Taste of Vengeance

by Kristi Belcamino

  He came over, handed me another drink, and wrapped his arm around me. I looked up at him and when he smiled at me, I forgot all about my irritation. When he leaned down and kissed me, I melted into his arm.

  As we left the harbor, the wind and surf kicked up. Seagulls dipped in and out of the water. Our boat rocked on the choppy water and people reached for something to hold onto. Damien’s forehead creased.

  He walked up to the boat operator and said something.

  Damien came back over. He pointed to a cluster of small boats like ours in front of the beaches. Our boat stopped as we waited for the second boat with the rest of our party.

  “The captain wants to detour and drop anchor there instead of our original location. But I told him we didn’t pay him to go where everyone else goes.”

  “Don’t you think you should listen to what he has to say?”

  Damien pulled back and looked at me. “You afraid? That’s something I’ve never seen from you.”

  I grew rigid. “I’m not afraid.” I said it in a low voice.

  But when he turned away, I shivered as if somebody has stepped on my grave. My mother had called it “the shine.” It was a premonition of danger. I looked around. We were in the middle of the ocean with a bunch of drunk men in a foreign country. A million bad things could happen.

  The second boat, with the other half of our party came up beside us. The boat operators exchanged words. I didn’t speak Portuguese, so I couldn’t understand what they said, but they both seemed annoyed and shot concerned looks at Damien.

  Damien said something and the crew members reached over and held the two boats together so he could step into the other boat. Crew members began examining the equipment, looking at the tanks and lines and masks.

  A man sat there with a grim look on his face. Unlike the rest of the crew, who wore shorts and T-shirts, he wore pants and a windbreaker. Damien leaned over and spoke to him. The man had sunglasses on and appeared to stare straight ahead.

  Damien straightened and came back to the side of the boat. He was followed by the man in the windbreaker who climbed into our boat.

  “This is Mario. He’s the best diver and instructor in Brazil. I’ve hired him specially to instruct you newbies on diving. You will be in good hands. Rich, come over here with me.”

  Rich looked up from the beer he was sipping. As he made his way to the side, Rich stumbled a little. I could see irritation flicker across Damien’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a grin.

  “Never mind,” Damien said when Rich got to him. “You stay put here and help Mario and the girls.”

  Damien turned to me. “I’m going to help out over here. One of the instructors called in sick this morning so I’ve offered to show Zoe and Cat how to dive. Nick and Tim are certified.”

  Zoe tossed her stunning mane of curls and stretched out her long dark legs and gave me a victorious smirk.

  I grinned widely. It wasn’t a fucking competition. She could have him. She seemed surprised by my smile and raised a well-manicured eyebrow before glancing at Cat.

  Damien leaned over the small gap between the two boats, grabbed me by the waist, and gave me a kiss.

  “Have fun.”

  Mario sat slouched in the corner of the boat. His silence was disconcerting.

  The boats then started up again. We rounded the corner of a small island with a lighthouse before the captains turned off the boats and dropped anchor. Dark clouds had swooped in overhead, and the seas remained choppy.

  “You first.”

  The man’s voice startled me.

  I turned. He was speaking to Sydney.

  “Thanks, sailor,” she said. “But I’m certified.”

  She turned and walked toward the front of the boat.

  Mario got up so fast the entire boat shook. He stood behind Sydney as she inspected the equipment. He touched her elbow and said something pointing to a tank. She nodded and picked it up.

  He turned and headed back my way. I noticed that Sydney waited until he wasn’t looking and grabbed another tank.

  She didn’t trust him.

  I narrowed my eyes. She probably had good reason.

  Within a few moments, she had donned her gear and slipped over the side.

  Her head bobbed in the water.

  “See you.”

  And then she disappeared.

  I turned toward the big bulk of Mario who was still watching the water where Sydney had disappeared. When he saw me looking at him, he said, “We will learn now.”

  “Okay. I know a little bit about it. I went once a long time ago.”

  When he finished giving me a refresher course, I was eager to get away from his morose manner and get in the water.

  I strapped on my gear, put my mask and breathing apparatus in place, and tipped over the boat.

  The weight of the gear made me sink into the silken water. It felt cool and glorious. As the light from the surface grew dim, I adjusted my regulator, but immediately realized something was wrong. My mouth filled with something granular. A tiny stream of air made it through, but I found myself gulping for a breath. Instead, I inhaled some of the gritty stuff. Oh my God. It was sand.

  I reached behind me.

  Although Mario had said nothing about it, a vague memory of my training in Monterey came back to me. The instructor had told me if something went wrong with my regulator, an “octopus—a spare regulator was always strapped on the back of the tank.

  Although I clawed at my back, there was nothing there.

  Then somebody slammed into me hard from behind, sending me reeling, knocking the regulator out of my mouth and causing me to gasp with shock. I got a glimpse of a man’s back as I inhaled water. A fiery scorching pain filled my lungs. I panicked, thrashing in the water, turning in all directions. Seeing other divers close but too far away to reach. I kicked and flailed, but found myself sinking and choking, growing weak.

  Then, from nowhere, Damien was beside me, eyes wide with horror. He ripped his regulator off and put it to my mouth. I tried to breathe in, but instead gagged. I spit out the regulator in time to vomit.

  Damien grabbed my waist and propelled me up, but soon all was black.

  I woke to see faces over me.

  I was on the boat. I leaned over and vomited more. Choking and gasping.

  Damien’s face was closest. He was holding back my hair, his eyes bloodshot and wet. “Oh my God. Oh my God. She’s awake. She’s awake.”

  He cupped my head to his chest, and I could feel his heart racing against my ear.

  “Hurry up!” He was screaming. “They can take the other boat. We need to get her to the hospital.”

  Then I felt the boat list and heard a thunk.

  Damien swore. He set my head down gently, and then I heard him running to the other side of the boat.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing getting aboard this boat. I should leave you in the goddamn ocean to die, you stupid fuck. She almost died.”

  The man said something in Portuguese. I couldn’t understand his words, but I got the tone. He was basically telling Damien to fuck off. I heard the sounds of a scuffle—grunting and the thud of fists connecting, and then a big splash. I was too weak to lift my head.

  Damien was back at my side. He looked over his shoulder.

  “Let the fucker swim to shore.”

  He sat me up and wrapped me in several blankets, wiping my face gently with a towel and smoothing back my hair. He kept leaning over and kissing my brow.

  “Thank God you are okay. Thank God.”

  He held me close.

  We were the only ones in the back of the boat as we raced back to the harbor.

  Damien leaned down and whispered in my ear.

  “I’ve never been so fucking afraid in my life.”

  He drew back and I saw tears in his eyes.

  I was too tired to think about what his words meant. I was too exhausted and sick to care right then.

  But I knew some
thing had changed.

  40

  Drugged

  Sydney couldn’t convince the boat operator to return to the shore, so she stewed in anger and frustration as the other people in her party scuba dived and then got drunk.

  Finally, when they reached the shore, she leaped out of the boat and hailed a cab, racing back to the villa.

  She knew for sure now. At first, she hadn’t been sure what she’d seen, but now she was certain. When Damien had poured Gia’s wine, he’d slipped something into it. At first Sydney hadn’t been sure, but the more she thought about it, she was sure that’s what she had seen. He was drugging Gia. And probably had been this whole time.

  Gia had to believe her now.

  41

  Out of Time

  After the doctor had checked me out and said I’d be just fine, Damien had asked what I wanted to do. The others were still out on the boat diving. It seemed a little callous for them to continue their fun day, but hey, I was just some woman they barely knew.

  “What I really want is to go to sleep.”

  He hugged me close and escorted me to the waiting SUV.

  He’d been extremely attentive since my near drowning. It was sweet, but slightly odd, as well.

  At the villa, he helped me undress and throw on a silk night gown.

  He tucked me in, bringing the covers up to my chin.

  “You going to be okay?”

  I could barely keep my eyes open. I nodded.

  “Here’s your cell phone.” He set it on the pillow beside me. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He looked away, his teeth biting his lip.

  “I gotta go let off some of this steam,” he said. “If I don’t, something is gonna blow.”

  He leaned over me, meeting my eyes. “I could kill that Mario. What a moron.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Damien. It was an accident.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  The way he gritted the words, and the look in his eyes disturbed me. He was so convinced that Mario’s negligence had nearly caused me to drown.

  I touched his arm again. “Promise me you won’t go after him?”

  He smiled and seemed to relax a little. “Oh, I won’t. Besides I’ve spoken to his boss. They’ll handle it.”

  He left, saying he’d be back in time to escort me to dinner.

  I was asleep before the door to my room closed.

  But then Sydney Rye was at the side of my bed.

  “He’s drugging you.”

  I sat up. “What?”

  “Damien is drugging you. I don’t know why or what it is, but I saw him do it today on the boat.”

  “Why would he do that? And what kind of drug? I think I’d know if I was being drugged.” But even as I said it, I wondered.

  “It might not be something you feel. Look at you,” she grabbed a handled mirror off my dresser and held it in front of my face. “Your pupils are dilated. Are you fucked up on something else? Something you took yourself?”

  “No!”

  “Then let me take you to a doctor and have your blood tested.”

  “I was just at the hospital.”

  “Did they draw blood?”

  I scrunched my face trying to remember. It all seemed a little fuzzy. “No.”

  “Trust me on this one.”

  I stared at her. She was telling me the man who loved me was drugging me. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Years earlier I was dosed with Devil’s Breath,” she said. “Have you heard of it?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s a highly potent and devastating hallucinogen that puts you in a hypnotic state, makes you completely pliant. It allows people to lead you around like a fucking puppet. Frankly, I still have hallucinations from it.”

  She was so sincere. I frowned. “I’m sorry. That’s really shitty, but I don’t think it’s the same. I don’t feel drugged. I just feel like I’ve been drinking too much. I’ll try to cut back.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

  “Suit yourself.” She slammed the door as she left.

  Fuck. I didn’t want her for an enemy. I respected and admired her and wished we could be friends, but she was wrong. She had to be.

  Waking when the sun was setting, I felt oddly out of sorts. I didn’t usually sleep that much during the day. But then again, I didn’t usually almost drown.

  I took a long shower and then dressed for dinner. Damien had said the restaurant in Ipanema offered South American food. I was hoping I’d have a bigger appetite later. Nearly drowning and vomiting up seawater and sand could effectively kill one’s appetite.

  I knocked on the adjoining door to Damien’s room, but there was no answer. He must still be “letting off steam.”

  I dabbed on some perfume, strapped on some lace-up stiletto sandals, and headed downstairs.

  I found Sydney drinking a beer and perusing her laptop on a couch in the large living room. Her dog reclined on the floor at her feet. He was so cute. He lazily wagged his tail when he saw me. I sat beside Sydney. I felt bad about our argument earlier. I really think she was just trying to help. Even if she was off base.

  “Always working?” I said.

  She took me in for a second. Before she answered the two other women walked into the room carrying fancy cocktails. The conversation was over.

  42

  First Kill

  He paced the balcony of his pied-à-terre looking down on the busy street below. People were already preparing for the parade—flaunting skimpy costumes, carrying sloshing drinks down the street, and revealing slick-with-sweat flesh.

  The sexually-charged atmosphere only heightened his lust. That’s why he had purchased this pied-à-terre. At first. Because at that time, many years ago, he thought sex would be enough.

  That was before his first kill.

  Watching the life seep out of the someone’s eyes made him feel invincible. He’d never felt more powerful in his life.

  Bartering billion dollar deals, flying his own plane, even meeting the President of the United States—none of it could compare. If he were able to live orbiting the moon as he planned, maybe that would replicate the feeling of tremendous, all-encompassing power and the thrill of taking a life. Maybe not.

  When he killed, he was God.

  Usually he was able to keep his urges at bay. He allowed himself one a year. Here in Brazil. Far from the laws of his home country.

  But recently that had changed. He realized that life was too short to restrict himself. And after he got away with the first one, he realized he was invincible.

  However, to reward himself for all his hard work, he made sure to celebrate Carnival in his traditional way.

  His caretaker didn’t ask questions when, once a year, Damien asked him to drain the acid from the barrel he kept locked in his storage unit in the basement. He usually let the bodies decompose for about a year and then had the barrel drained right before he came back for the next year’s Carnival.

  He impatiently checked his watch. She would pay for being late.

  The doorbell rang.

  He kept his back to the door as continued looking out on the street from his balcony.

  “Enter.”

  Her high-heels click-clacked across the terra cotta floor. He heard the swish of fabric and a small thump of her purse land on the ground. The next thing he knew she’d lifted the back of his shirt and pressed her bare breasts against his flesh.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  He glanced at his watch. “You are two minutes late.”

  “I was trying to get away, but the traffic … Carnival, you know.”

  He whirled on her. “No, that is not acceptable.”

  She smiled and reached for him. He batted her hand away.

  “That will mean two more minutes.”

  She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

  “Two more minutes with you?”

&nbs
p; He pressed his lips together. “Trust me. They will be the longest two minutes of your life.”

  A flicker of alarm raced across her face.

  Good, he thought.

  She’s starting to understand.

  He yanked her to him and kissed her so hard her teeth cut through her lip. He tasted blood. But she didn’t struggle.

  When he pulled back, there was still that slight hint of fear in her eyes.

  “At the beach, you said you call me in next week. But you must really miss me.”

  “Plans changed. I was saving you for last.”

  Looking up at him, she examined his face. She didn’t like what she saw there because her eyes flicked toward the door.

  Too late for that.

  “I wanted to have you after she was gone because you remind me of her.”

  “Of who?” She scooted a little toward the door.

  He laughed. She thought it would be that easy to escape.

  He continued without answering her. “But as I said, my plans have changed. I realized something incredible and unexpected—I love her.”

  Suddenly, he laughed. “I wanted to make her love me. But now I love her.”

  At those words, she seemed to relax. She looked up at him smiling. “Why you want me if you love her?”

  “I need release.”

  “Oh, she won’t before marriage? I have many clients, maybe Catholic, whose women won’t before you know.”

  He yanked her hair so her face tilted up at his.

  “Don’t talk about your other clients.”

  Her eyes were wild. She no longer bothered hiding her terrified glances toward the door. He ran his hand down her hair, tangling his fingers in the long curls.

  “I love her. I don’t want to kill her anymore.”

  The woman erupted in nervous laughter.

  “Kill? You so mad at her right now you feel that way, but if you love her, you will go over it. Of course, you don’t really mean kill.”

  She examined his face.

  He turned his full focus on her and grabbed her by the chin. Before she realized it, he stuck the needle into her neck. He had her hands bound and mouth gagged in seconds. It would take another few minutes for the drug to kick in fully.