“Yes, you weren’t supposed to get hurt. The bag of shit who did that is dead.” He points to the bandage.
“Thank you.”
I only say it to stroke his ego. I cross my arms as though I’ll lift the shirt over my head. Instead, my left hand grabs my gun. I aim and shoot him in the belly. He looks down as he instinctively covers the wound before looking up at me.
His expression—the definition of horror.
I lunge, grab his knife, and slash it from his inner left collarbone to his armpit. Then, I twist my wrist, dragging it across his chest to his nipple, and stab at his sternum. Between the gunshot and slashing, blood sprays across me, and I know I look like the movie character Carrie.
“Patrick, you know none of these wounds’ll kill you quickly. I could still keep you alive if you give me what I want to know.”
“You know I don’t fear death.”
I lift the blade to the bridge of his nose, then drag the flat side of it along his left nostril before repeating it on the right side.
“No, you don’t fear death, but you fear your looks fading. You could die handsome, or I can ensure you’re a grotesque remnant of what you once were. Then I’ll take a photo and send it to your parents, so the last thing they remember of you is the hideous monster I made you.”
I rest the tip of the blade on his lower lip. I can and will do worse if he refuses to cooperate. His body trembles, and he sinks to his knees, no longer able to support his own weight. When he topples forward, I pluck his gun from the holster at his lower back. I kick both ankles to check for a spare gun. He has none. I dig my foot underneath his shoulder and lift before forcing him onto his back.
“You wanted the man I fell in love with as collateral damage for me not wanting you. All you did was test and prove it’s him and me against the world. Can you say any of this bullshit was worth it? Give me the information I need, and I’ll make your death painless. Refuse me, and I’ll have Alejandro fuck me right in front of you. I’ll put a fucking zip tie around your balls and make you jack off but not come.”
“And you want to call me a sick fuck, Vittoria?”
“I’m pissed you want to kill me, but that doesn’t even come close to the pure loathing I have for you for targeting Alejandro. That is what my vengeance is for.”
Chapter Thirty
Alejandro
I emerge from the bush behind which I’ve hidden for the last five minutes. I settled myself there when I spotted Patrick approaching the gazebo. I creep forward, ensuring I’m at an angle where neither Vita nor Patrick can see me.
Half of me is proud of Vita’s interrogation tactics. The other half of me wants to haul her over my shoulder and spank her ass all the way to the car, then take us straight back to our condo where I can spank her some more.
As I listen to Patrick ramble about his bizarre obsession, it’s hard to believe he could be so fucked-up. But if any woman could drive a person to distraction—to the point of believing that if they can’t have her, then nobody can—it would be Vita.
I force myself to remain silent and out of the way as the conversation progresses. There are so many times I want to intervene. However, I know that would destroy the progress Vita’s making. I hate the danger she’s in, even if I’m aware it’s nothing new to her. Just because she can handle herself in situations like this doesn’t mean I want her to.
I fully recognize the hypocrisy of that, considering what I do for my family. I can’t imagine her as a mercenary once this is over. But I must accept she may want to continue this occupation. I hope she won’t, since what she does is a choice, as opposed to the life I have no choice but to live.
“What do you have against Alejandro?”
“You want him.”
It shocks the shit out of me as Vita draws the information from Patrick, and we learn who’s actually after me. I reach into my pocket and withdraw my phone, opening the group text that all the men in my family are on.
ME
Can you believe this shit?
While all the men here are wearing earpieces that are recording and transmitting toTíoEnrique,TíoLuis, andPapá, none of us can speak. We must rely on text to communicate.
JAVIER
Ese cabrón está realmente loco
That fucker really is crazy.
PABLO
