Domenico held a flashlight in his teeth and yanked on the lock, but despite the correct combination, it wouldn’t budge. Whether Diego’s attempts at forcing entry had contributed to this state of things was unknown, but the rust made it clear as day that Domenico should have maintained the goddamn passage in the Mutis family mausoleum if he’d ever intended to use it.
His first instinct was to call Seth and let him know what was going on, but he fiddled with the phone for a moment and gave up. What was the point of talking to the traitor? Diego was somewhere out here, and finding him was priority.
As he walked through the dark cemetery that was slowly being reclaimed by the jungle, the gloom seemed to settle on his shoulders the way the gazes of birds and monkeys from the trees did, and it followed him all the way to the car. Last time he was here, he feared for Seth’s life, he couldn’t think straight, and would have given anything to be in Toro’s house with his husband. Now, returning there wasn’t something he looked forward to. He put his gun on the passenger seat so it was easy to grab in case Diego did appear somewhere along the way.
The way back took him maybe twenty minutes. Briefly, he considered spending some time in the office, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he only stopped by the main house to pick up some of the snacks they never kept home because Seth’s cooking was too good to waste calories on mass-produced delicacies. Well, today Domenico would fill himself with palm oil, corn syrup, and the whole periodic table of chemical elements. His soul felt sick already, so he might as well make his stomach a little queasy too.
“Mr. Toro?” Felipe waved at him from the side. He and his ever-longer rat tail were the last things Domenico wanted to deal with now. One of the relics from the time of the previous Toro, Felipe was one of the few men who’d survived the mass-poisoning despite Dom’s intentions, and so like a fair executioner, Domenico had let the old useless junkie stay. What for?—he still had no idea.
“I’m busy. Bother someone else.”
“Just one thing, Mr. Toro. I wanted to ask about the horse. Could Seth teach me horse riding? I promise no funny business.”
As if Seth ever chose to put his hands on old junkie Felipe. Then again, with his latest choice, fuck knew what his criteria was. Maybe his goal was to fuck the biggest fleabag he could find.
Still, Domenico rubbed his forehead and leaned against the car. Speaking to Felipe was a tiny bit like communicating with Angelica. Their brains had similar capacities. “Seth doesn’t ride horses. You’d have to ask someone else.”
“Oh, I saw him drive to the barn, so I thought he did. Sorry, Mr. Toro.” Felipe tipped his straw fedora as if he were a loyal subject, and Domenico the king.
Domenico frowned. What the hell did Seth want with the goddamn horse? Were the chickens not enough of an audience to his whinging? “You sure it was him?”
Felipe nodded. “Definitely. He nodded at me from the car.”
Domenico’s gaze briefly touched the bright windows of the kitchen, where he’d find all the Snickers bars he needed tonight. But they would still be there in fifteen minutes, so he locked the car, leaving it where it could be filled with snacks, and made his way across the dark expanse of the lawn, cutting the distance to the barn by at least a third.
A fragrant breeze fed him much-needed air as he left behind a group of his men playing cards by a well-lit picnic table and disappeared into the darkness. Each step was a mystery when he couldn’t see the ground ahead, but at this point he welcomed the minor risk to his ankles. What else did the universe have in store for him anyway?
A small car Domenico didn’t recognize stood in front of the barn, but it could have been a new addition.
For a moment, he entertained the idea of kicking Seth out of the house to sleep here with the horse if he loved the bloody animal so much he just needed to come see it at a time like this, but the moment he stepped into the barn, what he saw in the faint light made all his brain functions come to a halt.
Diego was there, his pants open, his hands and lips over a man that wasn’t his.
Domenico couldn’t utter a word, and a single, guttural sound left his throat instead. His legs were like made of lead, but when he moved forward, they were as fast as ever. Heat flew freely through Dom’s chest, his gut, his head, leaving him empty with the exception of raw, mindless rage that beckoned him closer to the image he wanted to tear apart.
Diego spun to face him, and it was only then that Domenico released his anger in a guttural scream. Something glinted through the air, and it was sheer instinct that made Domenico duck.
A swish barely missed his ear, but the split second of relief ended when the dagger speared Domenico’s shoulder, pushing away tissue and ripping through tendons, until Dom was left in that numb spot between intense pain and shock.
The force behind the stab was so vicious he lost his balance and fell back, fighting for breath with lungs that refused to expand.
Seth screamed, but in Domenico’s ears, it sounded like mockery. Was there any point in getting up from the dirt if his one reason to live chose to double-cross him this way? Had Seth somehow arranged a parallel plan with Diego? Domenico didn’t even know anymore who he’d been living with.
The split second of approaching steps made him force his way up, but with the thick knife still lodged in his shoulder, he wasn’t fast enough. Diego kicked him to the ground and descended on him with his bulk.
Dom twitched, fighting through the shock when something else kicked in. With Diego’s hand tangled in his long hair, face pushed into the hay, and one arm out of commission, he took a gulp of air when fear sank its claws into his brain.
Roaring his fury, he swung one leg and smashed his heel into Diego’s side so hard the bastard lessened his hold on Domenico enough for Dom to grab the knife sticking out of his flesh. It was big, like something you’d use for gutting pigs, and he had no chance in this fight for as long as it remained lodged in his body. He tore it out, blinded by the pain but desperate for a chance at life.
The heel of Diego’s hand smashed into Domenico’s injured shoulder with so much impact Dom’s hand twitched, and the knife fell to the floor. Diego descended on Dom like a shark about to rip him to shreds and ingest every bit of flesh. His weight crushed Domenico’s weakened body, constantly pressing on the wound as if it was his wish to drain him of blood. Domenico’s head floated in the waters of agony when Diego bared his teeth over him in a maniacal grin.
Their eyes met. “Still think you’re so much better than me, huh?”
Adrenaline kicked in like an injection of heat straight into Domenico’s aching muscles. He head-butted the rabid dog with a scream full of wrath. Blood rushed to his head like a shapeless battering ram, clouding his mind and filling his mouth when the impact trapped his tongue between his teeth. With his one good hand he clawed at Diego’s face, only to scream out when the fucker bit into his palm, once again gaining advantage—on top, uninjured and pushed on by mindless scorn.
His black eyes shone with an odd light, and for a moment Death himself glanced into Domenico’s face, inviting him under the surface—finally caught in a trap he could not escape woven from his own dumb mistakes.
“Let go!” Seth yelled, and the sound of his voice resonated in the fog of Domenico’s brain, making it go fuzzy all over again.
Diego grabbed the knife and pressed it against Dom’s throat. But instead of ending this misery and killing Dom on the spot, he flipped them around so that they faced Seth.
“Why?” Diego growled. “You still have feelings for this fucker. I knew it! I’m gonna gut him, and you will watch.”
Seth’s eyes were intense as he watched them both with his hands lifted to show he wasn’t armed. Domenico met his gaze, suddenly losing all his will to struggle. He’d been betrayed. The man he wanted to cherish all his life has left him, and that made the fight meaningless. He was no longer angry or vengeful. Pain radiated from his arm, his knees felt bruised, and the knife alr
eady bit into the flesh of his throat, just a fraction of an inch away from ending Domenico’s life.
Still, in that moment all he wanted was to see Seth, catch a glimpse of his warm brown gaze and feel the touch of his hands one last time.
“No,” Seth’s voice trembled as he spoke. “I want to do it myself. I know he pissed you off, but he’s mine.”
Diego stilled, but moments later his mean laugh sent a shudder down Domenico’s spine. “Oh, you really are a piece of work. Who knew you might just be useful for more than what those pretty lips. Come over. I’ll show you how to kill a man.”
Domenico shut his eyes and didn’t dare to swallow with the blade digging into a small groove in his Adam’s apple. The storm of emotion raging inside him left his limbs heavy and throbbing.
“Make sure you hold him,” Seth said when he approached, and the prolonged agony of watching Diego pass Seth the knife, made Domenico keep completely still in the steel hold. With the blade removed from the vicinity of his arteries, there were techniques he could use, moves he could attempt, but if Seth, the one person to whom Domenico dedicated his life, no longer wanted him here, he didn’t want to live anymore.
He did nothing when the tip of the knife pressed into the vulnerable flesh under his jaw, but when Seth forced Dom to look up, the chocolate pools that had always been so warm to him made him freeze.
No longer would Domenico be given comfort. Seth’s face was tense with pent-up anger, his teeth pressing together when his upper lip curled to reveal the snarl.
“You think you can hit me? Lock me up inside that house? I hate that I have nothing of my own. You’re not half the man Diego is,” he hissed out. The words were like long needles pushed into Domenico’s heart. When Seth suddenly switched to Italian, his voice remained full of loathing, but the moment Seth’s spit cooled Dom’s cheek, their confusing meaning rang out in Domenico’s head.
“Va a sinistra.”
Move left.
Diego gave a loud laugh, but Domenico was no longer paralyzed by grief. His gaze met Seth’s, and he ducked the moment Diego’s hold on him loosened ever-so-slightly. The thrust of Seth’s wrist, which would have otherwise ended Domenico’s life, lodged the blade at the base of Diego’s throat.
The firm body behind Dom twitched, hard arms let go, and when Seth pulled his hand back, hot blood doused Domenico’s hair. The copper-flavored air entered his mouth as he rolled to the side, numbly watching Diego on his knees and elbows. The traitor frantically pushed his hands at the wound that flooded the ground around them with red. He twitched, making helpless gurgling noises
Diego’s face had a purplish hue when Seth pushed him back, climbing on top and thrusting the dagger into the defenseless body over and over.
His baritone resonated through the barn, accompanied by a loud whinny from the huge beast hiding in the corner. “And this is for Mark!” Seth yelled and stabbed the knife into Diego’s eye. “Fuck you! Just fuck. You!” Seth cut the exposed throat once more for good measure, and froze on top of the cooling carcass. His handsome face sprayed with red, he heaved, trembled, but never let go of the knife.
It seemed to have taken forever, but by the time Seth dropped the weapon and sat back with a bloody mess on his face and all over the front of his body, Domenico managed to sit up and stare back at him.
Neither said a word.
Chapter 18 - Seth
Seth stared at the dead body surrounded by a spreading puddle of thick, red blood. His fingers trembled with the need to stab the disgusting fucker again, but by now his numb mind was slowly realizing Diego was dead.
Dark eyes stared back at him with emptiness behind them, and it was like peering deep into the underworld, as if Diego were grabbing his hand and trying to suck him in as well.
Seth looked away.
Across the blood-smeared floor, Domenico sat resting his back against the wall. The sticky red film of Diego’s lost life clung to his skin and soaked his clothes. It was hard to say how much of the blood was Domenico’s and had originated in the ugly wound on his shoulder, and how much was Diego’s.
Dom stared back, face pale and slack, eyes not all there.
Only a fraction of an inch, a split second had stood between his beloved Domenico the abyss where Diego now was.
All the small things ceased to matter. Seth no longer cared about having nowhere to go, or being dependent on Domenico, or the now so-distant perspective of having to spend his days as Diego’s fuck-toy until he finally chose to put a bullet through his own head. Domenico’s death wouldn’t have just left him empty. It would have been like stepping on a landmine, torn up in ways from which there would have been no coming back.
“Are… are you okay? Your shoulder,” Seth finally choked out and got off Diego’s lifeless body to crawl closer to Domenico.
His movement was like a switch, and Domenico pulled up his hands, focusing his gaze on Seth. “What the fuck… I saw you. I saw you two!” he said in a tight voice, pulling himself up despite obvious discomfort.
“I… I was…” Nausea overcame Seth once more when he remembered what he’d done in the past twenty minutes. This time, he didn’t fight his instincts. He turned around and threw up into the bloody puddle. He wanted it all out of him.
He could still feel the push of Diego’s dick at the back of his throat. Maybe the stomach acid would burn it all away. The violent throes were by no means pleasant, but once his stomach emptied, relief turned the lightheadedness into something almost comfortable.
“You were kissing him… he… he almost killed Mark. Why would you do this to me?” whispered Domenico behind Seth, his voice barely audible.
Seth’s eyes shut, and he took a deep, laborious breath, but even that was a challenge, since the air was infused with Diego’s stench. “He came to our house. I was just trying to keep him away!”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” roared Domenico, stumbling so rapidly he almost fell all the way to hands and knees. He steadied himself by the wall and pushed back his long hair, which now hung in reddish streaks. “I don’t understand…”
Seth looked up at him helplessly. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted a hug. He wanted to forget. Not about the murder. That, he would relish till the day he dies.
“All that matters is I got rid of him,” he whispered.
Domenico’s lips thinned. “I couldn’t even kill him for what he did to my family. You let him put his hands on you, and I couldn’t put him to death.”
Seth knew the severe expression Domenico now carried like a shield. He wouldn’t be getting a hug any time soon. “What was I supposed to do?” He raised his arms in frustration and got up on surprisingly soft knees.
“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Domenico shook his head, slowly making his way toward the entrance of the barn. Unstable on his legs and clearly favoring one side of his body, he walked like a zombie.
“What about the body? Your shoulder, Dom. Let’s go see Quincy.” Seth fought for his voice not to tremble. Hearing that Domenico didn’t care was worse than hearing him say he hated Seth. At least there would have been emotion in the latter. The wall of indifference wasn’t only slippery or tall. It tilted his way, locking him out and threatening to collapse on top of him.
Domenico swiped the sparsely lit interior of the barn with his unfocused gaze. In the glow of the flashlight, his amber eyes appeared yellow as bile. “You killed him. You take care of the body. You may even kiss him goodbye, if that’s what you want.”
Each sentence was like a stab, but Seth resigned himself to his fate. His face still hurt, his mouth still tasted of vomit, but even that couldn’t mask the lingering acridity left behind by Diego’s cock, and he had no one who would feel for him. Without a word, he started moving, because otherwise he could end up unable to. Numbness fighting for his muscles with adrenaline left him unnaturally rigid, as if it was his body, not Diego’s, about to go into rigor mortis.
Miguel rushed in through the barn do
or, rifle in hand. “I heard there was commotio—oh.”
Domenico rolled his forehead against the wall, as if he couldn’t bear moving on his own. It reminded Seth too much of the moments before Domenico had fainted in the sewers, of his pain after the tunnel collapse at the American-Mexican border, but hitting the thick wall Dom was consistently building up between the two of them hurt even more.
Domenico reached out to Miguel in a way so familiar it had Seth’s eyes watering at the memory of being the recipient of such wordless requests. “I need Quincy.”
Miguel flashed some light straight at Seth’s face and frowned. “Looks like you need the doctor too.”
Seth turned away. This was the first time for Miguel to see the bruises left by Domenico’s fist. “I’m fine. I’ll deal with the mess here.”
Miguel licked his lips, watching them for a long moment, a statue of restraint in a world of pain and grief. No one spoke, and under the scrutiny of the dark eyes, Seth felt as if he’d been put under a microscope and scrutinized in the most minute detail.
“You two make everything so fucking complicated,” Miguel said in the end and grabbed Dom by his healthy arm.
Domenico wouldn’t even look back as he left Seth with Diego’s still warm body, the agitated horse, and a torn-up heart.
But there was work to be done, and Seth wouldn’t be a disappointment. He was tough. He could handle it all on his own. He could deal with bodies, he could take problems off Domenico’s hands, and he could forget Diego’s unwanted touch.
He grabbed two plastic hay sacks and used them to wrap Diego’s body to avoid getting blood all over the car. The fucker felt heavier than when he was alive, as if even in death he wanted to spite Seth.
He worked on autopilot, and Diego’s body, which not long ago meted out so much violence, transformed into trash that needed to be disposed of. Domenico hadn’t given Seth any clues, purposefully leaving everything to the one person who had very little idea as to how the private town that Toro’s property effectively was, functioned. Dom wanted to see him fail. Did they have a spot for dumping bodies? Was there a place for processing, or were human remains taken out into the jungle and left there, at the mercy of wild animals?
Gilded Agony Page 23
