Page 85 of Luka

He shakes his head. If he’s frazzled by my raised voice, he doesn’t show it. “Answer me first.”

“Fuckyou.”

“Was it tight?” Vitaly asks, his fingers drumming the arm of his chair. “Their culture isn’t unlike ours. Andshewas a princess. She must’ve been a virgin.”

My eyes widen and fists clench. Vitaly just lifts his eyebrows. “Well? Was it?”

I don’t think about my next actions. I just see red as I jump across his desk, my hands aiming for his neck as I growl out my rage. I fall on top of Vitaly, but before I can get a grip on his neck, he throws me to the ground and pulls me into a headlock.

I reach behind me, viciously searching for a piece of him to attack, but as seconds pass, the lack of oxygen steals my intensity.

“Not on your best day, kid,” Vitaly says in my ear before finally letting go.

I cough and flip to glare at him, my hand to my throat. He crouches in front of me, his eyes void of the mockery I expect.

“Do you love her?” he asks.

After a few seconds of hesitation, I nod.

“Do you feel like a changed man because of her?”

I look away, my initial thoughtno. The more I consider it, the more I come to the same conclusion.

I’m not a good man. Not then and not now. I don’t even feel like a different man, only one who sees things differently.

Finally, I shake my head.

Vitaly is quiet for several moments before giving a hum of acceptance. He stands and extends his hand. “Then I guess you just showed me the person youalwayswere. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to know him more… Lucky for me, murder has a way of bringing people together.”

I eye his hand with my brow furrowed.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Lucia might not have much time.”

I take his hand and let him help me up then follow him toward the door while my head spins. “I really need to call?—”

“We’ll do it from the car.”

27

LUCIA

The Mendoza residence isn’t quite what I expect.

My arms wrap around myself even though I’m sweating as I’m led over the lush green up to the impressive but not overly so home of my enemy. The property sits on what must be a private golf course. There are plenty of guards around the house, but I didn’t spot any by the gate or roaming the outskirt of the property. This place isn’t quite a fortress or even a mansion for that matter.

But we aren’t in Mexico. We’re in Chicago. This can’t be where the boss lives.

Mario shoves me forward when I don’t move quickly enough for him, making me almost stumble to the patio, but I regain my footing and pick up the pace. He leads me inside to a sitting room where the soft strings of a harp play a soothing tune, contrasting sharply with the deadly energy in the air.

I think the music must be coming from a speaker, but as we enter, I catch the harp player in the corner, the eyes closed lost in their art.

And then I see the severed head on the drink cart.

My stomach revolts, and my heels dig into the carpet as I stare into the lifeless eyes of a young woman with flowing hairjust like mine. The resemblance is striking.Toostriking. Like there’s no way they killed her for any other reason than to give me a preview of what’s to come.

“Walk,” Mario commands, his voice so harsh I can no longer imagine him as the kind, caring man who tricked my heart. I walk farther into the room and sit on a sofa when prompted. Mario and another man who brought me continue to stand.

Minutes must pass while my nose picks up the scent of decaying flesh. That’s what I was sensing in here before. I could smell it even before I knew what it was.

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