Page 71 of Darkest Sin

“On it.”

I hear as he pulls away, and just as I start circling the apartment again, I hear someone in the hallway outside the apartment. “What the fuck was that? You were supposed to take her and leave. Now there’s fucking dead bodies and witnesses. The cops are going to be crawling all over this.”

There’s silence for a moment, telling me he’s on the phone as opposed to having someone with him. It’s not a voice I recognize, but there could only be a small handful of people it could belong to. “I don’t give a fuck. I did what you asked, and you got the fucking bitch. Why does it matter how it happened? Just pay me what you owe me.”

Fuck. That could mean a million different things, but it confirms what I already know to be true. Chiara’s been taken.

The storm begins brewing inside of me, and I can’t wait to bring it down on the fucker who thought they could touch what’s mine. I fucking meant it when I said she was my wife. I know there’s no signature on a dotted line, but the moment I claimed her as my own, it felt right.

Fuck. If I’m too late . . .

Hearing the person out in the hallway come closer, I move around the kitchen, keeping out of sight from the door. He strides right in, completely unaware of the hurricane he’s about to face.

I recognize him from the file Sergiu gave me on Chiara at the beginning. It’s her ex, Derek Monroe, and from what I’ve been able to learn of him, he’s nothing much. Just a misguided loser who uses the people around him for a step up. And clearly, that’s exactly what he’s done to Chiara. He gave her up for a payday, and that’s not something I can possibly look past.

Moving out through the other end of the kitchen, I place myself between Derek and his only escape before clearing my throat.

He yelps before whipping around with wide eyes, his hands up in a fighter’s stance that only makes him look weak. I don’t fight with my fists, not when I can avoid it. I prefer bullets.

“Where is Chiara?” I ask, not willing to waste time dancing around the topic.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The one man you don’t want to cross. Now, tell me where she is.”

Derek scoffs and goes to step around me. “Yeah, get fucked, bro. I’m not telling you shit.”

As he steps past me, I grab the front of his shirt and throw him halfway across the apartment, watching as he tumbles back against the wall and falls to his ass. I stride toward him, not missing a beat as I draw my gun and point it directly between his eyes, my fingers twitching to pull the trigger. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

His eyes widen in fear, and I watch as the patch of denim over his dick begins to darken. I let out a heavy sigh. Why is it so hard for men to control their bladder in the face of fear? It truly isn’t that hard. When I was younger and immature, I used to find it entertaining, now I only find it humiliating.

“Woah. Woah,” he rushes out, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know. Just put the gun away.”

“No. Talk.”

He visibly swallows as his eyes remain locked on the gun, acting as though he’s never seen one in his life. “I . . . I don’t know what to tell you, man. This asshole called me up and said he knew what I did, and if I helped him do it again, he’d pay me a hundred grand.”

I tilt my head just a fraction, looking like the psychopath many claim me to be. “And what exactly is it that you did?”

“I . . . fuck man. Please.”

I shoot and the bullet penetrates straight through the center of his knee. Derek screams in agony, but I don’t have time for his bullshit. I need answers, and I need them now. “Speak,” I order like he’s a fucking animal.

“I sold her to Ezekiel Lopez after the bitch dumped me. He’s—”

“I know who he is,” I roar as my patience wears thin.

“The deal was supposed to be that she’d be gone. Some asshole would purchase her, and she’d never come back here, but then she did. She acted like nothing even happened, and the bitch still didn’t give me the time of day.”

Crouching down, I press the gun right to the center of his forehead. “What did you do?”

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing, but then . . . How was I supposed to say no to a hundred grand?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” I roar. “WHERE IS CHIARA?”

He jumps at my tone but finally gives me the answers I need. “I . . . I don’t know. That guy and his fucking bitch of a wife said they were taking her back to Ezekiel, but once they left here, I was done. How the fuck am I supposed to know if that’s where they actually took her? But with any luck, she’ll be gone by the end of the night.”

My frustration gets the best of me, and as I stand from my crouch, Derek lets out a heavy sigh as though he just escaped death, but I am not a merciful man, and despite only playing a small role in this, it was enough to ensure the end of his life.

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