Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Diago smiled.
“You a fuckin’ weirdo? Do you think you’re going to attack me? Come on then, you little fuck, give it a try.”
This was a surprise. Diago knew it was going to end in pain and with the man before him begging, but this was a nice distraction.
He closed the distance and as the man lifted his fist, as if to hit him, Diago wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck, squeezing tightly. In the next second, he shoved him hard, throwing his body into the wall, winding him.
Diago stood and slid a hand into his pocket. He’d not even broken a sweat, and he waited.
The man scrambled to his feet, and for a split-second, he turned to look toward the exit. Diago had followed him down an alleyway with only one exit, and that was the one behind him.
He squared his shoulders, and Diago was impressed. The man charged at him, and when he was close, he pushed, sending him back against the wall. All he did was put a bit of strength behind it.
Again, he charged at him, and Diago this time landed a blow to the gut, followed by another to the face. He didn’t believe in taking someone down when they were already on the floor. To him, that was tacky. He liked his opponents to be functioning completely.
He waited for the man to get to his feet. Diago didn’t stop him as he crawled away. This was not the first man to crawl away from him.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said. “I don’t know why you’re following me.”
Diago watched him.
“Look, dude, I don’t know what this is about. If it’s money, I don’t have a lot of it.”
“Ten years ago, you met a woman who had a daughter. She was thirteen years old, pretty, and you decided you wanted a taste of young flesh, rather than the mother. When she reported your ass, you made her life miserable.”
“Tara … look, whatever she is paying you, I can double it.”
Diago looked at him. “You just said you didn’t have any money.”
“She’s a lying slut, always has been. She was the one who wanted me, and as I explained to her mother, I didn’t want to ruin the relationship I had, so I just kept rejecting her weird-ass daughter.”
Diago had heard enough. Tara had told him every detail. How this son of a bitch was able to sweet-talk the Devil himself, or at least that was what Tara had always said. He saw through the lies, but it also helped that he didn’t care. Tara wanted him dead. She was going to get her wish.
He stepped toward him, and the man opened his mouth as if to scream. Diago stopped him, pressing him against the wall, and putting his palm across his mouth, stopping any sound from escaping. Staring into his eyes, Diago slid the knife into his gut. He pulled it out, and did it again, and again, and again.
Tara told him to make it hurt. She asked for him to stare into his eyes and not stop, even if he begged. In fact, she was the one that suggested he hold onto his mouth and nearly suffocate him as he killed him, because then for once in his life, this prick would know what it felt like to be helpless, to not have anyone hear his screams. To be at the mercy of someone else causing him pain.
Diago was no fool. He knew why Tara wanted him to do this. This was a message. This is what the man did to Tara every time he raped her, and now it was payback.
Diago kept plunging the knife in, and slowly, he watched the life slipping from his gaze, until there was nothing left.
This was a job well done, and now he just needed to clear away the body.
Chapter Three
What was she going to do?
Vanessa stood at the kitchen counter and glanced around the amazing room. Last night when she had taken her tour, and made herself a sandwich, she’d not given herself the chance to take in the beauty of the room. Now, she couldn’t help but marvel at what she saw—pristine marble counters, white cupboards, and silver appliances. It looked amazing, so modern, and yet clean. She noticed that about every room. Diago kept a clean home.
Also, he didn’t wake her up last night to tell her what room she should use.
He’d not woken her this morning, and she only knew he was awake and already gone by the complete silence, even through his office door. Also, the coffeepot had already been set up. The scent of fresh coffee always had the ability to rouse her in the morning.
She really wanted a cup of coffee, and with no one to tell her no, she’d poured herself a generous cup and even allowed herself some cream and sugar. It had been one of the best coffees she had in a while.