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Diaz had known about the bust. He’d been testing his men. Jackson was sure of it.
But why place a few bricks of cocaine in the shipment of flour?
Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose.
What game are you playing, Diaz?
ANNA
Diaz walked the floor in a circle, like a lion circling his prey.
Alex sat, chained to a chair, beads of sweat lining his forehead. His eyes were straight ahead. He showed no remorse, and he wasn’t begging for mercy.
He was a man who had surrendered to his fate.
Anna wondered, yet again, why he’d chosen to betray Diaz.
She crossed her arms over her chest, suppressing a shiver. The warehouse was cold, but it wasn’t the cold that gave her chills. She hated this, hated witnessing the kind of brutality human beings should never subject one another to. Every time she saw it she wondered how Olivia had died, because she’d long ago given up hope of finding her alive.
But she had to watch these tortures without showing an ounce of compassion. Diaz might be playing his game, but she was playing a better one.
“I want you to see what happens to people when they betray me,” Diaz said. Controlled. Calm. Cold. He looked over his men assembled in the warehouse. She was the only woman. She was always the only woman.
Anna had spent three years of her life working her way into Diaz’s world. She played it smart, getting a job as a bartender even though she was well overqualified for the role. He didn’t know she had a double degree in commerce and law or that Anna White was in fact Anna King, the sister of Olivia King—a name Diaz should definitely remember, and a name Anna promised he would remember. A name he would speak as he took his final breaths. She’d considered using a different first name, but decided against it, as there was less chance of slipping up and getting caught if the name was similar. Someone like Diaz might’ve expected her to change her name completely. So she remained Anna and she held on to a tiny piece of her old life.
Diaz came to a stop behind Alex and put a knife to his throat.
His lips curled up, menacingly. “If you thought for even a second that I would slit your throat, you thought wrong. You will pay for your actions, for opening your mouth to the Feds. You will pay for Jason’s death.”
Anna held her breath at the sound of his name. She hadn’t known if Diaz knew he was dead. But since she wasn’t also bound to a chair, Diaz didn’t know it was her bullet that killed Jason. Anna had worried that Jason was suspicious of her and the raid had provided too good an opportunity to eliminate him. She hadn’t counted on the agent seeing her take the shot.
Alex’s hiss pulled her from her thoughts. Diaz stuck the tip of the knife into Alex’s neck, turning it.
Alex, to his credit, didn’t beg for mercy. He gave no reaction other than the hiss.
Diaz wanted a reaction—he fed off reactions from people he hurt—but Alex wasn’t going to give him anything.
Not until Diaz said, “Bring me the blowtorch.”
Alex’s eyes filled with panic.
Anna leaned against the wall, letting it support her as she braced herself for what was coming next. With every second that Diaz tortured Alex, and Alex screamed in agony—unable to control his reaction—Anna vowed to make Diaz pay. Not only for Alex, but because a man who could so eagerly do this to any human being was evil. And this evil man had killed her sister—Anna was sure of it. The world would be a better place without Diaz Smith.
But taking down Diaz was no easy task, and she couldn’t make a single mistake or she’d end up in Alex’s seat.
Anna had been careless tonight. She’d been lucky it was the agent who had seen her, rather than Diaz. She’d gotten too confident, too comfortable.
Comfortable was a place she could never be, not here. She had to be one step ahead at all times. She needed to watch her back, her sides, and every step in front of her.
If she didn’t survive this, there would be no justice for any of the families he’d destroyed.
Most importantly, there would be no justice for Olivia.
Her stomach churned and she suppressed the chills spreading through her. Not once did she divert her eyes for the two hours Diaz kept this up, until Alex’s body finally gave out.
She pretended to look bored, an expression she’d perfected over the years. Sometimes she thought Diaz did things just to see if he could amuse her, impress her.
With every breath he took, she hated him more, but she’d learned to use hate as a weapon.
