Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
The thing about torturing members of the cartel? They know the deal. They know they’re not getting out of here, no matter what they say. Which is why Enrique is staying silent. He’s accepted his fate.
“I just want to know why?” I ask him. “You, of all people… I wouldn’t have thought you would turn rat.”
“You were going to kill me anyway. I touched her, and I knew in that moment that it didn’t matter what I said,” he grunts.
“So you went to the feds?”
“They came to me. They were already following her,” he says.
I nod to Paz. He sticks a needle into Enrique’s arm. The drug will paralyze him, keep him still as I do what I have to do.
“You know this could have been avoided. The punishment for touching her would have been far less than that of total betrayal.” It’s a lie. I wouldn’t have gone any fucking easier on him.
Even if he was trying to protect her by stopping her from rushing into a burning building, he should have found another way to do it. He didn’t have to touch her. He also didn’t have to run to the fucking cops.
I walk over to the wall and pick up a pair of coveralls.
This job is messy. I don’t need to go back into the house covered in blood and bodily fluids.
Evie does not need to see that. Once I step into the coveralls, I pick up two filleting knifes, handing one to Paz.
We stand on each side of the table. Enrique’s completely naked and strapped down in front of us.
He knows what’s about to happen. Hell, he’s delivered this punishment to more than enough people himself.
“My family…” he says.
“You should have thought of them before you became a rat.” I glide the knife just under the skin of his shoulder.
It takes time, finesse, to remove someone’s flesh from their body.
But when you do it enough, it becomes like muscle memory.
The knife slides from side to side, almost as if I were filleting a fish.
Once we are done with his arms, we move onto his chest. Enrique hasn’t said a word. He can feel it, but he’s not going to show us that it’s bothering him. The drug keeps his body still, but it doesn’t erase all the pain.
An hour later and we have one skinned rat.
“I want him hung in the middle of fucking town,” I tell Paz, dropping the knife and shaking the cramp out of my hand. “Make sure it’s known that I’m back in town and this is what will happen to anyone else that steps out of line.”
“Will do.” Paz nods.
I step out of the coveralls, open the oven that will be used to burn the removed skin, and shove them inside.
That was very anticlimactic. I wanted him to scream.
I wanted to hear his pain. But when I saw the determination mixed with the acceptance of his fate on his face, I knew I wasn’t going to get that out of him.
I head to the sink and scrub my hands, the water turning red as the blood washes away.
By the time I’m walking out, Paz has three guys dragging Enrique from the warehouse.
I get in the car and head back up the hill.
It’s about a five-minute drive from the main house.
Somewhere I don’t ever plan on showing Evie.
This property is huge. The only part she needs to know about is the main house and gardens.
The rest, well, nothing good ever happens on the outer edge of the property.
I walk into the house and find Maria in the kitchen. “Did Evie come down?” I ask her.
Maria shakes her head. “No, she hasn’t come out of the room.”
“Okay, I’ll take something up to her.” I open the fridge, and pull out a bottle of water and a prepared bowl of mixed fruits. Evie hasn’t eaten in a while, so she has to be hungry.
When I walk into the bedroom, my heart sinks when I don’t see her on the bed.
I drop the water and the fruit bowl on the dresser and run into the bathroom.
I expect to find her on the floor. Surrounded by blood.
Thank fuck I don’t. She’s not in there. The light in the closet has me heading in that direction.
That’s where I find her. On the floor, surrounded by pictures. Pictures she was never meant to see.
“Evie?” I call out to get her attention.
“W-what are these?” she asks, her voice shaking as she picks up some of the photos.
Fuck. How do I even explain this to her?
I run a hand through my hair. “You weren’t supposed to see those.”
“I figured that much, Emmanuel. Why do you have all these photos of me?”
I sit down in front of her. Taking a deep breath, I try to find the words to explain to her just how deep my obsession with her goes. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to lose her either. Fucking hell.
“I first saw you when you were sixteen,” I explain.
“It was a year after Laura died, and I—you were there. In Vegas, in an evening gown with a crown on your head. The most beautifully haunting image I’ve ever seen.
” I pick up a photo, the one photo that isn’t of her.
“I thought you were Laura. I followed you that night and waited outside the hotel. But when you came out the next morning, something had changed. You looked even more like her, broken. Troubled.”
I shake my head, trying to clear the memory.
“I was only sixteen. I didn’t have a lot of power at the time, but I hired someone to follow you, just to make sure you weren’t her. They assured me you weren’t.”
“I’m not Laura,” Evie whispers.
“I know that. At the time, I was convinced I was losing my mind. I kept my distance. But I printed out every picture I could find. I wanted to believe so bad that you were her. That she got out and was alive somehow. It’s why I didn’t try to learn your name.
I didn’t want to let go of the possibility.
I also didn’t want to put you at risk by getting too close,” I admit.
“But then you showed up in Vegas again. The night we met.”
Evie looks up at me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She’s hurt, and it’s because of me. Fucking hell.
“I couldn’t let you go a second time.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not her,” she repeats.
“I know.”
“Do you?” she asks. “You’re using me to replace someone you lost. That’s not love, Emmanuel. That’s… you trying to erase your grief.”
“I’m not fucking using you for shit, Evie.
I love you. Evie Carter, soon-to-be Evie Lopez.
I don’t want you to be her. She was weak.
She wasn’t strong enough for this life. She wasn’t a fighter.
You know why I know you’re not her? Because you are strong, the strongest person I know.
You don’t quit. You fight for your happiness and you fight for those you love.
Laura didn’t fight, Evie. You do. Besides looks, there is nothing similar about you and Laura. ” I wave the photo around.
“Do you have pictures of her?” Evie asks.
“This is the only one.”
Her brows furrow. She squints at the image in my hand. Then she shakes her head. “That’s me, Emmanuel.”
“No, it’s Laura. You look just like her, Evie, eerily so. But I took this photo myself. I know it’s Laura.”
“I don’t understand,” she says. “My mom has that exact picture of me in her living room.”
“That’s impossible,” I tell her. Her mother cannot have this picture. “There were only two copies. I kept one, and Laura had one.”
I don’t remember what happened to Laura’s copy. I left all her things. I couldn’t deal with any of it. I wanted to move on. I wanted to start my plan of revenge against my father. It took years, but I got it eventually.
“It’s me, Emmanuel. I’m telling you my mother’s house is covered in pictures of me.
This one is in her living room. I haven’t been there in years, but I know my mother had an obsession with my looks.
She loved displaying her beautiful daughter all over her house.
I doubt that would have changed now,” she says.
“How?” How could her mother have a photograph of Laura? Why would she have it?
“I don’t know,” Evie says.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t want to scare you away. I can’t lose you, Evie. I know this looks bad. Fuck, I get it. But I need you. Don’t take the one thing in the world that I actually love.” I’m begging her. I really can’t lose her.
“You don’t love me, E. You love her,” she says.
“No.” I shake my head. I reach out and pick up her hands. “I love you. It’s you, not her.”
“I can’t spend my entire life wondering if, when you’re looking at me, you’re thinking about her.”
“I don’t. The only thing I think about is you, Evie. You. I think about us, our future. I will never let anyone come between us, especially not a fucking ghost,” I growl. “I didn’t love her. I thought I did, but I didn’t know what love was until I met you.”
“You’ve been following me since I was sixteen,” she says.
“Only a few photos,” I clarify.
“It’s still creepy.”
“I would never hurt you, Evie.” I might have had the thought once, but I have not wanted her to die for a really fucking long time.
“I know,” she says. “I need to go and see my mother.”
“You want me to take you to the woman’s house who sat back and watched you get abused for years?” I don’t know if I can do that.
“I need to know who she is.” Evie looks at the picture of Laura again.
“She was a foster care kid, a street kid. She grew up in and out of homes, Evie. She didn’t have family. She had me and the guys. She was an addict,” I explain.
“You don’t need to come with me, but I am going to go and speak to my mother.” Evie pushes to her feet. She’s wearing one of my dress shirts. “And after that, if you still want to marry me, you can take me to Milan.”
“There is no if, Evie. I am marrying you.” I stand and pull her into my arms.
“I’m not going to lie, E. It hurts. Knowing you’ve known about me all these years and you didn’t even say hello? Not even a DM. Like, hey, BTW, we’re soul mates. Just thought you should know,” she says.
“I was an idiot. I thought I could keep you in a box. You were safe there.”
“I feel safest right here, in your arms,” she whispers, holding me tighter.
I don’t know what I did to get this woman to love me so unconditionally, but I am not going to fuck this up.