Page 192 of House of Cards

The men gathered in the center of the room make way for us. Miguel shoves Smith down on his knees beside Ricky. I’m the next to go down, and I bite back a yelp of pain when my knees crack against the marble floor.

When he sees me, Ricky’s one good eye widens slightly. “Hey, Sis.”

I try to reply, but I’m too choked up. He looks fucking awful—like the jaws of life just extracted him from a car wreck that should have left him crippled or dead.

“Are there more men?” Smith hisses in a low, urgent voice. “Is Elonzo with them? Did you see a man with?—”

The butt of a rifle cracks against the side of Smith’s head before he can finish, sending him to his side.

“Smith!” I cry out, lunging forward without thinking. It’s not like I can do anything, anyway.

Boss Man yanks me back by my hair. “Cállate, puta!”?2

I know enough Spanish to know I’ve just been called a whore, and enough common sense to know I’ll be in even deeper shit if I don’t shut the hell up.

Miguel yanks Smith upright, backhanding him when Smith spits onto his shoes. But Smith’s eyes never leave Ricky’s face. There’s grim validation there, and something else.

I’d guess remorse, but that doesn’t make any sense.

I turn to look as the door we came through bangs open.

Luis and another armed gangster stride in, dragging a sobbing maid by her arm. Her black-and-white uniform is rumpled, her face streaked with tears and mascara. There’s a dark red bruise over her eye, like she got punched in the face, and her lip is split.

“Bitch was hiding in the closet,” Luis announces, shoving the woman into the corner with the rest of their captives. Soon as he releases her, she collapses against one of the older woman and bursts into tears.

For an awful moment, her harrowing sobs are the only sound in the room, and we’re all forced to bear witness to her misery.

Luis’s eyes sweep the room, narrowing with recognition when they land on me. A slow, cruel smile spreads across his face as he swaggers my way.

“Back for dessert,Ratoncita?” he says, grabbing his crotch.

“No thanks. I’d probably get food poisoning.”

He’s not wearing a bandage anymore, the grotesque stump of what’s left of his ear on full display. I try not to look at it, but that just seems to piss him off even more.

He crouches down to my level, snarling right in my face. “Boss said your ass is mine when this is over.”

His eyes drop to my hoodie, probably to ogle my tits, and he reaches for me.

Beside me, Smith lets out a dry chuckle. “She already marked you as her bitch. Sure you want to give her a chance to finish the job?”

Luis’s face contorts with rage. He lunges at Smith, his fist connecting with Smith’s jaw in a sickening crack. Smith’s head snaps back, but he recovers in a second, a taunting smirk spreading across his bloodied lips.

“That all you got?” Smith spits a mouthful of blood onto the marble floor and tilts his head in my direction. “No wonder that little girl took a chunk out of you without breaking a sweat.”

Luis unleashes a string of curses, driving his boot into Smith’s ribs. Smith doubles over with a pained grunt, but when he looks up, that same infuriating smirk is still there.

“Know why she took your ear and not your balls? Because she couldn’t fucking find them, you little bitch.”

Luis grabs a fistful of Smith’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. He pulls a knife from his belt, pressing the tip against Smith’s jugular.

“¡Basta!”?3

Everyone freezes at the sound of Elonzo’s voice.

He strides in, scalp gleaming through his buzz cut. His white vest shows off tattoo-covered arms, the crucifix on his silver chain catching the light as he moves.

Luis immediately releases Smith and steps back, chin raised, shoulders hunched.

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