She would not make a good wife...
**ROMANY**
By the time I get my hands up to shield myself from his blows, blood has filled my mouth and my head feels like it’s hanging off my neck. The pain causes my vision to blur with furious tears, but I *will not* cry. I refuse to. I will not *beg* either. I don’t care if I’m blind by the time he is through, I’m done showing these bastards any weakness.
If I was Ruby, I’d crack his old ass hard enough to knock the warts off his face, but I’m not, so I duck and cover instead.
A large warm body suddenly surrounds me, arms coming around the sides of my head and covering me from the relentless storm of open handed fury being dealt by the goblin’s weathered old palms.
Shit, he must have hit me four times before I remembered that I could shield myself, that I could tuck my head between my knees and make like a turtle.
“¡Ella ha tenido suficiente, padre!” Ruiz’s voice is a low growl. “¡Ella no es tu enemiga!”
***She’s had enough, father! She is not your enemy!***
I can hear Ruiz’s carefully controlled breathing as he presses himself against me, protecting me from his father’s wrath. The tension in his muscles and the intimate squeeze of his hand on the back of my neck tells me that he is angry and barely in control of himself.
The knowledge is incredibly comforting, because I’m willing to bet that Ruiz is the more dangerous of the two.
“Oh-ho-ho,” Ruiz’s father, out of breath, yet still kicking, scoffs. “Did you hear that, Berto? *She* is not my enemy… the words of my only remaining heir. I’m sorry Ruiz, I was not aware that your balls were still inside of her mouth, had I known, I would have been a bit more gentle.”
Ruiz doesn’t bite, instead, he carefully takes my hand away from my face while keeping me tucked in and slides my palm into his pocket.
*What the fuck? What the hell is he doing?*
I almost recoil and snatch my hand back, but when his forearm moves he shifts my hair forward, draping the locks over the front of his pants so that no one can see what I am doing. Then, he urges my hand a little deeper and I feel it. Cold hard steel meets my fingertips and I take the hint, lifting the heavy object from his pants and using my hair to disguise it as I stash it beneath the hem of my borrowed shirt.
The moment the small pistol is tucked inside, Ruiz stands back, lifting my chin in his hands to study my face. His features give nothing away, but his eyes go bright with gold fury and his lips flatten into a grim line.
“I will get you some ice from the bar,” he whispers, stepping away before I can argue. I keep my hand closed around the weapon tucked behind Ruiz’s shirt and say a quick thanks to the universe that I didn’t shed the damn thing the very moment he put it on me outside.
I don’t know very much about guns, but the one that I’m holding seems to have a hammer and rotating chamber. It’s a small revolver of some kind and I’m pretty sure in order to use it the hammer will have to be pulled back.
So… I go ahead and do that part while I can. It proves to be a little harder than I expected and I’m forced to sneak my other hand beneath the hem in order to do it without giving myself away.
Berto, the dark voice from the hallway, suddenly steps out and the moment I spy his face I realize that I remember him too. He was *also* at that cursed meeting. And now that I’m looking at him a little more carefully, I can see just how much he resembles the other demon in the room.
Antony Angeletto. This man is his father. Don Angeletto.
They have the same cold, dark features. The same hawklike nose. Both sets of eyes are beady and black, with cruelty birthed within them, hardly a swirl of humanity left. The largest difference, other than Antony’s obvious youth, is the hair. While Antony wears his in a short dark ponytail, his father prefers a pelt of thick gray, close cropped and so thick it's almost afro-like in texture. His skin is deeply tanned, but hardly wrinkled and he is in excellent shape for a man that must be pushing sixty.
He smiles when he notices me watching him and the light that flashes behind his twin onyx orbs makes me feel like insects are crawling across my skin.
“This is the girl you want?” he asks his son. “You are sure?”
My brow furrows in confusion and my gaze shoots to Antony whose only response is to grunt.
“She’s a bit used up by now, wouldn’t you say?” Don Angeletto surmises. “Think of all the men she has ridden. She would not make a good wife.”
*Wife? What the fuck?*
Antony shifts in his seat like a spoiled child. “She’s the one. After everything that Scavo has cost me, it’s only fair I take what matters to him most. Making her my wife is like sentencing him to a slow death. Simply killing her to punish him will only cause more trouble in the end.”
*Scavo? As in Mickey?*
*What the hell is going on?*
The sound of heavy footsteps entering from the hall catches my attention and when I look over my shoulder I’m met with Jaime’s disappointed glare. He is flanked by two armed men and he is still wearing his speedos. His lip has been busted and his right eye is the size of a fat red plum. But that’s not the part that is most troubling. No.
What truly disturbs me is the person standing behind him, holding him at gunpoint and marching him further into the room.
Because… it’s Anna.
Sweet, sassy, stewardess Anna from Santos’ private flight. My friend.
*Holy shit. Where is my cousin?*
“¿Dónde está Antonio?” Ruiz’s father snaps. “¿Dónde está esa perra malvada?”
***Where is Antonio? Where is that evil bitch?***
Anna answers him in perfect Spanish, “No lo sé. No están en su dormitorio.”
***I don’t know. They are not in his bedroom.***
“Anna…” I whisper, thinking of all the fun we’ve had since we arrived and wondering if Santos had any idea whom he had hired.
Her eyes flick to me for the barest little second, at first in annoyance, but then she must notice the state of my face and she doubles back, surprise registering in her bright blue gaze.
She rips her eyes away from my face and says, “¿Era necesario golpearla así? ¿Te atacó?”
***Was it necessary to beat her like that? Did she attack you?***
“No es tu trabajo cuestionarme, chica,” Ruiz’s father snaps. “Revisa el resto de la casa.”
***It is not your job to question me, girl. Check the rest of the house.***
Ruiz’s father snarls, “They are here somewhere! They have to be. Now Go!”
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