Diablo's Angel Read online

  The short time she had spent with the nuns she’d been taught questions were not permitted. Ricardo and Lucia had taught her differently. They had encouraged her to ask questions.

  “How else are you to learn?” Ricardo would say.

  She needed to learn Diablo’s intention. “What do you intend to do with me?”

  “You’ll find out,” he said curtly.

  She persisted. “I’d like to know now.”

  “What you would like makes no difference to me.”

  His response warned her that he was a man who cared little for others. Why else would he be called the devil?

  She remained silent, contemplating her situation, then suddenly spoke out of fear and without thinking, “You reprimanded those men who abducted me for not having permission to do so. That means you had no intentions of abducting me. Why not simply return me and be done with it?”

  “Why not stop asking questions you will get no answers to?”

  It was a habit of hers to talk and question when frightened while trying to make sense of things. Ricardo had warned her about it, but Lucia had felt it was good she spoke her mind. Ricardo had cautioned that it was wiser to keep some thoughts to one’s self.

  Her thoughts drifted back to how frightened she had been when she had first arrived at the convent and the endless questions she had asked until finally one nun had screamed at her and told her to hold her tongue or she would cut it out. She hadn’t spoken a word after that. She had spoken again once she had arrived at Ricardo and Lucia’s home.

  Fear had had her asking an endless string of questions that Lucia had answered with a smile. It had been the first time she had felt safe since leaving California.

  A response came to her and it spilled from her lips before she could stop it. “Is it because you have no answers to my questions?”

  “You would be wise to hold that tongue of yours,” he cautioned sternly.

  “I talk endlessly when frightened,” she said again without thinking.

  “I won’t hurt you as long as you obey me.”

  Obedience was something she lacked, having been raised with a freedom she cherished and had realized was rare for one of her status. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to return home.

  Honesty was something Lucia and her husband had also taught her, so she chose to be honest with the devil. “I’m not good at being obedient.” She thought she caught a soft rumble of laughter from him, but it sounded otherwise when he spoke.

  “You’ll learn.”

  She doubted that and bit her tongue before a response spilled out and decided it was best for her if she asked a different question. “Where do you take me?”

  “More questions?”

  “What harm would it do for you to answer them?”

  “I prefer silence.”

  “We can’t always have what we want,” she said a lesson she had learned all too well and, too late, though maybe that hadn’t been a wise thing to say.

  “I always get what I want and right now I want silence from you,” he ordered.

  Fear overriding any consequences, she challenged, “Or what?”

  As soon as he brought the horse to an abrupt stop, she knew she was in trouble and her apprehension grew. Her stomach churned when he dismounted and worsened when he reached up, grabbed her around the waist, and yanked her off the horse.

  His hand took tight hold of her arm as he spoke. “You will remain silent or suffer the consequences.”

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask, she silently warned herself, but the words were already slipping past her lips. “What are the consequences?”

  His hand was at her throat squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult. “I’ll cut your tongue out.”

  It was a good thing he kept hold of her arm, since her legs would have crumbled beneath her from the shock of his threat. It also didn’t help that the fear she had felt as a young child when the nun had threatened the same returned tenfold.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded. He’d made himself more than clear. He let her know that the devil held all the power.

  He didn’t say a word. He swung her up on the horse, mounted behind her once again, and off they rode.

  She held her tongue with great difficulty and after a while she found herself growing sleepy. It had been an exhausting day, her homecoming nothing as to what she had expected. She prayed that Ernesto was not badly harmed, prayed for the safety of the men who had been sent to protect her, and prayed that her family would not take long to rescue her. Mostly, she prayed she would be able to hold her tongue so that the devil didn’t cut it out.

  Diablo watched her head bob as she fought to keep it upright. It wasn’t long before sleep took hold and her head fell to rest on his shoulder. She might have been frightened, but she had shown bravery for one so privileged.

  He had been furious when he’d learned what Diego and some of the other men had done. That they had done so without permission was a crime. And worse, their actions had jeopardized the safety of others. This could not go unpunished.

  It disturbed him that she’d been right. He had had no answers to her questions and he had no idea what to do with Crista Cesare.

  Diablo would be blamed for the abduction and Esteban Cesare, Crista’s brother, would be out for blood. Esteban had been abducted when he was fourteen and for sixteen years he suffered at the evil hands of the man who had taken him while also learning the way of the outlaws, which would make him ruthless in pursuit of his sister. He was also knowledgeable of the various areas where many of the outlaws could be found. However, Esteban would be unaware of the location of Diablo’s camp. That was something few knew or would reveal for fear of suffering a horrendous death.

  He wasn’t sure how to solve this dilemma, but until he could find a solution, Crista Cesare belonged to him and that would keep her protected. He’d figure out a plan and see that it was done as fast as possible, since what he had been planning for years would soon see fruition and he couldn’t let anything stand in its way.

  Crista thought the screams were in her head until she opened her eyes and realized they were real. She gazed around, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision and winced. Her arm hurt and she realized she had never tended her wound and that worried her.

  Another agonizing scream tore through the air and she rushed to sit up, struggling as she did, a stinging pain running through her arm. Had she slept that deeply that she hadn’t felt when Diablo had stopped? Or felt herself settled on a blanket on the ground? Had she been that exhausted?

  Another painful scream had her wincing and locking her eyes shut tightly. Someone was suffering horribly. She forced her eyes open as she got to her feet and when she went to walk, her leg gave way and she collapsed to the ground.

  Not now. Please not now, she silently begged.

  She massaged her pained leg and it took two slow attempts until she finally made it to her feet. She took more slow steps and try as she might she couldn’t hide the pronounced limp. She persevered as she always did and was surprised and apprehensive to come upon a circle of men. Their attention was focused on whatever went on in the middle of the circle. She managed to slip through an opening, no one stopping her, and stopped shy of the men in the front when she saw what was happening.

  Diablo, draped in his black shroud, stood with whip in hand delivering a brutal whipping to the men who had abducted her yesterday. Their bare backs were bloody and still he cracked the whip on them, shredding the already torn flesh.

  She took no pleasure in seeing their plight, but neither could she have any sympathy for them since they had intended to inflict unspeakable harm on her.

  “Mercy! Mercy!” one of the men pleaded, but Diablo gave none.

  When it was finished, one of the men in the group of onlookers took Diablo’s whip from him to wipe clean as Diablo spoke to the group.

  “This is what happens when you don’t obey the rules. When you don’t obey me!
” Diablo called out, his warning and words clear.

  “They’re traitors. They talk of riding with Vega,” one man in the surrounding circle shouted.

  “I heard them say the same,” another agreed.

  “Then deliver them to Vega. It will remind him of what happens to those who go against me,” Diablo ordered.

  Crista drew her shoulders together as men rushed past her. She watched as they untied the men from the posts and secured their ties to long ropes, then tied the end of the rope to the horns of their saddles and took off. The whipped men followed behind the horses, some fighting to keep on their feet, while others were dragged along the ground.

  Crista wondered how they would ever survive the ordeal, but then she wondered if they were meant to survive it.

  She turned quickly, no longer wanting to look upon the horrendous sight and a pain shot through her leg. She steadied herself and limped toward the blanket she had found herself on when she had woken.

  “Did those men hurt you?” Diablo demanded, grabbing her arm and causing her to fall against him.

  She winced, her painful leg twisting, and a pain ripped through her injured arm he had grabbed. Instinct had her yelling, “You’re hurting me.”

  He instantly let go of her and she stumbled, her arms flailing as she tried to right herself.

  The next thing she knew, she was up in his arms and he hurried her to the blanket and placed her gently down on it.

  “I need to see to your wound and you will tell me what happened to your leg,” he demanded once again.

  “I can see to the wound myself,” she said, wondering how a man who just moments ago inflicted such pain could possibly tend a wound gently.

  “You can see to obeying me,” he snapped and turned to wave at one of all but six men who had remained behind.

  The man hurried over to him.

  “Water and clean cloths,” Diablo ordered as he removed his gloves.

  The man nodded and scurried off.

  Crista stared at his hands. They were long, under his nails surprisingly clean, and his skin was a bronze tone, making her think he was native to this area, since the black shroud led her to believe he spent little time in the sun.

  “What happened to your leg?” Diablo asked, reaching out to help her out of the duster she wore.

  She didn’t object, her wound having been left too long without attention. He was tender, easing her injured arm out of the sleeve as if he tried to cause her as little pain as possible, of which she was grateful.

  He continued in the same gentle manner, easing her jacket off, then took a knife to the sleeve of her blouse.

  It reminded her of the knife in her boot and her eyes went there.

  “I took your knife. You won’t need it,” he said as he cut away the sleeve.

  “It would have done me little good anyway,” she said.

  “I am glad you realize that. It will make your time with me that much easier for you.”

  Time with him. How long did he plan to keep her?

  The man returned with the items and Diablo wasted no time in cleaning her wound, his touch far more gentle, attentive, and skillful than she expected.

  “It’s not a deep wound. It will heal well,” he said as he continued tending it.

  Crista saw for herself that he spoke the truth and was relieved.

  “Now you will answer my question that you have avoided,” he ordered. “Your leg. What causes you to limp?”

  “A very old wound that didn’t heal properly,” she said, seeing no reason to say any more than that and glad he didn’t ask for more of an explanation.

  “Will it pain you to ride?” he asked, finished cleaning the wound.

  She shook her head. “No, though it may pain me some when the ride is done, depending on how long we ride.”

  “Are you trying to find out how far we go?” he asked, wrapping a clean cloth around her wound with a caring touch.

  “Since I am unfamiliar with the area, I have no idea how far I am from home or even where we are. Though, I do believe my family already searches for me.” She truly couldn’t be sure of that, since she knew little of her family, but she said it, hoping it might help her cause.

  He didn’t respond. He turned and waved to the man who had brought the cloths. Once again the man scurried over to him.

  “You know what to do,” Diablo said.

  “Si, Diablo,” the man nodded and hurried away.

  “We leave soon, but you will eat first,” Diablo said, helping her on with her jacket and duster.

  Crista had no intentions of arguing against that. She was starving and beyond thirsty.

  He left her for a few moments, going to talk to the same man once again and when he returned he handed her a canteen and some dried meat.

  She drank first, taking it slow, fearing if she drank too fast it wouldn’t be enough to quench her thirst. She nibbled at the dried meat not knowing what it was and relieved it tasted good. Best of all, it began to fill the pit of hunger in her stomach.

  Fear stirred in her once again as she watched the men who had remained begin to ride off and when the last man left after speaking with Diablo, her stomach roiled.

  She was alone with Diablo once again.

  He approached her, his whip coiled and strapped to his belt, and when he raised his hands to the hood covering his face, her breath caught. Was he going to remove it? Would he reveal his face?

  His hands settled on the edges of his hood, and she anxiously waited to lay eyes on the devil.

  Chapter 3

  Crista had been young when she had arrived at the convent, but she would never forget her time there. The tales of the devil had frightened her the most. The nuns spoke about the devil’s beauty. How difficult it would be to take one’s eyes off him, his features so fine, so stunning that only God could have created him. It was how he mesmerized people and got them to do his evil bidding, and it wasn’t until it was too late that you saw his true demonic features.

  She actually was relieved when all Diablo did was adjust the hood that covered his face. She feared to look upon the devil.

  He turned to give one last look in the distance where his men had ridden and were now barely visible, having set a quick pace. The shroud shifted just enough for her to get a peek at his neck. There were no distinguishing marks. His skin was smooth and unblemished. There was nothing there that could somehow identify him if ever necessary.

  Crista turned her eyes away and hurried to take another bite of the dried meat, fearing what might come out of her mouth when he reached her.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  She held up the small piece of meat that was left as she chewed on the one in her mouth.

  “Hurry and finish.”

  He commanded like he was born to it and she wondered over his heritage. Was he born to an outlaw clan? Abducted by one? Became an outlaw of his own choosing? And the one question that persisted… what in heaven’s name did he intend to do with her?

  As soon as she ate the last of the meat, she drank a good amount of water worried when next she would get more. She went to stand and lost her footing, her leg cramping in pain.

  His hand was at her arm instantly and instinctively she grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself, not that it was necessary. His grip alone was strong enough to steady her.

  Her eyes went to his face, meeting the black shroud and a sharp tingle of fear ran through her. Once again she was glad she hadn’t caught sight of the devil.

  “We leave now,” he snapped, with a slight shake of his head.

  “A few moments to see to my needs, please,” she said and silently prayed she could stand on her leg without help.

  He gave a nod and kept hold of her arm as he walked slowly with her—her limp pronounced—to a cropping of rocks.

  “Can you stand on your own?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said quickly, fearful he would think to help her. She reached out to place her hand on the rock. “I
can manage.”

  She was ever so grateful he didn’t argue with her and let her walk on her own behind the rocks, using them for support as she went. It was a bit of an ordeal, but she persisted.

  “Almost done,” she called out, worried he would rush around the rocks to help her and was surprised at his response.

  “Take your time.”

  She barely took a step from behind the rocks when he took hold of her arm once again and directed her to the horse. Surprisingly, he handled her gently and with care as he placed her on the horse, then mounted to sit behind her. They were soon off again, in what direction, Crista had no idea.

  Crista tried to hold her tongue, she truly did. Fright, however, made her all the more eager to learn about her circumstances, and she couldn’t contain her questions any longer. Besides, the black shroud remained intimidating, causing fear to rumble through her and talking was one way of easing at least some of it.

  “Did you send one of your men with a message to my family letting them know it was all a mistake and you would be returning me home?”

  “You want to lose your tongue?” he asked.

  “Heavens no and I apologize profusely for not holding my tongue. But as I explained I talk a lot when frightened or trying to make sense of things. And I am overwhelmed by both right now, which is causing me to chatter when I should mind my tongue.”

  “If you obey me there is no reason for you to be frightened. I will see you kept safe.”

  “And if I don’t obey your every command you won’t keep me safe?” she asked.

  “You saw what happened to those who don’t obey me,” he reminded.

  She felt herself pale at the horrifying thought. “You would do that to me?”

  “Obey me and you won’t need to find out.”

  Worry kept her tongue going. “So you will no longer cut my tongue out if I don’t obey you, you’ll whip me instead?”

  His hand shot to her neck squeezing lightly.

  “What if I chip away at your tongue piece by piece until you learn to obey me?” he asked, his hand squeezing tighter as he spoke.