DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  Do I want to break her now?

  The verdict is still out.

  “Re went to get the ice cream for me. I was always eating my food and half of hers too. When my mom would mention I needed to slow down on this or that, ReAnna squeeze my hand under the table.” LeAnna’s voice breaks into a sob. “I always thought she was wise beyond her years and nurturing. The little sister and I was afraid of the dark—afraid of everything.”

  Emotion breaks across my face. A connection that no man on earth nor under it will ever break collides together. She’s the older twin. I’m the older twin! I run a shaking hand through my wavy hair, goosebumps rising over my muscular forearms.

  “Sounds like the two of you were close, Aria.”

  “No shit, cabrón. That’s what twin power is. Your head is stuck up your ass, Dominic.” I sneer at the television. “That’s connection. You don’t understand that.”

  I stand up, chest puffed out, strolling around the room. “As a matter of fact, hermano, if I could turn back time, this would be us. Me and LeAnna. You’d be the one who wandered off with some sick fuck. She’d be in my bed. I’ll have her in my . . .”

  My voice trails off as I respect LeAnna and listen keenly.

  “Every day of my life, I miss Re. It got to the point where I regret my accomplishments, Dario.”

  I’m drawn to the screen as she speaks to me. “Sí, mami. You regret hurting your twin. You’re better than the pendejo holding you tight.”

  “Dario, that’s why I was hesitant after our weekend together. I had the best time of my life with you, yet I let guilt drown me again.”

  “Sí, mami?” I press my thumb across the screen, imagining the silk of her lips.

  “I got scared. You made it perfect. You made—”

  “Oh shit.” I gulp, glaring at the television. If she mentions the restaurant, I’m fucked. “LeAnna, listen to me, no talk of the restaurant. Keep that between me and you, mami. We have our secrets.”

  “Every time you touch me, Dario. It’s so good. So, so good, like I’ve betrayed Reanna all over again. Maybe she’s alive, or maybe she never experienced this level of ecstasy. This level of happiness.”

  On the screen, my arms encircle around LeAnna, holding her close.

  “Tell her you love her!” My fingers curl around the edge of one of the big screens. “Tell her. The second you do, I’m snatching her, Dom. I’ll rip her out of your clutches. You’ll see what it’s like to love and have lost. I’m gonna keep her forever! In this life and the next.” And the next life might come all too soon for our little LeAnna.

  Wood splints beneath the drywall, and I blink in astonishment. Torn between lifting LeAnna’s soul or anchoring her here with me, I’ve pulled the bolts of the mounting for the TV out. I lean against the wall, confirming the television is on the brink of falling. But it’s possible it may hold for a while. At the sight of him in the position created for LeAnna and me, I shrug.

  “Fuck it.” I grip the edges and rip it off the wall. The flat-screen plops to the ground, shards of glass scatter everywhere beneath it.

  Cracking my knuckles, I settle down at my desk to search the disappearance of the Jones girl. Contentment breaks across my face as information flits across the screen.

  “My sweet LeAnna. Something deep down in my soul drew me to you. All the times I could have snapped your neck, uncertainty stopped me. Dominic stole Alejandra from me, LeAnna. This time, I win. You will meet my ángeles.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Dominic

  Somewhere in the house, a loud bang sounds off. Fucking Dario. Mi hermano estranged himself from his team of doctors a few years ago, especially when Dr. Anderson suggested that his paralysis might be more psychological. Psychotic fits him too.

  I hold Aria tighter as she lifts her head, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Is that your brother?”

  “Sí, Dario.” My smile stretches in irritation.

  “You think he fell?”

  “I wish he had, mami. I can distinguish the sound of mi hermano falling and him pitching a dish, for instance, across the room.”

  She presses her hand on my jaw. “I’d love to see the two of you interact. Are you like an old couple already?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Ahem, enough about my bipolar brother—”

  “Is he?”

  I shrug, then lock my leg around Aria, bringing her body beneath mine. “Now, why would I want to discuss another man while my addiction is at the tips of my fingers?”

  A slow smile spreads across her face. Right before I descend on her lips, Aria murmurs, “I like this.”

  “What? Learning about my crazy-ass brother?”

  Her grin widens. “Not feeling guilty about a great day.”

  I position her thighs around my hips, where her soft muscles fit perfectly. Damn, there is no way in hell I’ll allow Aria back into the friend-zone, if we could call it that. Before I break her off with some good sex, I promise, “Our great day just started, chula.”

  I’m dressed in basketball shorts, and an A-shirt is draped over my shoulder, as I kick a soccer ball from one knee to the other. Eyes twinkling, Aria watches. She folds her arms around her waist, where a crop top stops at her stomach. We were on a stroll toward the beach when we stopped at a neighborhood park.

  Impressing the opposite sex has always come easy to me. Mesmerized by tricks with the soccer ball, she mutters, “Doubt we would’ve crossed paths in high school. If it weren’t for Ros having mercy on me when she was team captain, I was the last person picked.”

  “No glory without practice. Lemme show you.” I scoot the ball upward with the toe of my shoe, and it lands beneath my bicep. She’s shaking her head with a mortified smile on her face.

  During the first few attempts, Aria’s heel scuffs over the soccer ball, or she punts it in an awkward direction.

  “Hmmm, I should stop now,” she replies. I hold the ball out to her.

  I nudge my chin to a crew of middle schoolers. “We have an audience, chula.”

  “Ha! You have an audience.” She glances over her shoulder.

  One of the kids comes up to us, telling me that they need an extra person to even things out.

  “How about him?” Aria nudges her chin. At the edge of the green, a younger kid sits on a bench, head in his hands.

  “That’s my little brother, lady. He’s about as good as you.”

  A round of “ooos” comes from his friend.

  Aria folds her arms, stepping up to him. “You get the old guy. Your little brother is on my team. How about that, shorty?”

  I cock a brow. “Aria, am I the old guy?”

  “Hey, he called me lady. Yasielito had my back the last time someone called me out of my name.”

  I’m pleasantly surprised at how Aria’s dedicated to the game. She huddles with her team of underdogs, offering encouragement when the odds stack against them. Her laughter permeates the air while running. I botch a few kicks to help them out.

  Aria stops before me, hips planted wide. She argues, “Hey, go easy on us, or I’ll personally show you why I prefer kickboxing.”

  “Okay, chula.” I smack her ass as she calls her team together.

  The chamacos on my team laugh while the feisty girl I’m addicted to gestures and carries out another game plan.

  You are lucky, I tell myself.

  From my teens into my twenties, sexing a different woman every night of the week was my version of a perfect life. Entering my thirties, I told myself the women I fucked deserved a moment of passion, and I was a professional at offering their release. But a second in Aria’s presence fascinates me more than any lay I’ve ever had.

  Mami would sigh and tell me to “stop chasing every woman who crosses your path. No beauty shines brighter than a good heart.”

  We’ve resumed the game when Aria’s leg wipes out beneath her, and she falls to the ground. I jog toward her, catching up with her before her newfound friends do.


  “You okay?”

  At first, she seems to be laughing at her blunder. When she glances across the field toward the street, her eyebrows knit together.

  “Aria? Chula?” I look over my shoulder in the general direction of her gaze. Aria claims my hand and jumps up. I level her with a bewildered gaze. “You good?”

  “Perfect.” Her lips plant against mine in a slow, reassuring kiss. Then she spouts off the names of the niños on her team, gesturing for the underdogs to huddle.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  El Santo

  LeAnna saw him. Me too. The stranger’s filthy gaze dragged up and down her frame while she played soccer with Dominic. For half an hour, I sat in the driver seat of my non-conspicuous, black Town Car. Red fills my vision as the stranger sullies her with his stare.

  He’s five-four at most. Thin build. Long-nosed. Sniveling pendejo. Not a real hombre. Not a man at all.

  With a baseball cap riding low over my head, I slide from the seat of my car. I’m strategic about my angles due to the row of beach novelty shops across the street. With a previous career in surveillance, I’ve infiltrated traffic cameras and intercepted satellite data. I’ve hacked phones, saw the most intimate parts of a person. It’s a sordid, dark reality I’ve delved into without sharing any part of myself.

  The stranger stands at the edge of the grass—the same anticipation crackling through him, tornadoes through my soul.

  I shoot daggers at the stranger, entertained by my LeAnna, and make my way closer to him. I pretend to drop a gum wrapper into the trash can.

  Next, I claim the seat the little, dejected pobrecito had before LeAnna encouraged him to play. The stranger’s fifteen yards away. He’s close enough for me to run up and pounce on him. My fingertips cleave to the cement slab seat.

  Paciencia. Now is not the time for a cigarette, Dario, I command myself.

  The heavens speak again, sending a sign as LeAnna flops onto her ass.

  “Aye, my LeAnna. You are awkward like I once was.” I laugh a little, enchanted by her feisty spirit. “Embrace your differences.”

  The stranger, standing at the edge of the green, glances back at me as I move a few paces toward him with a nod. Dominic is looking this way now. The stranger starts to turn away with the intention of not being made. I strike, with caution, sliding my arm around the back of his neck. Beneath the sleeve of my jacket, I’m fisting a hooked knife.

  “Aye, amigo.” I offer a friendly smile as we turn toward the street. To cut the chances of being viewed by any traffic cameras, I maneuver us back toward the direction of the game.

  “Who the fuck are—”

  “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” I stare straight forward, executing deep breaths to cease the blood lust rising in my soul.

  “Wh-what?” He stutters in surprise as I prick the side of his neck.

  “I ask the fucking questions, güero. Such as, who the fuck are you?” I grit each word out.

  “I-I—” He takes a deep breath.

  “No,” I growl, snatching him about before he can shout. “Be a man. Women scream. That’s what they do. You be a man. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Before you get out a good yell, which would be drowned out by the sound of these various soccer matches, I’ll have your jugular severed.”

  His body tenses again, indicative of preparing himself for defense mode. I puncture the side of his neck. No veins or arteries. Just flesh. Blood seeps into the collar of his shirt as I escort him to the stolen Town Car. I leverage him to the side, open the door, and squeeze at his rotator cuff.

  “What do you want?” he snaps, zipping across the thin filmy plastic-covered driver seat, settling into the passenger side.

  I glance back at the game. LeAnna is dusting her ass off while Dominic helps her up. I stare a little longer than appropriate while growling. “Don’t try the passenger door. As you can see, the handle is out of commission.”

  I slide in beside him, fisting the steering wheel. “You settled, güero?”

  “No.” His voice is shaky.

  “Alright, why are you stalking what belongs to me?”

  I grip his neck with one hand, sliding my knife into the same spot I had earlier.

  “Keep your breathing slow, sí?” I level the knife out. Freeing my other hand, I slip my Glock onto my lap.

  “I won’t be shooting you, güero. Where’s the fun in that? Now, you don’t want me to stab you again and twist the fucking knife. No extra messy stuff, sí?”

  “My-my girlfriend—”

  “What does your girl have to do with LeAnna?”

  “Aria?” His eyebrows crinkle.

  “Sí, Aria.” I snap the name LeAnna gave herself. I always knew the other name was more personable. Real. Her. But after researching her true background, I cannot condemn her for the change. Waving the knife, I probe. “Aria and your puta . . .”

  “Aria encouraged my girlfriend to leave me during a photoshoot they did together.” He gasps, holding his neck.

  “Why?” I place my elbow on the windowpane, hand shielding my face while driving away. Glancing over, I see culpability masks his dread-filled face. “I see. Napoleon complex. Shame, you were so willing to come with me and not fight.”

  The man scoffs.

  “But you make a woman believe you love her, right?” I sigh, driving into an isolated parking structure. The car dips down to the lower deck, shrouding us in semi-darkness.

  “How long do you play nice before your true colors shine?”

  The stranger is silent while the ride glides along the curvy lane, downward into a sub-area.

  “You’re rough with putas, mi amigo?” I smile. The truth is all over his face. “You fucked up.”

  “Ye-yes.”

  “My ángel.” I pause, savoring the title. “Mi ángel saved your woman’s poor, unfortunate soul. Now, you targeted her.”

  “Just to talk.” He gasps.

  “The thing about women is your confrontational stance can scare them.” I press the break. Still staring forward, I slide the knife across his throat.

  This is the part that I miss—before I save my ángeles. The lovely, hot blood coating my hands. The cleanup. The realization I’m untouchable as the cops are committed to a futile investigation.

  I’ll drop the stolen vehicle in the swamp where I parked my Honda nearby. But before I do, my LeAnna must witness my tribute to her. With me, she will never have to wonder about loyalty or her safety for that matter. I read people, gauge their intentions.

  With Dominic, well, all I can say is good luck, chula. Nevertheless, she won’t be in his presence much longer. He’ll declare those three little words. Then checkmate.

  I’ll receive LeAnna as a reparation for Alejandra. I slip the iPhone out of my pocket and search for the application connected to Dominic’s Apple Watch.

  Wind cuts through their faint dialogue. But LeAnna is mentioning the rowboats at Bayfront Park.

  I kiss the tips of my fingers, glaring at the draining body beside me. “That’s the perfect place for me to display my dedication to my LeAnna. Thank you for offering yourself as a tribute.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Aria

  Hours ago, I psyched myself out of the notion that I saw the same stranger from the rooftop restaurant. I’d enjoyed the resilience of the youth on my soccer team. I was so engaged in motivating them that when I set eyes on those reflector sunglasses, I bit the dust. With Dominic privy to my unstable history, I reconsidered alerting him.

  Conversation flows between us as we meander from the field through Bayfront Park. Time slips away. The mere touch of Dominic’s fingertips amazes me as to how, in the middle of the chaos called my life, he appeared.

  “You keep staring at me, chula.” His dangerous voice taunts me as he leans in closer than I thought possible. Since leaving his house this morning, we haven’t stopped touching, caressing.

  His teeth catch the soft skin of my earlobe. “Stop tempting me, or I will
eat you. Here. With thousands of people around.”

  “I’m not staring.” Heat ignites across my cheeks, neck, and flushes downward to my sex. Did he say, “eat me?” A feral craving runs through my veins. Thunderstruck, I repeat myself with more conviction. “Nope, not staring.”

  White teeth come out to play as the wolf cocks a confident eyebrow. Dominic presses himself to me. His mouth trails across the curve of my collarbone. His touch sends a shiver down my spine as he laces his fingers into the waist-lining of my athletic leggings. Dominic stares at me for a moment. His fingers glide into mine like the last puzzle piece. Too perfect, because now, I crave him touching me.

  “Where to now, mami?”

  An imaginary vice tightens around my tongue. Wait. I want more of the lustful craziness you were about to offer. Give me the psycho who screwed me against the rooftop railing!

  Ever the gentleman, Dominic encircles his arms around me, pulling me tighter to him as a group of rowdy skaters pass by. I lose myself in the warmth of his moss green gaze.

  “Still staring.”

  “Nope, this is my sardonic stare.” Beaming up at him for a second time, I fall into the same temptation of his eyes. I mindlessly mutter, “Damn, never in a million years did I believe I could enjoy the park.”

  Well, that came out of the blue, I contemplate.

  “Has your outlook changed today?”

  “Definitely.” Pulling my ponytail over my shoulder, I play with a thick strand of hair while stepping back into the flow of traffic.

  In a few strides, he’s at my side. “Ice cream, chula?”

  Fractures web over the euphoria of him surrounding me. Dominic’s gesturing toward a tiny cart, complete with a line of cheerful children.

  Crap, I contemplate, a little too late. Trigger pulled; I’m pitched back into the past.

  “LeAnna, chocolate sundaes!” ReAnna stressed in excitement. My twin didn’t have a sweet bone in her body. I did. Her hand connected with mine. The touch said all the words we couldn’t understand at our age.