Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2)

by Elena M. Reyes

  At the end of this hall there’s a large metal door and the further inside we walk, the more his words become pronounced. Clear.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Let me go, cabron!

  I’m going to kill you.

  He’s a defiant little arse, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of his end.

  There is a total of twenty steps before we meet the entrance and I open the door.

  At once, the scent hits my nostrils; it’s putrid and stomach turning, but more than that, the scene that greets my eyes when the lights are switched on is beautiful in all its gory glory.

  Mauricio is standing in the middle of the room surrounded by cells with open doors, and inside of each is an animal. Large hogs; angry and feral swine that the minute we walk in become quiet. They’re deathly still and silent as we make our way toward the almost naked man with his arms bound high above his head.

  Mauricio fucking Hernandez is dirty, angry, and a lot older than I thought he’d be.

  “Evening,” I say. His eyes snap in my direction, and he hisses as once again the brightness from the lights angled toward his face, hurt his eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asks, squinting hard. “Why am I here?”

  “Why is he here?” I parrot, looking back at my cousin and Ivan. “The poor man is asking why he’s here? Why this is happening to him?”

  “Poor lad.” Callum comes to stand beside me with the package Ivan gave him in hand. “This is a horrible predicament to find yourself in.”

  “It is.”

  Ivan steps into the light, places the chair in front of Mauricio, and steps back, but not before the cocksucker gets a good look at his face.

  “You,” he grunts out, fighting against his bonds to reach Ivan. “You were at the bar—”

  “Yes. I was.” The door to this room slams shut and a lock is engaged. “And it was an interesting night, indeed. Many stories shared over a bottle of Havana Club. Do you remember that?” Ivan pulls out a remote from his pocket and hits the button at the center, dimming the lights a bit. Enough that he can now see me and pales. “Remember the story you shared of your recent time in London?”

  26

  “I DON’T REMEMBER.”

  My eyes narrow, but I keep my tone of voice calm. “I’m going to give you a minute to go through your memories, Mr. Mauricio Hernandez. Use your time wisely.”

  “You have the wrong man,” he says instead. Too quickly. Stupidly. Sweat begins to build at his temples and then the shivers begin to run down his body. With each tick of the clock, his fear is becoming all the more palpable. It’s pulsing throughout the room. “I’m innocent.”

  “I haven’t accused you of anything yet, mate.” Turning my face, I look at Ivan. “Have you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And you?”

  My cousin beside him snorts and shakes his head in the negative. “I haven’t said a word.”

  Looking back at the guilty fuck, I shrug. “See? No accusations. However, I do believe you have a story to tell.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “Him who?”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Callum and Ivan step away from us and head toward the very last cell. Once inside there’s some racket, the sound of metal items being pushed around and then the wheels of a creaky old cart coming toward us. The thing is old and definitely belongs in here with the trash, but the laptop atop it is new and so is the camera hookup beside it.

  It clicks then what he meant outside, and I’m glad he thought that far ahead to prepare. My father will very much appreciate it.

  But first...

  I take the remaining steps between us and with a quick flick of my wrist deliver the first of many cuts to come with my karambit, two identical slices behind the ankles that sever his tendons. Even if he could, the man can no longer lift his foot off the ground and walk.

  “Motherfucker!” he screams out, and the agony in that high pitch does two very important things:

  It makes me smile.

  Makes the large hogs in the room grow loud and rowdy.

  Another click of his remote and the cells close, leaving two of these beasts on the loose and roaming the room. They’re running, squealing—coming closer to him but not attacking yet. They will, though. It’s only a matter of time before the hunger overtakes all thinking.

  An important fact about pigs; they can be cannibals. A small horde can clean a body down to the bones without any problem. For this very reason, I asked my friend to not feed his lot today after finding out that on his compound, they had livestock for different purposes.

  A hungry animal is dangerous.

  A hungry and agitated animal is a killer.

  “I’m going to ask you one last time, Hernandez. Tell me the story you shared with my friend here? Last chance.”

  “He’s lying!” The more he fights his bonds, the tighter they become, and I can see the tip of his fingers turning a darker purple. Take in the way the ropes are cutting deeper into the wound I created. Ouch. “I was just at that bar celebrating my wedding anniversary.”

  “Really?” Ivan looks at him from behind the laptop’s screen, in his hand an HDMI cord. “Because there was no one with you but the prostitute you bought for the night. And don’t worry, I left her every single cent you had in your wallet and back at the cheap hotel you were hiding in. Those two hundred thousand in cash will be used by her family and friends to survive and have a better life.”

  “You piece of shit...I will kill you!”

  “That’s a mighty big threat from an innocent man.”

  “Do you know who I am? I will...fuck!” Another cut. This time, though, to his leg, and it runs the length going from knee to upper thigh where his boxer briefs end. I went deeper this time. I made sure to take my time and enjoy the way his flesh gives way underneath my sharp blade.

  The only way to describe is it is like slicing through butter, smooth and precise.

  Blood rushes to the top of the wound and rolls down his leg, pooling on the floor beneath his feet. The puddle grows quickly, calling the attention of the animals. One almost gets close enough to bite, but Ivan slaps his behind hard enough that he rushes away on a squeal.

  “Feel like telling me that story now? Come one, Mauricio. Let’s reminisce.”

  “Maybe he just needs a little help getting there. Something to remember?” Callum walks over with the calmness of a saint and opens a bottle of the same rum he got piss drunk with. “Right, friend?”

  “Don’t. Please don’t.” Mauricio’s head is shaking hard from side to side, his eyes on the bottle in my cousin’s hand. “I’ll talk.”

  “So you do remember?” Callum lets a small amount fall from the bottle’s opening onto his leg but avoiding the cut altogether.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” Another small stream. This time, a few drops fall into the open wound and his body bows into itself. Crying out, he blubbers something that we can’t quite make out. “Repeat that?”

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just let me walk out of here alive. Promise not to kill me.”

  “But first, let’s start with a slide show. A beautiful message from a friend?” Callum asks and I nod, loving the idea.

  What do you think, Hernandez?” Ivan takes that as a cue to turn the laptop on. He does so, and then pushes the creaking cart closer until its literally touching his skin, the rust from the metal smearing across his abdomen and thighs.

  And because I’m an arsehole with no remorse, I slice across his stomach—a shallow cut—from side to side right over his dirty flesh.

  At his curse of pain, I smile, but I sober just as quick. He killed my mum. This bloody cunt took from me the most important woman in my life until just recently, a move she would’ve approved wholeheartedly if it meant her son is happy. That she would’ve gotten those grandkids she dreamed of and never once stopped giving me shit over.

  “Where are they?” I ask Callum w
ho looks back at the computer, pointing at the app next to the Skype button. Pressing it, I remove myself from them and let the entire album play out. I let him see just how depraved and sick I can be. I let him watch picture by picture as his good-for-nothing friend, the rubbish that got him my mother’s job, is sentenced.

  Felix Vega was useful until he wasn’t and for his role in her death, he received a penance that no man, misogynist or not, can handle. For the couple of days that Gem made me wait for her, I tortured him. A burn at a time. A strike at a time. A loss of an appendage at a time.

  Alexander is Aurora’s bodyguard for a reason, and it’s his brutality that has kept him under my employ. Without an ounce of concern or care, I watched the man from a comfortable seat as he cut an inch off his dick at a time. One every hour and the wanker only made it to number five before there was nothing left.

  Then, he removed his balls. One at a time too.

  From the very beginning to the end where Felix takes the offered gun with a shaky hand and pulls the trigger is all documented. Saved for him to enjoy, and on the second go-around, his watery eyes meet mine.

  “I’m sorry,” Mauricio says as I hold a hand up for Callum and point toward the laptop. He set this up so my father wouldn’t miss this moment from his home in London. Everything happened too quickly for him to meet us, but this is the next best thing, and after a few clicks of the mouse, he’s on the screen.

  I look over and he nods in greeting but we exchange no words. None are needed at this moment.

  It’s a time for actions, and they speak louder than any words ever will.

  Flipping my attention back to the prisoner, I raise a brow. “So, you do know who I am?”

  “Yes. I studied your picture and file for two weeks before the hit took place.”

  “Who sent you?” He doesn’t answer right away, and Callum does me the favor of pushing the bottle’s opening into the wound and tipping the alcohol over. Mauricio’s screams of agony rile up the hogs again; this time they begin to bang against the metal bars keeping them back, while the ones that are loose come sniffing, licking the floor, snorting, pushing forward until they are just below his bloodied feet. Just when they prepare to bite, Ivan pushes them back with a metal pole he procured while we watched the photo film. “This will only work for so long, Hernandez. Tell me their real names and not the bullshit Felix gave me.”

  “No one knows their real names and I didn’t care enough to ask.” It’s an honest answer, I’ll give him that, but not what I want. So to edge him along, I give him an almost identical slice across his other leg to match the first.

  “Tell me what you know. All of it.”

  “Nico and Antonella are the children of Giada Savino. These three hate Matteo Cancio for something that happened between their father and the Boston mob boss a very long time ago. They never told me what, but from what Felix said it all started a year after Aurora, Cancio’s daughter, was born.”

  “Matteo wasn’t in charge then.”

  “The father. Matteo Cancio Sr. was.”

  “Okay.” Placing my knife onto the cart, I extend a hand out to Callum for the bottle. He hands it over, and I bring it to Mauricio’s lips. “Drink. It’ll help.”

  “Just kill me.”

  “I will, but I need something first...”

  Opening his mouth, he lets me pour a generous amount and swallows. “You want to talk about your mother?”

  “She wasn’t your intended target.” Not a question, and he nods. “Then why shoot an innocent woman.”

  “They doubled the offer.” He shrugs and lifts his head toward the bottle in my hand, and I pour another shot in his mouth. After swallowing, he releases a hiss as some of the spirits spilled onto his leg. “Those are a bitch...hurt like hell.”

  “That’s the point.” I hand the rum back to Callum. “Now, about the money?”

  “I was supposed to receive the other half a mil next week to an account I have in Guatemala City. The national bank doesn’t ask questions and after slipping the manager a couple of bucks, he speeds the process up personally.”

  “What day next week?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation.” With that, I pull out my gun and shoot him four times in the upper torso. That’s the signal. The beginning of his end as Callum cuts him down, letting the almost dead weight drop to the ground without a care.

  His groan is loud and pulls the attention of the two pigs on the floor. They come closer and we pull back toward the exit, and once there, Ivan presses the button on his remote that opens the cells for the other hogs to come out.

  Within a minute, the screams inside the room are deafening. Would make a weaker man sick to his stomach.

  Not me.

  It’s almost poetic, really. A disgusting cunt ending his life as nothing more than pig food.

  After a minute, I step outside while the other two stay on the other side of the door talking, catching up, and I’ll do that tonight, but first…

  I find Archie right where we left him, standing to the left of Ivan’s men and watching the door. Once I step through, he wordlessly hands me my belongings and then retakes his position. The other two give me a nod, but also remain quiet as they know to wait for all three of us to walk out before they remove what’s left and dispose of all evidence.

  Swiping a finger across the screen of my phone, I scroll through my contacts and find the phone number I need and type out a message.

  It’s time we sit down and talk ~Casper.

  Within seconds there are three little dots on the screen letting me know my message was received. It starts and stops a few times, but I’m pleased with their response and agree.

  Name the time and date. ~Cancio

  27

  “I’M VERY SORRY to hear about what happened to your mother, Casper. That’s unacceptable and if you need anything, let me know.” Matteo extends his hand out for me to shake as we meet in the lobby of his downtown office a week after I came back from Cuba. I’ve spoken to his daughter three times since then, explained what happened, but I never told her I’d be coming here.

  Not yet. Not until I’ve handled a few loose ends.

  The first is making her father understand my intentions. What I think of his plans for Gem.

  Hopefully, my beauty understands why I do what I do. For her. For the us we will be.

  The entire top floor of this building houses Matteo’s office and that of another man I’ll be visiting before walking out today because I’m here for two reasons:

  To lay my cards down on the table. To warn him of what’s to come.

  Both reasons begin and end at the exact same spot:

  Don’t touch what’s mine.

  Looking at Gem’s father, I take in the similarities between him and his daughter. Like now, as I take the offered hand and give it a firm shake, his brows give a small furrow as he tries to read me. Then, there’s the tightening of his jaw when I give nothing away.

  Two small expressions that match ones I’ve seen on Gem’s face whenever her piqued curiosity isn’t fed. On her it’s cute, on him it’s amusing, but I rein it in.

  “Thank you. The offer is much appreciated since we have a mutual interest to take care of.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes.”

  Matteo nods and then points over to the sitting area near his floor-to-ceiling windows. “Right to the point, I can appreciate that.”

  He has no idea just how direct it’s about to get.

  We take seats across from each other; he’s watching me, and I’m dissecting what I know about the man and his relationships thus far. “Who are the Savinos?”

  “Savinos?” His expression is confused because that not where he thought I’d begin. If he isn’t aware of my relationship with Gem, then he thinks this is about business. “I don’t know anyone with that name.” My information was correct. They don’t exist.

  “They seem to know you, though.”


  At my response, he shakes his head. “Never heard of the name. Are they from Boston?”

  “From my understanding, they’re from New Jersey but want a permanent seat of power here. They know you, your family, your business dealings, and want it all.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Who are these people?” His face has gone from lost to red in anger, jaw ticking. “How do you know this, and no one under my employ has—”

  “I’m involved for two very specific reasons, Cancio. Both of which involve the women in my life.” Sitting forward, I let my hands fall between my parted thighs. “They stole a gun shipment from me around the time you were in London a few months back.”

  “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Something I already know, but at the time, blamed you.” My phone pings with a message, and the special tone is his daughter’s. For the moment I ignore it. I’ll call her when I leave. “It became pretty clear soon after that you had no direct involvement and were in town for personal reasons.”

  “Direct involvement? I had no knowledge of anything happening.”

  “It involves you because of those fucking cunts. This is the second time they’ve tried to mix me in their mess...do their dirty work and have failed. They want you dead, want your territory, and then the male of the trio desires your daughter for himself. That last one will only happen over my dead body.”

  “How do you know my daughter?” As he says this, his eyes narrow. “Wait. Why are you really here? What does my Aurora have to do with this?”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Does he not look into her life at all? Does the bloody arsehole not care?

  “Business. Maybe an expansion of operations.”

  “Are you looking to expand. Is the UK attractive to you?” I counter, instead. My expression is one of annoyance.

  “Always has.”

  “Nice to know, but I’m not here for that…this time.”