Page 9 of One Hellion of a Christmas

Still tasting blood, I licked my teeth slowly, refusing to flinch at the sting when the cut on my lips tore a little more. He was going to pay for every fucking drop I bled. Sammy must have rubbed off on me more than I thought, because I couldn’t wait to watch Sparks’s father be slowly tortured to death.

Merry Christmas to me.

“Ah, the notorious Sancho Guerrero. I’m humbled to be graced with your presence.”

His narcissism was easy to play with. He straightened his suit, the gleam of something evil glittering in his eyes. They were brown, but more like mud. Not the sweet, warm, melted chocolate Sparks’s turned when he looked at me.

“Nice to know my son has been talking about me.” His voice was raspy from all those Cuban cigars Sparks said his dad liked to smoke. It grated down my spine, irritating me. Sparks had never told me what his dad had forced him to do, how he’d become the cartel assassin prince. Or how much blood had seeped into his soul with each kill he’d been forced to execute.

Jamie had given me a few details, however, so I was aware of the evil that lurked right below the surface of Sancho’s skin. But even with all the atrocities he had forced on his youngest son, the depraved ways he’d attempted to break him, the motherfucker hadn’t broken Sparks’s soul like he’d hoped.

“No, actually. Sparks rarely speaks of the sick bastard he unfortunately shares DNA with, the one who enjoys torturing little girls for fun. But I have a few friends who gave me the horrific details about the piece of shit standing in front of me, wasting the oxygen in this dank room.” I sniffed a few times, my nose scrunching up. “Maybe get a better cleaner in here to get rid of that piss smell. I know a guy. Want me to give you his number?”

My mouth tilted up in a version of the twisted smile I’d witnessed on Sammy often enough as I continued. “Nah. You’ll be meeting him soon enough. I’m sure he will be all too happy to give you some suggestions. But if he doesn’t, my friend Samara loves a good discussion about eliminating any bodily fluids.”

It was hard to miss the way his throat bobbed at the mention of Sammy’s name. “Samara Vitucci?”

“Well, I call her Sammy. Her last name is Reid now. Do you know her? She’s a close friend of mine. Just like her big brother.”

Another audible gulp caused him to choke on his words. “R-Ryan Vitucci?”

I licked the blood off my teeth. “You know Ryan? He’s kinda intense, don’t you think?”

“Very,” he wheezed.

“But, no, I was talking about the eldest Vitucci. Vaughn.”

His face turned gray then a very sickly shade of green. Tugging at his tie, he took half a step back from me. “You have an unusual group of friends. I thought my son only had limited contact with the Vitucci family.”

“Who would tell you such a lie? Didn’t your creeper tell you that I was with Vaughn’s wife and daughter at the mall when he snatched me?” Itskedhim much like the asshole had earlier when he’d taken me. “Honestly, do you have to be a total idiot to be a criminal? Is there an IQ section on the job application? Or is it just those who work for the Guerrero family? Well, I mean, with the exception of Sparks.”

Sancho started wheezing. “Miguel failed to mention that you were close to the Vitucci family.”

I nodded my understanding. “An easy mistake. I think it’s a difficult conclusion to come to, what with me being the godmother of Vaughn’s daughter. I’m sure he won’t betooupset that you took me with his wife and child so close by at the time I was snatched. But he may not be so understanding when I tell him how your goon threatened both my best friend and my goddaughter.”

Sweat was rapidly soaking through his dress shirt, that green tinge to his skin growing more noticeable in the harsh overhead light. Flicking my gaze over him from head to toe, I determined that both Sparks and his older brother Miguel—whom I’d only seen once and from a distance at a cartel warehouse fight—looked very little like their father. All those good looks had to have come from their mother.

Thinking of Miguel, who was an older version of Sparks, I couldn’t help the sinister smile that teased my lips. Sparks was the better brother in every way. Looks. Personality. His generous, kind heart.

But something was definitely off about Miguel not filling in his daddy dearest on the smaller—gigantic—details. Like how Samara was my close friend. Or that the two most important people in Vaughn’s life were everything to me. Miguel definitely hadn’t informed his dad that Abi and Amala had been with me when I was taken.

I could imagine the rage on Sammy’s and Vaughn’s faces when they found out what had happened at the mall. It was my fault, too. I should have been more careful. Taken one of my men with me. Yet another stupid decision, but this one had put two of the most precious people in my life in imminent danger.

If Vaughn decided to kill me, I’d accept that. If Sammy wanted to torture me and slowly dismember me while I was still awake, feeling every slice, every grate of the serrated blade of the saw she used to detach her victims’ limbs from their bodies, I wouldn’t beg for mercy. I deserved whatever pain they would want to inflict upon me for letting those motherfuckers get so close to Abi and Amala.

Settling a little more comfortably, one leg stretched out in front of me while I hooked my other foot around one of the chair’s legs, I gave him the cocky smile that drove my mom crazy. She and Kin always said that was the look that scared them the most. It meant bail money was needed.

I definitely would have preferred jail to this shit any day of the week.

“So, Nacho, didn’t McGraw tell you all about me? I mean, you would expect your second-in-command, your own son, flesh of your flesh, to keep it real.” Irritation flickered across his face at my wrong-naming him and his eldest son. I had a black belt in annoying people. I kept my skills fresh by using them on Vaughn at least once a week. “Seems like Maguire didn’t confide in his favoritest daddy in the whole wide world that the girl he wanted you to have snatched out of a crowded mall far out of PCC territory was also an ally of the Vituccis.”

“Miguel may have forgotten to mention that small, pertinent detail,” he gritted out.

My cocky grin grew, and I could almost imagine my mom’s groan. “Yeah? That seems totally sus if you ask me, Gancho. I’m in a relationship with your youngest son.”

All that green color drained until he looked like a ghost beneath his tan. Where the fuck had this idiot been hiding if he didn’t know I was living with all three of my rockers? Hadn’t he been the one stalking me? We were in a committed, lifelong relationship. The only way any of those three was getting rid of me was through death. And if they even thought about trying to leave this world without me, they were going to be in for one hell of a surprise.

Although, if my three men came to rescue me and got themselves killed by Broncho, the sweat-soaked slimeball in front of me was going to get his own psychotic stalker. Because I planned on making his eternal stay in hell as chaotic as fucking possible.

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