Page 63 of Reckless Woman
When he hands me the glass it’s full of vodka, not whiskey, but I don’t make a big deal of it. I watch him sink into the couch opposite and cross his legs, looking every inch the enigmatic six-foot, dark-haired marauder that he is.
“Cheers,” he murmurs.
This time he drinks long and deep, his gaze dipping to my untouched vodka once he’s done.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” I flash him a smile that’s about as fucking genuine as his. “Tell me about this lead. Shall I follow it up?”
He grimaces. “We’ll come to that in a moment…do you like my coffee table?”
His change of topic catches me off guard. I find myself leaning in, convinced I’ve misheard.
“The coffee table,” he repeats patiently. “Do you like it?”
I drag my gaze up and down the swathes of polished mahogany.It looks like every other fucking coffee table to me.
“Um, was it expensive?”
“Very. My wife bought it for me as a birthday present. It would take an act of uncontrollable rage for me to bring myself to tarnish it.”
Something flashes in his expression.
Something that makes me want to run and hide.
Shutting that thought down, I take a large sip of my vodka and nearly choke.This is what thependejodoes, Viviana.Once you’re in his inner circle, he fucks with you for his evening’s entertainment.
“I enjoyed what you did to Fernandez in Colombia,” he muses, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch, twisting his wedding ring with his thumb. “It reminded me of something I would have done.”
“Done?” I say, picking up on the past tense.
“Do.”
He makes it sound like a threat.
“We share the same blood.” I shrug and take another sip. “If someone fucks with us, we fuck them back twice as hard.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lifts up one leg of his black pants and unveils a hunting knife strapped to his calf. “It’s not a Billhook Machete, but it does the trick.” He lays it down flat on the coffee table in front of me. “I used to pin my enemy’s hand to the table, extracting the information I needed before firing a bullet between his…or hereyes.”
He’s still holding my gaze when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in, Sofía.”
“Señor.” The maid sweeps into the room carrying a silver tray and dome. She places it down on the coffee table in front of him, barely glancing at the knife.
She must have seen some shit here over the years.
“I hope you’re hungry, Viviana,” he murmurs, reaching for the lid as the maid moves to stand behind the couch.
She’s so close to the back of my head I can smell her sickly-sweet floral perfume. “What are we having tonight again?”
“Exactly what you requested,señor,” I hear her say politely.
“Excellent.”
He lifts the lid, and my smirk drops.
Before I have a chance to stumble to my feet, I feel a rope being pulled tight around my neck. Stars burst into my vision. My drink goes flying as I desperately claw at it, panic spreading like wildfire. I can’t suck enough air into my lungs.