Page 100 of Deal with the Devil
I stagger sideways, almost running into the fountain. Portia screams out at us to stop or else she’s going to get help herself.
Il Diavolo’s loud inside my head. He’s insistent, refusing to give up this fight we’re locked into.
This war for dominance.
Il Diavolo edges me out, surging forward with the mask in hand. His grip is viselike as he shoves it back into place like a king reclaiming his crown. His laughter spills out of him, the sound cruel and triumphant, echoing across the park grounds.
“I am the dominant personality now!” he yells. “And there’s not a fucking thing you can do to stop me!”
He rounds on Portia and her wide, tear-glossed eyes, and a grin spreads across his face from behind the mask.
“Oh, dolcezza,” he purrs, taking a step forward. “Did you really think you were going to escape me?”
Portia moves back, putting more space between them. “You need help! Let Rafael back out. He was about to get help for the both of you.”
“That won’t be happening. There is no escaping,” he says dismissively. He gestures to my body like it’s his own and not stolen. “He’s weak. I’m stronger. I’m always stronger. And now that I’ve tasted what it feels like to wear him fully, I’m never giving him back.”
He starts toward her—mylegs moving athiscommand, reaching for her like he doesn’t give a damn if she’ll run or rebuff him.
“Don’t run, dolcezza,” he hums. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Portia backs away like she’s trying not to provoke a predator, until her heel strikes uneven ground and she stumbles slightly, catching herself with a gasp. He lurches forward to grab hold of her at last, a sick surge of satisfaction filling me up—hishunger,hissatisfaction,histhrill at the chase.
“C’mere, dolcezza!”
A bright burst of red and blue lights cuts through and interrupts their cat-and-mouse face off.
The whir of a siren follows not a split second after. A police cruiser has pulled up to the curb some twenty feet away.
“Stop right there!” a voice booms over a megaphone or radio. “Hands where we can see them!”
26
PORTIA
It takesa moment for me to realize it’s the police that have pulled up on us. Their flashing lights glow brightly in the night, lighting up the park grounds.
I stand frozen in their glare, chest heaving, every nerve in my body drawn tight as wire. Diavolo’s arm hangs slack at his side, equally as thrown off by the sudden appearance of law enforcement. After his battle with Rafael, it’s short-circuited whatever madness has been going on inside his head.
The voice barks its next command when we don’t move fast enough.
“Hands up in the air. Now or you will be disobeying a lawful command.”
Another squad car pulls up behind the first one. The doors open and several officers step out with their guns drawn. I immediately recognize one of them—Captain Luca Poveri walks among his men like he’s some valiant warrior on the battlefield about to claim victory.
My gaze swings to the other man walking at his side, the lanky man with glasses and hair that grays at the edges, and I almost gasp as I put it together.
This is a takedown.
…and I’ve helped them without even realizing I have.
Baron Strong is at Poveri’s side, pride gleaming on his face as he walks toward us. My old field producer at Metro News believes I’m on his side. He thinks I’m in on the bust.
He’s not exactly wrong. I just never imagined the truth would come out like this.
After Benjamin Sigler’s niece contacted me and I decided to continue my investigation into the Bellucci crime family from DC, I knew I would need help. Someone else I could rely on who had the resources and know how to help me handle the situation.
That someone was Baron.
