DIABLO INSIDE

by Amarie Avant

  My fist focuses on her temple. One hit sends LeAnna’s lights out.

  “I don’t give a fuck if she’s dead. All I know is, you will be soon.”

  I let go of LeAnna’s neck. Her body crumples to the ground as I maneuver my abused, teeth-grated dick into my pants. Leveling my breathing, I zip up and take a tentative step.

  “Though you don’t deserve it, mami, you fuck good.” My lips drag across her busted ones as I kiss her. Gripping my fingers into her hair, I drag her unconscious body along. “So, I’ll treat you like an ángeles.”

  A streak of blood stretches across the floor. I pull LeAnna to the room where her unfaithful essence will drain from her body. I wipe the sweet taste of her warm blood from my mouth. Tears sting my eyes. “This is gonna hurt me a lot more than it hurts you, amor.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Dominic

  Although she’d lost a ridiculous amount of blood, Roslyn threatened to follow me and find Aria herself. She had no problem attempting to assault me earlier. So, I held her bloody hand, tried Aria’s cellphone, which was dead, and waited for paramedics.

  The red lights whirl in the fading sky, taking her as I glare at Carrington. He had me cornered the second the ambulance switched gears.

  “Do you have any idea where your brother might be?” Carrington asks.

  “If I did, you’d be the first to know.” The muscles beneath my jaw work in overdrive.

  In doubt, he jerks a business card from the inside of his lapel. “Let’s increase the chances, shall we?”

  Fuck you, flits across my gaze. I take the card, feeling dirty, a sellout to my familia. But Mami wouldn’t want this. Papi would’ve tried to kill Dario himself for whatever the fuck this is.

  “Where the fuck are you, hermano?” I mutter to myself, glancing at the bagged body being carted out of the entrance.

  I hustle to my Mercedes, dialing Carlotta. The call rings and rings. Except for her and me, my hermano hasn’t engaged in conversation with anyone else recently. With a limited list of Dario’s associates, I dial up Peachy.

  Bypassing the formalities, I say, “I take it, you know half the police department is looking for Dario.”

  “The entire department, actually. Dario is a much greater threat than our run-of-the-mill perps. He was family.”

  I drive off, heading toward home with the notion that I’ll turn his bedroom over for answers on Aria’s location. “You also considered him family when investigating the park murder.”

  “Dom, I’m not answering your questions. Do you know where—”

  “If I fucking knew, Peachy, you’d know. I just assured another member of your family that I’d snitch on my familia.” I bark, gripping the steering wheel harder. “Is he El Santo?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  No, I groan, bashing the break at a stoplight, which appeared out of nowhere. My tires screech, halting at a massive intersection. The grill of my ride is an inch away from the flow of cross traffic.

  “Listen, Dom. I’m under investigation for the park ordeal. I gave Dario access to my passwords, needed a little help. When I discussed the matter with my superior, I also admitted to a possible data breach in our system. A tech is on it, second best to—”

  “Dario.” I huff. “Listen, Peachy. He has someone very important to me. I have to find him. But I’m learning I don’t know shit about my twin.”

  “Ms. Jones, I know. There’s an APB out. Sorry.”

  There’s no time for apologies. I grill her as palm trees glide by in the darkness. “Where’d Dario like to frequent for lunch when you worked together? Did he mention any places he went on downtime? For the past few years, I’ve seen my hermano play video games and online gambling. Nothing more.”

  “Dom, I’m so sorry. These are questions the team is currently dissecting.”

  We hang up as I glide along the windy path to the front of my house. My heart falls at the sight of all the dark windows. As I start to get out, a prompt on the radio faceplate notifies me of a call from Yasiel.

  Damn, I don’t have time for his mouth, but something warns me to answer. “Aye, Yasiel, when Aria tutors you for math, has she ever mentioned meeting D—”

  The kid’s sour tone cuts me off. “Education isn’t why I called you, Dom.”

  “Escúchame, Yasielito! You must answer my questions. During tutoring, does she ever mention meeting Dario? And where they might meet?” I strangle on the words. It’s hard to believe history is repeating itself—that she’s seeing him and me.

  “Oh, I must answer you! Aria and I zoom on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She’s beautiful and nice. You ain’t shit, Dominic, rushing her off the way you did. I’m the pobrecito? You knew I was pissed when you blew me off after those Colombian pendejos. Now, you blow me off again. Can’t say a word, huh?”

  I cut in. “When did I blow you off, Yasiel?”

  “Ten minutes ago. Fuck this; fuck you.” He has to be snatching the phone away from his ear as he mutters how I compared myself to an uncle. He disconnects the call.

  I dial his number, and it rings. I growl out a message. “Answer me, por favor!”

  The second time I call, the connection launches another voicemail. “Joder!” I holler, squeezing my cellphone. When it lights up in my hand, I press the speaker. “Hello!”

  Yasiel snaps, “And another thing—”

  “It wasn’t me, Yasiel. You saw Dario. Was Aria with him? Was she okay?” A few beats of silence skyrocket my heart rate.

  “Dario? You saying he brushed me off? My bad. Aria seemed a little off, but she was okay—still pretty.” He shares the street corners where he’s at. “How far are you, Dom? He was acting weird.”

  “I understand.” I move my hand over to the back of the passenger headrest and navigate out the driveway. “I’m coming from my place. Be there soon. Stay with the knuckleheads I’m always preaching about. I need to call the cops.”

  “Nah. You’re too far, Dom. I’m Cubano. We handle our own shit.”

  “Stay away, Yasiel.”

  Once again, the call clicks off. But instead, this time, my phone has powered off. All the attempts I made to call Aria over the past few months come to mind. Dario has to be behind the disconnect, and he’s the reason my iPhone is inoperable now.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Aria

  Dario slices a bright light in front of my spotted gaze. My teeth chatter, heart missing every other beat in my chest. Tiny goose pimples ride along my skin, though I doubt it’s because he removed my clothes, leaving me in panties and bra only.

  “Your blood rate was elevated. It’s called vasoconstricting. One of the first cases I was on, doing surveillance with Carrington, there was a perp who bled his victims. I learned the term then. When the vasoconstricting process fails, mami, your heart rate slows. Only a matter of time now.”

  Dario lifts a half-filled bucket with a dark red liquid. That’s where the drip-drop was coming from—my blood. I silently sob.

  He gestures toward his ear with a wicked smile. “You’re not gagged, mi amor. Lemme hear that beautiful cry.”

  “I hate you,” I murmur.

  “Good for you. Now back to the cellphone.” Again, a bright light burns my retinas.

  “That’s a tiny tracker. Dom appears to be headed in the right direction. Also, I disabled his phone. I’d wager he didn’t call 911, but this is my world—these are things I know. He tried Carlotta. Spoke to Peachy. Don’t get your hopes up. Putas don’t make good detectives.”

  “Screw you, Dario.”

  His hand slithers along my hip. “I could be screwing you, LeAnna, but you don’t act right. Oh, also, Dominic called the niño pobre.” In a rhythmic one-two step, Dario moves to the side. The edges of my vision are frayed, but in the center is Yasiel, lying in a heap on the floor.

  I screech. “Nooooo! Is he—”

  “Not yet. Dominic will watch you both die. Since he treated this pendejo like a hermano!” His
boot slams into Yasiel’s ribs.

  “No!” My vision fades as tears blind me. “Let me down, Dario. Your problem is with me. Fight me. Not him.”

  His sensual lips snarl. “I already won.”

  My spirit flickers as if existence and Zion are merging into one. At first, I rationalize that I’m looking at myself in a dream until a hand reaches up and cups my face. My refection isn’t five-year-old ReAnna. She’s the same age as me.

  “You will not let him win, Le,” my twin says.

  I clasp the back of her hand, holding her to me. “You’re not dead?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m alive. You never missed a piece of you, LeAnna. Guilt consumed you, but you have no idea what it feels like to mourn part of your soul dying. I have no desire to feel that if you let him win. Don’t let him win.”

  “Don’t go . . .” I croak, the feel of her sinking into me—the glow of her skin fading peacefully. “Don’t go, Re. Reanna, please stay.”

  “You’ll bleed out, here, Le. Return to him. Use your voice, sis, win.”

  Sucking in air, Lalaland crashes around me. Every surface of my skin hurts. I hadn’t felt my wrists screaming, being held over my head before, but I do now. Blood cakes my lips and jaw. Biting my eyes closed to the hurricane of a headache, I speak. “Why do they call you El Santo? The Saint. The Good One.”

  “I’m the good one, LeAnna.”

  Dario’s attractive face comes to fruition. The bristles of his jaw offset by a devious, delectable mouth. I keep my eyes there, recalling how I craved the taste of him. “But you’re killing me. I love—”

  “C’mon, chula.” His mouth descends on mine. “Lie better.”

  The thought hits me—the only ammunition I ever had or needed. I snap, “I’m repulsed by you, Dario. Even if I’m still pregnant with your baby.”

  Concern flashes across his face as he looks me up and down.

  “Would a saint murder his child?”

  “You hate me, LeAnna?”

  Body swaying, wrists screaming, I shriek, “Yes!”

  “Then I could keep you captive until you’re full term. Gut my baby outta you!” He clinches my stomach.

  “Do it!” My eyes land on movement over Dario’s shoulder. To stay conscious, I play on the possibility that Dominic is wielding the wrench his brother tossed earlier.

  “Kill me later. I’ll be fat and pregnant, fully helpless, Dario.” My body rattles with laughter. “You’ll learn how a momma bear is willing to fight for her baby.”

  “Like yours fought for you?” His eyebrow cocks.

  Laughter consumes me. “I don’t mind dying, Dario. Never did. But for my child, I’ll give you a run for your money, bitch!”

  Chapter Eighty

  Dominic

  Jesus—that roams through my mind while moving stealthily across the room. I’d found Carlotta’s dead body stuffed in a tin can while sneaking through the lot. Now, I’m exhaling relief as Aria dangles along a row of chains at the furthest wall. She’s barely alive. The undertones of honey beneath the surface of her brown skin have hollowed out. Near Dario’s feet, Yasiel is curled into a fetal position.

  I stop moving, eyes blazing over to confirm the slightest movement. Had the kid died, I’d regret it my entire life.

  I’d arrived with a crowbar in hand and exchanged it for a hefty wrench. Clutching it tightly, I’m about five yards from Dario when Aria asks if a saint would murder his baby.

  Adrenaline stalls in my veins. Taken aback by her explosive revelation, the weapon lowers in my hand. She’s pregnant for my hermano?

  Though weak, Aria’s sudden outburst sends an unhinged Dario spiraling. Hoisting the wrench as if it were a bat, I strike the side of Dario’s face. He stumbles to the side, clutching his ear. The air buzzes as I swing again. Dario scrambles back on his ass, and I lunge forward but am toppled over by Yasiel.

  “It’s me, Yasielito!”

  “Lie!” The kid tumbles over me. “You murdered the nurse. Now, you have Aria!”

  Damn, he must’ve seen Carlotta too. I push Yasiel off me, giving him a firm smack. When I start up from the ground, Dario stands at the side of Aria. A scalpel is a fraction away from her rib. With his other hand, he fists her head up. “She’s fading, hermano. One little nick, we’re even.”

  “Fight me like a fucking man for once, Dario!” I grit. “No baseless accusations or backhanded manipulations. This isn’t about a woman. It’s about you and me.”

  “This is about Alejandra.”

  “Alejandra’s fucking dead, Dario, and Aria’s pregnant,” I sneer. “What are you doing?”

  “Eh, could be my baby, could be yours. I’d slit her throat this second if I knew.” He moves the scalpel to her neck.

  “Why do you hate me, hermano?” I ask.

  “Stop talking to him,” Yasiel mutters under his breath.

  I’m not close enough!

  The kid growls. “Kill the pendejo.”

  It would be nice to let the hothead out. I’ve spent years creating the perfect image for myself, being the man Mami was proud of. Heart torn right out of my chest, I stare at Aria, searching for any sign she hasn’t bled out. I’ll tear Dario limb from limb if she dies. And Dario knows that. He lifts the scalpel. It floats down the center of her chest, beneath the curve of her breast, and back to her rib again.

  “Which one did you love more, Dominic? My Alejandra or your—”

  A multitude of bright, red beams zero in on his forehead and chest. Glowering straight through me, Dario drops the scalpel.

  “Aria.” I snarl. The love I have for her becomes so real in this second. “Oh, and I had one of Yasiel’s friends call for backup on my own fucking hermano gemelo!”

  Dario lifts his shoulders and lets them fall. He then holds his hands high into the air as a stampede of steps echoes. SWAT moves Dario to the ground, binding his hands and feet. I step toward Aria, tears burning my eyes. Fingers shaking, I remove the wires around her wrists and bring her body to the ground into my lap. Maybe Alejandra was a beautiful face, and the sex was mind-blowing, but Aria has that and then some. Although Alejandra died, it took until this very day for my heart to be snatched out of my chest.

  Loving Aria Jones has changed my life. What the fuck will I do if heaven decides it can’t wait to claim her?

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Dominic

  Four Months Later

  The Feds swarmed my house before first light one hundred and twenty-four days ago. I’d dragged myself into the house with Aria’s blood staining my suit while evidence was carried out in boxes. The dog Dario had mentioned in the past had been a woman who had almost gotten out of his closet. He’d brought a rabid dog home to cover his tracks. Then he’d used the same excuse for Angelica Garces, who was found stuffed beneath Carlotta.

  With the media surrounding the place in the coming days, I left the city for a few weeks. Papi finally caved and accompanied me to visit some of his family in New York.

  Since then, I’ve processed the stages of grief—rum for breakfast, lunch, dinner. No matter how intoxicated, the poison fails to erase Aria.

  My life was almost fucked by my hermano gemelo. But with investments and connections, I’ve kept focus. Now, I offer Dario a satisfied smug smile through plexiglass. “Cop a fucking plea.”

  “Plea for what! Admit guilt? C’mon, hermano. As much as it pains me to admit, you’d make a worthy attorney on my team. Why the fuck do I have such a lousy attorney? I’ve been told you aren’t so busy these days.” His slits for eyes soften, and he adds a devilish grin, “With the firm closing, you have time for me, sí?”

  The smartest thing I ever did was creating an LLC for the law firm. A name change and other attorneys on the team gave it the new start it needed. Also, I took Chico up on his offer and spread my time working on various music contracts for him. I still can’t keep my mind off Aria.

  I toss back a question. “Who’s your source of information?”

  “Lot
of chulas on the outside like to send me letters, come see me. So, you gonna help a brother out? Your fucking brother?”

  “Would keep me busy, like you said.” I shrug. “The evidence against you is staggering.”

  “Like how I pounded LeAnna’s pussy, marked her cunt walls with my name? That evidence?”

  I shake my head. “I’m ashamed to be your blood.”

  He chortles. “The love of our life still won’t see you? Did you mail my letter to her?”

  “No and no.”

  “Why not? My sources tell me all the paintings she ever created of you were dropped off at the house. Did you ask the messenger where she moved?”

  “No,” I scoff.

  “Tsk. You back to your old ways? Or are you afraid she chose—”

  “Papi’s here.”

  The reflection of myself in an orange jumpsuit falls silent. Dario shifts in his seat, asking, “Here—The States? Or fucking here, here?”

  “Right here.” I rise as his palms slam into the glass. The speaker blares his cussing and threats as I walk out of the room. I stalk past the metal detector into the waiting area.

  Grabbing the hat hanging from his knee, Papi gets up without a word. He pats my shoulder and heads toward the guard for another security check. At the end seat, I stare at a familiar, pretty face and walk over.

  She stands, crossing her arms over her chest. “Dominic.”

  “Peachy.” I nod. “Wouldn’t be a good look for a cop to visit him. Alone. During an active investigation.”

  A smile flashes on her lips, then she sniffs. “I’m security, now, private sector. I miss the shiny badge. I’m here to tell Dario how lousy he is. As his brother and an attorney, I gather, you’ll hold it against me in court?”

  “Nah, the hearing will last a year, at least. I’m too tired to give a fuck about Dario.”

  She’s laughing when I notice Papi strolling back into the room. I excuse myself and ask him, “You say all you needed?”