The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(118)

“Enrique is my son. He’s going to do the honors. I’m just here for the entertainment.” Juan untangled his hand from my hair and sat back down in the folding chair. “I like having front row seats to these events. I find them inspirational.”

My eyes widened, and I scooted backward, suctioning my spine to the wall. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head back and forth. “No. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll be good.”

“It’s too late for apologies,” Enrique said. He sucked on the end of his cigar, and his cheeks hollowed, highlighting the knife-edged angles of his face. “But it won’t be too bad this time. This is a warning. Next time…” He shrugged. “It’ll be much worse.”

He crouched in front of me, brushing the side of my jaw with his knuckles. “Such pretty skin. Not a single blemish. Personally, I like a woman with a few scars. They give you character. They tell a story about who you are and where you’ve been. When I’m done with you, you’ll definitely have a story.”

My heart battered against my chest bone, and a parade of uneven pants escaped my mouth. Like a thief, fear crept through my body coating my muscles in ice. I inched backward again, hoping and praying against all logic that the wall would open up and transport me anywhere but here. Where was a portal to another dimension when I needed it?

“Do you know what happened here?” He pointed to the bandage on his arm.

“No,” I muttered, my voice almost inaudible. My words were thick and fuzzy.

He flicked his cigar, and the ashes landed on the neon yellow laces of my running shoes. The ashes glowed orange, then faded to gray dust a few seconds later. “I guess you wouldn’t.” He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and his spike silver labret piercing lurched forward like a snakehead. “Your boyfriend shot me as I watched that worthless piece of shit, Rever Vargas, drag my sister down the steps of our church. Can you imagine abducting someone from church?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice. “And here I thought the Vargases were all about honor and respect. Imagine my disappointment when I realized they’re animals just like the rest of us.”

My eyes widened as I stared at the bright white bandage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I whispered. Against all logic, I hoped it would make him reconsider his plans for me.

He tipped up my chin with two fingers and rubbed his calloused thumb across my lips. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll have a scar, but I’ll be fine in no time.”

He took another drag of his cigar and the sickly sweet smell of tobacco curled into my nose. Coughing, I turned my head to the side.

“So,” he said, pushing my sleeve up my arm. “I’ve been thinking about how to get even with Ryker Vargas for shooting me and discipline you for your outburst this afternoon.”

My stomach freefell like an elevator with its cables severed. “How?” I said. The word splintered as it rolled off my tongue.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his vacant eyes. “We’ll have matching scars.”

“No,” I cried, yanking my arm away from him, but it didn’t matter. He snatched it back easily enough. I couldn’t escape.

He rolled his lit cigar between his index finger and his thumb for a suspended moment. Then, he grabbed my arm, imprisoning it against his thigh, and he plunged the glowing tip into my bicep.

I screamed as the cigar sizzled against my skin. Fire shot up my arm, and my muscles recoiled like a rubber band. The cloying smell of cigar mingled with the smell of seared flesh and burnt hair. My body jerked as shockwaves of pain radiated up and down my arm, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat.

“Please stop. No more,” I begged as tears crawled down my cheeks.

“Oh, I’ll stop.” He pulled the cigar away from my arm and relit it with a flick of his silver lighter. “When I get bored of this.”

My heart stuttered. “Oh my God. Please, no more.”

I tugged my arm back, but Enrique stepped on the chain shackling me to the wall, and the rough metal edges of the cuff tore into my underside of my wrist. He dug his finger into my blistered wound. Curses tangled with screams flowed like a river from my mouth.

“Two more should be good unless your reactions disappoint me, in which case, I won’t stop with your arm.” He tilted his head to the side. “Now that I think about it, I do enjoy branding my victims.” He brushed his fingertips down my arm. “Do you think Ryker would mind looking at an A while he f*cks you?”

I whimpered and my vision slanted.

“How many places do you think I’ll be able to brand you before your boyfriend delivers Anna back to us?”

Panic zipped through me. I squeezed my eyes closed, and my throat narrowed to a pinprick. “I won’t move again. Just finish what you started.”

He flicked his finger against the middle of my forehead. “No cheating, Miss Covington. You have to watch so you fully appreciate my artistry.”

“No,” I gasped, hooking my fingers in the hem of my shorts.

“Open your eyes or I will staple your eyelids to your eyebrows,” he growled.

Spittle showered my scrunched up face. I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing back all the insults I wanted to hurl at him. They wouldn’t do anything except bring me more pain. “Go ahead,” I said as I cracked my eyes open one by one. My mind floated as I circled through memory after memory, trying to hold on to anything to stop the pain and the anxiety as I waited for him to brand me again.