The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,168

it nears the edge of the dock, I push to my knees and lift whatever’s attached up out of the water.

An arm that appears to be torn at the shoulder, with frayed bits of flesh and bone left there.

On the forearm is a tattoo of a circle and an inverted ‘A.’

The same tattoo I saw on Aric the night before.

Vomit climbs my throat.

I drop it at the same time that I fall to my knees and expel the acidic fluids into the water. Over and over, I heave mostly bile that plinks into the swamp water below.

The severed arm disappears into the depths, leaving only the attached stretch of rope sticking up from the water’s surface. Chomped off by an alligator, from the looks of it. While he was alive?

Thierry killed him. Gruesomely, if the shredded flesh is anything to go by, and because of me. Perhaps I should feel some modicum of remorse for that, but I don’t. My only regret right now is that I wasn’t able to get him to confess where Marcelle is. But maybe Thierry did. Maybe that’s why he told me not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. It’s possible that he tortured this bastard for the information, just like he tortured the man who hurt his mother.

This is when the shadows wind themselves around me like vines from the deep, and I have to decide whether to fight for the surface, or breathe underwater.

Yet, somehow, the choice to adapt doesn’t feel as terrifying as before. Perhaps Thierry’s darkness has rubbed off on me.

Or maybe it was there all along.

Either way, I no longer fear that darkness, evident in my resolve that Aric deserved to die.

Unwilling to assess that too deeply, I back myself away from the edge of the dock. As I do so, a hard force cracks against the back of my skull on a flash of bright light, and I collapse to my side.

45

Thierry

I knock at Luc’s door, and when he doesn’t answer, I step inside to find one of Verónica’s suitcases spilled out, all of her unmentionables strewn about the living room, as if she slung them about.

At a constant thumping sound, my attention flips toward the back of the house, and realization washes over me.

Son of a bitch.

Dragging a hand down my face, I step lightly over the scattered clothes, toward the cracked door where the thumping sound escalates over moans and grunting. The stench on the air leaves me wondering if they’ve been going at it all night long.

“I’m gon’ fill dat chatte wit’ some spicy Valir sauce. You ready for it, baby?”

Inwardly cringing, I pinch the bridge of my nose while listening to Luc’s unflattering sex talk.

“Si. Fill me up, Papi. My pussy is hungry.”

Fucks sake, this is horrible.

Out of courtesy, I should probably let them finish, but Luc has no idea of the shit storm he’s embroiled in right now. Instead, I knock on the door. “Luc! You in there?” Rolling my eyes at the ridiculous question, I knock again. “It’s Thierry!”

Through the door, I hear him mutter a curse and whisper something.

“He can wait!” Verónica snaps. “Finish! I want to come!”

“Baby, I know, but I can’ finish wit’ my cousin standin’ outside da door.”

“You will finish, or I’ll rip your balls from between your legs, cabrón.”

This woman is a nightmare, and the sooner I get her off Luc’s hands, the better his chances of surviving. “I’m here to take you to Julio’s. I’ll be outside in the car. Don’t keep me waiting.”

A string of Spanish flies out of her mouth, most I recognize as curses, while I stride back through the mess and out the door.

Twenty minutes later, the two emerge, Verónica carrying nothing but her purse, while Luc stumbles across the yard lugging her two absurdly cumbersome suitcases that still carry the bullet holes from Matamoros. With his hair sticking up, face still bruised from his ass beating the night before, Luc looks like a mess. Verónica stands outside the passenger door, apparently waiting for Luc to load the suitcases in the back of my truck. Once he’s finished, she steps aside allowing him to open the door for her.

Plopping down into the seat, she smiles over at me. “You see? A real man doesn’t have to be asked to open the door.” At that, she leans to the side, and the two of them engage in the most nauseating, sloppy kiss I’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing. To my relief,