In my world, gangsters don’t just pay for a new beginning, they fucking earn it. Once they leave my soil, I monitor the life I’ve remodeled. If they yank the fine thread I’ve attached to their soul, I’ll snip the lifeline with one touch of an erase button.
Watching the enemy from afar is my godly fucking right.
I’m the bolt of lightning they’ll never see.
The twister that annihilates and ruins.
A warped hand of fate with all the control.
“And I’ll get a new set of prints?” the latest addition to my world asks, instantly bringing my mind back to the room.
My ankle flips to my opposite knee. I run my gloved fingers along the fabric armrest, unable to feel a thing. The thin layer of leather isn’t the barrier, it’s the healed scars of affliction that desensitize my touch.
“Absolutely. As promised.” I stare at him through tinted shades. The less said, the better. I can’t be bothered with pointless chitchat. As long as Jackson can take care of the physical aspects, I’ll take care of the rest.
“A guy could get lonely out here in the arsehole of nowhere. Can I order a few whores for a post-op party? You know, once I’m reborn again.” He winks. There’s something about this guy that grates on my last nerve.
The very same nerve Iris Kitson plucked. During the days she fought off the fever, I ran countless reports, searching police records and government data. Much to my annoyance, I uncovered zero evidence to suggest she’s a threat.
I double-checked the authorization for a six-month campsite along the river—originally for two male scientists. After a quick dig, I found the names Bruce Kincade and Fergal MacNab. Not a sneaky, last-minute female intruder. Either she’s well protected, or she’s truly a nobody.
This morning, that same undercover liar revealed a brazen pitch of venom as she yelled at me over the airwaves. She’s lucky I had this asshole on my agenda, or I’d punish her ballsy mouth for daring to open. Her tantrum didn’t warrant a response, not this time. Not until I find out who she really is.
Flowers die without sunlight. Humans fade when they’re ignored.
I sigh out my irritation. “You’re not in the arsehole of nowhere. You’re in my oasis where seclusion is the priority, not fucking the local women. Once you leave here, you can do whatever you want. Until then, no wandering around and no women.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and uses a straw to stab a slice of fresh pineapple. “It’s quite the setup you’ve got here. I’m grateful for the opportunity, el Fantasma. I have to say, it’s an honor to meet you in person.”
I drop my boot to the floor and rise, towering over him. “Stick to the rules and you’ll leave here a liberated man.” I subtly signal to Jackson, letting him know I’ve got business to tend to. He catches my grimace and shrugs. We’re like flames and icebergs. Jackson used to repair broken hearts and sticky valves, massaging them back to life, whereas I strategize and dream up ideas to stop them from beating.
“You will not see me until your last day. My staff will take over from here.” I rotate away, leaving the two men to finalize the cosmetic surgery details.
I don’t meet anyone as I walk under the leafy walkways. It’s days like this when I loathe sharing my home, knowing there are other people plaguing paradise.
And then I freeze.
It’s her.
My fiery temptation hums to herself as she studies the native flowers like a ruby red hummingbird flitting from dry twig to pretty petals.
9
Iris
The sole purpose for being in this part of the world is to study the delicate ecosystem. Exploring the surrounding terrain is the only way my brain will continue to tick over. I dream of a thick hide to withstand bites, sharpened teeth to ward off any threat, and a heart that isn’t demolished by grief.
I focus on stepping down from the sturdy pathway, bursting out into the blistering sunshine and joining a trodden path worn by multiple steps. Plant roots close to the surface wind through the soil like a network of intricate veins. The track meanders through the trees where the temperature drops to clammy, and the hum of life shimmers like a unified pulse.
Grains of sand dwindle away, turning quick seconds to a peaceful hour. There are rare moments when I feel unfettered, where my interest wraps around phenomenal plum-colored orchids. I hunker down and inspect the theatrical petals, adoring a vanilla essence and wishing life were this uncomplicated.
Angling my hips in preparation to stand, a creepy clacking noise rattles close by. I skate my eyes over weathered soil and locate a rattlesnake the color of rust, shaking its tail from side to side. Every single muscle in my body goes rigid, unsure if I should grab a branch to swat it away. The instant I reverse, it moves, not toward me, in a diagonal line. A buzz of warning continues. My hands are slick with moisture, and my head thumps.
In a beat, a snake twice its size darts out of the undergrowth and pounces on the rattlesnake. Such a brutal, unexpected attack makes me squeal. The shocked shriek startles nosey parrots. I slap my hand over my mouth and spin around.
El Fantasma.
My antagonist graces me with his aloof presence. Gloved hands hang by his hips, muscles tightened. His bearded chin lifts with regality, and he slides the sunglasses to rest on the tip of his nose, while his eyes settle behind me. A cap shields his own wild locks, the glossy dark tips peeking out at the sides. I follow his green gaze, taking a quick glance behind me to find the king cobra enjoying a snack. The sight of one snake eating another is hideous and all too real of my lethal surroundings.
I’m caught in the middle. Poisonous creatures to my left and a beast of a man emanating sexuality to my right. My breathing judders when I accept the intimidation for what it is. Nothing more than a master looking down on his servant. It’s not fair how my knees quake and my pulse skitters. I don't want him to see my weakness. I refuse to let his masculinity affect me. What a waste of godliness for a man so stricken with a wicked soul.
He takes one calculated step forward. “Move away, very slowly,” he commands in a low rumble. “Walk straight to me and don’t stop.”
Sunlight dapples my captor’s broad frame. I nod once, ever so lightly inching away from the massacre. The more ground I cover, the faster my blood pumps and the harder my legs work to keep me upright.
With a meter between us, he slides the frames back up his nose and clenches his fist. In that second, I fear I’ve made a mistake. His spine visibly stiffens beneath a tight black T-shirt and moist lips contort to a grimace, telling me he’s keeping himself in check. Perhaps I should’ve taken my chances with the cobra. He blocks the path, standing with his legs apart.
Neither of us speak. I stare up at him, bracing for punishment. I shouldn’t have called him a coward earlier. I was angry. Upset. Confused.
Adrenaline spears into my heart, pleading with it to keep beating. The world slows to a fatal tempo of karma. If I ever thought I’d known fear before this day, I was wrong. From the damp soil below my feet, a pungent smell of decay and decomposition sharpens. Silence weaves around me like vines, tight and unkind. I swallow with a gulp, considering my next move.
“What were you doing this far into the forest?” He finally speaks against the will of a vein thrumming in his powerful neck. “Were you trying to escape?”