Page 62 of Twisted Revelations

“You can’t let him hurt my girl, Oliver,” Laura pleaded, and the man contemplated her words, proving her potent charm.

“Let me have the girl, Eddie. You can do what you want with him,” Oliver proposed, glaring at me like I was trash.

“Hell, no!” Eduardo replied, pointing at Beverly.

“If you think I’m going to give this up, you’re loco.” His gaze fanned down Beverly’s body. If we didn’t do something quickly, things would go from bad to worse.

Laura left Oliver and stepped within Beverly’s personal space, stirring the tension in the room. The only reason she was getting away with that mouth and moving around in a room full of killers was because she was a sexy woman in a dress that had the ability to mess with a man’s head.

However sexy Laura was, hands still managed to make their way to hips to finger their weapons. Eduardo watched Laura’s approach with curiosity, not perceiving her as a real threat.

“Where the hell are you going?” He questioned her, his stern gaze blazing a trail down her petite frame.

She pointed a hand across her shoulder. “He may be afraid to stand up to you, but I’m not going to let you take my girlfriend and do ungodly things that only I’m supposed to do to her.”

A few chuckles sounded and loosened the tightness of the suffocating tension in the room. The gun in my side wavered when the man laughed.

Standing behind Beverly, Eduardo smiled while eyeing Laura with more interest as his lust flared to life.

“How about I take you both?” he proposed to Laura. “Since you’re so tough, I’ll show you what I do to tough lesbian girls.”

Before another word was uttered, Laura strutted up to Beverly, inched up on her toes, and placed her lips against hers. The gun-wielding men were as shocked as I was, watching them kiss.

The smile on the men’s faces confirmed their interest, but none were as stunned as I was at Laura and Beverly’s display. This was a twist I hadn’t seen coming. Were they acting or were they more than friends? I was confused and oddly turned on.

“You’re always pulling side-handed shit, Eddie. Fuck you!” Oliver, yelled, upset because Laura had chosen Beverly and Eduardo over him. If Laura and Beverly were acting, they’d certainly achieved their goal because the men had been distracted away from their objective.

“I’m going back to the party,” Oliver muttered as he flashed a fuck-you scowl to Eduardo.

Where the hell was Santino Dominquez while this was going down? Had he left the penthouse? Had he ever been there?

The unmistakable whirl of rotors sounded, and the space around us grew quiet. It was so silent in fact, our anxious breaths produced the only sound.

“He’s early,” one of the men stated. “Get them the fuck out of here. He’s going to flip the fuck out!” another yelled. They shoved us toward the front door, but I dragged my feet and faked a fall to stall them. Beverly and Laura caught on, staging their own little argument to stop the men’s movement.

Eduardo was at the front door as the rest of us sounded like cattle being led out. Hushed urgent tones, barking orders, and shuffling feet all came to an abrupt stop when, a man I assumed was Santino, emerged from the back of the large penthouse.

His arrival sucked the air from the room. Everyone stilled, even the two that had taken a firm hold of me when I pretended I didn’t know how to work my legs.

“Santino,” someone whispered like the mere sight of him was a worship moment. He was in a button up, striped, blue and white shirt and dark slacks. He’d removed his jacket and slung it over his shoulders.

Santino was not how I’d pictured him. Seeing him in person was an eye-popping revelation. His hair was dark, and although his skin was tanned, he didn’t appear to be Mexican.

Santino Dominquez was as white as I was. Although I suspected one of his parents was a Dominquez, there was no Hispanic influence in his features. He was at least my height and either adopted or the non-Hispanic parent had a dominating influence on his genes.

D and I had seen that face before. D had run it through facial recognition and turned up a different name. Santino had been getting away with being ‘No Face’ because he’d made his real face disappear behind a fake name and used a clever decoy when he went out in public.

His Caucasian features gave him the perfect cover and explained why he’d been so protective of his identity. No one would suspect that a white man was a Dominquez. He was also the youngest of the original six, a double cover, as many would have expected an older man. Santino appeared no older than thirty, although D had confirmed that the youngest Dominquez should have been thirty-eight.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He pointed his pinky at the men. His deadly, roving gaze caused the men to hold their breaths. He inched closer, eyeing me from top to bottom. He stood so close that his cologne cocooned me in an overpowering spicy fragrance that tickled my throat.

His visible shoulder holster, weapon, and clip of ammunition were on full display. He turned his furious glare on Beverly and Laura who were being held at the front door before resting it on Eduardo.

“How many times have I told you about bringing hoes and strays in here? Get rid of them. Now!” He tossed his suit jacket across the back of the large couch and walked away, whistling like we were an irritating interruption. He headed toward what must have been the kitchen.

How often did this happen? How many others had these men brought up to the penthouse and executed? They all stood as silent as the night was dark and waited for their boss to disappear before shoving Beverly, Laura, and me across the room toward the balcony.

I knew from watching the place from an outside view that the balcony was a massive area that wrapped around the bend of the apartment, equipped with a full-sized pool, hot tub, and a few nooks and private sitting areas. Since they had the night for cover, killing us would be easy in this protected area thirty-four stories up.

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