Page 10 of Hostile Rival
This time I don’t regret a thing. In fact, my veins are supercharged, and I’d happily take on a room full of men if they came at me.
However, the assignment is complete. I’ve spent too long in this shit hole already and now I’m bleeding out on the damn floor. My blood is everywhere. My fucking DNA.
Doing my best to ignore the white-hot agony, I lurch toward the kitchen, grab a bottle of cooking oil, and smash it over the stove. Then I unscrew a bottle of shitty liquor, take a long gulp, and pour the rest over the countertop.
Striking a match, I toss it straight into the pool of oil. I take a beat to watch the flames take hold, making sure this place and any evidence pointing to me burns to the ground.
Buenos noches,motherfuckers.
I swallow hard to create saliva and blink away the black blobs floating past my eyes.
After leaving the house, an explosion sends a cloud of black smoke into the street. Struggling to walk, I hunt out the motorcycle I’d hidden. Before I climb on, I try to pull out the glass buried in my thigh, gritting my teeth when I can’t get a grip on it.
Sirens scream and neighbors start to appear on the scene.
Time to get the hell out of here. Even though I need a doctor, I can’t go to a hospital. Besides, I have to drive a few miles in a random direction before I could try to return to the villa.
It’s necessary, but my main issues are hiding this injury from my roomie.
5
DANIELA
I hear the click of the main front door closing and quickly reach for my revolver, keeping a hold of it under the sheet. With the heavy drapes shut, blacking out the room, it's hard to know if it's still nighttime.
Checking my phone, the digital numbers tell me it’s one-thirty in the morning. I’ve always been a light sleeper, probably because caring for a sick mother meant I always had one eye open and one ear trained on the sound of her breathing. These days I listen for danger instead.
In the silence, I sit up and keep the light off, not bothering to look over at Matheus’ bed. He left on a solo mission earlier and had not yet returned, so I suspect the footsteps moving through the villa belong to him.
I roll my eyes, thinking Giovanni probably gave his little brother a short, simple mission. Nothing like being related to the commander.
My first solo mission for The Covenant had involved a two-day stake out in a shitty, boiling hot van watching a gang of murderous assholes.
I got the job done, as always, and returned north to the Colombian caves we used as base. Then I enjoyed a cold beer, alone, on a clifftop, watching the sunrise.
That’s the time of day I feel closest to Mama. When golden sunlight replaces the stars and I witness something beautiful that's not pain and murder.
But that is all I’ve ever known.
The handle depresses and the door slowly opens. I lean back, using the darkness to hide the fact I’m not sleeping.
Closing the door behind him, I squint to see his half-hunched silhouette, sensing his sluggish movements and hear every shallow breath he takes.
Quietly, taking his time, he uses the wall as a guide and moves into the bathroom, gently shutting the door behind him.
I hear the light flip on and then several loud thuds are followed by deep baritone swearing.
Something doesn't feel right. I switch on the bedside lamp and frown at the mess he’s trailed through our room. Blood covers the floor tiles and red distorted handprints mark the white walls.
I shake my head. Who the fuck is going to clean that shit up? Not me.
There’s another thump and then he growls, louder this time.
“Wonderful,” I mutter under my breath.
He’s hurt. And Dragon would put a price on my head if his brother bled out on the bathroom floor while I did nothing to help.
Throwing back the sheet, I get out of bed and pad across the room, careful not to skid in the drips of precious Souza blood. Without knocking, I fling the door open and my breath catches.
