Page 219 of Hell Hath No Fury
Vincenzo
That look of hatred she gave her own belly … that’s what drives me mad.
I’ve seen that look from so many women, and nothing ever comes close to fixing it.
Except one thing.
Vengeance.
The car pulls up to the place she mentioned. An old, beaten-down apartment building that doesn’t seem to ever get cleaned. I get out of the car, and the immediate stench of piss makes bile rise in my throat.
I swallow it down and check my watch.
Five minutes, in and out. Should be enough. Though I’m more than willing to spend my precious time on her … I am far from willing to spend any on the likes of the man who did this to her.
I head inside. The elevator is malfunctioning, so I take the staircase instead. It smells rank in here, and the sun barely penetrates through the small windows in the walls. Just the kind of place where I’d picture a dude who’d stick his dick inside a girl who doesn’t want it would live.
Once I’m up to the floor this Dean Johnson lives at, my heartbeat slowly picks up as I count down all the numbers on each door until I reach his.
I pause in front of the door and listen to the sounds coming from behind it.
Lots of screeching women. Moaning. Sloshing sounds like someone is vicariously stirring through some homemade butter. Not the good kind.
My nostrils begin to twitch again like they always do when my blood begins to boil.
Is this motherfucker busy with tricking yet another woman?
I knock on the door, then grab one of the tissues from my pocket and clean my fingers.
The mere thought of touching his things is disgusting, but I don’t want to alert the rest of the people living in this building by just breaking into his place.
I tuck the tissue back in my pocket and wait.
The sound of footsteps hurriedly shutting off whatever was moaning tells me it was a recording.
“Just a minute,” the voice calls.
I don’t hear any other people or footsteps as he rushes to the door.
It’s opened slightly, and he peeks at me through the slit. “What do you want?”
Within seconds, I’ve fished my gun from my pocket and shove it into the opening, putting a foot between so he can’t close it on me. “Move. Now.”
The man’s eyes widen, and he immediately steps back. I walk inside, breathing through my mouth because of the stench. There’s half-eaten food and unwashed clothes everywhere, the bane of my existence. Triggers all around, but the biggest of them all is the guy’s face.
“What do you want? I don’t have anything. No cash, nothing,” he squeals.
“Sit your ass down,” I growl, shoving him into the couch he was just on. I can still see the cum stain on the fake leather, as well as on his cheap pants.
“Please, just take anything you want,” he says, holding up his hands.
“What did you do to Emilia?” I ask.
He frowns, visibly confused. “Who?”
“Emilia!” I shove the gun further into his forehead. “Long black hair. Cupid lips. Pretty girl.” I seethe with rage. “Pregnant.”
His pupils dilate.
