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Eventually, I stand, taking more deep breaths as dizziness makes my head spin.
I don’t know where I find the bravery to cross the room and reach for the doorknob, but somehow I manage it. I send up a quick prayer that whoever has me doesn’t shoot me on the spot as I twist the knob.
The door opens into a small, tidy living room. There aren’t a group of gangbangers sitting around drinking and playing cards as cigar smoke swirls overhead. There aren’t lines of cocaine on the coffee table. The room isn’t strewn with debris, and there isn’t a half-naked woman passed out on the couch.
It seems normal.
And that, in this situation, isn’t normal.
I know not to fall into the trap of allowing movies and television series to dictate my expectations but I can’t seem to help it.
A noise down the narrow hallway draws my attention. I don’t know if it’s the drugs I was injected with or what, but instead of heading out of the unguarded front door, I turn in that direction. Maybe there’s a false sense of security in the clean little house, but the fear I woke up with is fading.
I may be making the biggest mistake of my life, a decision that will end it faster, but there isn’t a voice in my head telling me to bolt when I push open the other door in the hallway.
I’m struck with several things at the same time, my senses overwhelmed and leaving me speechless.
First, is the sight of a shirtless Donavan standing in the middle of the room, the scent of clean sweat on his skin washing over me.
Next, I see a man tied to a chair with blood coating his skin. His eyes are swollen nearly shut, but I can tell it’s the same man who I saw in the reflection before I was injected.
“You need to go back to the bedroom,” Donavan growls at me as he lowers a very large knife back down to the man’s chest. “I’ll deal with your ass after I deal with his.”
The man barely flinches when the knife cuts into his skin.
I’m stuck in place, unable to move.
“You’re not going to want to stick around for this,” he says, sneering over his shoulder at me.
“Probably not,” I tell him, but my feet don’t move. “But I’m not leaving.”
Chapter 22
Donavan
I lay the knife on the table, reaching for the bottle of rubbing alcohol. His eyes dart back open as far as his injuries will allow, a rushed intake of breath echoing around the room.
He darts his gaze around the room, and I hate the way his eyes settle on her, as if she’s going to offer him a helping hand.
She hasn’t opened her mouth since I got back to work. Although it’s only been twenty minutes, I’ve done a lot of damage in that time, going as slowly as possible in an effort to find her breaking point. She hasn’t begged me to stop or asked for mercy for this man.
“He wants you to help him,” I taunt, looking back at Alani.
Her face isn’t pale like I’d expect it to be. She doesn’t look completely sick to her stomach, and I get the impression that any ailment she’s feeling right now is more an aftereffect of the shit this guy injected her with than disgust in what I’m doing.
“Don’t look at her,” I growl at him, hating even his eyes on her. “She can’t help you.”
“Won’t,” Alani corrects, and I swear to God she’s going to make me hard.
I wink at her, something so out of fucking character for me, but it pulls a half-smile from her lips.
“What were they planning on doing with her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, as if I didn’t follow his ass from one of Cortez’s compounds straight back to McAllen, where Alani has been working after quitting school a couple of months ago.
Cortez is floundering. A lot of his men jumped ship after the news of the compound getting raided circulated. That’s the thing about Cerberus being involved in that job where Nash and Ayla were found. They’re known for taking no prisoners. I don’t either, but what I do is small potatoes compared to what those guys do. Plus, I’m just as likely to kill someone for cash as I am to save someone. I’m not exactly picky about the jobs I take. So long as the cash is green and untraceable, I’m all for it.
Since only the most loyal men and a handful of those needing work have stuck around, it’s been easier for us to track what they’ve been doing, especially after Cerberus took down a second compound connected to Raul Cortez two weeks ago.
I keep my eyes on Alani as I drag the knife over his collarbone. It’s close enough to his carotid to scare him but far enough away that it’s not going to actually kill him.
