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No. Not my enemy, I reminded myself. These men worked for Stefano Duarte, my new ally. They’d called me here for a meeting, promising a gift.
Whatever the fuck this was, I didn’t want it. I didn’t give a damn if the woman had murdered one of their mothers; I didn’t brutalize women. They could’ve ended her quickly if it was necessary to eliminate her, but they’d chosen to have a little fun with her first.
“Why did you call me to come here?” I narrowed my eyes at the man who was barely breathing beneath my blade. “And why the fuck would you think I would thank you for hurting her?”
“I told you,” the other man said quickly, his voice shaking slightly. “She’s George Crawford’s fiancée. The boss wants him eliminated. And we know that you’re in Mexico City to do business with him. We want in on your new operation.” He licked his lips and hurried on. “We’ll help you get on good terms with Duarte, and you can count on us to establish your business in Mexico.”
The one in my murderous grip swallowed hard but lifted his chin in a show of bravado. “Crawford will come for her, and you can help us kill him. Then, we’ll all earn Duarte’s favor. We’ll all be rich. That’s why you came here from Naples, isn’t it?”
The woman stirred on a low moan, a wordless protest to the threat against her fiancé.
I bared my teeth at him as rage rose in my chest, threatening to take hold and drive me to reckless violence.
“She’s innocent?” I growled the question, and my blade pressed deeper into his flesh.
“She’s in love with that motherfucker,” the other man protested. “Why should we give a shit about her?”
“I asked you a question,” I hissed. “Is she innocent?”
“Aren’t you listening? We’ll all be richer than gods. She’s nothing, no one. I’m not going to let some bitch stop me from getting paid.”
He kicked her again, taking out his frustration with me on her fragile form. She went as still as a broken doll, and blood welled from a cut on her forehead.
A red haze descended over my mind, obliterating rational thought entirely. If I took a moment to think, I would remember my mission here in Mexico City. I’d think twice about crossing Stefano Duarte, the powerful drug lord who commanded these abusive bastards.
But I’d never been a cautious man, and my instinct for vicious, efficient violence had kept me alive in situations far more dangerous than this one.
I was the danger in this dank basement; the two young men who shared the cramped space were little more than boys.
But they were old enough to kidnap and brutalize an innocent woman.
They would die for that.
I didn’t give a fuck that George Crawford was a dirty agent, and Duarte wanted his head for helping a rival cartel. I didn’t care that I needed an alliance with Duarte to further my own ambitions. All that mattered was punishing these motherfuckers, eliminating them so they could never hurt an innocent woman again.
My world was steeped in blood and sin, but I never victimized civilians. I didn’t allow it back home in Naples, and I wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen here in Mexico, no matter how badly I needed Duarte’s friendship.
With one clean swipe of my blade, I opened the pinned man’s throat. I dropped him like the trash he was, not bothering to watch the light leave his eyes. The gory choking sound of his final moments faded to a familiar, macabre beat in the background of my murderous fury. Despite the volatile emotion that’d taken hold of my psyche, my movements were controlled and precise as I turned to face my surviving enemy. His mouth opened to beg for his miserable life, but my knife had already left my fingers. It embedded itself deep in his chest, hitting the target of his heart with perfect precision.
He dropped to his knees, gaping at me in shock. His pathetic attempts to draw his final breaths would’ve been almost comical if it weren’t for the severity of his crime. The bastard deserved to die screaming, but I’d ended the fight before it could truly begin. I had enough rationality remaining to know that I couldn’t risk drawing the attention of the authorities if anyone heard their dying cries. That instinct for survival had kept me alive this long, and I didn’t intend to end up in prison in Mexico. I would never risk being caged again.
I shook the remaining violent tension from my shoulders and plucked my blade from the dying man’s chest. The threat had been handled. The woman was all that mattered now.
She was too still, and the pool of crimson blood beneath her pale cheek stained her white-blonde hair. She was small and slender, appearing as frail as a broken butterfly. More blood coated her hands where she’d torn her wrists fighting the cruel restraints that the bastards had used to incapacitate her.
I crouched over her and tested her pulse at her throat. It was steady beneath my fingers. I heaved out a breath, the last of my rage leaving my body on a long exhale. The men who’d hurt her were dead. No one would harm her now.
Moving with the swiftness of familiarity, I freed the knotted gag and blindfold. She didn’t stir when they dropped away from her face. Long lashes fanned her lightly freckled cheeks, and her eyes remained closed. She was beautiful and delicate and far too pale.
I hissed a curse and wiped the dead man’s blood from my knife before using it to cut away the cable ties around her ankles and wrists. She didn’t so much as flinch when I carefully peeled them from her torn skin.
I had to get her to a hospital. Dropping her off myself would be a stupid risk, so I put in an anonymous call to emergency services and gave them our location.
I waited with her until I heard the wail of approaching sirens. Then I took a breath and forced myself to leave her alone in the basement with the lifeless bodies of my enemies. I couldn’t allow the authorities to find me here. The ambulance would be here soon, and she would get the medical care she needed.
Besides, if I wanted to check on her wellbeing in the coming days, I knew exactly where to find her. She was George Crawford’s fiancée. I would make amends to Duarte by offering to stalk his DEA agent enemy myself. And if I was able to watch over this innocent beauty at the same time, all the better. Her piece of shit lover wouldn’t be alive much longer. Until then, I could protect her from my criminal associates.
Chapter 3
