Page 43 of The Wages of Sin

“There’s no mistake,” I said, calmly shaking my head. I took a step away from the door. “You’re Carlo Costa…and I am the Angel of Death.”

The color drained from his face. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, it is,” I assured him. “Do you know why?”

He skittered away from me, backing himself into a corner. “No.”

“Last week, you attacked a woman in your home.” Ice-cold rage filled my veins. My hands curled into fists so tight that fingernails bit into my palms. With every step, every word, my fury grew. “You hurt her. Bruised her. Threatened to violate and kill her.”

“Wait.” His brows pulled together in confusion. “You’re telling me this about that bitch maid? Who the fuck cares about her?”

In the span of a heartbeat, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my hand around his throat.

“I care,” I snarled in his face as he impotently clawed at my forearm.

It would be so easy to end him right then and there. I could feel his pulse frantically pounding against my palm, hear him wheezing in gasp after useless gasp of air. All I had to do was squeeze, and I could watch the light in his eyes go out.

But that wouldn’t be justice for what he’d done to Kiera.

“I didn’t know,” he cried, already blubbering like a baby. “If I had any idea that you were the client Rose said she was fucking, I never would have touched her. I swear.”

“Rose?” I cocked my head to the side. “The cleaner?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who told me the maid was a whore,” he blurted. “She’s the one to blame. Not me.”

Just like every other woman-beater I’d ever come across, Carlo was proving himself to be a total coward when it came to dealing with someone his own size.

“She’s not a whore. Not that it matters. It’s not okay to hit them either.”

“Oh God.” Tears started welling in Carlo’s eyes. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He screamed. “Help! I’m in here with a maniac! Someone fucking help me!”

“Go ahead,” I invited him. “Scream as loud and as long as you like. That’s one of the best things about La Sera—all these private rooms are completely soundproof.”

I let his pathetic yelps echo around the room for a couple more seconds before picking him up by the throat and tossing him down on the couch. After a couple of ragged gasps, he started howling again.

“Please don’t do this,” he begged. “I have money—lots of it. I’ll give you everything. Just let me live.”

“I’m not interested in your money,” I told him plainly.

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to pay for what you did to Kiera.” I pulled out the vial and started filling the syringe.

“Somebody help me,” he shouted one last time before changing tactics. Tears gone now, the bastard looked up at me with pure rage burning bright in his eyes. “You know my cousin is the head of the Costa organization. You murder me, and he’ll kill you. The whole fucking family will hunt you down. They’ll go to war with D’Angelos over this.”

“No, they won’t,” I said with confidence. “Because when they find your body, no one is going to suspect murder. The only thing they’re going to see is a tragic accident.”

“Fuck this.” Shooting up from the couch, Carlo bolted for the door.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

I grabbed onto his wrist after a single step and held him tight. Then, I sunk the needle deep into his forearm and pushed the plunger down.

He cried out…then stumbled…then crumpled at my feet.

---