DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  I was a fat-shamed kid, but my twin loved me unconditionally. And a stranger was offering my favorite.

  Stepping back, tentatively, I said, “But we don’t—”

  “We don’t know your name.” Reanna slid in, where I clammed up.

  The friendly woman had wisps of brunette hair peeking from what I didn’t know then was a blonde wig. She extended a hand. “Sarah Beckett. You’re LeAnna and ReAnna Lowe Jones.”

  Years later, I determined she’d followed us. She knew our name from our chatter in the restrooms, and our last names were on our shirts. Sarah squatted down to our level. “Such beautiful names, girls. Now that we are acquainted, chocolate is my favorite.”

  Sarah poked my belly, and an anxious laugh shook from my lips. She held out both hands. ReAnna took the right one. The left was ready to be claimed by me. Noticing my hesitance, she said, “How about you stand here and wait for us?”

  ReAnna replied, “Momma said, never go anywhere without the other.”

  “I forgot how smart y’alls’ momma is. That’s why she and I are such good friends.” Sarah waves at someone past me. “LeAnna, your momma just waved back. Let’s go get that ice cream, huh?”

  I turned around to confirm, but my persistent hesitance provoked her to action. They started toward the ice cream truck. The line was just right there.

  The sound of Oldies music, that I’m not sure was there in the first place, fades away. Sarah and ReAnna disappear out of my sight.

  I find myself saying to Dominic, “I don’t eat ice cream.”

  The backs of his knuckles stroke across my cheek. “Talk to me, Aria—”

  “Never was a fan. Okay?”

  Dominic’s abdominals flex in an angry laugh. “I prefer you honest, chula. Oh . . . I’m so sorry, mami. You mentioned your sister earlier. I should’ve known.”

  Strolling by the catalyst for my depression, I clam up. How had I let my guard down and been so transparent this morning?

  “We were having a great time. Now, you’re holding something in. I’m so sorry about bringing up the ice cream. If you’d like to continue the discussion from earlier, I’m here for you.”

  His words echo in my ear. Sheesh. For the longest, it’s only been Roslyn, the few people in my family I let in, or a therapist who has played a constant role in my life. My palms are sweaty, and I’m speechless.

  His sexy tone is soothing as he adds, “I’m not asking you to bleed your heart out, Aria. Mírame, mami. When you’re ready, I’m here.”

  Anxiety envelops me like a glacial blanket in Antarctica. My vision pursues any stimulus but the one who’s already equipped at reading through the madness. Responding to Dominic, let alone engaging him in a simple chat, is past the point of impossible. I start walking again, determined that he’s not the type to fall in love, and he sure as hell isn’t promising forever. Damn, I shared too much, too soon. No, I shared too much period.

  Okay, Aria, stop playing into the role your momma gave you. I hype myself up. So far, Dominic’s been a man of his word.

  I stop in my tracks, determined that I hadn’t been my therapist’s dream vacation benefactor for no reason. As I hype myself up to offer some version of the truth, a glint off a mirror along the sandy slope catches my eye. Sunlight reflects in it, blinding me. Dominic grasps my face, and I sigh. “Alright, the reason—”

  “Don’t look down.”

  “Why?” My eyebrows scrunch as he holds me tight. He digs one hand into his basketball shorts and pulls out his cellphone.

  “What are you doing, Dom?”

  “Calling the cops. There’s a dead body below.”

  “What?” I whip my head back around.

  “It’s bad. You don’t wanna see it, mami.” My gaze collides with the mirror again. Only, it’s not a mirror. It’s those damn reflector glasses. The ones the guy had at the restaurant, and then when I fell earlier. Except, now, the sunglasses are speckled with sticky, drying blood.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Aria

  A woman with dyed purple hair about twenty yards away from us had a scream I’ll never forget. Two hours later, and my eardrums still throb to her agonized shout.

  Cold air rushes from the vent on the cement ceiling. Dominic’s protective arm encircles me as I sit in his lap in an interrogation room. Authorities had questioned the crowd. Though since Dominic and a few others called in as eyewitnesses, they were asked to come to the station.

  “You shouldn’t have to be here.” He rubs my shoulders, pressing his lips to my forehead. The sentiment clogs my throat. “Gimme a minute, mami. I’ll tell them you saw nothing.”

  Dominic’s tender reaction is twenty years too late. He plants me in the plastic chair beside him, and in quick strides, he’s at the door. Upon opening it, he stops a uniform cop striding down the corridor. “I need to speak with . . . Antonio?”

  The cop comes into view, stepping fully into the room. “Just a few more minutes. I know a cop took your statement but the detective—”

  “Sí, sí.” Dominic forks a hand in his wavy hair. “I understand time is crucial. My woman shouldn’t be here. She saw nothing. Antonio?”

  Dominic trails off as none other than Officer Antonio Mejia glares at me. Great. Dominic claimed me, now this first in my book is about to be tossed to hell.

  “Your woman?” Antonio’s lips pull into a hard smile.

  “Sí!” Dominic’s gorgeous orbs darken.

  “Nothing like that, I assure you.” Antonio squares off with me. “I suppose neither of you is a threat to the other anymore. As a matter of fact, the two of you can bring each other up to speed. I’ll go see what I can do.”

  The friggen rookie cop struts out of the room. Chewing my lip, I ask, “The two of us? What did you do, Dom?” Please let it be on the same level of scheming as me.

  He clears his throat, clearly in thought. “When you left that letter at my house, I simply gave Antonio a call. Set the stage, based on your apparent psychosis. What did you do?”

  “My apparent psychosis?” I fold my arms.

  “Sí, mamá. How many times have I called you mujer loca?” He offers a panty-wetter smile. “Relax, I never told him your name, and I only needed a single card to play if the crazy had outweighed the beauty. So, what did you do?”

  Okay, that makes sense. I lit the match visiting his house and egging him on. Then I proceeded to try to ruin his reputation. Running a vulnerable hand over my forearm, I reply, “Around the time we met, I dropped by to provide a tip on—”

  “Me.” Dominic wriggles his jaw.

  Arms folded, my fingers curl into the underside of my arms, digging into the soft skin at my biceps. I struggle to regulate my heartbeat. I fight away images of San Antonio authorities and Federal agencies surrounding a much younger me.

  I mutter, “Yeah, when I thought you were—”

  “A fucking serial killer.” Disappointment flickers across Dominic’s face as he leans his burly upper body against the wall.

  So much for the comfort of his arms. “Dom, if I could take it back—”

  “Callate la boca, por favor!!”

  Though he has me at about ten years, I scoff. “I’m not a kid, Dominic!”

  He huffs. “No? But you tried to ruin my fucking. . . It’s not important. Now.”

  With a wobbly bottom lip, I fold my arms. “Now, you’d rather have nothing to do with me.”

  An uncomfortable silence percolates the space between us. The singular page in my fairytale romance catches fire. I’m too crazy to love anyway.

  Minutes later, the door opens. Dominic stands to his full height, a brick tower before me. He avoids me by shaking the hand of a petit Filipina in a seamless suit.

  “How’s Dario?” she asks.

  “Mad at the world.”

  Her lips purse in empathy. “Tell ‘em I’ve got a dead body and a thousand potential witnesses. I could definitely use his skills right about now.”

  What? Dario, the psych
o I mistook for a pubescent having a temper tantrum, is affiliated with the police? Are they paternal or fraternal twins? How much do they resemble each other?

  My brain pops to another subject. I’m a little emotionally challenged. How did Dario pass a psych evaluation? For a second, I feel bad for him. I’ve yet to speak with him face-to-face. I wonder, who was Dario before the accident?

  “Peachy, can we talk. Just you and me? Ms. Jones has had an overwhelming day. Like I was telling Antonio, she—”

  Detective Peachy smiles at me, extending her hand in a firm shake. “Ms. Jones, I won’t hold you up, or Mr. Alvarez, for that matter.”

  Plastering on a friendly smile, I note how Dominic has stopped claiming me. Peachy asks us the same questions the rookie cop had and jots it in a tiny notebook. Ten minutes later, they chat about old times while we head to the exit.

  I stop at the top of the steps where Antonio had offered me hope and shitted on it seconds later by calling me a stalker. Hell, the truth hurt.

  Peachy pulls Dominic to the side, her voice carrying slightly. Again, she mentions Dario and uses praiseworthy terms. Apparently, Dominic’s brother was a computer genius for the police department. The eyes and ears of the special teams’ operation. It sounds scary to allocate such power to someone who falls out like a toddler. Damn, and I haven’t even met the guy in person.

  I’m tempted to pull out my cellphone to commission a ride when Dominic plants a firm hand at my lower back.

  I raise my chin. “My home is farther than yours from here. I’ll get an Uber.”

  “I’m already pissed off, LeAnna.” A muscle twitches in his jaw as he escorts me to his ride.

  “Don’t call me that.” My eyes blaze. He checks my fingers and toes then slams the door. He glares face forward when he gets in. With the shriek of his tires, he backs up and bullies his way into traffic.

  “Take it easy,” I murmur. “Also, must I remind you that you haven’t the slightest right to call me that name. You’re the attorney. My legal name is Aria Jones. Put some respect on my name.”

  “How about this, chula? You don’t get to accuse me of shattering the lives of innocent women without concrete evidence.”

  Dominic cusses in a low rumble beneath his breath, mentioning his law firm and the empire he built.

  “You went to the police! Why?” His fist starts for the steering wheel but stops short. “Why, por favor!”

  “You—”

  “Me?” He roars. “No, you! All of this is you, Aria!”

  “You bought me breakfast, and Yasiel took a photo of my license plate. That was creepy. The last straw!”

  He grips my thigh. “You’re so fucking innocent. First, it’s I’m screwing a woman at a restaurant, which terrifies you.”

  “Yes!” I turn toward the door and jiggle the handle. “Let me out, Dominic. Why did you pass the entrance?”

  “Then it’s breakfast and butterflies. Rich, Aria. That’s rich.”

  My bottom lip trembles inconsolably. I hug myself. “Why are you parking?”

  “Nothing closer.”

  “Well, I could’ve jumped as you slowly drove by.”

  He shakes his head, and I make out some of his words.

  “I’m not illogical. You’re driving like an asshole! Why park?”

  “Callate la—”

  “Tell me to shut up again, Dominic.” My index finger is inches from his nose when he swats it down. “You’ll wish I never stalked you.”

  Dominic removes the keys from the ignition, gesturing for me to continue. “Keep talking then, chula!”

  “I will—”

  His fingers grip harshly at my thigh. “Come here, mami. Shut your fucking mouth. Unless it’s an apology, I don’t wanna hear it!”

  In Spanish, he promises how I’ll choke his dick all the way down. I unbuckle and climb into his lap, my quivering lips pulling together in defiance.

  His hands hang across the back of my neck, thumbs pressing at my throat. “You attempted to ruin my fucking life, Aria.”

  “Listen, I’ve already apologized! And you had a PI check me out, Dominic, to use whatever he found against me. Screw you.”

  “Shut your mouth! I didn’t say you could speak.”

  I open my mouth to defy him when his thumbs exploit more of the exposure of my neck.

  “Fuck yeah, I had ammunition. Did I shoot without provocation? No! You tried to ruin me over mariposas, Aria. But do you want to know what you succeeded at?” His tongue drags over my earlobe then his teeth sink in. So far, Dominic offered pain then pleasure, eradicating it all. But not this time.

  I gasp. The pain pulsates. I’m not dying.

  “You got in my head, LeAnna. Made me want you so fucking bad. I hurt. Now, you will.”

  He unzips his pants and fists his cock out. Saliva pools in my mouth. I gulp it back down. Dominic covers my hands with his, sliding them down the taut skin of his chest and abdomen. His head falls back as he curls my fingers around him, his own controlling mine.

  The edges of Dominic’s lips curve into a cocky smile. “You play so innocent while stroking my dick.”

  My fingers roam up and down his smooth shaft. I lick my lips, glancing around us. The tinted windows hardly conceal us, and it’s not dark yet.

  Dominic slides my fingers where my tongue begs to roam freely. “Use that mouth for good for once, chula.”

  “Fuck you,” I growl low at his insult.

  Dominic hisses as my hands move away from his glorious manhood. The self-assured bastard zips the seat back. I go to my knees before him. The length of him is at my chin before I can gobble him down.

  A fist clamps in my hair, and his dick is punching the depth of my throat. I’d tasted him before. But I hadn’t drunk him down. The steady hold Dominic has on me warns how my curiosity and belly will be satiated now.

  Terrified and eager, I get off to the sound of my slurping on his cock. My hand finds its way into my tight spandex pants.

  Dominic tugs my hair then tugs my hand away from my sex. “I’ve been giving you everything you need, Aria. Me first.”

  I stare into his dreamy eyes. He denies me the measly penetration of my fingers. Damn, he’s angry. I issue a few desperate Kegels. Vigorous in my sucking, I toss him harder down my throat, matching Dominic’s tugs.

  His thighs tighten beneath me. My hair follicles tingle as his fingers glide instead of pull at my strands. A beastly grunt comes deep from Dominic’s abdomen as he erupts. I fill up on Dominic’s seed as he sits like a king in front of me.

  Chapter Forty

  El Santo

  “Kill me,” Angelica’s supplications float across her trembling lips. An acrid scent assaults my nose as I settle next to her on the ground. At the sound of scurrying, my jaw flexes.

  “Kill—”

  Fisting my knife against my forearm, it stops at her throat. “Por favor, Angelica.”

  The begging stops. In the momentary silence, I slam my head back onto the concrete.

  “I know who you are,” she cries. “You have to murder me. Get it over with, I’m begging you.”

  “I made a promise to you, gordita. Murdering you goes against my convictions.” I turn toward her, her side profile coming into form in the darkness. I slide out a pack of Reece’s Pieces, having learned the peanut butter sweets are her favorites.

  “My LeAnna was a gordita like you.” I gesture to Angelica to take them.

  She scoffs.

  “Angelica,” I grit.

  Her fleshy face shakes in denial. “Look at me! It’s not like I’ll wilt away. These rats, El Santo! They’re eating me. You’re stuck between fantasy and reality. You hate LeAnna. You love her! You crave saving her from what? You?”

  I straddle Angelica in seconds. Her teeth are no match to the thickness of my leather glove. Forcing my fingers into her mouth, I widen her out. “You don’t want comida, but you’ll take a fucking bite outta me?”

  She chokes as my thumbs ram down her throa
t. Sliding her head around, Angelica screams. “Doooo it! Doooo it!”

  I yank my Glock from the back of my jeans and batter her temple. No more temptation. Angelica’s double chin becomes more pronounced as her face falls into her bosom. I sit back on her plump legs, breathing heavily.

  “What are you doing, Dario?”

  I never took a woman unless I had invested time into confirming she was an ángel. Though the gordita has the name, it’s clearly not a sign of her worth. Don’t let me get started on LeAnna. Dominic’s influence ruined her.

  “I let the butterflies dictate how to respond to her.” I shake my head. “Angelica’s right. I should’ve murdered LeAnna before Dom set his sights on her. Now, LeAnna’s in my fucking head.”

  The others never got into my head. I got into theirs. I remember my time on the force as a forensic computer analyst. It’s the reason I’ve been able to intercept all of LeAnna’s messages with Dominic, have inside intel at her home. It’s the reason my old friends on the force stay one step behind me.

  Carrington was a hotshot detective from the LAPD and started in the department a little while before my crash. I trained him on our internal database. Little did I know, once the paralysis wore off in my legs, he’d teach me a thing or two—unknowingly—things like how to follow the unit when they searched for me. I’ve had access to his notes, leads. But this, I glance around, was something I had not prepared meticulously for.

  Angelica’s right. LeAnna did this. Fucked over my momentum. Love. Hate. It’s unfathomable how two divergent emotions have me shook.

  “Alright, gordita.” I nod my head at the unconscious woman. My others were treated better while waiting for their resurrection. The time has come for Angelica to receive similar treatment.

  “Let’s go home.” I stand up and position my legs to heft gordita. That puta, Carlotta, taught me a lot about positioning when she was my live-in nurse.

  I painted her as my everything. The feeling in my legs had returned, and I anticipated walking to her, dropping down to one knee while proposing. But the cheating whore exposed her tainted heart the afternoon before my big plans. In my wheelchair, I’ve gone unnoticed so many times. Pendejos have no respect for the disabled. I’d gone downstairs to watch her leave when I saw Dominic cooking in the kitchen. Carlotta was there with him. She was leaning against the counter, her pouty lips pursed while he fed her a sample of some sort of sauce. I could see what was going on and couldn’t stand to watch. I’m sure the next thing that happened was the puta was on her knees, polishing off his fucking cock.