Angry at myself, and sickened by how close I’d come to messing up, I wanted to scream. Just like the night Mamá was murdered and Alejandro taken, I’d fucked up.
“Why,” I whispered, chest tightening. Momentarily forgetting that I had an audience, I teetered on the edge of falling apart. “Why do I always—”
My mouth snapped shut, back teeth clattering, when the psycho rapist across from me reached out, snatching my wrist in his big hand.
Fingers digging into my skin and bone, he jerked me toward him, making me lose my balance. A pain-driven yelp escaped my lips as I hit the table, my chest colliding against the worn wood with a harsh smack.
“Let go of me!”
Mind-numbing fear.
That’s what I felt.
“I don’t want your dope!”
And I didn’t.
I’d had a moment of weakness, sí, but I’d pulled myself back from the brink, refusing to give in.
I won the battle…
But now I’ll lose the war.
Capturing my other wrist with ease, he yanked my arms forward, trapping me. I warred to free myself, but his hold was unrelenting, his grip iron-tight.
Still, I fought with everything I had.
I will not let him do this to me.
I have suffered enough.
The twisted psycho laughed as I continued to pull against him, doing everything I could to escape. “You think you can get away?” Leaning down, he brought his lips to my ear. “Because newsflash, mami… you can’t.”
He was wrong, and two seconds later, I proved to him just how much.
Steeling my features, I forced my watery gaze to meet his. “Instead of terrorizing me,” I spat, hoping he’d take the bait I was about to lay, “how about you go fuck your mother?”
When his eyes flared, I knew my verbal punch had hit its mark.
Bullseye!
Releasing one of my wrists, he raised his hand to strike me. Whether he was going to slap or hit me is anyone’s guess, but I didn’t intend to allow him to do either. I’d been hurt enough to last ten lifetimes.
The endless abuse needed to stop.
One way or another.
Seizing the chance he’d gifted me, I used my free hand to pull the only weapon I possessed from my coat pocket.
Flicking open the rusted switchblade, I slammed it into the meat of his forearm before he could stop me, tearing his flesh and drawing blood.
Bellowing, he released my captured hand.
Ripping my knife free of his body, I leapt back. Off-balance thanks to my stilettos, I misstepped, and stumbled.
Unable to right myself, I fell.
Hard.
Butt and back crashing onto the filthy floor, pain radiated through my entire frame.
Enraged, the man rounded the table, blood dripping from the non-lethal wound marring his tattooed arm.
Heart ready to fly out of my chest, I skittered back and jumped to my feet, holding the crimson-coated blade out in front of me.
“Stay back!” I screamed, beads of sweat gliding over my temples. “I will cut off both your huevos if you come within three feet of where I stand!”
“You stupid bitch! I’m going to—”
Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs.
Upon hearing them, he snapped his mouth shut. Like me, he knew who was coming, just as he knew punishment would be doled out once the person headed our way learned he’d tried to touch me without payment. And that punishment? It would be life-threatening.
Not that I cared.
Right or wrong, sympathy was not something I felt for the man who’d tried to harm me. Like the others that had come before him, he was going to take something that I would never have given freely.
From my pain, he would’ve found pleasure, and from my weakness, he would’ve been made to feel strong.
That wasn’t okay.
I was an addict, a prostitute, and a thief, but I was still a human being who possessed a heart, though it bled, and a soul, though it wept.
Despite what the people who continually hurt me may have believed, I didn’t deserve to suffer for their sick enjoyment.
Ever.
It was a truth that I sometimes forgot, but one that, at that moment, I believed in with everything I had.
“What the fuck is going on?”
The surrounding air shifted as El Diablo stepped into the room.
One of the vilest men I’d ever met—and let me tell you, that was saying something—evil radiated from his hulking frame in waves.
“Someone better answer me,” he growled, sweat-slicked bare chest shining beneath the harsh yellow light that dangled above his head. “Or else I’ll make both of you talk.”
His words were not an empty threat.
Everyone in that room knew it too.
I’d seen him, a man more wicked than any fallen angel ever could be, end more than one person’s life for something as simple as disrespecting him.
Knowing that if I didn’t speak up, a bullet might end up in my chest instead of the person who deserved it, I quickly started talking.
“Your pendejo puppet attacked me,” I spat, uncaring of the tone I was taking with him even though he would’ve had no problem slitting my throat. “I had to stab him to get away.”
If only I could’ve castrated him…
“And before you ask, no, he didn’t pay me.” I paused, shooting the bastardo a glare. “Not that I would’ve taken money from him. I don’t care if he’s the last man on earth, I am not—”
My ears rang as the back of El Diablo’s hand met my cheek, sending sparks of pain screeching through my face and skull.
“You don’t make those fuckin’ decisions!” he yelled, voice echoing off the cracked walls. “You may have once been a Colombian beauty queen, but inside these walls, you are nothin’ more than a junkie whore who spreads her legs for anyone willin’ to pay!”
His words lashed my soul.
I hated him.
So much.
The only person I hated more was myself.
“You start turnin’ down clients, that means you’re fuckin’ with my money, and we both know what happens when someone fucks with what’s mine. Don’t we?”
Life depending on it, I nodded.
“Fuckin’ answer me!”
“I know what happens!” I shouted back, self-preservation kicking in. “And I won’t do it, I swear!” Pulling the small wad of cash I’d stolen from a gas station’s unattended register, I handed it
