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Like a moth to a fucking flame, I pulled up the feed of Darya’s cell. I was hungry for it— if only just to torture myself with the immoral pleasure. She was dangerous. Potentially more dangerous than the Desalmados. My own sanity was at stake with her.
I heard a wrap at the door. “Adelante,” I called out, Matteo was right on time.
He stepped in and I fished for my phone, pulling up the gruesome picture and sliding it face up before him. His features twisted until his lips were curled up over his teeth. “Coco?”
I nodded.
His fist came down against the desk, shaking the few items that sat on top. “It was the Desalmados,” my voice stayed low as if speaking their name could make them appear.
He paced across the small office, his restlessness a mirror of my own. I watched as his jaw ticked, the muscles clenching involuntarily as he cycled through the weight of the situation. He was probably running a tally on how many men he was going to have to murder— or get to murder. I let him stew until he slowed and gripped the back of the leather chair opposite me, his fingers squeaking as they dug in.
“What does this mean?” He asked.
“It means,” I let out a slow breath as my eyes trailed to Darya on my screen, “it means we have a new competitor.” The Zaragozas were being challenged. The winner? The new law of Tamaulipas.
I reached forward to close the laptop, unwilling to let her distract me anymore, when she moved, yanked herself off the ground, and ran to the toilet hunched over. My chest tightened as I watched her throw up multiple times.
“What is it?” Matteo asked.
“She’s sick.”
“Who?”
My temples throbbed with rage at his question but it eased as quick as it flared. Not everyone in this house was as obsessed with our prisoner as I was.
“Darya. We should take her some water and..” I shot up the moment she fell over, her body slapping against the cold floor. “Call the doc!”
I sprinted through the living room and down the long hallway to the guest room door. My grip nearly tore the door off the hinges before I bolted across the room to the bookshelf. My hands grappled for the bible as panic twisted my gut, ripping at the spine until I heard the false door click open. I slipped passed, leaving it wide open knowing I would be coming right back. I didn’t give a shit to hide my tracks in case Lucia walked by while worry gnawed at me. I had to get to her.
My fingers smashed against the keypad until the door sounded open and there she was, curled over on the floor, the room reeking of vomit.
“Fuck,” I cursed, ripping out of my jacket and laying it on her. I placed an arm beneath her legs and another behind her back to lift her. She was too light, too small against my chest. I whirled around and darted back upstairs.
With the bookshelf kicked closed, I didn’t even spare a glance around the room. I was in the hallway, bounding toward my own room when she stirred against me. “Darya? Baby, please wake up.”
Her face was pale and sweat trickled down my spine when she didn’t respond.
Her head sagged against me when I laid her down on my king-sized bed. I gripped her chin and tilted her head back and forth, “Darya? Can you hear me?” I gently tapped against her cheek to wake her.
“My… head hurts…” she stammered, her eyes still closed. Matteo busted into the room, pulling my attention away from her.
“Doc on his way?”
He nodded, “We’ll have to pay double for after hours. Such a cheapskate.”
I looked down at her, noticing the dribble of vomit down her neck. “Stay with her,” I ordered.
From the bathroom, I clutched the decorative bowl of potpourri and chucked its contents onto the tile. I filled it with warm water and slung a towel over my shoulder, feeling like every moment away from her was a moment I couldn’t breathe.
“Grab one of my shirts from the dresser,” I told Matteo before I looked down at her. I needed to clean her up but my body locked up when I thought about stripping her naked. It was intimate and I knew it would piss her off, but I didn’t have a choice. Matteo tossed the shirt onto the bed next to her but didn’t move. Suddenly, my brother’s presence was a nuisance– a set of eyes I didn’t want on her naked skin. I cocked my head, “get out,” I said through clenched teeth.
He nodded and I was relieved when he didn’t ask about my sudden fury.
I peeled her shirt off, making sure to keep the dirtied portion away from her face and hair. The damage had been contained to her neck and shirt, and her perfect skin was untouched below her collarbone. Swallowing hard, a strange mixture of heat swirling in my gut, I dipped the towel into the water and dragged it against the curve of her neck.
Her skin reddened where I washed and after a minute, the foul reek of vomit was gone, only the hint of vanilla remained. Holding her against me, my shirt swallowed her.
Her full lips pursed beneath my touch and a soft whimper escaped her lips as I laid her back on the bed.
