Page 48 of Devil Mine

He leans forward and crooks a finger at me to come closer. Like a marionette on a string answering to its puppeteer, I do as he commands. I lean forward and tilt my face slightly to the side, keeping my eyes fixed on him.

Thiago’s mouth opens and my own lips part as I wait for whatever he’s about to say, transfixed by him and hanging on to his every word before he’s even spoken. His eyes blaze heatedly on me, victorious and cocky.

“Barcelona.”

The line goes dead, leaving me to stare at my horrified expression reflected back at me on the black screen.

???

Chapter Eighteen

Thiago

Igrin down at my phone, feeling something akin to glee for the first time in a long time. What I’d give to see that panicked expression on her face again, to have a view into what she’s going to do now that I’ve told her I know where she is.

I shouldn’t have said anything. Telling her I know she’s in Barcelona means she’s going to run now.

But I just couldn’t fucking resist.

She looked downright edible in her fluffy sweater and pink barrette. I wanted to see the way her skin flushed when she realized I’d one-upped her, wanted to see her reaction when she found out I was coming for her.

She didn’t disappoint.

Her mistake was taking the video call outside. She’d shifted when I’d talked about how much I wanted to fuck her, accidentally revealing more of the background behind her. It was day, so she was in a similar time zone to me.

Discreetly, I screenshotted the tip of a spire above her right shoulder and the facade of what looked like a building with Gothic architecture to her left, and forwarded the picture on to tech. Julio, who we used mainly to hack into legal documents and to hide our money trail, used image recognition software and satellite imagery to map the photo and triangulate where she was.

It’d taken him less than ten minutes to come back to me with an answer.

Spain.

Better yet, a specific neighborhood in Barcelona.

I didn’t have an exact address but it didn’t matter.

I’d find her once I was there.

???

Four hours later, I jog down the steps of my private jet and set foot on the tarmac at the Barcelona-El Prat Airport. I’m accompanied by Marco, a reluctant Arturo, and five other men. Arturo insisted I bring additional security since we were operating without a plan and going into a country where we had no foothold. I’d have opted to travel with a smaller crew but had acquiesced if it meant he’d stop bitching in my ear.

Plus, the manpower was going to be useful in helping to actually track Tess down.

The second I alight from the plane though, I know she’s gone.

Inexplicably, I can feel it in my bones. Taunting her cost me, but now that I know she’s going to call again and isn’t going completely off the grid, the disquiet in my body lessens.

I can play this cat and mouse game with her if that’s what she wants. Better that she get it out of her system now, because the second I get my hands on her, I’m never letting her out of my sight again.

Three black cars take us to her neighborhood. I stare at it appraisingly. It’s got narrow, twisty, pedestrian-only streets, hanging laundry lines between old-fashioned buildings, and small businesses with owners you can tell were born, raised, and will die there.

It’s quaint and quiet and homey, the opposite of a sweeping mansion or a bustling London high-rise. It makes sense why she’d come here to escape.

I turn towards my men. They stand at attention, expectantly awaiting orders. “Show her photo around the neighborhood. See if people recognize her. This is the type of place where neighbors know each other by name.”

“Yes,jefe.”

They disperse just as my phone starts to ring. Pulling it out of my jacket pocket I see it’s from someone whose calls I always pick up.

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