Page 40 of Deep Within Me
In the office’s harsh light, he regarded the pale stretch marks on Maria’s hips and belly. She’d attempted to cover them withglittery makeup. No doubt hoping whoever was going to mount her in the coming hours wouldn’t notice her imperfections in the rest of the club’s muted lighting.
They probably wouldn’t have if the story Ernez had told her had been true. The patrons would have likely slipped their tips beneath the leopard skin armband Marie wore on her left biceps. Her high heels bore the same pattern. Carreon supposed the heavy makeup on her lids and lashes were to make her appear catlike. Her eyes, an ordinary shade of brown, stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing on this side.
She was as dead as a human could possibly be.
She’d broken several nails when she’d fought Ernez. The backs of his hands bore deep gouges from her assault. The pain hadn’t stopped him from strangling her. In that, he was like Carreon when he’d murdered Liz. The only difference between the two acts was that Ernez had come up on Maria from behind while she’d answered one of Carreon’s innocuous questions, a diversion to keep her off guard.
“You do well today and we might put you and Trinidad together on stage,”he’d lied, noting how Maria kept eyeing Trinidad, curious or jealous as to why she was also here.“Some girl-on-girl action. Would you be interested?”
She’d looked downright eager, wanting to please her boss.“Of course. Whatever you want, I’ll be happy to—”
Her words had ended on a gasp with the black scarf Ernez had looped around her throat, one supplied by Trinidad. Confusion, panic, outrage, and finally anguish had danced across Maria’s almost-pretty face. Was the misery because her larynx and hyoid bone were breaking, ending her future? Had she been thinking of the twelve-year anniversary she wouldn’t have a chance to celebrate?
Perhaps she’d been wondering who’d raise her kids.
Now, Maria Guzman lay on the office floor, arms and legs sprawled, breasts and cunt bared. Unlike Trinidad, she hadn’t waxed off her pubic hair but had trimmed it. Those delicate curls looked like a dark smudge against her dusky skin. So unlike her mane that she’d highlighted with reddish-brown streaks. To further enhance her image as a wild animal?
Possibly.
“Bring her back,” Carreon ordered Trinidad, not trying to hide his impatience.
She pressed her palms harder against her coworker’s throat. She’d been at it for five minutes or more and all she’d accomplished was to eliminate the dark bruising around Maria’s neck. Her face’s purplish discoloration had also receded. However, the woman hadn’t breathed, hadn’t returned from the other side.
Carreon recalled those times he’d watched Liz healing his men. With those who’d been nearest to death, she’d had to strip and drape her body over theirs, all of her flesh touching them, their mouths joined in order for full restoration to occur.
“Blow air into her mouth,” Carreon directed. “Lay on top of her. Touch every fucking part of her body.”
Trinidad appeared briefly amused at his unorthodox request, but did as he wanted. She angled her mouth over Maria’s, pouring her breath inside the woman. Her hand went to Maria’s breast, fondling it, then journeyed down her belly to her mound. She slipped two fingers into the woman’s sheath.
Carreon stepped closer, searching for faint signs of life, that Maria was return—
There. Her fingers. Had she lifted them?
He focused on her hand, his frown deepening at how it shifted…because Trinidad’s faint rocking motion had caused it.
“Keep blowing into her mouth,” he demanded, an image filling his mind of Liz having done the same with Zeke. Until her breath had filled him, Neekoma hadn’t responded to her healing.
During the next few minutes, Trinidad’s noisy exhales competed with the music throbbing from the club. A charade put on for Maria’s benefit. Carreon had wanted her to believe his VIP clients were waiting for her in the otherwise deserted bar.
Trinidad’s foot tapped in time with the tune even as she tried to resuscitate her co-worker. Ernez stopped tending to his lacerated hands when he noticed Carreon watching him. Uneasiness swept over the younger man’s face. He ignored his own injuries and watched the two women.
From the other room, the bass clapped suddenly and repeatedly, sounding like something monstrous striking the building on all sides. A gasp followed it.
From Ernez? Carreon turned back to the young man, glaring at him.
Ernez didn’t notice. He stared at the door as if Satan himself was playing drums on the other side of it. Or perhaps he was worried that a cop might happen by. One they hadn’t paid off, who would be curious as to why music blared within the establishment at this hour, and who might not take kindly to seeing a dead woman on the floor.
More bass. These vibrations were even stronger than the others, registering in Carreon’s belly. They paused for a second. During it, there was another sharp intake of air, though not from Ernez.
Carreon regarded Maria, warning himself not to expect too much.
Her chest actually rose with her next gasp.
He stared, relief, then joy flooding him. Trinidad had actually brought the woman back.
“Turn that shit off,” Carreon ordered Ernez.
He hurried out of the office into the club.