Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,79
jolt ripped through her body as she slammed her tennis shoe into Enrique’s head. It bounced off, and she smashed down on his collarbone even harder. Bone ground against bone, and he shrieked in pain. But he held onto her even tighter.
Desperate to escape the enraged man and the even more pissed-off snake, she clawed at the loose gravel, dragging Enrique with her. In a haze of disbelief, she almost laughed, imagining the snake holding onto Enrique’s ankle like he gripped hers.
Sweet air rushed over her face as she reached the edge of the house. With her last ounce of strength, she managed to reach back and swing her arms above her head, sinking her fingernails into the soft wood siding above her. Splinters pierced her fingertips. Grunting with effort, she dragged her shoulders over the rocky, unlevel ground underneath the house.
At the same time, Enrique managed to get his other hand around her ankle. He wanted out from under the house as much as she did, and was using her as his rope. Her fingers were torn from her grip on the siding, and he started dragging her backward instead. Shadow enveloped her again as he pulled her back, her head slipping past the edge of the house. She screeched and kicked violently and, stretching out her fingers, frantically felt for a rock, a stick, even a clod of dirt she could use against him before he could gain complete control over her.
Instead of a weapon, she found a pair of familiar hands. Slipping his fingers beneath her shoulders, Santos leaned down and yanked her free.
She’d never been as happy to see him as she was at that very second.
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you okay?”
Santos pulled her tight in a hard embrace, then released her.
Rose gasped out, “Yes. Enrique…he’s under there,” she managed, pointing to the crawlspace. “And he’s got a knife.”
Santos threw himself to the ground and started to crawl, ready to kill the man with his bare hands.
Rose cried out another warning. “Wait! There’s a rattler, too. I think it’s dead, but watch out.”
Stopping where he was, he peered under the house, his gaze leading his gun. Frozen in the dim light, Juan Enrique lay in the dirt, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling from the effort. A knife shone dully a foot behind him. Beyond the bloody weapon was a coiled diamondback, his head hanging by a ragged thread, his body still jerking. The snake was alive, but just barely, his dying rattle an empty threat.
“Get me out,” Enrique begged him. “La serpiente de cascabel—it’s right behind me. It’s already bitten me. Please!”
Santos wondered if he could live with himself if he abandoned the man and simply walked away. Enrique’d had no problem torturing Concepción DeLeon until she’d died. Some people might have said he deserved a death as painful and hopeless as hers—especially her mother. Then Santos had another idea. Enrique couldn’t see the snake; he had no idea it was almost dead.
“Why did you kill Concepción DeLeon?”
“Get out of my way or pull me out!” the drug dealer screamed. “It’s going to bite me again—”
“Tell me the truth and I’ll help you,” he countered.
“Who the hell are you?” the dealer screeched. “Just get me out.”
“Tell me,” Santos pressed.
“Yes, yes! I killed her, okay? She threatened to tell everyone about Carlos—her brother—and Bennie. I had to get rid of her before anyone found out I hired them, now please—”
“Who the hell’s Bennie?”
“He was at the trailer park with Carlos.” He lifted his head and tried to look around him, his panic reaching a near explosive level. “I wa—wanted them to grab the sheriff and make everyone think Ortega had done it. Now get me out of here before I die!”
“And the dead man at your house? Was that Bennie?” Santos asked calmly.
“Yes,” Enrique howled. “I killed him so the sheriff would think it was me and stop looking for me! And I wanted to shut him up so he wouldn’t tell anyone about the trailer park.”
“The candle, and the boy with the knife?”
Enrique gasped. “Yes! Yes, I did it all, now p-please… I-I’ve told you everything. You can’t leave me here! Help me out, Mother of God—”
Santos wanted to abandon the drug dealer even more than he had before his confession, but he couldn’t. With a muttered, “Shit,” he reached in and grabbed Enrique’s arm, dragging him over the gravel as roughly and painfully as he possibly could.