be persuaded. I don’t have a Swedish girl in my cages. Russian, yes. Spanish, yes. Romanian, yes. But no Swedish. If you want to live, cabrona, you will be smart about this. You can live on my estate, have a warm bed to sleep in, have a full belly . . . if you act smart.” He unzips his pants and pulls his cock free, semi-hard.
“Spread your legs and bend over,” He hisses.
I look at him, then to his cock and can’t believe what’s happening right now. “Stupid bitch!” He hisses, grabbing me by the throat he shoves me against the wall, puts a knee between my legs, and tries to shove himself inside me. I don’t know where the fight in me comes from, but I can’t do this. Death would be better than this.
I struggle, watching his facial expressions and push back when I hear him take the safety off. A shot rings out and everything registers. Then another. I don’t know how I’m still here, how I’m staring into this man as his eyes go blank and his body falls to the side.
Looking past him, I see Mammoth rushing in with another man. My legs turn to jelly, like I’m out of survival mode and I sink to the floor, shielding every part of me that I can. “Mug, I got her.” Mammoth tells the man behind him, kneeling in front of me.
Mammoth takes his vest off, then his black long sleeve shirt and puts it over me. “Slide your arms through this, Mouse.” He speaks to me softly, calmly, looking directly into my eyes. I do as he says, putting my arms through. Mammoth is a good foot and a half bigger than me. His shirt goes below my knees and hangs off me.
He puts his Glock on the tile floor, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me against his chest. “Shh, I got you. Everything is okay, Mouse.”
I didn’t even realize how fast my chest has been rising and falling, or how I’m hyperventilating while crying my eyes out. God, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him.
If it wasn’t for Mammoth, I would be dead . . . or worse.
Chapter Eight
Some people require inspirational quotes to start their day. Me? I require coffee and hatred
~ Unknown
Mammoth
She was naked, being attacked by some son of a bitch when I ran in here. I got his minion down first, but fuck, now I wish I would’ve had at least one of them to choke. To feel the air leave their lungs for what they did to her.
Riva’s arms are wrapped around part of my body, holding my stomach area, or trying to. This little one wouldn’t be able to get her arms around me if she had tried. Sliding an arm under her legs I scoop her up into my arms and carry her out of the bathroom. She only just stopped hyperventilating a couple minutes ago, not saying a word since I swarmed in here.
“Brother,” Mugshot says while I’m walking over to her couch. I set her down in the corner of it, hoping the cushions will make her feel a bit more secure. He comes over and hands me my cut.
“Shit, thank you.” I slide it back on.
“T-thank y-you b-both,” Riva stutters, looking to Mugshot and I. “I . . . I don’t k-know what w-would’ve h-happened if you two d-didn’t . . .”
“Oh, Mouse. Shh, none of that. We got here. You’re okay.” I assure her. I don’t know who the fuck these guys were, but I’m gonna make it my mission to find out. I sigh, taking my hand and brush it against her face, wiping away her tears.
Mugshot leaves the room, walking back into her bedroom.
I look into her eyes. “Thank you for calling me, for trusting me.”
Riva nods her head a couple times.
“Motherfucker,” Mugshot bellows from the other room.
“What is it?” I ask.
Mugshot comes back out into the living area and shuts the front door. “They’re Marielitos, brother. How is she tied up with the fucking Marielitos?!”
The Cuban Cartel . . . Riva? I’m asking myself the same question Mugshot is. I look back to Riva who seems confused, her eyes darting between Mugshot and I.
“What is t-that?” She asks, still shaking from the overall shock of what’s transpired.
“Cubans. They’re the Cuban Cartel.” I tell her, causing her eyes to widen. It’s evident she didn’t know anything about them.
“What the fuck did we just get involved in?!” Mugshot hisses,