Page 27 of Angelic Vengeance

It was only fair that I would squeeze his hand back harder. He matched my strength again and it was his turn to smirk when I couldn’t squeeze any harder.

Finally, we both let go.

“No guns. No throwing knives. No dirty fighting,” Zachary stated as he took off his suit jacket. He winked. “Just you and me.”

Endless black ink stretched across his tan skin when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His biceps flexed, and I was suddenly aware of how tall and muscular this man was.

Maybe he wouldn’t go downthateasy. But he would hit the floor by the time this was over.

“You just took all the fun out of it,” I pouted. Picking up a few normal blades, I extended one out but he shook his head. I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Three minutes start… Now.” Zachary’s silence was replaced by the clock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I didn’t make my way straight to him. Instead, I walked along the wall of the concrete bridge, dragging my blade along it. My chest filled with a twisted excitement and anticipation at the sharp scratch sound.

Zachary walked parallel to me, keeping a constant equal gap between us. His lips turned into a knowing smile. “Time’s running out,hermosa.”

“You better hurry up then.”

“Backing down already?” Zachary stopped and simply put his hands in his pockets.

He was trying to fuck with me mentally. I wouldn’t let him.

I stopped a few feet away, copying his stance. “From you?” I chuckled. “Never.”

“Is that why you’re always running away from me?” Sarcasm laced his tone, but I wasn’t going to fall for his bullshit.

The more I was around him, the thinner my patience got. Something about him made me lose my grip on the apathetic social mask I wore. He replaced the ice in my chest with an intense heat I only knew to associate with anger.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Your face repulses me.”

He smirked. “You want to sit on my face.”

I launched for him, throwing deliberate, calculated punches; one after another. But he blocked every single one.

He began stepping back with each defense technique, and for a split second, I let my ego get the best of me. A moment later, my back slammed against his chest. He immobilized me, gripping my wrists and crossing my hands over my chest.

I struggled against his large, merciless frame. His body’s warmth invaded my own, collecting between my thighs and making me lose focus.

“You’re good,hermosa,” Zachary murmured in my ear, the slight brush of his lips sending goosebumps across my skin. “But I’m better.”

As blind irritation seared inside me, I let out an exasperated groan and broke free from his grip. Pulling one of my knives out, I spun around and faced him. While my chest heaved with emotion and fire, he remained still; hauntingly tranquil.

And then I saw it: the blade in his hand. Hestoleone from me when I wasn’t paying attention.

Wrong, twisted excitement pooled in my lower stomach. Maybe I’d underestimated Zachary. He was, after all, Kingpin; Capo of the Mexican Cartel.

After our last run-in, I looked into him again, more thoroughly this time.

Zachary Rafael Di’Ablo, the renowned billionaire, was face-less. A widely respected businessman without a single picture, only the reputation of one of New York’s finest bachelors – a ‘gentlemanwho values his privacy’ said Forbes.

And ‘El Diablo’, the notorious drug lord, was a ghost. Just like the devil, a phantom whose face no one had lived to tell.

Yet here I stood.

Staring straight into his cut-throat eyes. And they warmed my skin like the barrel of a firing gun.

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