DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  Aria groans. “You had me, until spanking.”

  I reach down, lift her skirt, and place my thumbs onto her hips, hooking her panties to remove them. “I will always have you.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Hmmm.” I inhale her arousal from her thong before removing my handkerchief to place the panties there instead.

  “Dominic, people will know.”

  “Nope. And don’t expect me to be polite either when someone sneezes.” I toss the handkerchief over my shoulder, situating the panties, so only a bit of the cloth sticks out. In the dreamy, Cuban accent that has killed every piece of pussy I’ve touched, I say, “Subtle reminder, mami, of who the fuck you belong to.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Aria

  “I lead, Aria. You follow.” Dominic’s words echo like a hypnotizing chime in my ear. I would follow him to heaven. He moves; I mimic. Salsa music resonates around us, a salutation to all my ass and hips.

  Dominic clasps my hands, bringing me to his hard body. Around us, partners twist, twirl, dip, but my chest plasters against his. All the fried neurons in my brain reconstruct, intent on following his instruction.

  “Una palmada en tu trasero,” he says, smiling devilishly.

  “One what?”

  “One smack to your ass, mami.”

  I snort. “Not happening.”

  His emerald-honey gaze narrows, quieting me at once. Determined not to add to my punishment, I move in a fluid motion with Dominic. But by the end of the song, I’ve racked up one helluva beating. Though I’ll talk my way out of it later, I wonder how he finds flogging a grown woman sexy?

  Later, we slip by gyrating bodies. My toes scream in my stilettos as I search tables along the perimeter of the dance club for my friends. The second my eyes track over Roslyn, I immediately unlatch the strappy stilettos.

  “No!” Roslyn mouths, cutting her hands into the air like she’s calling foul at her famous Super Bowl parties. Ignoring her, I sigh as cool wood flooring soothes the bottom of my feet.

  “You good?” Dominic asks, escorting me over.

  “I’d feel a lot better if you’d get that extreme number of swats out of your head.”

  Though I was half-joking, Dominic doesn’t respond as Roslyn circles in on us. “Ari’, looking good enough to eat!”

  “Girl, I thought we took San Fran off the bucket list?” I toss an eyebrow up, discerning her ex, Francisco, a few seats away from my cousin.

  “Aye, the uniform had to work tonight. This is a mini-vacay. Besides, I’ll make the pendejo buy all the drinks before I bless him,” Roslyn says, hugging me. “Anyway, what’s rule numero uno, chica?”

  “Well, I was wearing a thong . . .” I reply since she has always harped about panty lines, and I rarely have that problem with my attire.

  “Oye, you were wearing panties? Not now.” She jumps up and down.

  “Yes, now,” I mutter, glancing over at Dominic’s welcome into the fray by our friends. Roslyn accosts me with her hip. She moves around me, eyeing my ass before smacking it.

  Siobhan laughs. “The two of you make me wonder sometimes.”

  “Heh,” I groan.

  Roslyn says, “Eh, I’m a fan of beauty. Anyway, Aria removed her shoes.”

  “Oh, girl.” Siobhan shakes her head. “Your toes are going to spread.”

  “Like this!” Roslyn holds up clawed fingers. “You don’t know the slightest thing about high heels.”

  “Funny, ladies,” I retort. “My toes need to rest. I’ll put my heels on later.”

  I’ve made the mistake of my life. It was all fun and games while a bunch of Puerto Ricans and my cousin took turns pounding the table for more sangria. Many drinks later, I’m feeling good everywhere except my feet. I wrestle with my expensive stilettos. My toes resemble miniature sausage rolls that not even a prayer will save.

  “Oye, nobody’s going home yet!” Roslyn holds up her empty pitcher. “The Cuban and the Brit—”

  “Sorry, love. I don’t get knackered on punch,” Lincoln says.

  “I don’t mind my husband drinking himself under the table.” Siobhan shrugs. “That’s when I get to be alpha.”

  The girls call over a server. Scooting closer to Dominic, I whisper, “They will be here all night. Cut my punishment in half, and we leave now.”

  Dominic drops a kiss on my bare shoulder. Heart skipping a beat, I wait for his response. His mouth trails along the pulse at my neck up to my lips. “No, mami.”

  I gasp. “Dom, you should bargain with me. My body, my rules anyway.”

  His mouth skims my jaw, and he clasps my throat. “That mouth of yours. So bad, when it’s the only part of your glorious body that should be good to me. I was gonna go easy on you, first-timer.”

  Fire in my eyes, I pop up from the table, agreeing with my girls for more drinks. But my attempt to postpone Dominic’s debauchery is thwarted when Siobhan scans her cellphone screen.

  “Damn, we have to go.”

  “No.” Roslyn shakes her head, gesturing for Francisco to divvy out the first round of shots. “We have all night, primas.”

  “Thanks, but our son has an upset stomach. Aria, I hate to say this, but Gramps has tried to call you.”

  Chewing my lip, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “Girl, nothing. You know, the moods: broken coffee machine, misses Gram with a vengeance. How about this, I’ll have Lincoln Uber to check on him while I head to the hotel. You and Dominic are too hot together for a ruined night.”

  “No, I’ll handle it,” I respond.

  “But you always shoulder the burden. I’m certain Gramps called you a thousand times before reaching out to me. I spent so many years in LA, now in London.”

  “This isn’t a debate. Check on your baby.”

  “I’ll pass the torch a little early?” Siobhan reaches behind her neck to unlatch the necklace from Aunt Shania, which holds the cross pendent Gram had originally gifted.

  Simple tokens of love, such as that, will always be the reason that I feel indebted to them. I place my hands over her shoulders. “Stop.”

  She hugs me, speaking into my ear. “Alright, I’ll fold. But you make it up to Desperado.”

  Ten minutes and three shots of rum later, I decide to check in on Gramps. Barefoot, I penguin shuffle toward the exit as partygoers continue to saunter inside. Dominic holds the door open for me.

  Though I’m mainly grimacing about my feet, I say, “Sorry, Dom, I need to end our night early. My gramps lives about an hour away. I’ll catch an Uber—”

  I swallow night air as Dominic swoops me into his arms. A smile flickers across my face. I stop clutching at his biceps and relax into his hold. The strength of Dominic’s arms tethers me to him in ways I never thought possible. Our mouths are a fraction away. His breath tickles across my cheeks. This is real, him and I.

  “Stop staring at my lips, chula. Be bold. Kiss me.”

  I blink a few times to stave off my dreamy connection to his attractive face. Then I huff.

  “What’s that for?” Dominic paws at my ass and starts walking.

  “Kissing you leads to being fucked out of my mind.”

  “True.” He smiles as I laugh softly.

  “I have to check on my gramps tonight. I’ll atone for it later.”

  “Don’t you ever apologize for putting your abuelo first, mami. Also, no. You’re not catching a ride in the middle of the night. One, you’re dressed to be fucked. Two, and most importantly, I’m here.” He squeezes me. “I’m here for you, Aria. Always.”

  “Gramps is like a father to me. He’s a surly, old man. Bad combination for anyone I introduce him to. Are you honestly ready to meet—what the! You bit me.” The straps fall from my fingers, and my expensive heels clatter to the ground as I lick my lips. “Hello, I’m in pain.”

  “You had the audacity not to ask me for help.” He starts walking. “Now, we’re at veinte swats, sí?”

  “My shoes! Wait, twenty?�
�

  “Fuck those heels, mami. They hurt you. You don’t need them.”

  “Dom!”

  The weak streetlight plays across Dominic’s strong jaw and lips. I hit him playfully on his arm. He turns around, holding me close, and he reaches down. Just as he retrieves my shoes, an engine roars, lighting up. Tires burn as a sleek two-door zips out of a parallel position on the opposite side of the street. The driver makes an abrupt U-Turn. The front wheels hop the curb. Bright lights flood across my face as my hands grapple at Dominic’s biceps.

  “Fuckin’ pendejo!” he shouts.

  Another car follows suit. I yelp as it speeds toward the curb, except the driver backs up before turning around to race down the street too.

  “Wow, had I been walking on these feet, I’d have lost a toe or two.”

  “You’re shaking, mami.” Dominic drops his forehead to mine. His lips press kisses all over my face before he mutters more cuss words beneath his breath. Though I’m still hesitant about how soon it is to fall for Dominic Alvarez, I can’t live without him.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  El Santo

  Minutes ago

  For over three years, the media lifted praises to heaven about me, while the detectives acclaimed and cursed me. Now, LeAnna is the sole reason for every fuck up on my end since she collided into my life.

  The windows are rolled down to my Honda. Elbow leaning on the doorframe, I tap the back of my hands against my mouth. The image of LeAnna sauntering into the salsa club hours ago is fresh on my mind. I’d fucked her ten ways to hell for lunch, and she has the audacity to dress like that. For him.

  Muscles beneath my jaw ripple as I ground down on my teeth. Pure hate boils in my veins. I’ve sat like this for hours in a parking spot across from the dancehall. I can sense the change in the air the second Dominic holds the door open. He whisks her into his arms before she can step one pretty-little toe onto the sidewalk.

  There’s a hunger in his touch for the one who was meant to be mine.

  She’s failed me.

  Did he touch Alejandra like this?

  Is that how he stole mi corazón?

  Too enraged to watch, I glance straight forward. An outline of a person is in the driver seat of a two-door BMW. I hadn’t noticed before, but it appears someone else is watching Dominic and LeAnna as they backtrack toward the entryway. Zeroing my eyes on the BMW, I flash my lights. Red brake lights shine, then a coupe zips out of the spot. The driver spins the wheels as I pull out from behind. The car jumps the curb in an attempt to spin around. Before the vehicle rushes opposite me, my eyes latch on the wild orbs of the driver.

  My hermano lets out a loud cuss as I pull forward, back up, following the coupe. The driver heads east, zipping down a narrow street.

  I slam my foot on the gas and the speedometer jolts. The engine strains. I hiss as the BMW punches through the intersection of a fresh red light. Cars let off a round of honks, slowing as they’d just pulled into the street.

  “C’mon!” My palm stops a fraction from slamming into the center of the steering wheel. “Paciencia!” I growl low in my throat, easing the car to the curb next to an empty field. The face of my now enemy flashes before my eyes. I’d seen the culprit perfectly.

  Reaching into my pocket, I grab my cellphone and dial the number of the person attempting to flee.

  “Pick up, pick up.” At the sound of an automatic voicemail chiming on, I toss the cellphone in the passenger seat.

  A few beats later, the flickering light of a trashcan bonfire catches my attention. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I watch the firelight play across the filthy face of a transient. It hits me. Peachy had a potential eyewitness. Those are unreliable. We’re not too far from where I slit LeAnna’s stalker’s throat.

  Running my fingers along my jaw, I weigh my options. Wait and let my new enemy rat me out or let someone else go down for my magnificent stunt.

  “You’re not like them.” Serial killers such as the BTK Strangler grew restless or angered by the sight of some other copycat pendejo stealing their glory. “The bum is no ángel. And the dead cabrón from the park shares no connection to my girls.”

  I slip on a pair of gloves then open the center console to grab a candy bar out of the stash I keep for busy nights.

  As I jog toward the trunk of my car, the transient argues in my native language. “What the fuck are you doing around here?”

  The weak streetlight illuminates the knife I used on Peachy’s vic. I had considered dropping it in the bayou with the stolen Town Car, but intuition stopped me.

  “Hey, you! This is my street corner.” A slight connotation of fear radiates from the old man as his hand searches beneath his soiled blanket.

  “Relax, hombre.” I hold up the Snickers, smile friendly. The acrid scent of beer and piss meets me before I plant one boot on the curb.

  “That a candy bar?” He perks up, opening another can of beer.

  “Sí. I sell special knives, amigo. The Snickers is yours, all you gotta do is gimme your opinion on the knife.”

  “Eh, hand it here.”

  I crouch down. “See the handle there. Pearl. How does this feel?”

  “That’s a good-looking knife you got there.”

  “Sí!”

  “How much would this run me?” He weighs the knife. His senses are slowed by inebriation. When he looks back up, I’m sauntering toward my car. “Amigo, your knife!”

  I toss the candy bar. The knife’s discarded, sliding into the pile of all the man owns as he catches the chocolate. By the time I drive away, the transient is opening another beer. He cheerily lifts it to me.

  “Fucking idiota.” I shake my head. My hand skims over the passenger seat for my cellphone. Half my focus on the road, I link myself into Dominic’s Apple Watch to find they aren’t headed to either of their homes but inland.

  With kneaded eyebrows, I psych myself up to listen to their conversation. I can’t pretend their relationship doesn’t hurt. It’s like learning about Alejandra’s deception all over again. And the lovely lies of that puta, Carlotta.

  The sound is fuzzy. Music plays low in the background. They’re still traveling.

  “I don’t understand.” LeAnna’s voice rings in.

  “What is it, mami?” Dominic inquires.

  “Siobhan said Gramps probably called me a thousand times first, which is the norm. I don’t have a single missed call.”

  “Shit.” I pull over again and view the application. After leaving the gym, I reconnected Dominic’s connection to LeAnna. I must’ve severed the link to her abuelo. I groan, fixing the problem in a few taps. Pulling off again, I find Peachy’s contact and dial her up.

  “Hey, Dario. I could use your voice right now.” In the background are familiar voices of my old colleagues.

  “You at Mulligans Bar?”

  “Yeah . . . I almost had a lead. What are you doing up so late?”

  I deepen my speech to sound heavy with fatigue. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”

  “Were you thinking about my case? I feel like I should apologize for compromising your morals by asking for your help. I know the sleepless nights that come with this world. I have my fingers crossed that you prefer insomnia.”

  “When you reviewed the traffic cams within a five-mile radius of the vic, there was a row of transients up the coast. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you send any of the rookies to question any of them?”

  “We canvased the entire area but not . . . no. That section’s known for a harmless bunch. The precision of the murderer. The blatant disregard for witnesses. Too cocky, Dario. I highly doubt—”

  “Peachy, listen. You gotta exhaust all leads. Make these pendejos take you seriously. Never take a person you don’t know at face value.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Dominic

  During the long ride, I place my hand at the back of Aria’s headrest. With a baffled look on her face, she pops he
r cellphone in the palm of her hand. “I had cellphone trouble a few weeks back. Be glad yours is working now, mami.”

  “You did?” Her eyebrows lift, then she returns to fidgeting with her phone. “Oh yeah, your number changed. But I’m not switching to iPhone 32, or whatever number they’re on now. I’m cheap as hell. I’ll ride with this one until the wheels fall off.”

  “What’s wrong, chula? You seem worried about more than?” I ask, merging off the highway in a suburban area where housing tracks popped up years back. It’s the kind of place my parents imagined when fleeing Havana but never moved to.

  “Well, I did mention my gramps is cantankerous, right?”

  “Sí.”

  “Mean. Surly.”

  “Sí, mami.”

  “Can I borrow your blazer?”

  I start out of it. “Are you cold?”

  “The turn’s up there. Nope,” she mutters the rest beneath her breath. “Gramps has a gun, er, two or three. If he sees me dressed like this and you . . . He’s from a completely different century, Dom. And Texas—is its own religion.”

  I laugh until Aria shoots a hard glare.

  “I’m serious. You may not be El Santo, but my gramps is El Crazy.”

  A few minutes later, we’re parked in a narrow, slanted driveway. Aria stares ahead. An invisible burden weighs on her shoulders.

  “This was my safe haven. No more drunk dad. No more being cursed and slapped around by my momma.”

  She stops speaking. All I have from Aria’s past is what Mitch wrote in his background analysis, and what very little she’s shared with me. It’s not much, but it was enough to slaughter her image, and enough to soften the hunter in me. Her mami beat her? Mitch had information about how her papi died of alcoholic cirrhosis. There was not much on her mother, just that her grandparents moved to Florida.