Page 9 of Falling for the Enemy

“As I said, Stefano made a fatal mistake by sending you here.” I drop my arm and re-holster my Beretta before gesturing to Benito, then Christian, signaling for them to do the same. “And you’re the first of many who will pay the price.”

Angelo pales further, the sight of the engraved butterfly knife Benito thrusts in my direction causing his dry lips to tremble. “Alejandro… don’t.” He shakes his head wildly, his back flattening against the chair. “I’ll do whatever you want. Give you whatever information you need. You want money? Property? I’ve got both. We can negotiate. But please don’t...”

The flash of a knife and the promise of pain. That’s all it’s taken for him to turn into a rat. His cowardice, which I plan to take full advantage of, doesn’t surprise me.

But it does disgust me.

“No gracias, Jefe,” I reply, turning down his offer while mimicking his mocking tone from before. “I have other plans.” I flip open the knife, the click-clack sound it makes as the blade is exposed resounding through the otherwise silent room. “And they start with me carving your skin free of your bone, one sweaty inch at a time.”

Angelo’s face contorts, the blinding fear I know possesses him twisting his panic-stricken features. “P-Please,” he stutters, the terror overtaking him undoubtedly constricting his throat like an invisible noose. “I—”

I slam my fist into his jaw, cracking it.

“You threatened the life of my sister.” My chest expands on a deep breath. “And for that, I’m going to make you suffer.”

I press the tip of the knife’s blade to his rotund gut as Benito jerks his arms behind the chair, binding his wrists with a zip tie he’s just pulled from his pocket.

“I hope you’re square with whatever God you worship, DeMeo, because once I’m finished hurting you, you’ll be meeting him face-to-face.”

Darkness coils around my heart.

Its embrace is both familiar and comforting.

“But for now...” I revel in the stark fear that is unquestionably devouring what remains of the upper hand Angelo was sure he had when he walked into the room. “You get to spend some time with the devil before you.” I smile cruelly. “Welcome to Hell, Angelo.”

I sink the knife into his gut, giving him the first of many wounds he’ll receive in the hours to come.

And like Melendez, he screams.

THREE

Ari

The Atlantic’s waters are tranquil tonight.

Dark waves gently lap against the concrete dock where I stand beneath the rising moon’s silver light, fighting to keep my eyes from closing in bliss as the salt-kissed summer breeze rolling off the ocean caresses my sweat-dampened skin.

Romantically serene, the night would be one of pure beauty if it weren’t for the bound and beaten man Casper is forcing to kneel before me. Battered face streaked with blood, both fresh and dried, the sight of him shatters the peaceful aura surrounding me.

The transgression is one he’ll pay for.

Tenfold.

Despite anger and disgust simmering within my veins, I school my features, ensuring my face remains passive. Completely devoid of all emotion. I refuse to allow the enemy, which is exactly what this man is, a window into my thoughts.

Contrarily, his secrets will soon be mine.

Even if I must extract them with force.

Agitated, even if my neutral expression doesn’t show it, I cluck my tongue against the roof of my mouth and wag my index finger from side to side, my red-soled heels clicking against the damp cement as I take two steps forward.

“You’ve been a bad boy, darling.”

Inches from the man, I stoop low, bringing us face-to-face. Ignoring the Spanish curses he’s busy hurling at me as if they are daggers capable of saving him from the demise he ensured would become his the moment he foolishly stepped inside my territory, I gingerly touch his split cheek.

“And you’ll bleed for it,” I whisper, impressed when he doesn’t flinch or jerk away from my touch. “More so than you already have.”

His bare chest heaves, the remnants of his ruined shirt hanging at his sides. Putrid-smelling sweat seeps from his skin when I trace a ruby-tipped nail over the crown-wearing skull inked beneath his bruised throat.

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