Page 42 of Hostile Secret
Forced to kneel before this cocky scumbag, my hands shake and a tangle of emotions twist around my heart like choking vines.
All I had wanted was an evening to pretend everything was––okay––because it’s not, and it hasn’t been since Reno was taken from me.
All I feel is emptiness.
Every day.
But this can’t be how it ends for me. Not like this.
I close my eyes to focus on my breathing. Nausea roils in my stomach. Whatever the consequences, if he shoves that dirty dick of his anywhere near me, I’d bite it off, no matter how hard he fights back. Violence is in my blood, and I’m not afraid to unleash it.
“Time for some real fun, Baby Doll.” I shudder when he stuffs his hand inside his jeans.
13
GIOVANNI
Something out of the ordinary has happened to me.
A wired insanity thumps in my chest and when I burst into the open air, I can’t contain the monstrous way it squeezes the veins leading to my heart. I’ve understood the power of destruction for years, but this sensation––it’s volatile.
Which means this won’t be the same as any other death dealing situation.
It’s fucking personal.
As soon as my pilot informed me India had gone rogue, I sped all the way back to Santa Marta to track her down. It was easy given her exact coordinates are permanently tracked on my phone.
I had to bail on an important business meeting. Not that it matters. India comes first. Had I known she was actually in danger, I would have flown here instead.
And now, having witnessed some asshole drag her across the parking lot, I’m one heartbeat away from detonating.
Despite always assessing the area and knowing exactly who my targets are, I don’t have time to figure those details out right now. All I care about is protecting her.
My tactical brain doesn’t have time to think over a plan other than slaughter every single fucker present.
Usually, I’d go straight for the sniper rifle in the trunk of my vehicle, but the urgency of this mission is paramount.
Spineless fucks like this move quickly. And if one of them touches her with a dick before I land on the scene, I’d never forgive myself.
I don’t linger in the shadows like I normally would or scout for watchful bystanders. Instead, I embody my nuclear temper and activate an impulse to terminate.
I’m weaving my way through parked cars, the lower half of my face covered with a hood pulled up over my head. My suppressed firearm was freed the second I’d got out of the BMW.
A war is on the horizon, and I’m the one who’s primed to finish it.
The closer I get, the harder my heart pounds. It hadn’t reacted like this since Papá murdered my dog. After that, I died inside and nurtured hatred as a survival instinct.
Day by day, the buzz of snuffing out criminal lives had slowly withered my soul, so this rush of adrenaline must be entirely her fault.
Shooting these guys won’t be half as rewarding as torturing them. With every fast stride I take, memories flicker of my past victims and their final moments.
Mostly, they’re oblivious to my precise bullet ripping through the air until the second it had hit, and on special occasions, when they had intel I needed, I could be quite creatively persuasive in my information extraction methods. They never survived their injuries.
The day Papá realized I’d become his deadliest weapon; he shook my hand and told me he was a proud man. His praise should have made me smile or provided a sense of acceptance, instead it cemented what was left of my heart.
He’d finally succeeded in destroying my humanity. And I didn’t care.
Tonight, I won’t offer these guys the ticking hands of time to indulge in any last requests, not when they’ve put one of my own in danger.
