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There are no weapons in sight. No way for him to exact revenge, but the prospect of what those muscles—the bulging cords of tattooed flesh—can do leave me breathless.
“Javier, I was just following commands.” It leaves Acevedo in a low whisper, but the silence of the room makes it so we all hear clearly. “Quintero—”
“Fucked you without lubrication,” he spits out, face contorted in rage before softening when he looks in my direction. The action is fast, and the softness that flickers in those warm orbs pulls a smile from my lips. It’s brief, this moment we share, before he looks away and the killer I’ve heard so much about makes an entrance.
He’s magnificent. Overwhelming.
Perfect.
“Please.” Tears and snot and the faint scent of urine are unmistakable in the room. “Please don’t kill me.”
“You accepted the offer Quintero made.”
“But I never carried it out!” Javier just smiles, walking around his form once before stopping at his right wrist. Without pause, he undoes the rope keeping Acevedo in place and then the other. Both feet are next. “Please, Javier. I didn’t touch anyone; that has to mean something!”
“Stand up.”
“Just listen…fuck!” The first strike is straight to his mouth and two teeth fly out, landing near Malcolm’s feet. The next is to his neck and he chokes out a cry, bending at the waist with both hands up in an attempt to defend himself while his legs give out.
Javier doesn’t let up, though. Blow after vicious blow is landed on Acevedo’s upper body and the back of his head. Javier’s knuckles are white and bruised. His chest is heaving, his mouth curled into a sinister grin.
He’s brutally beautiful and my walls clench when he drives a knee in to the bent man’s face.
“You knew exactly what you were accepting, Castro.” Fisting Acevedo’s hair, Javier forces the bleeding man to meet his stare from his position on his knees. There’s a gash across the bridge of his nose and the swelling has already begun, but it’s not enough for the assassin now working for the head of the Asher family. Bloodthirst is real, and he’s given in to the need for vengeance. “I warned you once in the past, and there won’t be a second chance.”
With that, he lifts a leg and brings Acevedo’s face down to his knee repeatedly. Over and over without pause, he breaks the man’s face down to the point it’s nothing but a bloody mass of cuts and broken bones.
And even then, he continues until our guest’s nose caves in and all his front teeth fall out. Both men are a mess, but it’s the beast standing that holds me captive—spellbound—and unable to look away as he smiles and then lands another direct strike to Acevedo’s jaw.
There’s a sickening crunch, a splash of red that decorates the floor, and then a body falls limply, making the most disturbing gurgling sound. Each breath becomes more shallow than the last. Each second his body struggles, you see the life drain from his eyes until there’s nothing left but a broken man and the victor standing over his frame with his eyes set on me.
Around us, Malcolm’s men quickly move as they begin the process of decontamination…
Water is turned on, and the floor near Javier is flushed out.
The body is removed in a large black bag.
My cousin leaves without a word.
And while the world carries on, we watch each other. Take in the rise and fall of our chests and the mirroring want that’s left me breathless, a bit nervous and unsure.
“We need to talk, Muñeca.” Why do I like it so much when he calls me that? I’m already shaking my head before he finishes, ignoring the clench in my core, and take a few steps back. There’s mirth in his eyes, but he doesn’t follow, choosing instead to tilt his head while licking his lips. I’m inspected from head to toe. His stare feels like a soft caress. “But not today.”
That catches me off guard and I pause mid-step, my face scrunching up in confusion. “What?”
My sputter amuses him, and the jerk lets out a low, throaty chuckle. “I said, not today.”
“Then why are you wasting my time,” I grit out through clenched teeth, hands balled at my sides while fighting to ignore the pictures adorning his upper body, more so the black and white angel of death design that looks like the counterpart to my fallen angel. They’re both Gothically haunting yet beautiful. A mated pair. This is ridiculous, chica. Snap out of it. “Better yet, I’ll see you around. I have better things to do than—”
“I’ll be picking you up tomorrow night for dinner, Mariah.”
“I’m not going out with you.” What kind of game is he playing?
Javier rubs a hand across his chest, spreading the fresh blood across the dark angel. “You will.”
“What makes you so sure? I’m not a woman who lowers her standards.”
At my words, he takes the steps between us and grips my chin. His hold isn’t hard or meant to hurt, but to prove how much he affects me, and he does. I’m jittery and sensitive between my thighs, and goose bumps rise across my flesh. But more damaging to my psyche is the hungry way he watches me. Memorizes my face while cataloging each reaction with that devilish smirk across his lips.
