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Dom chuckles, adjusting the sleeves under his suit jacket. “Business not personal, you say?”
“Business,” Santana laughs, fanning his arms out.
Dom joins him, nodding but amusement doesn’t match his eyes. They’ve seemed to have gone dark. His laughter fades as he snaps, “Well, this is personal.”
Santana has no time to react as Dom backhands him. Cameron fumbles with the rifle as Santana stumbles back, giving Batista the opportunity to shoot him in the arm. The gun falls from Cameron’s hands as he howls out in agony, clutching his arm.
Dom snatches Santana’s suit jacket, then punches him in the face repeatedly.
“You think you can take what’s mine?” Dom growls as he stops hitting Santana, then tosses him on the ground. Santana curls into the fetal position as Dom starts kicking him. “That’s not business to me, it’s very fucking personal.”
Santana wails from each kick to his body. He probably has a few cracked ribs by now. Is it strange that I’m turned on by this side of Dom? His sheer force and brutality have my core throbbing.
Dom finally takes a step back. Santana’s face is a bloody mess, and his left wrist is hanging funny.
“Sit his ass up,” Dom orders to his men, looking at his bloody knuckles.
Santana groans as they do as they were told.
Batista shoves Cameron towards his boss. “Sit your ass down.”
As Cameron drops down next to Santana, Dom says, “It seems I’m not the only person who has a personal issue with you, Santana.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Santana slurs.
Dom chuckles before he approaches me. He leans down and kisses my cheek before addressing Santana. “I think my Queen can explain things better.”
“Your Queen,” Santana snarls.
This tickles Dom as he replies, “Yes, my Queen. You see, to be the King of Louisiana one must have a Queen and since you stated you’re going to be the next King, I’m going to sit back and see if she will give you that privilege.”
Santana pushes his right hand in front of him. “Wait, wait, wait. I didn’t know you were the King,” he cries.
A sinister veil drops over Dom’s handsome face as he states, “There’s nowere, I am the fucking King of Louisiana! You have insulted me and my Queen and for that, you will learn from your mistakes.”
“Man, look,” Santana starts, but I cut him off this time.
“Shut the hell up,” I demand. “You don’t know how fucked up your situation is right now. All that begging for your life isn’t going to save you because at the end of the day you’ll still end up at the Pearly Gates and they’re going to turn your ass around. Both of you get on your fucking knees.”
They gawk at me as if to be calling my bluff, but once I cock my pistol, loading a bullet in the chamber Cameron goes to his knees first. Santana glares at me as he does the same.
“Good doggies,” I tease. “Santana, you asked earlier if I knew you and I sort of lied. Do I know you personally, no, but I do know you tried to kill my daddy.”
“Lady, I don’t know your damn daddy and if I did try to kill him, then he must have deserved it,” Santana barks.
Booker takes a step towards Santana, but I stop him. “Hold on cousin, I haven’t had the chance to give him the full story, so he can understand why he’s on his knees like a prison bitch.”
“Please hurry up, because I am tired of hearing his fucking mouth,” Booker says.
I snicker. “All right, cousin,” then focused back on Santana. “Since my cousin is a little impatient, I’m going to keep this short and sweet because unlike you; we have other shit to do today.”
“Then fucking spit it out because whoever you think I am, I’m not,” Santana explodes.
My heels echo in the warehouse as I close the distance between us, then stop. “Years ago, during a drug deal at an abandoned house two miles off of Cooper Road your punk ass thought it was a good idea to try to rob and kill the connect.”
I give him a little time to remember. Santana squints his eyes at me, and I can see when ‘the moment he knew he fucked up’ registers.
“You’re Clint Morgan’s daughter,” Santana murmurs.
