The Devil's Plaything

“I never said she was. This has nothing to do with feelings. It’s a fucking job, just like any other that we’ve had.” Casting my gaze to his, I meet the shrewd glare he’s pinned me with. There’s no reason for him to believe me, but I know he will anyway. Because I’ll ensure he does. Fuck. If I’m being brutally honest, I need to ensure I do, too. I can’t have feelings for her; she’s a means to an end.

“She has nobody else in her corner and you’re coming down with some fucked up knight in shining armor complex,” he bites out.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Javi?” Tipping my head to the side, I face him fully, waiting for the confirmation that’s slowly settling in my veins. There’s something more here, something I didn’t expect.

“¿De qué estás hablando?” His dark brows furrow together in mock confusion as he questions, what are you talking about, and I see it clear as day in his expression. It’s dancing in his eyes like a fucking beacon in the night.

Leaning my elbows on the desk, I tent my fingers, resting my chin on them, while I stare at him for a moment before questioning, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffs, chuckling as if it means nothing, but I’ve known Javier most of my life, the same as he’s known me, and this is, indeed, his green-eyed monster rearing its head.

“Tell me, Javier,” I taunt him once more, rising from my seat, rounding my desk to stalk toward him. Stopping in front of Javi, I stare him down, knowing he won’t back down at all. That’s one thing about Javier, he’s as stubborn as I am ruthless.

“We have a meeting tonight, I’ll see you in a few hours.” He spins on his heel and leaves the office with me staring after his retreating form. Of all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been jealous, we’ve always had our own likes and dislikes. Meaning, any pussy that I plunged my dick into was mine. We never had the same taste in women.

Shaking my head, I settle back in the chair and respond to the emails that came in this morning. But, even as I attempt to focus on the delivery of coke heading for the States, I can’t stop thinking about my best friend and my little captive.

Just then an email pops into my inbox with a subject line that stills my breathing. Clicking on it, I open the video attachment to find a faceless man. The voice has been distorted, but I can hear his words clearly.

“Bring her to the address in the email. We will give you a week to decide. If you refuse, you’ll be sorry you stole what belongs to the Trituradoras de cráneo.” The video ends in a black screen of nothing. Nobody threatens me, they know better. And this asshole may think he can fuck with me, but he doesn’t know I’m El Diablo, and I’ll burn him alive and bask in the sizzle of his skin.

Pushing up from the desk, I head to the exit. There’s only one place I can find answers.

Time to talk to my captive.

17

Sofía

The bed is soft and warm, but I’m still shivering wildly under the heavy comforter. My body aches, and my eyes are puffy from crying. Valentina left me to sleep, but my mind has been working overtime since she walked out of the bedroom.

There wasn’t anything else for me to do but recall the way Victor scared me. It’s been a long time since I felt fear like that. The last time was when my mother died. Knowing I would be without her for the rest of my life was something I could never prepare for.

Victor, on the other hand, wasn’t something I had been prepared for. When he lost his shit, I was no longer the strong girl I’d promised myself I would be. My heart and mind escaped me, and I was left a trembling mess.

As much as I hate him, I can’t help wondering what he would’ve done if I’d retorted in that moment. Would he kill me? Yes. Of course, he would. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s capable of pulling a trigger without flinching.

Rolling over onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling, which is ornate with designs and patterns. The swirls make me dizzy, and I realize I haven’t eaten today. As if reading my mind, the door opens, but the person who enters isn’t who I was expecting.

Instead of Valentina’s friendly face, I’m met with the cold golden glare of Victor Cordero. Shuffling up against the headboard, I pull my knees to my chest, hugging myself, not dropping my gaze from the predator who’s just entered my bedroom.