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“You couldn’t even fucking stab me when I was helping you shove a knife into me.” I shake my head at her.
“You can teach me.” Her voice is soft, and her words are hesitant. “I know what you are. What you’ve done. The atrocities that you’re capable of.”
My eyes roam over her suspiciously. My work for the cartel is completely in the dark. No spotlight. No media. I’m fucking invisible. There are only two types of people who know who I am.
Those I kill for.
…and those I kill.
I shove my chair from the table with so much force that the table pushes toward Lucia as I stand. Her eyes are wide, and I violently stalk toward her. They only grow bigger as I wrap my large hand around her long, slender neck.
Her pulse races beneath my fingertips—my cock all but twitching in the rhythm—as I shove her back against the cabinets behind her. My grip holds her attention, but I squeeze a little harder to ensure I keep it, as I box her in and loom over her.
“No one knows who the fuck I am,” I snarl, and drops of my spittle splatter over her face, “Who the fuck are you?”
Her lips part, and she tries to speak, but my tight grip silences any words she tries to push over her lips.
“Tell me your fucking name!”
fifteen
LUCIA
He loosens his grip on me, and my chest heaves as I try to suck in air. My chest continues to heavily rise and fall with fear flowing through my veins.
A different fear…
Not the one I’ve grown accustomed to.
“Your fucking name!” His hot breath wafts over my face as he shouts the words, repeating himself.
“Lu…Lucia.” I push the word from my trembling lips.
His hand tightens around my throat again, and he uses his grip to further angle my face up toward his. He doesn’t speak a word, and he doesn’t have to. I know exactly what his next question is.
“Saltillo.” My name comes out like a grunt as I force the whisper through his tight hold.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he snarls and abruptly releases his hold on me and begins to back away. “Lucia fucking Saltillo? You didn’t think to say anything? Or ask to be taken back home to your fami?—”
“He’s not my fucking family.” I choke on my words—this fear feels familiar—as tears begin to flood my eyes, “I don’t ever want to fucking go back to Hector.”
Following him across the room, I firmly grip the front of his shirt and pull myself into him. Staring up his chest, I plead, “Please don’t send me back to him.”
“He did this to you?” His voice is so angry that he nearly sounds evil. “Your own fucking husband?”
His words shoot through me like daggers. While I never loved Hector, and always knew that our marriage was going to be one of convenience, it’s the thought of someone willingly treating their wife like that.
Fuck…
No one should treat another human being like that.
“Yes,” I answer as my face falls into his chest and tears begin to roll down my face.
“Little lamb,” he breathes, and his arm wraps around me to pull me tighter as the other tips my chin back up to him. “He will pay for what he did to you.”
He softly cups my jaw with his rough hands, and the pad of his thumb wipes away the tears rolling down my cheek. “They all will.”
Staring into his eyes, his thumb continues to lightly graze over my cheek. Completely unwavering, our eyes are locked on each other as he keeps holding me close to his body.
