Late last night, I scrubbed every surface of Angelica’s home, eliminating any signs that I entered. Then I cleaned more because Dominic hadn’t left LeAnna’s home yet. They’d washed the dishes, tossed suds. Fucked. Ate. They committed more sins while I left Angelica’s home tidier than it had been when I arrived.
It’s the next night when Angelica screams her head off. The room she’s in is devoid of any light. Even on a sunny day, no illumination would touch her. Her new home is located in the center of an old factory near the port in Downtown Miami. I’d owned it for years. I’d thought of turning it into lofts lining the ocean.
Then the first ángel required a temporary home.
With Angelica inside the room, I open and close the rusted steel door. I make a show out of it while shouting, “Nobody can hear you!” My voice washes out every time the door slides shut. She’s in the centermost room of the factory, which is over thirty thousand square feet. Only about five thousand of it had gone through some reconstruction before my accident. But her area isn’t it.
When I open the door again, she’s stopped shouting.
“Thank you, gordita.” I walk in, holding a brown paper bag of food. The scampering sound of rodents moves around the perimeter. “Get the fuck outta here!” I growl, though unable to see them through the darkness.
“Please, please . . .” Angelica begs.
“I know, I know, my sweet gordita. I promised not to murder you.” I squat down to her level and light a match. The dank, ocean-salted air draws at the light. The flame dances between us. I puff at the light, laughing softly. Then I remove a tiny flashlight from the back of my jeans.
“Which do you prefer, Angelica?” I flick the light on, pointing it toward the bag of food. “To see in darkness. Only God’s light can dim pure darkness, Angelica—”
“Fu—”
My forearm slams her throat. “My mami would be shocked at us discussing God in the same breath as cussing. Okay. So, flashlight or food? Por favor, which one?”
She drops her head against the cement wall as more tears and snot stream down her face.
I lay the flashlight on its base; faint light spears up toward the peeling ceiling. I light another match, grab a hand-rolled cigarette, and roll my mask up for a pull.
Angelica wipes the water from her eyes to stare at me.
“You wanna see me, chula?” I puff smoke in her face.
“No,” she sobs. “I don’t want to know who you are.”
“Although you knew the name of the man who has my LeAnna in a state of confusion. Sí?”
Her head dips up and down.
My lips form another o. Like a chimney, smoke plumes into her face, and she coughs.
“Bad habit, my apologies.” I smile at her. “You’re such a cute gordita! Escúchame, Angelica. Like a stuffed teddy bear!”
My gloved hand whisks over her chin, pulling her vision back to my brown eyes. “You may eat dinner. I’m going to check on LeAnna. Once she has seen me, you can. How does that sound?”
“No . . . no.”
“Why?” I grin, though the answer is evident. The more Angelica is aware of my identity, the less chance I’ll let her go. Why is she so naïve as to believe I’d ever let her go? Not in this world. The next is more plausible.
“Send me home after she sees you. Th-then, the two of you, can continue . . . with being happy together.”
“But I’m a man of my word, Angelica. I’ve promised your life.”
“You were angry about me knowing Mr. Alverez. What do you mean by that? How can you pr-promise not to-to kill me, especially if I see you?”
“Good question.” I wink.
Around eleven p.m., I arrive. The roommate, Miranda, leaves a little before that time. This evening, I use the keycard I made for myself instead of climbing from the roof to the terrace. I’d snuck off with LeAnna’s while she was doing a photoshoot a while back. She gets so lost in her work. She never knew it went missing.
On the way up, I slide my cellphone out. From a camera I have set up in LeAnna’s bedroom, I can see they’re in the shower. Together.
My face is despondent beneath my mask, and my shoulders sag. Why is she doing this to herself? She had months of following me—and accidentally following him—to know the man he is.
I enter the bedroom. If they see me, so be it. Dominic will die. I’ll renege on my promise to Angelica by murdering her and leaving LeAnna in her spot until the woman I love gets some sense into her.
LeAnna’s’s mistakes have brought out the worst in me. The impulsivity. The impatience. The need to light another fucking cigarette.
I grab one from the back of my jeans, place it parallel to my nose, and inhale the faint scent of it.
At the foot of the bed is an open bottle of wine. Sighing, I pick it up. My luck had turned for the better. It’s mostly full. Kneeling on the side of the bed, I pull my pill crusher from my utility belt and enough tranquilizers to drop a horse. Eyes ablaze at the opened bathroom door, I watch the shadows in the fogged glass. This entire weekend they’ve been entwined as one.
Clenching my jaw, I pulverize the medication. Tilting the contraption, I let the white dust glide into the wine bottle.
I move toward the archway of the bathroom and stand there, pulling the mask off my face. There’s a hard grimace on my thick lips while I watch. LeAnna’s plastered against the glass wall. Her chocolate nipples are crushed, gliding up and down. All she has to do is open her eyes, and she will see me. Dominic is pounding her from behind. Her fingers clasp the glass; she clutches in desperation. The water drowns out most of her screams.
Faint as it is, I can hear her loud as day, moaning the wrong name—his name, not mine.
Her pretty brown orbs begin to flicker open. I maneuver to the left, shielded by the wall.
Sliding my cigarette out again, my other hand drums at my leg while I inhale the unlit paper.
I move toward the area behind the bed where LeAnna has a home office and sit. I place my Glock on the table then remove my knife. After working the perfect balance over my knuckles, I set it on the table too. Fissures begin to cobweb like a thin layer of ice as LeAnna lets the devil get between us.
Now, he’s encircled her in his arms. The rift continues to breach—patience on a lifeline. Because if I break, or they make me, then my good intentions for LeAnna are thwarted.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dominic
Good drinks, better head, maybe even fatigue are a few reasons I’ve slept with a woman overnight. Two nights? Never. Aria has a dulce de leche laced pussy and a fierce heart. The former, I crave, the latter is my crux.
My mouth dips into a smile as morning sunlight plays across her naked, brown flesh. Though I can’t quite recall fucking Aria after the shower, my cock swells with pride. I had that. I will conquer my addiction, one day, hopefully soon.
Closing my eyes, I exhale. Dom, conquer your addiction to her, idiota. You’ve crossed the line between sex and intimacy. While some assume the two terms were one and the same, sex is about lust, aggression, feeling. Intimacy is telling a woman, “you’re safe with me.” Letting a woman in.