She stammers, “My name is Angelica Garces.”
I’m up in a second, yanking her to me. “Show me proof. If your name is Angelica, I’ll spare you.”
“Wh . . . what?”
I point the knife at her. “I don’t repeat myself, gordita.”
Mouth tight, I follow her through a tiny hallway back into her bedroom. With each step, the Latina stumbles. My fingernails chew the back of her neck, biceps straining to assist her in verifying her name.
Not my ángel, but one no less.
“Th-there.” She points to a Dental Technician certificate on the wall.
My teeth grit. “You’re in luck, Angelica. I can’t kill you, not with a name like that.” But if my LeAnna breaks for El Diablo, I will break you.
I thrust her toward her bed. She scampers toward the headboard. I grip her thigh, pressing back on the heels of my boots to snatch her around. Angelica tosses a foot at me, and my knife slits across her Achilles tendon. Blood squirts everywhere. Damn these leather gloves. I haven’t felt the sticky warm liquid in so long.
“Ouuuhhh,” she cries, biting down onto the pillow.
The fusion between my impatience and violence aligns. “Best not to defy me, Angelica. This is the nice me.”
I drag her hefty frame over so that she’s looking up at me. Her legs clamp tight together.
“Do not be flattered.” I climb into the bed with her, pressing her against my side. I reach into the front pocket of my hoodie and pull out my phone. My head rests lazily next to hers.
“Look at this!” I growl, using my gloved hand to press onto a camera link. Surveillance of LeAnna’s kitchen pops up. I’d only added cameras to her art room and bedroom. Her roommate pushed her into purchasing a nanny cam for the kitchen, which I easily tapped into. For the past few months, LeAnna never understood the meaning of food.
I hold the cell phone between gordita and me. On the screen, El Diablo moves comfortably around the marble island in a pair of slacks. He tosses seasonings around and chops on a cutting board.
“That’s Dominic Alverez,” Angelica hitches.
“Shhhh.”
“You’re gonna kill me . . .” She hyperventilates, sugary breath coming in quick pants. “Because I know who he is. So, you have to kill me. Ay, Dios mio. You have to kill me now. Don’t you?”
I press a finger to her trembling mouth. “I’m a man of my word, Angelica. Look, he’s making dinner, teaching my LeAnna about the passions of food. He’s inserted himself right where I should be.”
Angelica’s heavy breathing catches as we watch Dominic’s agile movements around the room. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks. Stiffness rides the muscles of my jaw as the vision who stirred my soul enters the screen. She’s wearing a yellow knit shirt or dress-like contraption. It grazes across her shoulders. Though it dwarfs her curves, the material stops mid-thigh. Fingers curling into a fist, I contemplate all her mistakes. LeAnna sought me and landed in El Diablo’s snare.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
Angelica’s head bobs.
I press my thumb and index finger over the image, intensifying the pixels. “The hardest part is watching someone meant for you, fall for someone else, Angelica. Did you know that?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Keep watching for me.” I press the cellphone into her hands. Positioning my arms behind my head, Angelica has all the opportunity she will ever have. My gaze taunts her to try her luck. “Tell me how she looks at him. Read her thoughts to me, por favor, my sweet Angelica.”
“She-she doesn’t love him.”
“That is evident, gordita. LeAnna hardly knows him. She thought we were one and the same.” I laugh at the fond moment when it clicked. “What are they doing?”
“He’s feeding her.”
“From a fork, a spoon, his—”
“Hands. A croqueta.”
“What else?”
“His finger trails across her lip. I’ve heard Dominic has this effect on women.”
“El Diablo,” I correct.
“Sí, El Diablo. He’s ba-bad for women. Ruins them.” Angelica’s nose puffs, and her chest skitters up and down.
“Make me believe you.” When she stares at me in confusion, I gesture. “How do you know these things?”
“His pretentious suits, his perfect hair. Those eyes have to be contacts. It’s all fake. Dom—El Diablo wants to get inside of her panties. I don’t see the same desire behind his eyes that you have for her. Sir, I’m not able to see your entire face, but the passion behind your eyes, I’d be blind not to see it.”
As I murmur in agreement, Angelica’s confidence soars. “You’re here with me, but you could be with LeAnna, is it?”
“Sí.”
“Sí, you could be with LeAnna. The way you talk about her, miles away, I assume. If you were there . . . I’m sure she’s smart enough to know—”
My hands flex around Angelica’s throat. She struck a chord. Spittle flies from my lips as I correct her. “My LeAnna is sophisticated. A very smart woman, who gets lost in her head, okay?”
Darkness surrounds me when I should be the light. I let go, and Angelica’s fleshy body is wracked in a fit of coughs and cries.
“No more insults, gordita.” My fist stops right at her double chin. I cackle as she flinches. “I said, no more.”
We settle back in the bed, her quivering in my arms. I close my eyes, clutching her tighter. “Tell me, Angelica. What are they doing now?”
“T-talking, eating.”
“Bueno. Continue summarizing your observations. I can’t stomach the sight of him with her.”
“Okay.”
I condemn myself for this. The cleanup will be endless. Despite a wealth of training, I’d been impulsive, sloppy. Damn, you, LeAnna, I muse. Her mistakes caused this bloody mess, but Angelica would be the one to pay, one way or another.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aria
Dominic’s presence is my drug. The light behind his green eyes has an x-ray vision down to my soul. We sit at the table in the kitchen, my legs folded against my chest to save my heart. This feels so good, it’s bad. My head falls back in a carefree laugh as he says something outlandish that’s totally and utterly Cuban.
“Thank you.” An illicit spark runs through me as Dominic’s fingertips brush mine. Earlier, every inch of his rock-hard body flushed against mine. Hours have passed. For every single one of them, I’ve been lost in his gaze, oblivious to my own moaning.
“Well, that may have been the best, non-soul food I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Best non-soul food?”
“Sorry, but my gram has you by this much.” I hold my index and thumb approximately an inch away from each other.
“Here, I thought you didn’t know the meaning of good food.”
“Ha! I don’t consider my next meal unless it’s dinner at my grandparents or tacos with friends. I’m human, Dom. I love tacos along with the general population.”
“What about breakfast?” Dominic arches a seductive eyebrow.