A deal with the devil: from revenge to love

Nina

"Nina, no! Nina! Help me-please, Nina!"

My eyes flew open, heart hammering against my ribs. Rosa's voice still echoed in my ears, desperate and raw. The same nightmare again. The same helplessness that had haunted me since the day she was taken from Ortega's.

I tried to sit up, but a bolt of white-hot pain ripped through my side. "Fuck!" I gasped, collapsing back onto the bed.

"Take it easy. You almost died," a familiar voice said.

My head snapped toward the sound. Rafael Santiago.

The sterile white walls, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and the faint antiseptic smell told me I was in a hospital. My mind raced, trying to piece together how I'd gotten here-and then it hit me. The alley, the knife, the blood.

"You bastard!" I spat. "Are you here to finish the job?"

He pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, one brow arching. "Finish you off?"

"You sent someone after me! You had me stabbed and-"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm this close to digging up enough dirt to put you behind bars for life-and it's scaring the hell out of you," I hissed, scanning the room for a call button, a nurse, anyone who could help. Or had he already paid everyone off?

Rafael's gaze hardened. "How do you live like this? Always paranoid." He clicked his tongue, a sound that made my skin prickle. "You almost died, Agent Torres. I found you bleeding out and brought you here. A thank you would suffice."

"You expect me to believe-"

He cut me off with a glare that could freeze blood. "I don't care what you believe. But your blood ruined my new leather upholstery."

I glared right back. "So it's all just a game to you."

"A game?" His jaw ticked. "And what game do you think I'm playing?"

"Your lackeys screwed up," I shot back. "So you saved me to make me think you're the good guy. Nice try, but I'm not falling for it."

He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, until his face was just inches from mine. Up close, I noticed the green ring around his gray eyes, and the thin scar that cut through his left eyebrow. My breath hitched, caught between fear and something I didn't dare name.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Agent Torres," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "I didn't get where I am by hiring incompetents. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. My lackey, as you so eloquently put it, wouldn't have failed."

I swallowed hard. "So you're admitting the attack was your doing?"

His eyes turned to ice. Then, without another word, he straightened to his full height. "You're relentless. Admirable, but stupid. Try not to get stabbed again, Agent Torres. I might not be close enough to save you next time."

Before I could fire back, he turned and strode out, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Could he actually be innocent?

No. My source swore he had evidence tying Rafael Santiago to the Black Smoke Gang. Once that proof came in, I'd finally unmask him-and maybe, just maybe, find Rosa.

If she's still alive, a voice whispered in the back of my mind.

I shoved the thought away. She had to be alive. I would know if she wasn't. Twin instinct, maybe-but it was the only thing keeping me going.

"Agent Torres. Good, you're awake."

I turned to see Chief Keef stride into the room, with Matthew and Richard trailing behind him.

"Chief," I greeted. "Am I cleared to leave?"

"Cleared to-?" He blinked like I'd just told a joke. "You were stabbed, Agent. You're not going anywhere. You're on medical rest for ten days."

"Ten days?" I nearly shouted. "I can't stay here that long! I have-"

"Your case has been reassigned," he interrupted. "Your only job now is to heal. Don't bother arguing, Torres. You're not winning this one."

I clenched my jaw, swallowing a curse. "Any leads on who attacked me?"

"We pulled footage from the area," the Chief said, shaking his head. "The assailant knew where every camera was. Hood up the entire time, no facial ID."

"We've got people on it though," Richard added. "We'll find the guy."

"The Black Smoke Gang has to be behind this," I said, my voice rising.

Behind the Chief, Matthew rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous. Why would they target you? You're just a rookie."

"Matthew's right," the Chief said. "If anyone should be worried, it's us." He gestured to the two men behind him.

"Probably a robbery gone wrong," Richard added with a shrug.

"That was my first thought too," the Chief agreed.

"It wasn't a robbery!" I barked. "The bastard told me to stop sticking my nose where it didn't belong, right before he stabbed me!"

"You're mistaken," Matthew said. "You were in shock. And if it wasn't a robbery, why'd he take your purse?"

"He did?" My eyes widened. "Chief, listen, this-"

"Take your time and recover, Agent Torres," he interrupted firmly.

"But-"

"No buts." He snapped, heading for the door. Then he paused. "Nice flowers, by the way. Didn't know you were seeing someone."

My eyes followed his to a vase of yellow carnations on the bedside table. When the room finally emptied, I reached for the note tucked among the blooms.

The handwriting was jagged, the ink smudged, as if written in a rush.

'We have our eyes on you, bitch.'

My blood turned to ice.