“Victor!” I swung around to face him, but he hit me with the gun. A stinging whack across cheek.
“Do as I say or she dies.” He pointed to Sierra.
“Damian,” I called, but my voice quivered.
Oh God. The syringe. What had he done to Sierra?
“Louder.” Victor prodded.
“Damian.”
He stepped out from the bedroom, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “Skye?” His voice was so warm and relaxed, I bit my lip to control the anguish. He had no idea what he was walking into.
You think there’s such a thing as too much happiness?
Victor swung me away from the door. We were standing in the center of the room, his gun aimed at me, when Damian walked in. For a split second, he froze, and then something kicked in—maybe it was his training at Caboras or maybe it was his take-charge personality. Either way, Damian assessed the situation and did the opposite of panic; he went lethally calm.
“Whatever you want, Victor. Let them go and it’s yours.”
“I want my arm back, motherfucker. You think you can give me that? Because if you can reattach every nerve you severed, you go right ahead. Do you know what it’s like to walk around with a paralyzed arm in my business? I lost everything. I—”
“Cut the drama, Victor. I get it. It was your dominant arm. You can’t shoot. Or use a can opener. Or stroke your dick right. You took a hit on the job, a job of your choosing, and now you’re holding me accountable for it. What do you want?”
It took Victor a moment to regroup. He had been expecting fear, submission, compliance.
“I want you to pay for it,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you to get out of prison. Of course, I wasn’t expecting this cozy reunion.” He tilted his head towards me and Sierra. “A ready-made family, Damian. The bastard son has a bastard daughter.”
Damian’s fists clenched. “If you do anything to hurt her—”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t harmed a hair on her head. Just given her a little tranquilizer. Babysitting screaming kids in these situations is really not my thing.”
“You drugged my daughter?” There was a nerve ticking on Damian’s forehead. One I’d never seen before.
Victor laughed. “You drugged Warren’s daughter, didn’t you? Don’t like it when the tables are turned?” He yanked me closer.
“Your problem is with me, not them.”
“Your problem was with Warren, but it didn’t stop you from kidnapping Skye. Casualties get caught in the crossfire.” Victor shrugged. “You know that.”
Victor was worming his way under Damian’s skin, making him relive the horror of shooting me.
“You and I are more alike than you think,” he said. “Mercenaries at heart. You didn’t really think you could start over, did you? I thought it was a brilliant move, manipulating Skye to get to Warren, but I’m starting to think you fancy yourself in love with her now. I’ll save you the trouble. Women like her don’t love men like us. I loved your mother, but she shunned me. She said she wanted a better role model for you. I hated her, and I hated you. Warren set me up with a nice sum to keep her comfortable in Valdemoros. I left her to rot in there. I should have finished you off too. You came back to bite me, but I still have the final say.”
“You don’t have to do this,” said Damian. “Take everything. I can set you up for the rest of your life. You won’t ever need for anything.”
It sounded a lot like what I’d said to him on the boat, bargaining for my freedom. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Nothing could have deterred Damian then. His thirst for vengeance had set off a domino effect that was staring back at us now.
“You think this is about money?” Victor laughed. “I got a hefty settlement out of Warren. Part of our contract. And I have a nice disability check coming in every month. This isn’t about money, it’s about—”