Chapter Two
Vanessa didn’t know what to do with herself. She kept looking around his home and expecting him to come out and attack her for touching his things. He never came out. She stayed downstairs, looking into every dark shadow, but he still didn’t come and stop her.
She had no doubt her father owed him money.
Isaac Norma had started to get a lot more visits, and some of the men were not exactly nice about it. Her father had even offered her to one of the men, but the man had simply laughed. His debt wouldn’t be paid off by damaged goods. That was how people saw her. It did kind of piss her off that they had dismissed her. She was more than just a damn scar, but not according to her parents and their close circle of people. She hated them.
With her anger back in place because of her memories, she grabbed the banister and started to make her way up to the bedrooms. She noticed the house was two stories high. The ground floor was the main living area, and upstairs the bedrooms. The closed doors looked even more daunting than the open downstairs.
Still, he asked if she was stupid or if she needed a man to show her the house. No, she didn’t need a man to show her anything, nor did she need a man to tell her she was stupid. No one had ever talked to her like that. She explored the upstairs. Several of the rooms were bare, even though they had en suites, which were also bare.
Only one room was filled with a bed, furniture, and looked lived in, and she imagined it was Diago’s room. There was no sign, no pictures, nothing to give anything away about the man who lived here. She knew nothing about him, other than his first name.
She didn’t know his last name, his age, who he was, or how he came to be the most feared man in the room. He wasn’t owned by the mafia. She heard people talk in whispers about him, almost as if they were afraid to put any real substance to the man who scared them.
The upstairs wasn’t quite as interesting as downstairs. Her stomach had started to growl in protest at not being fed. They had left the party before dinner. Her parents always loved to mingle, let the wine flow, loosen people up, and then feed them. Her father often said it made conversations more interesting.
She was starving, and made her way toward the kitchen. Back home, she’d not been allowed in the kitchen. Her mother had said it was no place for a Norma woman.
Maureen had taken her to the kitchen many times and shown her around. She had told her every woman needed to know how to take care of herself. Besides the tutoring, Maureen would talk to her about the art of survival if she ever found herself alone.
Again, she missed Maureen. That woman had been her one and only friend growing up.
Vanessa hadn’t been allowed to attend school. She was tutored at home. Her father had often said it wasn’t good to have outside influences, even though he chose outsiders to teach his daughter. Her brothers got to go to school and live their lives. She got to listen to their exploits, and often the annoyance of their father.
Her brothers weren’t known to conform. They had hated school and learning. She loved learning, enjoyed books, and conversation. She was the opposite of her brothers.
At first, Vanessa stood in the kitchen, and didn’t know what to do. She hesitated.
“Come on, Vanessa, the kitchen will not bite, unless you hurt yourself on a knife. Okay, the kitchen can be a dangerous place, but only if you let it.”
Pulling out of the memory, she recalled Maureen winking at her, and then guiding her through the kitchen. She loved being there with Maureen, they had enjoyed making chocolate chip cookies, cakes, even savory foods. Looking back, she realized Maureen took her in the kitchen whenever her parents were away, so there was no risk of them getting caught.
She wanted to feel closer to her friend, so she went to the fridge and opened it.
This wasn’t daunting or scary.
This was life.
She was away from her parents.
Free.
Vanessa saw the assortment of vegetables, and a couple of packets of meat, but she didn’t want to cook anything. She was starving now, so she grabbed the cheese, some cooked meats, and pickles. She had the makings of a sandwich but no bread. There was no choice but to open every cupboard, trying to locate the bread, and only after going through what felt like fifteen cupboards, she finally came to a bread storage bin. Inside was what she’d been looking for—sourdough bread.
Now, she was starting to like Diago a lot more.
Taking out two slices, she slathered on some pickles, sliced the cheese, and then laid on the meat. Putting one slice on top of the other, she pressed down and didn’t even bother to cut it in half.
Her stomach growled. This time it sounded like it echoed around the whole room, and that was simply unacceptable. Taking a large bite, she couldn’t help but moan as it felt so satisfying. She closed her eyes and chewed. This is what she loved about sourdough bread. It was chewy and delicious, and didn’t tear like sandwich bread.
Vanessa went for another bite, and this time she opened her eyes and stopped chewing, because right in front of her was Diago. She hadn’t heard him enter the room, and yet he was there in front of her—not too close, there was still a couple of feet between them—but he was there. She’d stopped chewing the mouthful.
“Eat,” he said.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t want you to starve,” he said, brushing past her.
He didn’t take the sandwich from her, which in the past six months had happened a lot. Her mother had told her carbs were bad for her. She didn’t hate carbs. Bread and pasta were a dream, but she hadn’t been allowed to eat them in over six months.
She watched as Diago took the bread and began to build his own sandwich. The silence felt awkward.
Other than as payment, Vanessa didn’t have a clue what he was going to do with her. Did he intend to kill her? Make an example of her? She had no way of knowing what he planned to do, and that was killing her.
He finished making his sandwich, and she watched, quite fascinated, as he took a large bite. Why did he have to look so good eating?
She couldn’t help but be fascinated by Diago. In her world of rules, she didn’t have freedom. Diago did have freedom. She had nothing. No words were spoken between them.
She waited for him to say or do something. Her father had always told her that a man was in charge, that she needed to learn to do what the man wanted. It had been hard for her to listen to his reasoning, certainly after hearing about other women who didn’t have to do that. Maureen had painted an amazing picture of what the outside world was like away from her family, away from the mafia, but she didn’t have that luxury. She was trapped in her world.
Now, she was at the mercy of Diago, who had no last name. A man who most of the men in her world feared. They sent Diago to do the jobs they were not willing to do themselves.
What did he want from her?
She was still eating her sandwich by the time he finished his. Vanessa wondered if he would give her instructions. Did he intend to bed her? Ruin her?
When she’d been kidnapped and afraid, she hadn’t been raped, which was a relief. Before they had done that to her, she’d been rescued.
Her father hadn’t been happy because he hadn’t been able to get confirmation at the hospital, and every doctor he tried to bribe and pay to do the investigation had refused. Vanessa had wondered why. She’d never had the chance to ask them why.
Diago walked right up to her. She didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the way he brushed past her, leaving the kitchen.
What did that mean?
****
Diago sat at the bar and watched as the gentleman on his list came in, sat down, and ordered himself a drink.
He’d always had the gift of being able to blend into the darkness. This was where he was most comfortable, and it always gave him the perfect opportunity to do his job without drawing attention to what he was doing. No one paid him any attention, not until he was ready for them to see him, which was exactly what he liked.
He nursed the same whiskey the bartender had given him, and waited. This man he’d been stalking for three weeks had all the same habits, and not once did he differ from any of it. This made his job easier.
The enjoyment of taking out a hit wasn’t nearly as fun when they had boring routines. He loved the challenge of taking someone out who changed all the time. He knew this was rare, but he didn’t give a fuck.
People tended to get stuck in life, living the same routine every day. It was something they looked forward to. Not him. He loved to change it up, which is why he had a bag of tricks and loved to play with them. Like the man in front of him, he had no idea Diago had been hired by a woman.
At first, Diago had thought the woman who wanted him to kill this prick was an ex-lover or an affair gone bad. It wasn’t any of that. It turned out the man who was laughing, and enjoying the attention of fellow barflies, liked to abuse little girls.
The woman who hired him was one of those little girls, and even when she tried to tell her mother or go to the cops, everything was squashed. They ignored her pleas for help. She had no choice but to live with him sneaking into her bedroom every night to play a game.
Diago didn’t have many morals in this world. He didn’t believe in limiting himself to rules, or binding himself to some moral obligation or contract. He wasn’t going to do any of that. Instead, he lived life the way he fucking wanted, and everyone else could go and suck his dick.
There were no good people in the world, just assholes waiting to be manipulated and used. In that moment, he couldn’t help but think about Vanessa. She hadn’t gone to one of the bedrooms last night. After exploring the house, she’d gone to the library, taken out a book, laid down, and gone to sleep. He threw a blanket over her so she wouldn’t catch her death of cold. He had no interest in finding a corpse in his home, not that he would ever allow it to get that cold.
This was no time to be thinking about his problem. This morning, she’d still been asleep when he grabbed his coffee.
He’d planned to take this piece of shit out today, and as he watched the man, he felt that need for blood stirring up within him. He wanted to make this kill so damn bad, he could almost taste it. It would be easy as well. Diago wasn’t sure if he wanted easy today.
He took a sip of his whiskey and as he suspected, it was watered down to keep the expense high but make it last just a little bit longer. Fucker. One day, the owner of the bar would be taught a lesson, but it wasn’t one Diago intended to teach.
The man downed several beers, and then bid his good nights to the people in the bar. No one knew him, and yet he behaved as if they all loved him. He was an attention-seeking son of a bitch.
Diago watched as the man left, and the men who were at the bar all gave each other that look, the one where they were a little confused by what had just happened but were not willing to say anything. They were all a bunch of cowards.
He ignored them and got to his feet. He’d already paid for his whiskey and left, following the man, watching as he walked down the street. Diago saw it in the man’s walk. He was … happy. He had no idea what was about to happen to him.
The man turned down a dark alley, and Diago followed him and smiled as the other man turned.
“What the fuck are you doing following me?” he asked.
Diago smiled.
“You a fuckin’ weirdo? Do you think you’re going to attack me? Come on then, you little fuck, give it a try.”
This was a surprise. Diago knew it was going to end in pain and with the man before him begging, but this was a nice distraction.
He closed the distance and as the man lifted his fist, as if to hit him, Diago wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck, squeezing tightly. In the next second, he shoved him hard, throwing his body into the wall, winding him.
Diago stood and slid a hand into his pocket. He’d not even broken a sweat, and he waited.
The man scrambled to his feet, and for a split-second, he turned to look toward the exit. Diago had followed him down an alleyway with only one exit, and that was the one behind him.
He squared his shoulders, and Diago was impressed. The man charged at him, and when he was close, he pushed, sending him back against the wall. All he did was put a bit of strength behind it.
Again, he charged at him, and Diago this time landed a blow to the gut, followed by another to the face. He didn’t believe in taking someone down when they were already on the floor. To him, that was tacky. He liked his opponents to be functioning completely.
He waited for the man to get to his feet. Diago didn’t stop him as he crawled away. This was not the first man to crawl away from him.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re following me.”
Diago watched him.
“Look, dude, I don’t know what this is about. If it’s money, I don’t have a lot of it.”
“Ten years ago, you met a woman who had a daughter. She was thirteen years old, pretty, and you decided you wanted a taste of young flesh, rather than the mother. When she reported your ass, you made her life miserable.”
“Tara … look, whatever she is paying you, I can double it.”
Diago looked at him. “You just said you didn’t have any money.”
“She’s a lying slut, always has been. She was the one who wanted me, and as I explained to her mother, I didn’t want to ruin the relationship I had, so I just kept rejecting her weird-ass daughter.”
Diago had heard enough. Tara had told him every detail. How this son of a bitch was able to sweet-talk the Devil himself, or at least that was what Tara had always said. He saw through the lies, but it also helped that he didn’t care. Tara wanted him dead. She was going to get her wish.
He stepped toward him, and the man opened his mouth as if to scream. Diago stopped him, pressing him against the wall, and putting his palm across his mouth, stopping any sound from escaping. Staring into his eyes, Diago slid the knife into his gut. He pulled it out, and did it again, and again, and again.
Tara told him to make it hurt. She asked for him to stare into his eyes and not stop, even if he begged. In fact, she was the one that suggested he hold onto his mouth and nearly suffocate him as he killed him, because then for once in his life, this prick would know what it felt like to be helpless, to not have anyone hear his screams. To be at the mercy of someone else causing him pain.
Diago was no fool. He knew why Tara wanted him to do this. This was a message. This is what the man did to Tara every time he raped her, and now it was payback.
Diago kept plunging the knife in, and slowly, he watched the life slipping from his gaze, until there was nothing left.
This was a job well done, and now he just needed to clear away the body.