Page 42 of Strictly Forbidden

“I saved his skin.”

“No, you killed his son. It’s funny how memories can change over the years, especially when strong and very viable solutions are offered.”

When I’d come into Saldono’s operation, I’d been green as they came. All I’d had was uncontrollable rage and the urge to slice and dice. Saldono had assigned Domingo to be my mentor. His brutal teachings on the ways of crime syndicates had been painful but necessary. I’d even considered him a friend at one point. But I’d seen the writing on the wall, which was what had prompted me to try to talk to Saldono the day of his son’s murder.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

Plus, I’d trusted the wrong people. After that, I’d learned never to trust again.

“Fuck you, asshole. Saldono will learn the truth.”

All I needed to do was to get to my knife. The idiots had made a mistake not frisking me. They obviously had forgotten I used to always carry at least two at all times. Sometimes the up close and personal kills were the best.

I did love my blood and gore.

“Did you really think you were going to be allowed to live? You were just lucky you weren’t killed in prison.”

“I should have known you were behind the attempts inside the prison. What a shame you sent in pussies.”

“Well, you’re right about that, which is why I changed my decision on what to do with you. Do you remember learning that a single weakness could be a man’s downfall?” His laugh was as evil as the man as he held up a single finger in front of his face. In the fireplace light, his eyes appeared pitch black just like his cold, dead soul.

“You can have the whiskey. Call it a gift.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, no, my friend. You see, I’ve had men watching you since the day you got out of prison.”

While I didn’t react, every muscle tensed. “Yeah, so what?”

“So, it would seem you’ve developed a little crush on a woman already. You work fast. Then again, she is the woman who has your dog.”

Over the years I’d learned patience because it had worked to my benefit and that of the people I’d gone to work for. I’d needed the lesson in keeping my fucking cool since all I’d wanted to do was to burn down the world after my horrific loss.

Fortunately, I’d realized quickly that the violence and hatred would never bring them back. I’d become a cold and calculated killer still capable of doing vile things but much better at my job.

But this time, this moment, the old me resurfaced, the rush of adrenaline was unlike any other time in my life.

It was as if I had superhuman power. I was certain my memory wouldn’t serve me well when I looked back on the carnage I’d created.

None of that mattered as I took another deep breath, using the few seconds Domingo truly believed he’d gotten one over on me, laughing like a banshee. Without any issue, I rose to my feet, tossing the two men holding me back by several feet as if they were nothing but ragdolls.

The knife was suddenly in my hand and I lunged at the closest asshole, easily slicing through his carotid artery. The second I kicked hard with my boot, sending him flying across the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Domingo finally reacting, reaching for his weapon. I dropped and rolled toward my handgun, yanking it into my hands as I rolled onto my back, firing off three shots in a row.

Now there was one.

Without hesitation, I rolled again just as Domingo managed to get off a shot. Shit exploded off my coffee table, glass shards from my mother’s beautiful bowl she’d sent me flying everywhere. The fucker would pay for that one.

Domingo was close to my size, enough so when we’d sparred all those years ago, we’d been equally matched. While I’d bulked up in prison, it would seem he’d allowed himself to live more of the good life including excesses. The man had grown soft.

That allowed me to kick him hard in the gut, sending him flying. Sadly, I’d underestimated his marksman skills, which before had been subpar at best. He fired a shot and if I hadn’t shifted just by a few inches, he would have caught me in the heart. As it was, anguish tore through me from the grazing on my shoulder. While only a flesh wound, the pain and trajectory was just enough I was thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of me.

Through the fog that formed across my eyes, I was able to see Domingo in silhouette as he recovered, heading right for me to take another shot.

I managed to lift my weapon, but my fucking arm was shaking because of the injury. I fired off two, one hitting the fuck definitely, the other going wide. He was down yet still breathing. I fought with the anguish to crawl toward him but to the man’s credit, he struggled to his feet first. Instead of issuing a killing shot, he fled out the door, leaving it wide open.

Using every ounce of strength I had, I lumbered toward the door, able to make it outside. It was too late, the sound of tires crunching down on the gravel driveway filtering into my ears.

I took several scattered breaths before collapsing onto the deck.

This changed everything.

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