Sociopath's Revenge Page 12

  Female screams stopped our movements as we both turned our heads toward the door where Rosa stood, holding an apple and some medical book in her hands. The short break allowed me to feel the pain running through me for the first time, and an unwanted groan slipped from my mouth.

  Connor quickly glanced at me and distanced our bodies. "Shit, man, I'm sorry." He rose to his knees, as I lay on the floor. He helped me to lift myself up. Heavy footsteps sounded, and then Luke's frame filled the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he snarled in disgust.

  "Two grown-ass men fighting." Connor and I tensed, neither of us wanting to hear his speech. Shit, no matter how old we were, fear of disappointing Luke never went away. "Fix it." He pointed his finger at us, and then his eyes softened as they landed on Rosa. "Come on, sweetheart. We have that cake to finish." She watched us dumbly, and then her eyes filled with excitement.

  Fuck.

  Not good.

  "Can you teach me how to fight like that?" Luke sent us one more dirty look, took her by shoulders, and escorted her downstairs.

  Connor had been a little tattletale and called Luke immediately after I arrived at the hospital. The old man wasn't happy with everything that happened, said he retired for a reason but told us we would live with him anyway. He preferred to stay in Houston; there, he had a huge-ass mansion with one of the best security systems in the world. The man made enough enemies through the years as a mercenary, and although I didn't have much love for the town, I couldn't disrespect him by saying no. Plus, with me healing, it was safer for Rosa to stay with him than endanger Juanita, with whom I'd had a long talk on the phone. The woman wanted to drop everything and rush to me, but I wouldn't let her. With all the scolding I got from them, you'd think Luke and Juanita considered themselves my parents.

  Truth be told, I had no business hiding, but it was better to get strength first.

  "Of all the people who helped you, it had to be some crazy chick," Connor complained.

  "Hey."

  He rolled his eyes. "Please, you know I'm right. Last week, she wanted to learn about using knives. The chick needs to get some friends. Send her to a university; no one would recognize her now." His words held truth, but I didn't want to talk about Rosa.

  "Never mention another man and Sapphire in the same sentence." He opened his mouth, but I cut off whatever he wanted to say next. "Never, Connor. I'll play by your rules for my girls." He finally nodded, and then winced as his fingers inspected the bridge of his nose.

  "Fuck, man. Did you have to break my nose?" I didn't even bother covering up the smug smile on my face.

  "Absolutely."

  Damian

  Sapphire shifted once again at my side as my hands played with her silky locks. God, how I missed these moments with her, where there was only me and her in bed, and the outside world didn't exist. I craved them more than sex; this was the real connection.

  "What's wrong, baby?"

  She placed her hand on my chest and pushed up with the other. Her crystal-blue eyes held nothing but adoration and love, something I'd missed during all her hostile greetings. "What are we going to do now?"

  I dreaded her questions, but I couldn't lie to her. "You're going to stay here and take care of Kristina. Rosa will be with you too." I searched her eyes for an uncomfortable reaction, but none was given. Thank God, because the girl was like a sister to me. "Once everything is over in New York, I'm all yours." I expected tears and a fight, so I had to blink in surprise when she leaned forward, and her mouth landed on mine.

  Her kiss was soft and gentle and finished too soon for my liking. "I agree with you," she whispered, nipping my jaw. "Taking Kristina and Rosa there is dangerous and unnecessary. Evil like this can't touch their lives." She licked my neck and then bit me lightly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to send shivers to my cock. It hardened more and more with her displays of affection. "But I'm going with you." Before I could protest, she kissed me again. Once we were breathless, she let go of me and climbed on top of my thighs. The sheet she held slid down, leaving her full and mouthwatering breasts open for my adoration. "I don't want to hear any protests, Damian. You know with me, it'll be easier to find him, and no matter how much you want to keep me safe, I'm never safer than when I am with you." She started to play with her pink nipples, pinching them as little moans escaped her.

  "That's doubtful, considering I didn't protect you the last time." My words came hoarsely, as I grabbed her hips and lifted her up, closer to my mouth, but she protested.

  "No, Damian I want you inside me."

  "Oh, you'll have me, honey. Grab the headboard," I said, scooting down a bit to have a better position to savor my treat as I latched my mouth to her wet heat, almost coming from her taste as she gasped above me. Her thighs closed around my head as I gently nipped and then sucked on each of her lower lips, while my tongue dipped inside, licking and probing as she pushed against me to get better friction. My hands traveled up to her perky nipples, touching the sensitive peaks gently, and came back to grip her perfect ass cheeks.

  She rocked above me, pushing back onto my face as I rubbed my beard against the inside of her silky thighs. My cock leaked, as it painfully waited for its turn to have her. Without being able to wait any longer, I focused my attention on her clit, sucked it deeply, and she came all over my face as I licked her clean. I spread her legs open and moved into position to thrust my cock into heaven. "Yes," she moaned, thrashing her head on the pillow from side to side.

  "Do you like when your man gives you pleasure?"

  She moaned, but I gripped her hips harder, drilling deeper, until she sobbed, "Yes."

  "Yes, who? Who do you belong to?" I increased my thrusts, her legs wrapped around me tighter, and I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my spine, signaling my body had reached its limit.

  "You," she gasped, clenching around me so tight I had no choice but to follow her.

  Afterward, I cleaned her up, tugged the blanket around us, and we slept peacefully until morning.

  Airport, Moscow, Russia

  My hair and coat flew up from the wind as I moved toward the private plane. Vitya and Michael strolled next to me, each one of them holding suitcases. I didn't bother bringing anything with me but a laptop, as my apartment at our destination had everything I needed.

  "Why the hell did you bring so much, Michael? We aren't going to explore the city," Vitya bitched, not that I could blame him, considering Michael took five suitcases. I chuckled, and Michael glared at us both.

  "Laugh all you want, but I didn't take clothes with me. Half of it is my photography equipment."

  Vitya's mouth snapped open. "Blyat, really? We could have bought it there."

  "No," Michael argued. "No need to spend money on something I already have." We weren't known for being cheap, and rarely did anyone count their money. Whatever Bratva members wanted, if they had the money, they bought it, even if it meant having identical items in several different countries. Michael was another story; he saved every penny he made and spent it wisely. The only indulgence he had was his photography.

  My phone vibrated inside my pocket, distracting me from the couple's argument, and I pushed forward for more privacy to talk. The caller ID didn't really surprise me.

  "Connor, my flight to New York is not negotiable. So save us both time and keep to yourself whatever you want to say to change my mind." The man on the other end of the line huffed annoyingly and, of course, didn't listen to my advice.

  "What's with both of you? You shouldn't come now. It's ten more days before the grand ball. The last thing we need is their suspicion and distrust." I quickly entered the plane and lifted a chin to the captain who saluted me. Throwing my jacket on the seat, I ignored the brightly smiling stewards and marched right into the cabin. Closing the door was a neon sign to my crew to leave me the fuck alone.

  "I have unfinished business in New York." The strained laugh grated on my nerves

  "Don't we all? We're not ready." />
  "I didn't mean the gala. No one will assume anything because they were the ones who delivered the information to me on a silver platter."

  "What is it?" Connor's voice grew suspicious.

  "None of your business, Connor."

  "If it has to do with the investigation—" God save us all from those FBI agents who thought they ruled the world.

  "Connor, whatever you need to know, you already do. This is a personal matter. I decided to help you, but don't think you will control me. I won't deal well with it." My voice became cold and harsh. Connor took a deep breath and agreed.

  "Fine. Fuck, you and Damian give me a headache." Somehow, the idea of having similar qualities as my brother despite the seventeen years we'd spent apart brought warm feelings to my chest and a smile spread on my face.

  "We're twins after all, aren't we?"

  Connor laughed. "That you are," he agreed, right before hanging up.

  Once the call ended, I allowed myself to return to the main cabin in time to fasten my seat belt before the plane took off. My heart beat rapidly and a shiver ran down my spine.

  It wasn't the first time I traveled abroad on business. In fact, I'd seen half the world. Earth was beautiful, but I found planes exhausting. All the unsettling thoughts and feelings jumping through me had to do with Damian and Rosa.

  I hope you are ready to see me, brother. We'll get our revenge. But before that, I need to find my girl.

  The massive doors opened, and I walked in, ignoring the cold stares of guards on either side.

  Simply put, the office of the head of the Italian Mafia in the States was luxurious.

  Expensive carpets, velvet walls with attached crystals, antique artwork, which he probably got on the black market. Many museums would kill to have those exhibits in their hands, and truthfully, it was a shame they belonged to a private collection. The massive, square, brown desk was filled with small golden statues of wolves, pumas, and other wild creatures. There was also a round poker table, and that was where the action happened. Three middle-aged men sat with their suits on, expensive watches on their wrists, as they played poker along with smoking their cigars. To an outsider, the scene would mean nothing beyond rich men wanting to play and unwind.

  But for me, a sociopath who inflicted pain on his victims and paid attention to every gesture and small detail, I didn't miss the paralyzing fear in their eyes, the nervous laughs, and the constant wiping of their foreheads with tissues.

  This hand ended as Don slapped his palm on the table, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and spoke. "Let's check the cards, gentlemen." The men glanced among themselves but did as he asked.

  Of course, each of them lost to Don. No one could win a poker game with a master. Don's mouth widened in a predatory smile. "Ah, unfortunately the game is over."

  "Don, please," one of the players pleaded. "It was an honest mistake." Two other men nodded at his words, although they didn't dare speak. Don raised his brow, scratched his chin, and pointed his hand with the cigar at the so-called brave man.

  "So you call losing eleven million over a deal in a market you and your men recommended a simple mistake?"

  The man wiped his forehead once again and gestured wildly with his hands. "We'll get all this back. Once Ricardo gets us the deal with the Mexican Cartel, we'll have twice if not triple the income. Just a few months. We need a few months."

  Don watched the man closely, all the while finishing his cigar. He placed the butt in the ashtray and motioned to his bodyguard on the left. "Get me a glass of scotch." Then he returned his attention to the man. "If you really mean what you're saying, you're more stupid than I thought." Then in a flash, he grabbed the man by his neck, squeezing the breath out of him as the man's face turned red. "Going against my orders never ends well. Your chance was with the game. Had any of you ended up with better cards than mine, your life would have been spared." He let go of the man, took out his gun, and one by one shot the men in the head.

  He wiped his hands with the cloth from the table and snapped his fingers. In an instant, two guards rushed inside, picked up the bodies, and left the room, leaving him and me alone. Finally, Don turned his cold-as-ice blue eyes on me, raising a brow. "Still here, boy? Surprised you aren't puking your guts out." So, was the show timing purposely for me to walk in on? The old man tested my resolve. I almost laughed at this. If he only knew how my victims looked after encounters with me. Unlike him, I did the cleanup better after a crime than the "cleaners" they had in the mafia.

  Amateurs.

  "I've seen worse things."

  He chuckled, grabbed his glass, and with a few steps, sat on his chair facing me. He sipped his drink and then pointed to a chair. I settled on it and waited for him to start the conversation.

  "Rarely anything surprises me anymore," he began. "But a call from Damian Scott, the heir of an empire and owner of the exclusive club everyone wants to get into, surprised me." He finished his drink and put the glass aside. He leaned on the table as his eyes focused on mine in an unbreakable hold. "I trust my instincts, so I granted you permission. You asked for five minutes of my time."

  "I did."

  He pointed at the golden clock on the wall. "Your five minutes started two minutes ago. You have three." He leaned back on his chair, waiting for my next move. I found the folder on my phone and pushed it toward him. With a frown, he swiped picture after picture while his face darkened with rage and anger. He raised his eyes to me, as his fists clenched and he snarled. "You have my baby girl?" He threw away the phone and pointed his gun at me.

  My face showed no emotion, no movement from my body as I relaxed in the chair completely. What kind of fuckers did this man deal with, if he thought fear could be accomplished by pointing a gun at someone? "Kill me and you'll never find her."

  His jaw ticked. "You think you can dictate to me, boy? I can torture you to no end, and you'll give in."

  His words brought humorless laughter from within me. "I doubt it."

  Something flashed through his eyes; they narrowed on me and studied me more closely, as though I reminded him of someone. "If I didn't know better—" But then he shook his head and whatever he wanted to share with me wasn't spoken. "What do you want for my daughter?"

  "Help," I said simply.

  "Help?" he asked, confused. "So you're one of those men who wrote to me. When you kidnapped her two years ago, you wanted money and power over the New York business. You wanted to go into human trafficking," he spat, disgusted. "I may be a bad man, but even I don't touch children or rape women. Not if it can be helped."

  A chill ran down my body as familiar rage rushed through me, accelerating the adrenaline inside me, and the dark Sociopath tendencies started to awaken. I hadn't felt the conflicted desires to inflict pain on those who deserved it because I'd killed almost all of them two years ago. The only people left were Richard and S, but they were left for the grand finale.

  I destroyed their prostitution ring. During the time I did my research, they were the only ones involved in that business in New York, which meant the people who kidnapped Rosa…

  Fucking hell!

  Until I heard the cracking of the wood under my hands, it hadn't registered that I broke the arms of the chair. My chest rose up and down as I breathed heavily.

  "They wanted what?" I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my focus on the conversation instead of the red fog that threatened to consume me.

  Emmanuelle frowned. "Who do you work for, boy? I'll pay you double if you give me information on Rosalinda willingly. I love my child, and because I love my child, I can't allow other people to victimize children."

  I growled dangerously. "No one should fucking touch kids." Before he continued this nonsense, I elaborated. "Your daughter saved my life. I'm in her debt. She was in danger, and she ran away from the people who made those demands. She is safe now. I wanted to give her back to you." Relief flashed over his face, but I wasn't finished. "But what you said changes everything. If you had her, t
hey would target her."

  "I can damn well protect my—"

  "You didn't the first time."

  He hit the table with his fist. "She was in a Catholic school. I didn't have control there. I'd lock her in the house now."

  But the boy in me who suffered all those years ago didn't see a good reason to return Rosa. Danger and protection. I understood only this.

  "No, I need to destroy them. I know who did it. That's the reason I came here. You'll help me."

  We faced each other for a few minutes, and then he placed the gun back on the table and sat down. "I'll be damned. You're Sociopath," he declared, and my body stilled. He chuckled. "Only you'd be crazy enough not to even twitch at what happened today, and have the balls to dictate to me the rules about my daughter." Any traces of humor left him. "I thought she was dead. Every day, my people searched for her." Anguish filled his voice. "You've got yourself a deal. I'll wait, but I need to hear her voice, even though you only killed fuckers who deserved it." My eyebrows rose in surprise at his words. "Yeah, I did my research after your death."

  I took out another phone from my pocket since him destroying mine was predictable. I pressed the call button. I put the phone on loudspeaker, and in a second, Rosa's voice spoke from the other end of the line. "Damian?" Don's hands trembled when he snatched the phone from me.

  "Rosalinda?" he said in a shaky voice.

  A beat passed, and then, "Daddy?"

  Don's eyes watered; he palmed his neck. "Yes, Belinda."

  I zoned out of their conversation as another thought occurred to me. One of the most ruthless men in the States, a crime lord, lost control and cried in front of me. He wasn't ashamed of his tears, and for the first time, his eyes lit up with emotion.

  He wasn't Don, the death warrant, anymore. He was simply a father who spoke with his daughter.

  Connor was fucking right. I couldn't endanger my little angel like that. What if my enemies took her away?