Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ANNA
Iliked to think that it just happened. Like it was fate or retribution for an innocent life. For a wife left behind without the love of her life. For two daughters who’d lost their safety net, the best father in the world.
But it didn’t just fall into my lap. I made it happen.
I’d lain restless for two nights. Drifting in and out of sleep. Fading between nightmares and a reality that was worse. I cleaned the rooms, visited Mamá, helped Mara with her homework, cooked, and fell into bed, exhausted, but didn’t sleep.
“You’re a fucking thief.”
My papá was good. He was the best. He wasn’t a thief. I’d bury that recollection in the quicksand that took the rest of my memories.
“It’s a fucking order. Now!”
Nothing had changed except everything had. Instead of waking up to the dark hollowness that weighed on me every morning, there was a sudden purpose. A task. Something that brought a twitch to my heartbeat. It was odd, but felt like hope. Like a last chance or a new miracle treatment.
Boris Martello.
That was his name. I’d found that out in the meantime.
Just like I’d found out anything else I could about the man.
He had been a frequent guest for years. Back in Marbella again after a long break.
I supposed killing a man in cold blood made even a Don take a break.
But what did I know? All I knew was that my search history had become a lot more suspicious the day I saw him.
I’d also stopped by the market on the way to work and bought a bottle of natural pineapple extract.
I slipped my hand into my pocket. Just running my fingers over the tiny glass bottle with the yellow plastic lid made me feel alive. The adrenaline rush did something to me that no pill had ever been able to. Even the hum of music in the elevator didn’t bother me anymore.
The room service girl I’d followed into the elevator stood in the middle.
The Tinto de Verano on her tray was missing the taste of pineapple.
If the allergy were severe, even a small drop would be lethal.
But how could I get it into his drink? I’d tried to get hold of it before she got the tray but failed miserably.
Too many people. Too many checks. A cold sheen of sweat beaded on my forehead. I wiped it away. Focus.
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop.
“Crap,” she cursed. I stared at her stained shirt, which she was frantically trying to fix. There was a shot here. I wasn’t seeing it. “You’d think with all the black money they’re earning they’d be able to fix the damn thing.”
I shrugged. My answer was an automatic response. “It’s the service elevator. I’d rather have the black money in my pocket than have it fixed.” Haz algo, Anna. Do something.
She eyed me. Something in her gaze freaked me out.
Did she know my plans? Pineapple in the drink. Had to get past her and the guard. “You could try to wash it off in the storeroom.” Idiota.
“I’m already late. The asshole ordered again.
I thought if I was busy, they wouldn’t ask me to take it.
But they came looking for me. Now he’s pissed because I’m late.
” The elevator geared up again. My heart dropped to my feet.
I should have taken the break. She set the tray down on the floor.
Half of the wine was in the glass. The rest was on her white shirt, turning it into a red polka-dot pattern.
“I wouldn’t have been late if they had just asked someone else. Why does it have to be me?” she moaned.
I stared at the drink. Was it enough to do any damage?
“What’s your name?”
“Anna,” I answered automatically.
“I’m Vega. Can you take it in?”
“What?”
“I can’t go in like this. Please? I’ll pay you or something.”
Take the shot. But I was shaking my head. Idiota. “I’m just housekeeping.”
“All you have to do is bring in the man’s damn drink. Take one for me. Can’t you see I’m going to be in trouble?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what—”
I want to pour pineapple extract into his insides and watch him rot.
The bell pinged, and the door slid open. The hallway stretched ahead; malicious ideas called out to me. At the end of it, the human bodyguard stood watching us with his shrewd eyes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Vega muttered before rushing forward.
“Wait.” I ran after her. “I’ll do it.”
“Too late,” she muttered under her breath just as the door opened.
I froze. The monster who’d killed my papá stood on the other end of it.
Adrenaline surged in my body. I imagined using the gold chains around his neck to throttle him.
The thought of blood made me want to vomit my insides and scream at the same time.
His cold eyes swept over her stained shirt with disdain before sliding past her to me.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I’m sorry, sir. The elevator had a problem, and the drink spilled—”
He didn’t let her finish. “You’ve only got half a drink and a fucking disgusting shirt on you. I don’t like filth.”
He didn’t seem to mind staining floors with crimson, though.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Vega’s anger with me had faded into a whimper with him. “I’ll get changed.”
“Fuck off then, and get me a fresh drink.”
Her hands shook around the tray. She was going to break. I reached out for her arm. I’ll go down with her and convince her to give me the drink. “You.” He snapped his fingers at me. “Bring this drink in.”
Luck or a nightmare? Am I really going to put an end to another man’s life? But as if I were in a dream, I quelled the nausea and reached for the tray. Vega was all too happy to release it to me and make her escape.
It was only him and me. The man who’d bled my papá dry.
This was what hatred felt like. I wanted to step over the threshold, take a knife, and carve his heart out.
But a part of me was also a scared little girl locked inside a slatted cupboard.
And that girl had done nothing then and couldn’t now. “I’m just a housemaid.”
His beady eyes touched me from top to toe. It was as appealing as a naked snail sliding down my skin. “You’re pretty enough to bring my drink.”
“She’s not been screened, sir,” the human armor protested next to me. I’d forgotten all about him. The voice of reason.
“She’s being screened by me.” And the voice of dick.
“Sir, I don’t think it’s safe—”
“If she’s out to kill me, she’d be more eager, wouldn’t she?”
The voice of reason said something in rapid Italian.
The dick was having none of it. “Take a sip then,” he ordered.
I blinked. Before I could react, a beefy arm picked up the glass and tilted it to his lips.
One half of the drink disappeared down his thick throat.
He gurgled, then he swallowed. Finally, after the longest second in history, he gave a nod of approval.
“Fuck off then.” His hairy arm grabbed my elbow and pulled me inside. The door slammed shut behind me. The body armor outside and the killer inside.
A quick sweep of the room told me no one else was there. Panic coursed through my veins. The room spun. The past blended with the present. Images of blood sank into my mind.
Fat, greasy fingers caught my chin and tipped it up.
My eyes burned. I wasn’t sure if it was from panic, pain, or smoke.
“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” My words were lost somewhere in my cork-dry throat.
He touched my hair and twirled a finger around one of my curls.
Hollow screams, cigarette smoke, and wooden floors stained crimson.
My memory chose that moment to clear up.
Three men. Black suits and shiny shoes. A cigarette on the floor.
A gun and a knife. Papá stumbled. Papá crashed.
Papá. Dead. A cold realization filled me.
No one will hear you scream when he comes for you.
His eyes on me were shrewd. He unbuttoned his shirt while circling me and whistling.
The high-pitched sound set my teeth on edge.
His heated breath crawled on my skin when he came close and said, “You’re a lucky girl.
I’ve got some time on my hands today.” That didn’t sound good.
But I was too shaken, shifting between memory and reality.
Yanking his shirt off, he turned his back and walked toward the bathroom.
He hung it neatly on the hanger behind the door, adjusting the collar and buttoning it up entirely.
So oddly normal. Like he wasn’t my father’s killer.
Like I should be in his room. Like I should just serve his drink instead of tipping pineapple extract into it.
He took his pants off and did the same. I focused all my attention on stuffing the empty bottle back into my pocket without letting it slip through my clammy hands.
When he sat down on the bed, a drip of sweat slid down my back. This was far beyond my capacity. He was the fucking Don. There was an armed guard outside the door. There was only one killer in the room. Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t me. What had I even been thinking?
“Well, what are you hanging around for? Get over here.” His words clawed at my insides.
I’d gotten into his room. I could do this.
Each step on the soft carpet felt like walking barefoot on a bed of nails, but somehow, I stood before him, the tray still in my hands.
The only thing between my father’s killer and me.
You’re a fucking thief.
I clenched my hand so sharply around the tray that the thin metal bit into my skin.
I wanted to ask him why? Why did he bleed the heart out of the man who was our universe? What gave him the power to end his life? I wanted to know if he remembered him. Instead, the only thing that fell from my lips was a soft, cowardly, “Please.”
He laughed, his look almost calculating.
“So polite.” He jerked me to him with his hands on my ass, the drink splashing onto the tray.
“Naughty girl. At this rate, there’s going to be nothing left in the glass for a thirsty man, huh?
” His thick fingers wrapped around the glass.
“One sip from this and one sip from you.” He tipped the glass, and the liquid disappeared down his throat.
The glint in his eyes turned cunning as he dropped the glass back onto the tray.
“Nice and tingly.” He reached for my ass. I stumbled back.
“That wasn’t t—” He frowned. Tried again. “Wasn’t t—” His lips were turning thick, and a cough rattled out of him. “What the fu—”
He gripped his throat, shock flashing across his face.
“Y— fucking bit-ch.” He shoved past me to the bathroom.
I’d done it!
Things crashed to the floor in the bathroom as he rushed around like an aggravated bull. Of course! How could I have been so stupid? He’d have an EpiPen. Of course he would. And I had thought I was brave.
Run. Hide. And hope he never found me again.
I stumbled out of the room. I didn’t know what I told the guard or how he even allowed me to pass him.
I made it to the service elevator just as the elevator on the other end pinged.
More men? Vega? I pressed the button hurriedly.
Please, please just move. Voices sounded behind me, but I didn’t hang around for the show.
I jumped into the elevator. Paced it in circles.
When it reached the basement, I made it to the enormous vase right next to the door and threw up the bile in my stomach.
Random thoughts ran through my mind as I sagged against it.
It was a Saturday and Mara didn’t have school.
Mamá would be taking her siesta. Rush hour traffic would have started already.
January fifteenth. Papá’s fourth death anniversary.
I’m so sorry, Papá.
I’d tried, and I’d failed.
I knew I hadn’t killed him.