Page 24 of Devil Mine

“And who am I?”

“A criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, take your pick.”

He’s going to put a bullet between my eyes before I blink next if I don’t shut my mouth.

I find that I can’t seem to control myself anyway.

A malevolent twinkle shines in his eye and he takes a step towards me. It takes everything in me to stand my ground and not stumble backwards.

“All of the above,” he agrees. “Say my name.”

“Thiago.”

It just slips out, more breathless than I’d have liked. A pleased hum rumbles up his chest and hits me right between my legs. This is dangerous territory for me, probably more dangerous than the gun still clutched in his hand.

“I saw what you did to my father.” I mention it to show him that I’m not scared, that he can’t intimidate me. Maybe he won’t kill me if he realizes I didn’t snitch last time I witnessed him assault someone. “I was there that day, standing right outside his office.”

He cocks his head to the side and smiles.

He fuckingsmiles.

“Really? And you didn’t intervene?”

I shrug. “I don’t want to die.”

His smile stretches into an outright grin now, revealing rows of pearly white teeth. “Fair enough.”

His answer leadens my heart. He doesn’t contradict me, doesn’t tell me he’s not going to kill me. I guess I really have nothing left to lose.

Thiago pushes the candy around his mouth as he eyes me thoughtfully. “Is there a reason you keep stumbling upon conversations that will get you killed?”

Is he getting off on this, scaring me to death before he actually kills me? Didn’t his Mum teach him it’s bad manners to play with your food before you eat it?

“A lifetime of bad luck?” I reply pluckily.

Thiago laughs in response, the ink on his face creasing into the corner of his eye.

“Your luck doesn’t seem to be improving.”

The tattoo smooths back out when he catches me staring at him.

“Why do you have that teardrop on your cheek?”

I’ve surprised him with my question, I can tell that much. He looks pleased with me, happy to give me an answer even.

“It’s a death I owe. Blood to be spilled.”

“For who?”

“For a man who took someone I loved from me.”

Ah, yes. Adriana.

Anger festers in my belly. Why would he look at me the way he did, the way he is even now, if he’s hellbent on getting revenge for another woman? And why, in the context of what I just witnessed, do I fuckingcare?

He waves his hand casually around the room.

“You’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” he notes.

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