Page 15 of The Silent Night Stalker
He tries to punch me and buck me off, but he doesn’t have the strength or leverage.
“Who fucking sent you?” I yell and punch him twice in the face.
He groans from the pain and blocks his face as I punch him again. When I jab his ribs, he whimpers. Fucking pathetic. So much for being a killer. It’s almost insulting that the Da Costas would send someone like this to attack me.Me, of all people. And no way this asshole took down Enrique. No fucking way. Enrique was a fighter like me. He was strong and tall—more than this little weasel.
Before I can go in and beat the fuck out of him further, he grabs my nuts and squeezes. It feels like they’re being literally ripped out of my fucking body. My eyes roll back into my head as I fall onto my back, cupping my junk, trying not to throw up. “Bastard!” I rasp.
The stranger scrambles away, but as he stands to run off, I grab his ankle. His momentum forces him to fall on his face.
I’m going tofuckingkill him.
Despite feeling nauseous with my stomach and my balls aching like hell, I crawl over to him, grab his ski mask from the back of his head, and yank it off, exposing light brown hair.
He’s clawing at the ground, trying to escape me, but he doesn’t stand a chance as I roll him over onto his back. The asshole rushes tocover his face, but I yank his hands back and pin them to the floor as I straddle him. I need to see who I’m about to fucking kill.
But then I freeze. Even in the darkness, I recognize him. The man from the bar last week. I thought he’d been cute in a nerdy way with those glasses, so I gave him a nod after catching him staring at me. His hair color is different and his nose is smaller, but it’s obviously him. Was he wearing a fucking disguise that night? Had he set me up all this time?
“You!” I yell.
“What?” he stupidly says again. Is he a fucking idiot? He must be coming after me in my goddamn home.
“I never forget a face. Did you kill my brother? Was it you?”
“N-no… who’s… I only…”
“You a fucking moron or something? Speak!”
“I only meant… I was only…”
“Jesus fuck.”
I punch him several times until he stops moving, and blood is pouring out of his nose. My hand aches like hell, and I’m going to have bruised knuckles, but it’s worth it to pummel his fucking face. I try not to think of how it’s going to feel at the fight a week from now.
“Asshole!” I hiss.
The bastard is moaning and barely moving, so he isn’t quite knocked out, only subdued. Now I can get him tied up so I can interrogate him. I need answers about Enrique and why this dickhead came after me, and who the hell sent him. Once I get my answers, then I’ll call Alfonzo to come get this creep.
I climb off him and stand as I shake my hand out from the throbbing pain, not to mention my nuts are still fucking aching. My heart won’t stop racing, and my mind wants to rage at this man, but I need to question him first.
Focus, Enzo. Brush off the pain like you’ve been trained to do.
Who hired him? Who else was involved? Why was he at that bar last week? He couldn’t have followed me since I didn’t even knowIwas going to head over to that specific place until the last minute. Besides, he was there before me. How could he have known? Maybe it was a coincidence. Then again, many people know I go to Frank’s after a good workout at the gym. Or perhaps he saw me there, recognized me, and followed me home. Maybe he has nothing to do with Enrique. Only time and questions will tell.
My stomach suddenly churns with acid. I’m not feeling so good. The room is getting warmer as dizziness sweeps over me. The pain in my hand and balls vanishes as I grow numb and wobbly.
“Oh, fuck…” I mutter before I drop on all fours as I’m blanketed by disorientation.
Goddamn drugs.
That’s my last thought as I see the man stand and stumble out of my room.
Chapter 7
Constantine
No,no,no…
My heart is palpitating so much, I can hardly catch my breath. The anxiety is gripping my throat in a death vise. My mind is in chaos.
