Page 17 of His Playmate
An enemy gang member sat tied to a chair. Diego approached from behind and grabbed a fistful of the man’s long dark hair, yanking his head back to expose his neck. Diego placed the blade to the gangster’s throat and gazed into wide, fearful eyes.
“I know you guys got drug money coming in, so you’re going to tell me where the drop-off point is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the lanky man said, struggling against the rope.
Diego sat on his victim’s lap and pressed the tip of the switchblade against his cheek. “I’ll carve my name into your face so they know it was me who did it,” he said.
“No!”
Diego cut into skin, creating the letter D.
Thrashing, the man screamed in agony. Blood smeared over his face, and Diego gripped his slippery chin with his free hand. “Stay still,” he growled and moved the blade. “I …” Diego wrote out another letter. “E …”
“It’s gonna be at the docks!” the man yelled, pale, sweating, and panic-stricken.
“G …” Diego continued. The man’s face was a mess of blood that stained Diego’s hands.
“Next Thursday at midnight!”
Diego stopped and pulled back, observing the grotesque face. “Good boy,” he said, smacking the man’s cheek and earning a shocked expression in return. “But I’m not done yet. There’s still one more letter to go.”
The blade sunk into flesh, and Diego drew out the letter O as the man screamed.
* * *
It wasmidnight when Diego arrived at the docks. He fixed a black ski mask on his face and approached the water.
A small boat arrived at the dock, bobbing with the gentle waves. A stocky man wearing a cap grabbed a duffle bag with gloved hands and dropped it with a thud on the pier by Diego’s feet. Diego grabbed the bag, and the boat took off.
The exchange was easy. Diego walked away from the rippling water, the moon lighting his path. He couldn’t see a rival gang member anywhere. Then sirens broke through the silence. Bright blue and red lights flashed. A helicopter chopped through the air overhead.
Diego’s stomach dropped. This was a setup. But it was too late for him to get mad about it now. He ran with the heavy bag and rounded a corner before stopping at a wired fence. He threw the bag over before he climbed up. Once Diego made it to the top of the fence and swung his leg over, a bright beam of light shone down on him.
“Get down and put your hands up,” a man’s voice blared through a speaker. Diego stayed on the fence, surrounded by police, their guns pointed at him.
Diego knew that if he didn’t listen, the cops would shoot him. He didn’t want to die. He had no choice but to drop to the ground. An officer grabbed Diego and pinned him to the cement, latching handcuffs on him. The cop hauled Diego to his feet and shoved him into the back seat of a vehicle.
* * *
“You have a visitor,”the prison guard said.
The only person who might visit Diego would be Ander. After two months of being stuck in there, Diego didn’t expect anyone else to come for him. Handcuffs removed, Diego walked into the visitor room.
Wolf sat on the other side of the glass, dressed in a navy pinstripe suit. His hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes never strayed from Diego.
Diego sat in the chair, glaring at Wolf. He pulled the phone off the hook and brought it to his ear. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Not happy to see me?” Wolf asked.
It might have been some time since Diego had last seen or spoken to Wolf, but his body hadn’t forgotten that deep, smooth voice. Diego let out a shaky breath. “You know I’m not. You’re here for a reason, so what is it?”
“I want you to work with me,” Wolf said.
Diego narrowed his eyes. “You want to kill me, not work with me.”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“You’re not my friend either.”
