Page 1 of Corrupt Desires

One

Emilia

“Em, can you do me this favor?”

The Englishman is calling in a request for help to have a body removed at a warehouse in Silicon Valley and an extra vehicle. I am tasked with taking his call.

“I’ll do this for you this one time,cabrón, since we owe you a favor, but after that, we are even,” I reply, my Latina accent coming through strong. (Asshole.) It always does when I talk to James, he gets me so worked up for no reason at all. “And my name is Emilia to you, James.”

“Em, you are ever so eager to be rid of me. You wound me.”

“James, you know how this works. A favor for a favor. We are even now by my count.”

“Sure, Em. Until you or your family need my services again, we’re even.”

After getting the address, I hang up the phone. The man is absolutely infuriating. James isn’t wrongly confident in that statement, though. My family, the Bonettis, are the reigning Italian family of Western California. I am not blood to them, but they took me in as a young girl, and I have been treated as family ever since. My own birth parents had attempted to sell me off so they could afford more drugs, but then my adoptive father swooped in, saving me from a fate far worse than any I could have imagined. My mother, on the other hand, always seemed like she became a mother reluctantly. Sure, she plays the part of mother, but it’s as though you can tell she only does it to appease my father.

We are not exactly your typical Italian family, however. We have our hands in every industry in the state and run most of the gun and drug trades along the West Coast.

To have a favor from the Bonetti family is, well, very rare. They prefer to kill those that know too much, but James Stonewell is the family lawyer,The Englishman, the one that ensures our people do little to no time. He is, as well as his immediate family, protected by the Bonettis, and for every one of our family members he helps, he is granted a favor and a generous payout. This is the first favor he has used in a long time. My curiosity is piqued to say the least.What has James cashing in a favor at this ungodly hour, I wonder.

Calling up my cousin, Matteo, I let him know that I have a job for him and Lorenzo, my other cousin who is like an uncle to me, to accompany me on. While I normally would just have them complete the job by themselves, I want to know what has James acting unlike his cool and collected self. Besides, these two can be completeidiotas, so better I run along for this one. (Idiots.)

* * *

After nearly fivehours in the car, we arrive at the warehouse. It’s rundown, with blacked-out windows along the side of the building, graffiti throughout the exterior, and looks as though it should be torn down. Seeing James standing outside, Matteo pulls over and cuts the engine. Lorenzo does the same with his vehicle, pulling in behind us. As we get out, our heads swivel each way, always looking for danger. You can never be too safe.

“Ciao, Fratello,” says Matteo to both James and Kayden, shaking their hands in that manly manner that ends in a one-armed hug. (Hello, Brother.) Lorenzo greets them with a mere nod of the head. Lorenzo is a man of very little words and is always serious, probably because he’s older than all of us... James is second oldest at thirty-seven and his brother, Kayden, thirty-two. Matteo and I are the babies of the bunch, both twenty-five, even though I feel thirty-five. It’s easy to feel aged when you run in this business.

“Hola, James, Kayden, qué podemos hacer por ti?” I greet James and Kayden reluctantly, placing a hand on my hip as I feel my patience running thin. (What can I do for you?)

“Greetings, Em, it’s probably easier to just show you. Come inside, please,” replies James.

James leads the way inside, locking the door behind us before moving further back into the warehouse. Walking down the hallway, we go through a set of double doors before walking into a large open area. My eyes immediately go to the body lying on the floor.So this must be his favor… As we get closer, the blood is evident as the body lies in a huge pool of it. There appears to be brain matter mixed in as I see the bullet wound in the man’s head, but what really has me intrigued is what’s missing from between the man’s legs.

“Ay dios mio, what did you do to the poor guy?” I ask, crouching down and inspecting the scene while donning a pair of gloves, knowing it must have been something bad enough to warrant cutting the man’s dick off. (Oh my god.)

“Let’s just say, he touched something that wasn’t his,” James replies, his eyes darkening with menace.

I stand up and take a good look at him. I have never seen James so worked up over something before. He has always been the epitome of calmness. Nothing ever rattles James, but this, this rattled him, whatever it was. And as far as I know, James doesn’t have anyone super close to him, unless he has a woman I don’t know about. Trying to put two and two together, I can surmise that this poor guy wasn’t actually very innocent and was probably scum of the earth to have had his dick cut off and fed to him.

“Well, consider your favor given. We’ll clean up your mess and dispose of any evidence. Where is the gun?” I ask, cocking my hip and holding out my gloved hand.

James pulls the gun from the back of his pants, having kept it on his person. Taking the gun, I place it in a bag and hand it to Lorenzo.

“You boys know what to do. Let’s call in the cleaners and dispose of all this.”

“Em, can I talk to you,” James asks, waving me over to a corner of the room.

Rolling my eyes, but following him nonetheless, I ask him, “What do you want, James?”

“Why do you always assume I want something, love?”

“Don’t call me that. It’s Emilia to you, though, I’ve already told you a million times and you still never listen.”

The man has the audacity to chuckle under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he peers down at the floor. Lifting his gaze and looking at me through his lashes he says, “I just want to see if you’ll take me up on that offer I made for dinner sometime?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, James?Nunca en tu vida.Never in your life,” I all but growl my reply.

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