Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(36)

I made all sorts of noises that seemed foreign coming out of my mouth. The room caved in on me, as spasms consumed my body, taking me to the edge and all I wanted to do was fall.

I was almost there…

So close…

Just one more…

“Ah—”

“YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!” Uncle roared, taking something else away from me.

I screamed, jolting out of my skin. Esteban was roughly ripped away from me and I saw his body being thrown across the room. His back hit the wall so hard it tore through the drywall. My uncle didn’t falter, he picked him up and slammed him up against the doorframe, and I heard a loud crack.

I was frozen in place with the sheet covering my naked body. I sat there watching my only friend, get ripped away from my life.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off the brutal scene in front of me. As if I was watching a train wreck unfold and not being able to look away.

“YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT! AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR YOU!” My uncle roared, picking him up off the ground again and punching him in the face repeatedly.

Esteban’s body lay lax against my uncle’s strong grip. He punched him in the stomach causing the beaten man to fall forward, crumbling to the ground. He bent down flipping him onto his back and straddled his waist, beating him to an inch of his life.

Because of me.

More blood on my hands.

“NO!” I screamed, loud enough to break glass. “PLEASE! STOP! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU! I’LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING!”

My uncle ignored me and continued his assault on Esteban’s face and body. When he finally stopped to stand, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I’d won. That I got through to him.

I didn’t.

He reached into the back of his slacks and pulled out his gun, aiming it right at Esteban’s head.

“NO!” I cried out.

I lunged into action, jumping off the bed and throwing myself in front of the gun. That was now placed directly on my forehead. My body shielding what was left of Esteban’s life.

“Get the f*ck out of my face,” he gritted through a clenched jaw.

“No! Please! Please! Please! I’m begging you. It wasn’t his fault.” I got down on my knees, tucking the sheet under my arms, setting my hands in prayer gesture out in front of me. “I’m begging you, pleading with you on my hands and knees to please not do this! Please, Uncle! You don’t have to do this!” I bellowed through tears.

He scoffed. “You think your pitiful performance is going to work on me? You don’t know me, peladita. Get the f*ck off the floor before I make you, and trust me, you don’t want it to come to that.”

I shook my head. “No.”

He cocked his head to the side as if no one had ever said that to him.

“You look like a f*cking whore on your knees. NOW, GET THE FUCK UP!”

I shook my head again. “No.”

“What? You love him? You love that piece of shit?” He pointed to Esteban’s lifeless body.

I swallowed, hard. “No, Uncle. I don’t,” I answered the truth.

His head jerked back, stunned. He believed me.

“So, you are a whore,” he stated. “Your mother would be so proud.”

I frowned not wavering. “Please. Please, don’t do this. Not for me, okay? You don’t have to do shit for me. Do it for my mom. The only sister you had. The one you loved so f*cking much,” I reminded, throwing the words he spoke hours ago back at him.

His eyes glazed over as he narrowed them at me. For the first time he didn’t hide the fact that the mere mention of my mother could bring him to his knees.

He slowly lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it.

I exhaled for what felt like an eternity. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and walked towards my window. I immediately turned to check on Esteban.

I placed his head on my lap and caressed the sides of his bloody, bruised face. Barely recognizing the man who was in my arms.

“Hey…”

He stirred.

“You’re going to be okay…” I coaxed.

“Venga a recoger a este hijo de puta antes de que yo lo mate,” Uncle roared, “Come get this son of a bitch before I kill him.”

He hung up, placing his phone back in his suit jacket, still facing the big, bay window in my room with his back to me.

After all these years, after all this time, I wanted to know what he was thinking. What he was feeling. I wanted to know his story. What made him the way he was? If he was ever a kind person… a loving man… a scared child…

I shook away the thoughts when I heard footsteps ascending down the hall. The same two men I’d met in the basement walked into the room. My uncle took one look at them and then nodded toward Esteban, turning to face the window once again.

They quickly picked him up, dragging him away from me. Taking the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around him. He was half-conscious when the men stood him up, but he was still hunched over, reeling in pain. They placed his arms around their necks for support.

Esteban opened his eyes as much as he could. Wanting to look for me I was sure. The men didn’t allow him any time and I wasn’t stupid enough to say anything to him. They carried him towards the door, leaving me to wonder if I would ever see him again.