Page 55 of No Merciful Corruption

He barely gets the last word out before Alejandro punches him in the jaw. The hit is clean and sharp and I hear the crack of bone as Brent flies back against the wall. He’s so disoriented he can’t stay upright but it doesn’t matter. Alejandro grabs him by the collar and drags him out of the house. When they reach the front porch, he tosses him down the icy steps where he lands in the damp grass, still writhing and moaning.

Alejandro slams the door shut behind him as he re-enters the house. I can tell by the way he tugs at the sleeves of his shirt and the tightness in his jaw that it’s taking a concerted effort to control his temper.

“Kay, do me a favor please, and go pack an overnight bag.”

“But—” she tries to protest but he cuts her off.

“He just busted through your front door and threatened to come back.”

She shakes her head dismissively. “He won’t actually⁠—”

“Karina,” I turn to face her. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t stay here.”

“Go,” Alejandro says. “We’ll wait until you’re done.”

She grinds her teeth. “I’m not a child.”

He looks down at her and if not for the severity of the situation, I might’ve laughed at his father-like stance; hands on both hips, brows furrowed, voice firm and slightly condescending, perfect for when dealing with a rebellious teenager. Karina acts defiant but with their height difference, she’s losing the battle. “That wasn’t a request. Go upstairs and pack a bag. Now.”

Flustered, she purses her lips and looks to me for back up but I shake my head. “He’s kidnapped me before. Twice. I suggest you go pack that bag.”

She blinks up at us in confusion, torn between her own outrage and fear. She knows we’re right but will refuse the help because she’s stubborn and accustomed to always being the adult in the room. If we’d been alone maybe I would’ve relented and let Karina have her way but when Alejandro has his mind set on something, he can be forceful when exerting his will. Especially when he thinks it’s in the best interest of someone he cares about. Everyone around him, including myself, is someone to be taken care of. And now, for better or for worse, that shield of protection has been extended to Karina.

She spins on her heels and stomps upstairs without another word. When she’s gone, Alejandro turns to me and says, “Really? The kidnapping thing?”

THE MOTHER OF ALL PLOT TWISTS

Alejandro

Dahlia lets the water run and I hiss when it makes contact with the broken skin on my knuckles.

“Is it too hot?” she asks.

“Son of a bitch has a jaw made of led.” I grunt. “I thought I crushed every bone in my hand.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy and she rises to her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “You’re very sexy when you playing knight in shining armor.”

I scoff and roll my eyes which only serves to elicit a laugh from her. I was so furious when we left Karina’s house I hadn’t registered the pain in my right hand until halfway through the Holland Tunnel when my fingers began to ache from holding the steering wheel.

Dahlia uncaps a bottle of peroxide and pours the clear liquid over my bleeding knuckles. The injury isn’t serious and only two of them broke skin but I was surprised to have bled at all. I must not have realized how hard I hit him in the moment.

“Kay’s upstairs moaning and unpacking.” She closes the peroxide and leans against the counter with crossed arms. “But I think deep down she’s afraid.”

“He’s escalating. She should be afraid,” I say. “I can’t tell if the tough act is denial or self-preservation.”

“Both. Maybe it helps her to feel in control of a situation that is quickly spiraling out of it.” Her bottom lip catches between her lip. “You know…I was thinking.”

I turn the sink off and dry my hand with a clean towel. She meets my gaze and waits expectantly while her head tilts back and forth like the weights on a scale of justice.

“Maybe we should just…” she swipes her thumb across her neck and makes a popping sound with her tongue.

A burst of laughter leaves my lips but she doesn’t laugh with me. Her expression remains the same.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“I’d rather my cousin be a widow than a divorcée. Better benefits.”

I’m not completely opposed to the idea. He wouldn’t be the first man I killed nor the last and Brent would certainly be among the most deserving. Today, it took every ounce of self-restraint in my body not to snap his neck in two. Our interactions over the past few years have been sparing but even my first impression of him was a bad one. Something about him always felt deceitful like he was putting on a performance for the people around him.