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Oh, God…
“Suspicion, chica?” Jaguar parrots. Fighting down a wave of bile, I turn back to him and blink to bring him into clarity.Focus, Pita.“I wanted you to be honest with me,” he growls. “You kept quiet and let a hornet remain in my nest.”
“No,” I counter, gripping both bars so tightly my knuckles whiten. “I needed to corroborate. Why bring you half-assed reasoning? I know the risk to those who betray you. I wanted to make sure.”
“And how would you do that?”
I hesitate. Revealing more could expose Pedro to danger. How to do so without dragging his name into it?
“I needed to clarify,” I say thickly. “The numbers were wrong, but what does that mean?”
“It means, he was selling me out, Lupe—”
“No.” I smack the bars separating us for emphasis. “It means there could be more out there you don’t know. He took money off the top, but men like that aren’t stupid. He hid some, I’m sure, even from the feds. Don’t you want to know what it is? Or who could have been paying him?”
Jaguar smiles and begins to clap, loudly and slowly. “And here it is, ladies and gentlemen. In addition to a magic pussy, this chica’s got a magic tongue.”
“Perhaps I’m the only one who’s been honest to you,” I snap back without bothering to feign politeness. “Honest enough to avoid leading you to act impulsively.”
“Then be honest with me, now,” he says, stepping forward.
I draw a deep breath. This lighting wreaks havoc over his unique features, casting shadows where his eyes should be. He looks like a demon, hungry for blood. More alarming, he looks far too insane to reach through logic.
“Beg for forgiveness and plead for your life,” he demands. “Maybe I’ll rethink my plans for you.”
“No.” Judging from the sudden lack of cries, I think the jaguar is done with Ronaldo. It will turn to me next, and a fight or flight instinct rips through me so violently I shake.Run,my brain screams. Keeping my back to the creature is foolish, but I sense that I have no choice.
When Diego tired of his little display, he always made me face him.What now, Pita, my little butterfly? You think I’m a piece of shit. Say it!
I would have to lie, of course. Tell him how strong he was. How invincible. How fearsome.
In this instance, I don’t do either.
“I won’t insult you by groveling,” I say, sounding calm once again. “If you think I deserve to die, then kill me now. I won’t beg. If you believe I failed you, then I deserve to die—”
Metal clangs behind me, and I don’t react quickly enough. Wham! A heavy force slams into my hip as fire rakes across my back. In the face of it, I make the second biggest mistake of my life besides meeting Jaguar in the first place. I scream.
God, it hurts, and I imagine myself being ripped apart by those claws, and teeth.
It takes all of my focus to keep talking. For all I know, they could be my last words. I take one small, shred of pride in the fact that I don’t regret saying them. “Go ahead and kill me. I won’t insult you by begging.”
My vision blurs, obscuring my view of him. At my back, the metal continues to rattle. Clang. A stomach-churning stench washes over me, tinged with heat. Gatita’s breath. One more hit, and she’ll rip me open, then gorge on the remains…
“Ah, that’s enough.” That high-pitched whistle sounds again, and I sense the entire cage rock and rattle with the jaguar’s retreat. “Enough, Gatita.”
Still in my view, Jaguar himself advances and raises the remote. The bars in front of me shift and begin to lift, but I don’t move. Not until he stops paces away, and inclines his head.
“Your magic tongue works again, chica. Horatio!” He gestures toward someone out of my view. “Take Lupe to clean up, then bring her to my suite. Show’s overpendejos.”
He exits the space first, disappearing through that veil of shadow. In his place, another man steps forward.
He must be Horatio—a balding man with a scar cutting through his left eye. Unceremoniously, he yanks me to my feet and leads me away from the cage. I wasn’t far off in judging that this arena was similar to the one at the club. It’s smaller, however, and surrounded by assorted pieces of leather furniture on which various members of Jaguar’s entourage lounge.
They eye me warily, but I can’t see straight. My back is on fire, and something warm and wet is dribbling down my thigh. I feel like I’m melting.
“This way,” a voice snaps as I falter. A firm grip holds me upright and manhandles me down a darkened hallway.
I’m as weak as if I’ve walked for miles though it must only be a few feet before I’m shoved into a spacious bathroom.
