Page 94 of Righteous Enforcer
I hand him another hundred.
“Room next to it. 118. It’s empty.”
I checked in under a false name, dropping my bag on the bed in 118 and pressing my ear to the thin wall.
Mirabella's tiny voice drifted through, asking for a bedtime story.
My heart nearly stopped.
I nearly broke in then.
But some things are done better in the dark of night.
When people are sleeping.
It’s easier to catch them off guard and not be seen by others.
So I waited until midnight. The lock on the adjoining door was child's play.
A slight glow from a smoke detector was enough to see Mirabella in a sofa bed while Eva slept in the double.
For a moment I watched her sleep, remembering how the other night, I’d given her everything.
And now, two days later, here she is, having tossed me aside and stolen not just my money but my daughter as well.
I could kill her, I thought.
She’d never know I was here.
The one who exacted revenge.
But I needed her to know that there was no place she could run that I wouldn’t find her.
And that crimes against me always had to be punished.
So I pressed my hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream and wake up Mirabella.
Oh, she tried to fight. Even attempted to get to her knife. But she has zero chance against me.
"Stop fighting.” I lean closer to her so she knows it’s me. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you? Did you think I'd let you take my daughter again?"
Eva trembles beneath me, the fight draining from her, replaced by panic. Good. She should be afraid. She has no idea how close I am to shattering.
I haul her up by her arm, fingers digging into soft flesh. She's wearing nothing but a thin tank top and shorts, vulnerable in a way that should satisfy me but only twists the knife deeper.
I'd given her everything.
My protection, my name, my heart, and still, she ran.
"Marco," I call quietly. My right hand appears in the doorway, silhouette dark against the dim light of room 118. "Stay with Mirabella. Anyone comes through that door who isn't me?—"
"They die," he finishes. He moves into the room, positioning himself in the chair beside my daughter's bed, gun resting casually on his thigh.
I drag Eva toward the adjoining door, my grip unforgiving. She stumbles, but I don't slow down.
Don't help her.
Every instinct I have screams to treat her with care, but those instincts have betrayed me, just like she has.
