“I’m going to die anyway! If I can’t change that, I’d rather go down fighting!”
Diego gives me a sad look, almost as if he pities me. “You can’t win, so put the gun down. There’s no use making this harder than it has to be.”
Fuck that. If I have to die, I’m going to make this as difficult for him as I can. Diego realizes I’m about to pull the trigger, his eyes widening and his nostrils flaring. The violent kick of the gun is more than I expected, jerking my wrist upward and sending a rattling pain down my arm. I stumble backward, but before I can fall onto my ass, a hand grips my wrist and wrenches me upward. Diego’s furious face fills my vision, the gun firing again as he yanks me toward him.
Diego curses in Spanish as he twists my wrist, forcing me to release the gun with a sharp cry. It clatters to the floor, and he spins me and twists my arm behind my back before sharply wrenching it up. My eyes water, the agony of it forcing me to my knees. Keeping tight hold of me, Diego crouches to pick up the gun. He then forces me to my feet and propels me toward the stairs. His men part like the Red Sea to let us pass, their solemn eyes boring into me. Jovan stands halfway up, a pistol in one hand. He gives me a pitying look before averting his eyes, and that tells me everything I need to know.
I won’t live to see the sunrise.
When we reach the second floor, Marcella appears from the shadows wearing a short silk robe over a matching nightgown. She must have seen the entire thing. It’s written all over her face as she throws herself in our direction, pleading hands held out.
“Diego, don’t,” she begs. “You know you’ll regret this!”
“She almost shot me!” Diego roars, pushing me ahead of him. “Get out of the way, Marcella! Go back to bed.”
She stands firm, forcing us to stop. “No. I’m not a little kid anymore, and I know exactly who and what you are. If you want to kill her, do it right here where I can see.”
“Goddamn it, Marcie!”
“No!” she screams, face reddening and eyes filling with tears. “You won’t hide this from me like you do everything else. Kill her where I can see. Shoot this innocent woman in front of me!”
Jovan comes into view, rounding me and Diego and reaching for Marcella. “Come on, Marcie. You need to go back to bed.”
Marcella struggles against Jovan as he lifts her off her feet and moves her aside. Diego shoves me past them, ignoring Marcella’s screaming as we move farther down the hall.
“You fucking coward! You pussy! Fucking face me!”
Diego stops abruptly in front of a door, the nose of the pistol jabbing at my spine. “Open it.”
I obey without thinking, my instincts shifting to self-preservation. There doesn’t seem to be any way out of this, but I won’t stop trying to find one.
We enter what I assume is Diego’s bedroom. It’s decorated in stark black and white with gold embellishments. A massive fireplace takes up one wall, but it looks like it’s never been lit. A large bed sits in the middle of the room on a platform, and expensive-looking furniture in a modern design takes up the rest of the space. It smells like him in here—spicy and masculine, with a hint of cigar smoke.
I back away from Diego while he slams the door and turns a key in the lock before shoving it into his pocket. Then, he charges toward me like a bull, huffing and raising the gun. I choke down a scream of terror, shaking from head to toe when he stops within inches of me. I can see down the barrel of the pistol, feel the murderous rage radiating off Diego.
“I should blow your fucking brains out,” he growls. “You and your shit-head father have turned out to be far more trouble than you’re worth.”
One of his words jump out at me, and I latch on to it with hope. “You should kill me? Does that mean you’re not going to?”
Diego grabs hold of my shoulder. His fingers dig into the muscle as he pulls me toward him, pressing the gun under my jaw. “I’m sorely tempted. Aguilar left town, which means the chances of me recovering my money has just been reduced to none. At this point