30. thirty

"Take the car around the corner," I instruct Lucia. "Use the parking garage, but make sure you back in."

"Okay." She nods vehemently as her voice wavers.

She's terrified.

I can smell her fucking fear.

The gun firmly on Jorge, I reach between the seats with my free hand lightly give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She doesn't know how fucking strong she is.

Lucia pulls into the garage and backs into a space close to the elevator. She puts the car in park and sits with her hands on the wheel awaiting further instruction, her current fear paralyzing her.

"Time to go visit your friend, Jorge." Rafael nudges him from the car. "He also has plenty of sins he needs to atone for."

"He'll never open the fucking door for you," Jorge seethes as we ride the elevator to the top floor.

"No. He won't," Rafael responds matter-of-factly. "But he will for her, won't he?"

Lucia's eyes go wide at my words as we walk the short hall to the apartment. Stopping short of his door, I shove Jorge into the wall and pull Lucia against me.

"Do you trust me, little lamb?"

"Yes," she nods. "Completely."

"I promise you that I will not let any harm come to you." Dipping my head, I place a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Jorge exclaims, "She's the fucking Saltillo whore."

Drawing back my arm, I forcefully jam the butt of the gun into his stomach. He gasps for air and gags on his own vomit as he falls to the floor.

"You might want to be mindful of how you speak about her." I grip his hair and pull him back to his feet. Running my hands over his shirt, I smooth it back into place before shoving the muzzle of the gun firmly against his crotch. "And if you want your balls to remain attached to your body, you'll ensure he opens the fucking door."

Still trying to catch his breath, Jorge swallows hard and knocks on the door as I step from view of the peep hole.

"Who the fuck is it?" a salty voice groans from the other side of the door.

"Jorge. And you'll never guess who I ran into on my way over."

Knowing her role, Lucia steps closer to Jorge to ensure Guillermo can see her.

I just wish the scared look on her face wasn't so real.

"Mi putita sucia," he gushes from the other side of the door and the clicks signal him opening the deadbolts on the other side. Opening the door, his palm rubs over his cock. "Tonight just got a whole lot bett?—"

Grabbing Jorge and using him as a shield, I shove Guillermo back into his apartment as he spews profanities at me and Lucia.

"Puto cono," Guillermo snarls at Lucia. "I'm going to enjoy fucking that dirty cunt of yours before this is over. Just like old fucking ti?—"

I crack the gun against his temple to silence him. Briefly losing consciousness, he falls to the floor with a thud.

A lot of fucking talk for a man that can't take a hit.

"Get him up." I wave the gun at Jorge. "Put him on the table and take off his clothes."

Jorge reluctantly follows my demands until Guillermo is sprawled across the table on his back. I toss a roll of duct tape at him, "Hands and ankles to each of the table legs. Hands first."

Jorge wraps the tape several times around Guillermo's wrist before stretching it above his head and wrapping an equally generous amount of tape around the leg of the table. When I nod my approval, he repeats the process on the other wrist. Halfway through the first ankle, Guillermo wakes and begins to fight against the restraints.

Walking to the head of the table, I press my gun to his bruised temple causing him to wince. My words slow, and my voice deep when I lower myself to his ear, "You can fight, but just know that this will only be worse for you. And you have no idea how fucking bad it's already going to be."

He stills enough that Jorge is able to firmly secure both of his legs. Taking the tape from him, I tap the gun against his chest. "Now yours."

Jorge shakes his head in defiance. "You can remove your fucking clothes, or I can. If you're lucky, I'll carve through enough of your skin when I do that you bleed out while I have a talk with your friend."

Scrambling and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and pants, he manages to undo them all and toss his clothes to the floor. His hands cup over his cock in attempt to shield himself.

"Have a seat." I pull out a chair for him. "I don't want you to miss any of this."

I bind Jorge's arms behind the chair and his ankles to the legs. Knowing that both men are fully secure and incapable of making a single move toward her, I turn my attention to Lucia.