Page 33 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“What happened?” she asks after several long minutes.
I inhale a deep breath, really wishing I could postpone this conversation. “Enrique is alive,” I say.
Her face washes white, and her lips press into a flat line. “How? You said you killed him.” I don’t miss the accusatory edge in her tone.
“I… I didn’t exactly hang around to watch him die. I cut him and ran. And then they changed leadership…” Lies upon lies upon lies. I’m not sure if I even know what the truth is anymore.
“He wanted us to think he was dead.” She narrows her eyes. “Why?”
I shrug. “It’s Enrique. You know the kind of games he likes to play.” She knows all too well.
The memory of having to suck his dick in front of Gabriella to save her life flashes through my mind, and I drop my chin to my chest in embarrassment. He has degraded and demoralized us both, and I know she wants him dead as much as I do. Unlike me, though, she doesn’t have another culprit to relieve some of the hatred.
“He probably did it just to mess with my head.” The lies all fall from my lips so easily, and with each one, I both hate myself and yet care a little less. At this point, my entire life is a falsehood. Guilt has no place anymore.
“What are we going to do?” We? There is no we in this. There is me, and him, and one winner.
“I’ll work it out, okay?”
She grabs my arm when I turn to leave. “Why do you always do that? Act like you’re alone?”
“I’m fine, Gabi. I just have to work things out in my head.”
“We have to kill him, Lina. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll come for you.”
Oh, how I know that all too well. I can feel the figurative clock ticking away right above my head, mocking me.
“I just…I need some time.”
She slowly nods and releases me. I find my way out into the gardens where I walk. The darkness seems to swallow everything out here, but I like it. I feel invisible, and I really wish I could be.
I find a patch of grass between the flower beds and lie down. The stars twinkle above me, and I feel so small and inconsequential in the grand scheme of the world. The problem is, no matter how small I am, I’m limited to my own world, and in it, I’m the underdog.
I grasp the velvety soft grass beneath my hands, digging my fingers into the ground in the hopes that it will help me feel more rooted.
Enrique is alive.
Sasha is alive.
I’m alive.
I’m treading water, in a stalemate, and something has to give. In a sudden and shocking epiphany, I realize that I want Enrique dead far more than Sasha. That shouldn’t be the case, but I can’t fight with the evidence before me. Sasha may be a killer, but he isn’t the monster that Enrique is, and my mind struggles to wrap around that concept.
On a deep breath, I close my eyes and inhale the cool night air deep into my lungs, clearing my mind. Just one breath in, one breath out. One step at a time.
That’s all I can do.
11
Sasha
My head is unclear, and as always, it’s Adelina’s fault. I should call Una and let her know that Enrique is alive, but I don’t. Something stops me. Perhaps it’s the loss of respect I know she’ll have for Adelina or the fact that she’ll tell me to come back and leave Adelina to her fate.
I promised myself when I came here that I would remain professional. Like the weakness that she is, she’s eaten away at me, bit by bit until I’m right back where I was. When I opened the car door and saw her gasping for breath, I knew it was pure fear. Enrique Bianchi wants her back. I should walk away and leave her to the path she chose. How many times will I allow Adelina to kick me? I realize as many times as it takes to keep her safe. I just need to figure out how to do that.
I eventually strip out of my clothes and turn off the lights before slipping beneath the sheets. Tomorrow. I’ll make a decision tomorrow.
I wake from a light sleep when I hear the door to my room click open. My back remains to the door, and I listen intently as feather-light footsteps seem to navigate every squeaky floorboard with precision. My hand slides under the pillow, fingers brushing the hilt of my gun when I get the slightest hint of perfume: sweet and floral. I’d recognize it anywhere. I remove my hand just as the covers are pulled back slightly, allowing cool air to kiss my spine. The mattress dips, and fingertips caress my shoulder before sliding across my side and over my chest.
