Page 114 of A Taste like Sin
“Miss?” Another officer appears by my side. “Chief Harrison requests that you stay close by. We’ll
be positioned just outside if you need anything. Just ask.”
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile. The moment I slip inside the sitting room, my shoulders slump.
Ice sinks into my spine, solidifying it as an uneasy dread builds in my belly. Paranoia, I tell myself
over and over. Reckless paranoia.
Or perhaps, amid all his lies, Damien Villa uttered one semblance of the truth:Trust your emotions.
IT’S NEARLY THE EVENING WHEN ANOTHER OFFICER POKES HIS HEAD THROUGH THE DOORWAY OF THE
sitting room. “Good evening, ma’am. Can I get you anything?”
The question sounds harmless enough on its face. If only the man weren’t wearing a uniform
obviously a size too big. A Spanish accent colors his words as well—not particularly unusual for the
city PD—but his eyes convey anything but the stern professionalism of Harrison’s men. They shift,
darting pointedly to the doorway.
“Is everything all right?” Diane murmurs sleepily, stirring beside me.
“Yes. Go back to sleep.” I reassuringly run my finger along her back before standing, creeping toward
the doorway for reasons I can’t explain. Has life with Damien Villa corrupted me so thoroughly that I
see deception and subterfuge no matter where I go? I’m almost convinced, until the officer leans in the
moment I draw close enough.
“Vending machines are that way,” he tells me, nodding down the length of the hall. This time of night,
fewer officers linger, positioned at random intervals—but their mere presence reinforces Harrison’s
subtle boast. My “safety” is in his hands.
“Ms. Thorne?” The officer indicates in his chosen direction more strongly, gesturing with a wave.
I follow warily. When I reach the curve in the corridor, I don’t find a vending machine. Just a hand
reaching from nowhere to clench my arm and drag me into a vacant room.
“Easy,” someone murmurs near my ear, their accent familiar. “Mr. Villa sent me. I’m a neutral party,
merely here to see if you are all right.”
“Neutral?” I whisper, turning to face the hulking figure behind me.
Julio. He’s wearing his typical dark, nondescript suit and standing near the doorway of this empty
hospital room.
Seeing him brings it all back like a punch to the gut.
“Do you know what he did to me?” Tears burn my eyes, forcing me to blink to keep them at bay.
