Page 48 of Queen's Move

“You fucking puta cunt!” he yelled, glaring up at her. “Do your worst, I give you nothing.”

“Nothing?” she said conversationally. “That’s really too bad. I was hoping you might tell us exactly what it takes to become Garza’s second.” A flash of surprise crossed his features, quickly smothered, but not before both she and Mateo caught it. “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? You do Garza’s bidding and he sets you up in the position you always wanted here, with Sotza. But that dream went further out of reach with my arrival didn’t it? I owned Miami, I negotiated alliances. Sotza doesn’t need any more in his inner circle now that I’ve arrived. What did Garza want, eh Johnny? He wanted me separated from Sotza, that was clear. We all know Sotza was to be the main victim. But what about me, was I to die as well?”

“Both,” he snarled. “And good riddance. You will weaken his hold on this country, on his trade. And he is allowing you to do this to him. He deserves to go as much as you do. Venezuela needs new leadership.”

“Your leadership?” she asked smoothly.

“Yes!”

“And who are you to think you deserve such an elevated position?” she said coldly stepping away from him. “You are nothing. Garza isn’t stupid. He would have killed you the moment he took over. He doesn’t like treasonous assholes any better than we do.”

John spewed his hatred and anger at them, giving them everything he had to give. Vee didn’t need to ask more questions. Sotza watched the proceedings calmly for several minutes, then he asked Vee, raising his voice above John’s angry outbursts, “Are you done?”

She nodded and waved her hand toward their captive, giving her husband permission to go to work. A light flared in Sotza’s eyes. Happiness. She shivered and took a few more steps back. Had she done enough? Could she gracefully exit the room without incurring her husband’s wrath? She glanced toward the door and then caught Mateo’s eye. He shook his head slightly, subtly telling her that she must remain.

Sotza turned his back to the room and took his jacket off. She watched the play of muscles beneath his shirt as he moved, rolling first one sleeve up his strong, corded arm, and then the other. When this was done, he opened a drawer in the desk tucked into the corner. He pulled a knife from the depths, unsheathed it and held it up to the light so he could look it over. Then he turned.

Vee nearly cried out at the look on his face. It was ecstasy. Pure and complete sadistic ecstasy. He was enjoying himself, looking forward to what he was about to do. The look of death that she’d learned to associate with men like him had disappeared, leaving in its place a warped pleasure. Her gut clenched and nausea gripped her. She knew she had to leave before she disgraced herself. Maybe she could’ve stayed if his face had stayed emotionless, if she could imagine that he regretted what he was about to do. But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. He would enjoy every second of the blood he spilled.

Before she could run from the room, he attacked, so fast that she stumbled back a few steps as though he were coming after her. He gripped john’s chin in one hand, yanked his tongue from between his lips with the other and sliced it off. Blood spilled down John’s chin and chest like a gory waterfall. His screams stopped abruptly and only a watery garbled sound remained. Vee had to bite her lips to keep from crying out. Dizziness washed over her. She locked her knees so she would remain standing.

“This is how I usually begin,” Sotza explained, lifting his eyes to hers. They were bright, manic, like he had a fever. “The screaming is distracting. I prefer music.”

Vee felt like she was swimming, like she was watching him through water or glass. Almost slow motion as he turned to the table he’d pulled the knife from, dropped John’s severed tongue on top and tapped a button on a black box. Music filled the room. Some kind of classical music. Vee didn’t know what it was. She didn’t listen to classical music. She usually preferred silence so she could hear her thoughts.

Sotza stepped back to John, standing at his side, staring down, his face a terrifying mask. “You tasered my wife, John. Look at her.” He gripped John by the back of the head and forced his face up toward Vee. “She is small, she is delicate. She should never be harmed, let alone hit with 100,000 volts. That’s about how much it was, right John? You shot her twice with a weapon I provided in case you needed to subdue someone without killing them. Except you messed up, John. You shot my beautiful wife then you handed her over to my enemy. Bad. Fucking. Move. John.”

Vee closed her eyes as Sotza attacked the man again, his knife flashing. She didn’t want to know what was happening, but from the horrific sounds coming from john she suspected it was awful. When she opened her eyes again she saw blood trickling down razor thin cuts across his cheeks, upper lip and chin. Sotza was slicing him open one piece at a time. Her gaze strayed to the blood making a path down the side of John’s head then shifted to the floor where she saw a strip of flesh she suspected was an ear. Her stomach lurched and she didn’t have time to close her eyes again when Sotza bent behind John. She heard something hit the floor, saw the agony twisting John’s face, suspected he’d just lost a finger or two.

This was The Butcher. The man she never wanted to meet, the man she’d married. Gone to bed with. Hoped for a future with. It was like watching the devil dance with his prey. Macabre, graceful, twisted. She couldn’t watch but she wouldn’t turn away either. She was caught, helpless in his spell.

“You’ve seen me do this before,” Sotza said quietly from behind his victim, leaning over to speak in John’s good ear. “You know exactly how long this can go on for. You know how good I am at keeping my prisoners alive, squeezing out every last drop of pain. You know this is my favourite part, don’t you John?”

He rounded the chair to stand in front of John, staring down at him. He bent to one knee, lifted the hem of John’s pant leg and made a quick slice. John lurched in the chair, his face twisting harder than she’d seen yet.

“Achilles tendon,” Sotza said. She didn’t know who he was talking to. He was still bent in front of John. “Supposed to be one of the most painful cuts a person can experience. A particular favourite of mine.” He sliced through the other one and stood, staring down at John as he writhed and screamed as best he could without a tongue.

Vee couldn’t see Sotza’s face from where they were standing, but she knew exactly what she would see. The maniacal ecstasy. The gratification he was receiving from this gruesome display.

“Stop,” she whispered, her voice shaky. She didn’t think he would hear her, but then he looked over at her, a frown marring the perfection of his happiness. “Just stop,” she said in a stronger voice. “You’ve played l-long enough. Put him down, Sotza. Right now.”

She wasn’t asking. She was demanding. Drawing her line in the sand and telling him where she wasn’t willing to go with him. This was it, the moment she feared would come all too fast. Their reckoning as a couple. Would he step back over the line toward her? Salvage the few good moments she’d managed to find in their war. Or would he forcibly drag her over to his side, be like every other man in her life, prove his dominance, his superior strength over her.

“Leave.” His voice was so cold, so devoid of any hint of affection that Vee knew she was in trouble. Knew she’d gone too far. “Now. Wait for me up at the house.”

“You leave with me,” she whispered pleadingly, refusing to back down.

“Get out!” he roared, shouting at her for the first time. She was so shocked it took her a few seconds to register the depth of his anger.

She lifted her chin and made to walk past him, but before she reached the door she spun around. She was between Sotza and Mateo. Neither man had time to react as she lifted Mateo’s gun and emptied it into John. One bullet to the head, one to the heart, three in his torso. His head flew back, his body shuddered with each impact and then he went limp. Dead.

Vee handed the gun to Mateo who was quick to take it from her. She turned back to Sotza, facing what she knew could be her execution.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Vee paced the bedroom, trying everything she could to get her mind off those horrifying images. She’d killed before. Twice to be exact… well three times now. But the other times had been in self-defence, mostly. Tony didn’t count, she was ending her marriage, not conducting business. Every time she’d had to kill she’d used a gun. She hadn’t tortured anyone… mostly. Hadn’t taken pleasure in slicing off little pieces of them. Not the way Sotza had. He’d enjoyed every moment of his victim’s pain.

She shuddered in disgust, reliving the bloody scene. She would never forget the image, it was burned into her memory. After she killed John, Sotza sent her back up to the house with one of his men, instructing him to lock Vee in the bedroom. She’d gone quietly. What else could she do? She wasn’t the type to fight a losing battle. And she had felt the anger rolling off Sotza, knew he probably sent her away so he wouldn’t do something irreparable to her.

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