“I know who you are,” she cries. “You have to murder me. Get it over with, I’m begging you.”
“I made a promise to you, gordita. Murdering you goes against my convictions.” I turn toward her, her side profile coming into form in the darkness. I slide out a pack of Reece’s Pieces, having learned the peanut butter sweets are her favorites.
“My LeAnna was a gordita like you.” I gesture to Angelica to take them.
She scoffs.
“Angelica,” I grit.
Her fleshy face shakes in denial. “Look at me! It’s not like I’ll wilt away. These rats, El Santo! They’re eating me. You’re stuck between fantasy and reality. You hate LeAnna. You love her! You crave saving her from what? You?”
I straddle Angelica in seconds. Her teeth are no match to the thickness of my leather glove. Forcing my fingers into her mouth, I widen her out. “You don’t want comida, but you’ll take a fucking bite outta me?”
She chokes as my thumbs ram down her throat. Sliding her head around, Angelica screams. “Doooo it! Doooo it!”
I yank my Glock from the back of my jeans and batter her temple. No more temptation. Angelica’s double chin becomes more pronounced as her face falls into her bosom. I sit back on her plump legs, breathing heavily.
“What are you doing, Dario?”
I never took a woman unless I had invested time into confirming she was an ángel. Though the gordita has the name, it’s clearly not a sign of her worth. Don’t let me get started on LeAnna. Dominic’s influence ruined her.
“I let the butterflies dictate how to respond to her.” I shake my head. “Angelica’s right. I should’ve murdered LeAnna before Dom set his sights on her. Now, LeAnna’s in my fucking head.”
The others never got into my head. I got into theirs. I remember my time on the force as a forensic computer analyst. It’s the reason I’ve been able to intercept all of LeAnna’s messages with Dominic, have inside intel at her home. It’s the reason my old friends on the force stay one step behind me.
Carrington was a hotshot detective from the LAPD and started in the department a little while before my crash. I trained him on our internal database. Little did I know, once the paralysis wore off in my legs, he’d teach me a thing or two—unknowingly—things like how to follow the unit when they searched for me. I’ve had access to his notes, leads. But this, I glance around, was something I had not prepared meticulously for.
Angelica’s right. LeAnna did this. Fucked over my momentum. Love. Hate. It’s unfathomable how two divergent emotions have me shook.
“Alright, gordita.” I nod my head at the unconscious woman. My others were treated better while waiting for their resurrection. The time has come for Angelica to receive similar treatment.
“Let’s go home.” I stand up and position my legs to heft gordita. That puta, Carlotta, taught me a lot about positioning when she was my live-in nurse.
I painted her as my everything. The feeling in my legs had returned, and I anticipated walking to her, dropping down to one knee while proposing. But the cheating whore exposed her tainted heart the afternoon before my big plans. In my wheelchair, I’ve gone unnoticed so many times. Pendejos have no respect for the disabled. I’d gone downstairs to watch her leave when I saw Dominic cooking in the kitchen. Carlotta was there with him. She was leaning against the counter, her pouty lips pursed while he fed her a sample of some sort of sauce. I could see what was going on and couldn’t stand to watch. I’m sure the next thing that happened was the puta was on her knees, polishing off his fucking cock.
I’d made the mistake of my life before with Alejandra, and my second chance had fucked me over.
Her actions created El Santo.
But something deep down warns, what of Alejandra’s actions? She was my first taste of deception.
I slide my phone out, pressing on the surveillance at my house. Dominic isn’t home. Figures. He defiled LeAnna in his car after leaving the police station. She’s transforming into his little whore, not an ángel. It reminds me of when Dominic took Alejandra from me. So, there will be no falling for LeAnna. Unable to finish watching, I’d come straight to Angelica.
I search the surveillance of LeAnna’s home, although I only have videos of her bedroom, art room, and kitchen. Dominic’s Apple Watch is off, and I’m hearing the sound of rushing water. He’s getting into a shower or bath is all I’m able to presume.
“Damn, gotta move quickly,” I tell myself.
I heft Angelica’s frame into my arms. The physical exertion makes me growl. I rub my hand across Angelica’s face.
“I made a promise to you, gordita. You will not die.” But LeAnna will. That is once I’m done getting inside of her. I smile at my dedication to the sleeping woman. “Vamanos. Mi casa is su casa.”
Chapter Forty-One
Dominic
At the break of dawn, I dragged my ass home. This morning, I sit at the island, elbows on the marble countertop, holding my head up. My dick is bruised so good from screwing Aria so many times. But the rest of me regrets the lack of sleep.
Having the time of my life with one woman is consuming me, along with her looks. Her taste. Her loca antics.
I try to focus on work and a plan to keep Yasiel busy during his suspension when there is a sound that suddenly reminds me that I’d fallen asleep.
“Fuck,” I grumble. Did Dario fall from his wheelchair again? Am I nipping his balls by running to him when he falls? I gulp down my cup of coffee and start down the hall to the service staircase. At his door, my ears perk.
“I need you to . . .” That’s definitely Dario. Did I also hear a feminine voice? Who’s he talking to?
The door swooshes open. Dario stares up at me from his wheelchair, fingers steepled. “Here, I thought you were ramming your dick into the next whore, but you’re eavesdropping?”
Other than looking into the mirror and the other subtle similarities, we couldn’t be different. “I heard a loud drop, Dario. Forgive me for giving a fuck about my blood.”
He waves a hand. “Is that all? Usually, when you come running to save me, you mention Mami looking down at us. You’re a regular ol’ santo, sí?”
I plaster on a smile. “I heard a woman. You getting into any more online chats? Invite one over. How about a double date?”
My brother blinks a few times, caught off guard by my change of subject. I bet a nice little chula could soften his stony heart.
“Double date with who?”
I offer him a “you’re an asshole” grin before saying, “Hermano, I want you to be happy.”
“Pay Carlotta to polish my dick like she used to? Don’t overestimate her value. You splurge too much on pretty women.”
If my hermano weren’t so delusional, I’d be insulted by his baseless accusations. Me pay for sex? Fuck no. And Carlotta was good nurse, professional. Her resume was the perfect assessment of her worth. We were lucky to have her before he chased her off.
Letting Dario’s claims slide, I focus on a textbook I read about his situation. The passage suggested finding the one positive note in a bad situation. “You two were together? What happened?”