to break, but he could surprise me.

  "I saw you with him. You were on your knees for him, you were never that way with me!" Mateo screeches.

  I put a small amount of pressure on his fingernail to let him know I need more than what he has given me.

  Whimpering, Mateo begins to cry, "I told his father's man. I couldn't stand it. Senor De Los Santos said he would handle it. I don't know anything else!"

  I don't need him anymore. He isn't going to tell me anything else. Pulling out my gun, I put it next to his face.

  "Roman! Please! I've told you everything I know! Don't do this! Don't you care about me at all?!" He cries out pleading for his life.

  Cocking the gun, I smile, "Of course I did, I also cared about my father, but that didn't save him either. This is a mercy compared to what I did to him." Pulling the trigger, I wipe the side of my face where brain matter and blood lands.

  9

  Roman

  Letting Rosalina know that I killed one of her men and that I'm taking time off is easy compared to what I had envisioned. She doesn't ask questions only lets me know that I did the right thing and to be safe. Packing my bags, I call Nico to see if he has any news. I'm not expecting him to tell me that Amalia, one of the closest people to a daughter, is married to a man that beats and rapes her.

  I'm tempted to fly to Brazil instead to murder her husband. Nico has assured me that he is handling it. Driving the short distance to the family airstrip, I board the plane forgoing all small talk. I wanted to be in the air five minutes ago. I plan on getting all the answers I need straight from Fernando De Los Santos himself. The flight is short, which is great since I am not a fan of flying at all. I would rather stay on the ground because being in the air is for the damn birds.

  Exiting the plane once we have landed, I am met by two young men, men that work for Fernando. I knew he would be aware the second I left Mexico; the fucker probably knew I would be coming for him. One of the cabrons pulls out a black sack, no doubt to put on my head. That isn't happening. Shaking my head, he drops his hand defeated. It's not my fault he's a pussy sent to do a job he has no clue how to do.

  "Vamonos," I command already making my way to the SUV they drove here.

  I slide into the passenger seat before the other man ever makes it to his side of the vehicle. I just glare at him and turn against the door. Call me paranoid, but I never turn my back on someone eager to put a knife in me or pull the trigger. Steepling my hands in front of me, I wait for us to arrive at the Cuban gun warehouse. Typical, Fernando acts if I don't know where he lives.

  I don't waste time in small talk, once I'm in front of him. I get straight to the point, "Where is Martin?"

  Grinning, he looks me up and down, "So, if you are Roman, then that makes my son the bitch in your relationship."

  It isn't a question. Fernando doesn't believe his son could be a man. I hate when people don't answer the questions they are asked.

  "Once again, where is he?"

  His stupid men were too scared to even take my weapon. Not that a gun would be how I kill him. Once I find Martin, I'll let him decide what happens to his father. Fernando pulls a phone from his pocket and tosses it to me. I look at the screen, and I see Martin strung up by chai
ns in what looks like a basement. Snapping the phone shut, I glare at him waiting for whatever he is going to do. The man next to him moves forward with a slip of paper containing an address. It's a Cuban address so at least I know he is in this country.

  Laughing, Fernando nods towards the paper, "He's there. He will probably be dead soon, you may want to hurry."

  Backing away, I slip outside, and into the driver seat of the vehicle, they brought me here in. No keys. Pulling out my pocket knife, I shove it into the key ignition and twist. It works far better than I would have thought. The place isn't far away which is great. I grab my gun from my holster when I jump from the vehicle and make my way to the shack.

  Throwing open the door, I am shocked not to see anyone guarding Martin. He looks almost dead from where I stand. Calling his name, he barely lifts his head. Going closer, I can see that his left eye is swollen shut and his torso is covered in cigarette burns. They beat him until he was near death. Their mistake was they touched him at all.

  Untying the ropes from his wrists at his back, I carry him to the waiting car. I won't bother with a hospital, that's just an opening for them to kill him. Driving directly to the airstrip, we take off towards home. I grab the medical kit to clean his wounds the best I can until we are safely in Mexico.

  10

  Roman

  Arriving in Mexico, I make the decision that a hospital would just alert the Council to what has happened. That is if they aren't already aware. I didn't think Mateo would go to Fernando, so who knows who else he told.