Page 70 of Wild Heart
Marcos gagged and heaved once before he threw up at his feet. Knees bent and face red, he glanced up at Delgado with tears in the corners of his eyes.
“What the fuck is your obsession with fingers?”
“Come here and pick it up before I shoot both of them.”
Marcos’ eyes were wide enough now that I barely saw flashes of white beneath his growing pupils. A bead of sweat dripped down the edge of his strained neck, and he looked at each of the guns Delgado held. One was pointed toward me, the other toward Luis.
“You have five seconds to move or I shoot both of them.”
He took a step, and then another, breaths shallow and scared.
“You’re doing great, butterfly,” I told him because if there was one thing my baby thrived on, it was praise.Mypraise.
Marcos bent, pinching my finger between his own and cradling it in his palm. “I’ll keep it safe for you, papa.”
“I know you will, baby. It’s all going to be okay.”
Delgado laughed. “What a rich fucking promise, Koslov. Cabrera is as good as dead, and if you want to stand here and see who bleeds out first, I’m happy to play.”
“What if I go with you?” Marcos blurted.
“Absolutely fucking not!”
Marcos didn’t look at me, but I saw the way my voice affected him. Chin low, he held his hands to his chest and offered himself up as a sacrifice.
“I’ll go with you. Ivan and my father can get help, and you can take me wherever you want.”
No.
No.
No.
I was dizzy, dangerously close to passing out, but still, my eyes tracked the edges of the room. The space was dismal and cold, covered in blood and old documents. Luis was unconscious now, and though their relationship was strained, I knew my baby couldn’t handle watching another member of his family die.
Delgado smiled down at my sweet, scared boy. “Such a brave little lamb, sacrificing himself for the lion.”
“Can I hug him goodbye? Please?”
“Do you think I’m fucking idiot?”
Yes.
“What do you expect me to do, you homicidal prick? You have two guns, and I have a fucking finger. Shoot me if I step out of line.”
“No!” he barked, less than an inch from Marcos’ face. My boy rocked backward on his heels, gagging at the spit now on his cheeks.
“You smell like you bathe in a dirty toilet.”
“Get behind me, you little shit.”
Marcos moved, and I smiled.
Thatwas Delgado’s mistake.
With a feral cry, Marcos slammed his leg between both of his, nailing Delgado straight in the balls. Breath punched from his chest, and when his legs folded beneath him, I lunged.
Adrenaline hurdled through my bloodstream, and I took him to the ground, latching my hand around his neck so quickly he could only blink. Both guns scattered somewhere behind me, but I didn’t fucking care.
