Page 3 of The Tourist

“I’m so sick of being followed around all the time,” Serena slides her ass up onto the marble counter. “I swear Diego has gotten worse lately. I’ve always had Felix for protection, but seven men following me around is crazy. I feel like I can’t breathe without one of them asking me what I’m doing or where I’m going. I need a break from it all. It’s one of the reasons I want to come to London.”

I dry my hands on a freshly laundered cotton towel.

“And you don’t think Diego will send guards with you to England?” I question.

I’m also feeling the oppression of her security after being able to walk around freely for the past twelve months. It’s impossible to fully relax and enjoy yourself when there’s someone always watching. Despite the tequila shots, I don’t feel able to let my hair down as much as I’d like.

“Probably.” Serena slides off the counter. “Come on. I’ve had enough. Let’s lose the guards and have some fun.” I shake my head, knowing it’s a bad idea. “We won’t leave the casino,” my friend promises. “I want to be safe, but I’d prefer not to be followed around. I want to enjoy a drink without someone staring at me.”

“Okay, but how do you plan on doing it?”

“We’ll head to the main gaming floor and lose the guards there. When I say go, follow me.”

We leave the restroom and find the two guards still looming large outside the door, scaring away anyone who wants to enter.

“Go,” Serena shouts, and we run as fast as we can through the casino and into an empty back corridor. The guards are quickly and easily lost, and when we realize we’ve managed to escape, we collapse into each other’s arms, laughing hysterically.

“That was so much fun,” I chuckle as Serena, in a fit of giggles, collapses into my arms.

“Diego is going to be so pissed at me, but why does he get to have all the fun and I have none.” Serena stands upright, composing herself. “Let’s go finish partying!”

Before we can react, even to scream, we are surrounded by a group of masked men. These aren’t our bodyguards. Their covered faces, shrouded in darkness, look scary. I can only assume their intentions are sinister. Panic grips me as strong arms grab hold of us and drag us out of the rear exit to the casino and into a waiting car.

This wasn't part of our plan.

This wasn't supposed to happen to us.

The screeching of tires resounds in my ears as the car speeds away from the curb, and as we leave the bright lights of the Strip behind and a bag is placed over my head, I know there’s no turning back.

We are at the mercy of forces beyond our control, and I begin to fear what lies ahead.

CHAPTER2

Diego

CHAPTER 2

It’s late at night as I pace back and forth in the dusty warehouse that is used for one thing only—revenge.

My mind is consumed by fury. The air crackles with tension, and I clench my fists so tightly the whites of my knuckles show. The man in front of me, crouching on the floor in the fetal position, has dared to betray me. I will not stand for it.

My day started, like any other, balls deep in a warm pussy, but things have gone rapidly downhill since then. I’ve a great deal of power and influence in the bustling cityscape of Las Vegas, so most people know not to mess with me or my business. That doesn’t stop the occasional idiot, like the one in front of me, from trying to test me.

When I learned of this man’s betrayal, I was fueled by righteous indignation and searched for him with relentless determination. I eventually tracked him down to a seedy brothel and brought him here, to my warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It’s a place where his screams won’t be heard. In addition to his treachery, he brought a rapid halt to my early morning sexual escapades, so he’s going to suffer doubly for that.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it?” I stare him in the eyes, looking for any signs of remorse or even guilt for what he’s done. But there’s none.

He’s lied to me and sold information to a rival of mine, which has cost me money and dented my reputation.

“It wasn’t about getting away with it,” the man responds disparagingly. When he was brought into the warehouse, he was crying like a baby, but he seems to have found some bravado since then. “It was about seeing you lose money.”

He spits in my face.

Without even so much as a growl of disgust at the slight, I wipe the saliva away, breathe in deeply, and then unleash my fury upon the man. Every blow I land on his body is a symphony of retribution for his audacity to show such disrespect to me.

Eventually, I stop. The man is now lying curled up at my feet. The wounds I’ve inflicted on his face are bleeding, and he’s groaning in pain. I stare at him as my mind begins to race with thoughts of the torture that awaits him.

“String him up,” I order, and the other men in the room, loyal bodyguards who’ve been with me for many years, immediately do as I command. “I’m looking forward to trying out this new punishment. It’s guaranteed to get the information we need from this piece of shit.”

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