| La Mano  Part 1 |

Unedited Draft: WARNING: Intended for Mature audience

Arillion inhaled deeply as he started to regain his faculties. His head was throbbing and his jaw felt like it was hit by a semi. It was only several moments later that he realized he'd been roused by the excruciating screams of another person. Keeping his eyes closed not wanting to alert his enemies to his state of consciousness he listened to the room around him. An alluring female voice wound its way around him like a warm mug of french mocha espresso.
She spoke in English, but she had a strong Spanish accent.

"The difference between me and all the others-" A man's desperate scream rang out in the hollow space as a chill ran up Arillion's spine. "Is that I enjoy the torture." Despite his better judgement and his on the job training,  Arillion couldn't help but look up. Her back was to him but he could see that she was slim and quite petite with curves in all the right places. She circled the bleeding man like a shark her face coming into Arillion's view. He immediately felt his insides warm. Gorgeous started to explain how attractive this woman was but didn't quite reach the mark. She put out her cigar on the man's arm. "You will tell me who blew up my trucks. The question is how many fingers will you have left when you do? She pulled a cigar cutter from a pocket in her loose fitting pants that terminated tight at her ankles stiletto heels on her slender feet.
"I tell you nothing cunt." The man spat on the ground near her feet.

Arillion saw death flash in her hazel brown eyes before a sinister smile slipped across her perfect painted lips. "Name calling how juvenile." She nodded to a large man arms crossed in front of him standing behind the injured one . The big man unclasped his hands and started untying the injured man's arms that were bound behind his back. The big man slammed one of the man's arms on the table in front of him and spread his fingers out. The man's confidence dissipated and sweat formed on his forehead as she tapped the cigar cutter on the table top. "I usually pride myself on creativity. Getting answers is an art you know, but sometimes it's necessary to call up the classics."

"Que esta` despierto." A slender man wearing sunshades who was standing a few feet from Arillion said to his mistress.

She nodded her attention still focused on the man in front of her.

"Good. I hope he learns something from this demonstration." She stroked the tortured man's fingers ignoring his pleads. "Silencio!" She grabbed a finger and bent it back slowly as the man tried to wiggle free. "The only thing I want to hear you say are the names of the bastard who blew up my fucking trucks!"

"Por favor yo no se." He was crying now.
She bent down so she was an inch from his face. "I could break your finger, but no no I won't because eventually it will heal. She slid his finger in the cigar cutter. "I will sever every finger you have and when I run out I will start on your toes and then. She looked down at his crotch. Whatever appendages are left. Then I will get mad." The man started wailing now. She grabbed his cheeks pinching them between her small thumb and pointer. "When I get mad I get really creative." A sinister smile spread across her lips a glint of excitement flashed across those beautiful eyes. Despite himself Arillion wondered what she would look like if she gazed upon him with such intensity with motives other than causing him excruciating pain of course. The passion she had was something he never saw. She was diabolical and though he should be terrified, which he was, he was also becoming aroused.

"He will kill my family."

She sighed. "I had hoped you would say something else." She squeezed the two sides to the cutter blood spurting on her cloths. The man was screaming to the top of his lungs tears streaming down his red face.

Arillion gulped as her attention landed on him. She placed the cigar cutter on the opposite end of the table and picked up a white towel that she used to wipe the man's blood off her dainty appendages before strolling toward Arillion. "I hope you slept well stranger." She stopped several feet away still cleaning her fingers precisely.

"The accommodations were a little sparse."

"I do not like strangers." She said seeming to not hear his words. "What I do like are answers." She leaned over to scoop up a machete that was leaning on a rusted industrial column a couple feet away from him that he had not noticed before. It was then that he saw a slender gold chain slip from her bosom on it an small emerald surrounded by rubies circled by diamonds in a starburst design. His query.

He met her mischievous eyes. "His arm." She said to the big man. The big man wiped his nose before rolling up the tortured man's sleeve and slammed his arm on the table.

"No! Por Favor. I need my arm! My family needs me to work."

"Incentive." She smiled mostly with her eyes.  "The only thing that will save your arm is you. Now tell me!"

"Por Favor senorita por favor." The man was drooling his plea trying to wiggle his arm free.

"Por favor." She mused turning the machete over in her hand. "For favor." She seemed to be contemplating the phrase. "The only favor I have for you senor is another chance because I'm in a good mood today." In a flash she was in the man's face the collar of his shirt in her fist.
"Answer my question." She said with venomous calm." Arillion knew where this was headed so he started working the rope trapping his wrists behind him. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to manage the ties on his ankle. He was thinking breaking the chair might be his best bet-

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!" The man's blood spurted across the room some landing on Arillion's shoes and pants. The tortured man slumped over unconscious but not dead. He would pray for death before the demon woman was done with him.

"Cauterize it quickly before he bleeds out." The minion standing by Arillion, the one with the sunglasses despite the ill-lit interior, appeared with a red hot piece of metal and pressed it to the man's severed appendage. The smell of burning human flesh made Arillion gag. The man left Arillion alone just long enough to break free his hands. He kept them discreetly behind his back as the deranged, gorgeous woman brought her attention to him.

Blood covered her shirt and pants. She wiped her bloody hand across her brow that had accumulated perspiration as the day outside was well into the high nineties. "Take him to a holding cell tell me when he comes to."  Arillion had heard tales of the Devil's Hand, but stories were often over exaggerated. He was quickly seeing that the tales about this wicked drug lord's punishments were not far from the truth at all. Her beauty, however, was never mentioned. In fact, He didn't know La mano de Diablo was a woman until he was offered this job. La Mano de Diablo was infamous the name rang out through all of South America and most parts of the world at large.

Arillion's mind was quickly formulating his escape having the know on the big picture some of the details a little fuzzy but quickly becoming clear as he valued his appendages, all of them.

"So tell me stranger, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" She sauntered over to him now only a couple feet away. He wasn't quite sure if he would be able to stand with his feet tide like they were. He glanced up at the woman a cool look on his face. God she was gorgeous he was still in awe. He knew he didn't have time but the woman was a vicious, merciless, sexy, and beautiful with the strength of will of ten men and a taste for blood, mutilation and pain like any meticulous psychopathy. He should be appalled, terrified, but he was inconveniently aroused by it all. True he wasn't a bone breaker, and the sight of blood was...less than appealing, but her strength her control, those lips, hips, hands, he had a very vivid imagination and he could see her…

"Pitty," she mused. "I had hoped you would have learned something." She smiled ruefully taking a couple more steps toward him placing one leg then the other on either side of him then lowered herself on his lap. Arillion froze his plan making stalled. She had a nice weight to her the roundness of her bottom set on his more manly anatomy as if it were formed to be there. He scolded himself to stay calm. Don't show any sign of weakness. He coaxed his body. "I would hate to have to make you bleed." She traced the arch of his thick eyebrows her lips inches from his face. He wanted to grab hold of her and claim her mouth for his own, but that was not part of the plan. "Mmm," she moaned making a light trail down his spine with her free hand the other still holding tight to the machete. "You're very handsome indeed, but do not mistake me. I will hack off every limb," She pushed off of him. "I will chop every single appendage." She gazed down at his pants. "All of them if that brings me one hair closer to an answer." She turned to walk away from him. It was his chance.

Before anyone had time to react, Arillion jumped up and tackled the woman to the ground the wooden chair shattering at his abrupt movement. He snatched the necklace off of her and grabbed the machete from her hand quickly cutting the ties on his ankles.

"That's better." He whispered with a laugh. With his full range of motion he engaged the big body guard first. The man was slow and clumsy and Arillion made sure not to let any of his strong punches land home. He then rammed the hot poker into the second man's stomach he keeled over trying to free himself of the burning metal. Arillion grabbed a chain and rope on the far side of room and fled the dank space. He was high on the third floor of the compound. Having studied the blueprints in depth he made his way to a window overlooking the jungle below. Arillion hooked the rope and chain to a sturdy column and flung himself out the window gliding down to the sand below and took off into the dark green jungle for cover. He heard shouts and engines to vehicles starting. Above all the commotion, he her the demoness shouting curses in several different languages. He could just imagine her beautiful face contorted with rage. Those lips pressed together her slender hands clinched into fists at her side, breast rising and falling with deep intakes of air. Without slowing his pace, Arillion tucked the necklace in his pocket as he made his way through the thick jungle to a place he had set up with a change of clothes and some other things to help him with his escape. The entire way he was thinking about The Devil's Hand. So incredibly beautiful everything except the murderous streak of course or perhaps because of the murderous streak Arillion couldn't tell anymore.

Arillion almost felt guilty for stealing from her. He was sure she worked three times as hard to be as infamous as she was a woman in the high crime industry. Almost guilty but this was the price he had to pay for his opulent lifestyle.

Continue to Part 2...

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