Protected Pt. 10

"Stop it!" I snarled as I put my free hand in Willow's chest and pushed her back as the women attacked each other.

As Willow stumbled away with my hard shove, Marciella went for my face again with her nails. "¡Suéltame el pelo, hijo de puta!" Let go of my hair, you motherfucker!

I again jerked my head away. She missed my face but did claw my shoulder and chest. My shirt protected me from the worst of the damage, but it still hurt.

"Ow! You fucking bitch!" I snarled as I delivered a short jab straight to her face as she tried to come at me again. With my punch, I released her hair as her head snapped backwards and she staggered back a step before falling to her ass, stunned.

"You okay?" I panted as I looked at Willow.

"Yeah," Willow gasped as she stood to the side, her hands curled into fists, glaring at the woman on the ground at her feet. "The fucking bitch grabbed a gun."

I felt for my own weapon, but it and its holster were missing. Panic surged through me, but a quick glance at the pool confirmed that I didn't have to worry about Alejandro turning my weapon against me. I returned my attention to Willow.

She was a mess, her hair in disarray, and she had a couple of painful looking scratches on her neck that disappeared inside the front of her well stretched shirt, along with several red welts and scrapes on her knees, legs, and arms. I glanced at Marciella as she wiped at her bleeding lips and started to rise. Though I could tell the women's punches weren't particularly powerful, more like slaps with a closed fist, the two had really mauled each other because Marciella looked just a bad as Willow, if not worse. I reached down and pulled Marciella to her feet by the hair before jerking her head back. She bared her teeth at me, either in pain or defiance.

"Who are you?" I snarled, bringing my face close to hers. "Why was Alejandro trying to have Willow killed?" She spat into my face so I slapped the shit out of her, my hand cracking like a gunshot as it connected with her cheek. "You're going to end up like Alejandro if you don't talk!"

She didn't answer for a moment, apparently stunned by my slap. "You have no idea who I am," Marciella hissed through clenched teeth as she held her cheek. "I'll have you killed. My uncle will hunt you down and gut both you and your bitch while I watch!"

"Who's your Uncle? Tell me!" I growled as I twisted her hair tighter and gave it a jerk to increase her pain.

Marciella hissed again, her face twisted with pain as she gripped my hand. "Rafael Suárez! He'll have you killed for this!"

"Rafael Suárez with the Víbora Cartel?"

"Yes! You're a walking dead man! You and your bitch both!"

"Why is he trying to have Willow killed?"

"Fuck you!"

I hit her again, another vicious slap across the face. "Why?" I snarled as I held her face close to mine. She didn't say anything, only baring her teeth and grimacing as she tried to free her hair from my grip. I jerked her head back and slapped her again. I wasn't enjoying what I was doing, but I needed answers, and she had them. "Tell me why!"

"He's not!"

I relaxed my grip on her hair slightly, easing her pain, now that she'd broken. "Then who is?"

"Alejandro!"

"Alejandro?" Willow asked. "Why?"

"For your program. With you out of the way, Larke Oil will go to his wife when her brother dies. Then he'll have her killed and take over the company."

Willow and I looked at each other. "What's your role in all of this?" I asked, turning my attention back to the woman.

"Nothing! I was just fucking him until he got the money!"

I looked at her a moment and saw the scheming in her eyes. "Bullshit! You're the one pulling the strings on the hit. The cartel wouldn't do shit for Alejandro without running it by Suárez first, but they might for you."

Marciella smiled like a viper. "When I tell Uncle Rafael what you've done, you're both dead. I might not get the billions from the sale of Larke Oil, but I'll at least know you're both dead."

"We should call the police," Willow said.

I glanced at Willow. "And tell them what? We broke into their house and I killed Alejandro. We'll be the ones who go to jail, not her." I paused as I tried to think of a way out. "Did you touch the gun?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You need to go. Now. Wait for me in the Jeep."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I have to. This has to end, here. She's right. If Suárez finds out we broke in here and roughed up his niece, he might come gunning for us. Or she might continue sending goons after us."

"Colt, no!"

"Just go!"

She didn't move, her face twisting into some emotion I couldn't identify. "Colt, please don't do this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's wrong. You're not a... you're not like that."

"If I don't, you'll never be safe." She held my gaze for a long moment, her eyes filling with tears. "Go... and don't look back. Wait for me at the Jeep."

She continued to watch me for a long moment before she turned and did as I asked. I turned my attention back to Marciella. She looked at me, the defiance replaced by fear. She understood as well as Willow what I'd meant.

"I can make you rich," Marciella said, her voice begging. "I'll pay you a million dollars to let me go."

"No deal," I said as I marched her toward the pool. In the deepest section of the pool, near where Alejandro floated, I could see my pistol and holster on the bottom.

"Wait!" she cried, desperation creeping into her voice. "I can help you get rid of Alejandro! I was tired of him anyway. We can be together! You're a smart and strong man! Uncle Rafael can use a man like you! I'll tell him how I tried to have you killed but you kept getting away! Then we can be together! We can fuck every night! Wouldn't you like to fuck me? I'll let you fuck me any way you want, as much as you like. I bet you fuck as good as you fight."

I shoved her into the pool. "You want me to fuck you?" I growled when she popped up, spluttering.

"Yes," she cooed as she treaded water. I watched her a moment, steeling myself for what was to come, but the crazy bitch misunderstood my hesitation. "You want to fuck me in the pool? I want you to come fuck me like Alejandro never could. I bet you have a big cock," she purred as she paddled to the edge of the pool. "I want your cock inside me. I want to feel your big hard cock fucking my pussy until it comes. I bet your cock can fuck for a long time. My pussy needs a long hard fucking."

My stomach churning with dread, I stepped off the edge into the pool. Standing on my tiptoes the water reached to my chin, but was well over her head. With a smile of victory, she moved to me and melted into my body.

"You want to get fucked?" I growled, stalling, unwilling to... I felt sick.

"Yes," she purred as she grabbed my crotch. "I want to get fucked by your big hard cock. I want that big cock to make my pussy come."

The moment she stopped speaking, I summoned my courage and shoved her under. Grinding my teeth, I closed my eyes, as if not watching what I was doing meant I wasn't drowning her. As she struggled, I fought the urge to release her, to allow her to bob to the surface for one final breath. Hitting and clawing at me, she tried desperately to free herself from my grasping hands. She kept lunging off the bottom, frantically trying to thrust herself to the surface as she fought for life.

She slipped free once, bobbing to the surface with a gasp, but I quickly shoved her under again, almost before she could gather a lifesaving breath. I continued to hold her down, my mouth hard, my lips pursed in disgust, the water churning around me for a long moment, until her movements became weaker, and then finally stopped. Choking on bile, I continued to hold her down for what seemed like a long time, before turning her loose.

My face twisting in disgust, I towed her to the deep end of the pool where Alejandro floated. It took several trips back to the surface for air, but I finally arranged the bodies into a more or less sexual position, face to face, their arms around each other with him between her legs and her ankles locked behind his back. Hanging on the edge of the pool, I watched the bodies to make sure they didn't float apart. Satisfied they were going to remain in position, I dove to the bottom, retrieved my pistol, and then hauled myself out of the pool.

I looked back at the bodies as I tucked away my weapon, their shapes distorted by the water. "Now you're fucked," I muttered, trying to be clever, but uttering the words only made me want to puke more. Killing Alejandro was one thing. That was self-defense, but I'd murdered Marciella. Battling down my urge to vomit, I forced myself to think.

After surveying the area, I started with the table. I turned it upright, picked up the tiles, and returned them to the holders that formed the tabletop, carefully fitting all the major broken pieces together like a puzzle. I knew the cops would discover the broken pieces, but I hoped that, just maybe, they'd think that the pieces had been broken before and weren't part of what had happened.

I next picked up Marciella's gun with one of the robes, using the cloth to wipe it free of all fingerprints. Hardening myself, I removed my shirt, wrung the water from it, and use that to carry the weapon to the dead bodies. There, being sure to not touch the weapon except with my shirt, I reached into the water and drew out Marciella's hands one at a time, carefully wrapping them around the gun several times as if she were shooting, cleaning, or loading the weapon. I repeated the process with Alejandro's hands. I didn't know if their fingers would leave any prints after being in the pool, but it was worth a try. I returned the gun to the table and laid it beside the robes.

Finally, I used my shirt soaked in the pool to bring water to wet the blood Alejandro left behind after I bitch slapped him with my gun. Once the spots were thoroughly wetted, I scrubbed them with the toe of my boot. I repeated the process a couple of times before I was satisfied the blood had been removed.

I glanced around. I didn't see anything that looked obviously out of place. I turned my attention to the house, looking for any type of camera, but saw nothing. Relieved, I glanced around the yard again, looking for anything I might have missed. I still saw nothing. The broken tiles worried me, not to mention there was probably going to be evidence that both Alejandro and Marciella had been in a fight.

I was glancing around, preparing to leave, when I had an idea. I checked the pockets of the robes and was thankful to find a phone in each one. Only one had Face ID enabled, so it would have to do. Holding the phone by the edges, I carried the device to the edge of the pool. My lips curling in disgust, I pulled Alejandro close enough to me to so that I could hold the phone in front of his face. The phone remained locked. I tried again with Marciella, and this time the phone unlocked.

I quickly opened the texting app, found Alejandro in her text list, and quickly read some of their past conversations. There was nothing there except them sexting back and forth, and it appeared that Marciella spoke to her phone because her texts weren't full of the shorthand people used when typing. I pressed the microphone and began to speaking, trying to duplicate her short and punchy way of speaking.

"Quiero que vengas a meter esa gran polla en mi coño." I want you to come stick that big cock in my pussy. I pressed send.

"Quiero que me folles como la última vez, pero aún más duro y en la piscina." I want you to fuck me like last time, but even harder, and in the pool.

I smiled grimly when I heard the other phone chime.

"Esta vez no te lo voy a tomar con calma." I'm not going to take it easy on you this time.

"Quiero que demuestres que eres lo suficientemente hombre para manejarme." I want you to prove you're man enough to handle me.

"Trae tu trasero aquí y muéstrame que tu polla es lo suficientemente fuerte como para manejar mi coño." Get your ass over here and show me your cock is strong enough to handle my pussy.

I paused, trying to think if there was anything else I needed add without going too far over the top. I decided there was nothing. I again used the robe to wipe the phone clean, returned to the edge of the pool, and pressed the dead woman's fingers all over it. There seemed to be plenty of prints on the screen, so I carefully carried the device back to the table with my shirt and returned it to the pocket where I'd found it. I then grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over again, just as it'd been before I righted it, grimacing at the crash it made. I then wiped the table edge and the largest pieces of tile, returning each to the location where I landed. I didn't know what the police would think when someone finally discovered the double drowning, but hopefully they'd think it was some bizarre sex act gone horribly wrong since they'd actually been fucking when I'd arrived.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I moved to the gate and wiped the latch with my shirt before opening it and wiping the other side. I finished by wiping the white vinyl all around the latch area where Willow or I might have touched it. Using my shirt to avoid leaving new fingerprints, I closed the gate, making sure it was secured behind me before I struggled into my still wet shirt. Taking another deep breath, I walked to the front of the house and then down the drive like I didn't have a care in the world.

On the street, I heard Willow's Jeep start.

.

.

.

WILLOW

I was sitting in the Jeep, nursing my hurts, and trying to straighten my hair by running my fingers through it. That bitch had nearly pulled my hair out, and though the scratches on my neck, arms, and legs also stung, I couldn't decide if my breast or my head hurt the most. I stuck my hand out the window to shake off more loose hair from between my fingers.

When I'd arrived back at the Jeep, I'd had to work hard not to cry... not because I was hurting, but because I was so fucking upset. I don't know what had come over me, but if Colt hadn't dragged us apart, I'd have killed that bitch. It frightened me that if I'd gotten the chance, I'd have shot her without a second thought.

I sniffed as I chewed on my bottom lip. I was worried about Colt. I'd seen the fear and loathing on his face when he'd ordered me away. I knew what he was going to do, and I worried that he'd hate me for putting him in such an impossible situation. He'd killed Alejandro, and probably killed the man that had broken into my house, and maybe even one or two more in the RV, but he wasn't a murder. All the other times he'd been fighting for his life, but if he carried through with... I couldn't bring myself to think about what he'd implied.

I continued to stare at the house, dreading the sound of a gunshot, waiting for him to appear as I continued to pull loose strands of hair from my head. After what seemed like a long time, he appeared and walked down the drive with a sure, steady stride. I started my Wrangler and slowly drove toward him as he crossed the street. I pulled to a stop beside him. He looked pale and shaken as he opened the door.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

"Just drive," he said as he settled into the seat and slammed the door.

"Did you?" I asked as I pulled away from the curb, wondering how he'd muffled the sound of the gun so much that I hadn't heard it.

"Don't ask me that," he said softly, not looking at me. "The only thing you know is I killed Alejandro in a fight and Marciella was still alive when you left."

I nodded but said nothing. As we drove, I kept glancing at him. He stared straight out of the windshield, not once looking at me. I took his hand and squeezed. He squeezed it back, but that was his only acknowledgement.

"Where to? Home?" I asked.

"Yeah," he grunted.

We said nothing else until we were nearly to Katy. He was distant, like he'd been after the RV, but worse, much worse, and I gave him his space, not wanting to crowd him and make the situation between us worse.

"Can you check that?" I asked when my phone chirred with the arrival of a text.

Saying nothing, he reached into the back seat, pulled my purse to him, and dug around inside until he found the device. "Password?" he asked, his thumbs hovering over the screen.

"One Zero Four Nine Six Three," I said, speaking slowly as he typed.

He swiped and tapped. "It's a text from your aunt. It says, 'Tell him he might as well stay there.'"

"She won't have to worry about him anymore," I murmured.

"No," he said softly.

"And Marciella is...?"

"Please, don't ask me that."

That was answer enough. I swallowed hard. "You were right. It had to be done," I offered as we approached my community, trying to ease his burden.

"I know."

"It's over now."

"I hope."

"It is. I can feel it."

He nodded slowly. "So long as the police, or the cartel, don't figure out what happened."

I turned onto the road leading into my community and slowed while pressing the gate opener. I knew there was a risk of being discovered, and Colt would be the one to take the blame, but nobody other than Aunt Pam knew we'd been there. I mentally kicked myself for sending her the photos. The only thing I could do now was delete the text and photos from my phone, tell her what happened, swear her to secrecy, and hope for the best.

When we arrived home, Colt moved like a zombie, not even changing out of his wet clothes. He went straight to the kitchen and examined the door.

"We need to replace this."

"We can do it later."

He shook his head. "No. The door won't stay shut. Anyone could just walk in." He stared at the door a moment, and then turned away. He didn't look at me as he started for the garage. "I can handle it if you don't want to mess with it."

"No," I whispered as I followed him. "I'll come."

As we drove to Home Depot, I worried I was losing him. I'd demanded too much from him and the delicate tendril of love we'd shared had broken. I didn't know what to say or how to reach him. He'd answer when I spoke to him, but when I told him that I loved him, he only looked at me briefly before turning away. It had taken every bit of my self-control to not start crying. The pain of my scalp and breast paled into comparison to the ache in my heart.

I purchased the first door with a window he found that fit, unable to care about the style of the door. We put the door in the back of the store's rental truck and drove home. As he unloaded the door, I followed with the two bags of supplies. Leaving him to his work, I returned the truck to the store and came back with my Jeep.

When I arrived home, he already had the old door mostly out. I helped when and where I could, but he did the bulk of the work, with our only words related to the task at hand. After about four more hours, my new door was installed, and he checked the door's operation, making sure it opened and closed smoothly, and sealed properly.

"It'll have to be painted," he said as he closed the door. "I guess I can do that tomorrow." He turned away and began picking up tools.

"Colt?"

He never slowed in his work. "What?"

"I need you to hold me. Can you try to do that? Please?" He paused and looked at me, his lips thinning as emotions played over his face. I saw fear, disgust, sadness, and more. I whimpered and sniffed. He hated and loathed me for making him do what he did. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so, so, sorry. Can you forgive me? Please? I never meant--"

His face twisting with grief, he dropped the tools in his hand, and when he stepped toward me, I flung myself into his arms. He wrapped me up, lifted me from the ground, and held me tight. I held him, hoping, praying, that I could somehow win him back. I held him as tightly as I could as my eyes welled with tears and I sniffed.