“Okay, one question, mami?”
“No.”
“You thought I’d fuck and walk away, Aria?”
I’m learning to hate his accent. It’s got my pussy lips tweaking, aftershocks of his dick. Out of my peripheral, the caramel-coated savage is sitting up in my bed, forking a hand through his waves. Ignoring him, I bend down to snatch up a pair of house shoes.
“Aria!”
“Hello, is that not your M.O.? Fuck and go? Besides, Dominic, I was your stalker. Who screws some creepy psycho?” Great, Aria, you called yourself a psychotic creeper.
“Who are you stalking now?” Again, his sexy eyebrow juts upward.
“Stop.” I fold my arms to comfort my flustered heart. “You are an astounding attorney, Mr. Alvarez.”
He’s up on my bed, walking toward me and down in front of me in a flash. “I said, ‘who the fuck are you stalking now, mami?’ What had your mind a thousand miles away from here, earlier?”
Chin high, I grit out, “Didn’t I tell you? I’m not answering questions, Dominic.”
“You’re still chasing El Santo, aren’t you? Aren’t you!”
The force of his tone vibrates my sex. This was a catastrophic mistake. I can go senile and never forget this one fuck. Angered by my thoughts, I snap. “I’m not on a stand, stop badgering me. Listen, I apologized for earlier. But that’s not why I’m—” Damn. I clamp my lips together.
“Then what?” Dominic’s fingers trail across my collarbone, closing around my throat into a gentle hold. “We have a connection like crazy, Aria. I’m not letting you screw it up. You were about to open up. Finish your sentiment, mami.”
“My twin sister, Re.” I open my mouth again, encouraging myself not to treat him like my therapist. For the first year, I blinked at Dr. Linde until she prompted me to bop her with a spongy bat. Hell, I tried to slaughter her with the damn thing. Dr. Linde was very nice about it.
“Dominic, you can’t begin to comprehend the feeling of not knowing how your brother is fairing. You’ll never wonder.” I bite off the rage. A wave of emotion rocks straight through my core. Eyes sparkling, I beg. “Please don’t force me to ruin what we had. Walk away.”
Anger bristles through him. The only movement he makes is the wave of tense muscles in his jaw.
“Great, you fucked up this moment.” I hurl the insult at him, instantly hating myself for the statement. His glorious body fully naked, Dominic stands his ground.
I bite my lip, keeping the tears at bay. “I’m sorry about your twin’s situation. But he’s there. I’m missing a piece of me. All I’m saying is, you’ll never know that feeling, Dominic. It’s the reason I can’t—” I stop myself. “Is this your attraction? Pity because my twin is gone?”
“No, Aria.” His arms encircle my waist, and he slides me into the harbor of his strong body. “Chula, I can’t fathom your pain. I haven’t been close to Dario in ages, but as you said, he’s there.”
“ReAnna’s not. She may-may have di-died,” I stutter, sobbing. “Died the same day I failed her. There are so many horrible scenarios that wrap around my brain, but I doubt she’s ever found love. Not saying I’m falling for—”
“I’m falling for you, Aria.” He clasps my face. “You take your time, mami. I’ll be there to catch you when you start falling for me too.” His confidence brands my skin in an intense inferno so passionate I break. My wet cheeks nuzzle against his chest, but he claims me tighter, stronger than I could ever imagine.
ReAnna, I can’t apologize to your spirit anymore. I want to be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
El Santo
My whole body burns with fury, fingers closing around the hilt of my knife. I’m on fire. No, I am the fire. Darkness crystalizes into a dozen serrated shards as I await Angelica’s response. The only light flickers across her face while she watches the screen of my cellphone.
“Which is it, gordita,” I grit. “Are they screwing or arguing? Don’t focus on my knife. Focus on my blade cleaving you open from sternum to navel if you don’t answer my question!”
“They . . . made up.” Angelica’s bottom lip quivers.
After slamming my knife into the holster, I run a hand along the mask covering my face. A panted gasp rushes through me, staying the intensity of LeAnna’s disloyalty. The mariposas were a sign.
I snatch the iPhone from Angelica’s trembling hands. Time stands still as the scene unfolds—LeAnna let El Diablo inside.
“She made a big fucking mistake with the cabrón. Biggest mistake of her life,” I murmur, climbing on top of Angelica. “LeAnna will undoubtedly pay later. For now, you don’t mind being a tribute, sí?”
Hands fly toward me. Her fingers seek the mask on my face. They always want to know who, sooner or later. The back of my hand sends a smack so hard to her fleshy cheek she reels. I pounce, my fingers ground down on her throat.
Angelica clutches for air. The second her eyes flicker upward, I anchor her into reality. Her huge, floppy breasts heave as she breathes in air. Again, my upper body leaps into position to steal her oxygen. Over and over, we engage in a game where I delight at the power in my hands. The influence to send her soul into the next realm.
“The assailant spends a lot of time with his victims, indicative of a lot of thought, possible rehearsal. This is a sophisticated criminal, a sophisticated crime.” The first documentary came out after my fourth ángel. I hadn’t been given the name yet. But the media craved a category, serial killer.
Wrong fucking category. My ángeles are not dead; they’re evolved. Before, I’d only murdered once, and LeAnna would be the reason I upped my body count. Six ángeles were rededicated when the media almost understood who I was. My ángeles remind me of Alejandra in looks and mannerisms. They are smart, gorgeous women. Alejandra died in my arms. Because I couldn’t save my amor, I save them all now. My ángeles defy death because of me. During my rituals with each of them, it’s as if I have a second chance with Alejandra.
They named me El Santo, which is fitting. Still, they added further accusations such as the “murderer enjoys the thrill of the hunt.”
They were wrong. Saving my ángeles took dedication, time, and sacrifice. I imagine myself cleansing the pure skin of my last ángel as Angelica’s skyrocketing heart tapers. Tears transform her gaze into dark brown jewels.
I let go.
Air whooshes across my hands as she sucks in oxygen. Fuming over the torture of Angelica describing LeAnna’s betrayal, I descend on her again. The gordita’s erratic pulse slams into my palms as I choke her. The beat dims beneath my fingertips. Her heavy breathing shallows. She won’t endure much longer.
I press my lips to her silenced ones. “See, mami, not dead.”
Leaving Angelica’s unconscious body on the bed, I heft my black backpack from near the window where I’d climbed inside. I pull out a roll of duct tape. Cracking my neck, I stare at the mound in her bed. Why did I pick the fat one? Damn, the puta was easy, emotional prey. With a shrug, I bind Angelica up then go about the process of cleaning her home.