Page 51 of Heart of Sin

My fists ache to be covered in his blood. Much more satisfying.

I don’t even know what the fuck is going on. Just that obviously whatever Tasha’s been going through involves thiscazzo. I flew back to Vegas and stopped by the Vittoria to find her belongings in her hotel room.

And then to discover through the security team she’d last been seen being escorted out the resort by an unidentified man.

I saw the security camera footage myself. Tasha was leaving with him against her will.

Using the footage, I looked up the license plate number on his SUV and worked from there to track them down.

Devin Smith, street name Big D. Known and feared drug dealer and pimp. Rap sheet never ending over the years.

He tries to step around me and aim at Tasha as she moves to the SUV. “Bitch, if you don’t get your ass over here—”

“I don’t like the way you speak to her,” I interject louder. In a fluid motion, I’m quick-drawing my NAME OF GUN and firing a warning shot at his feet.

He stumbles back in a rush to escape the bullet, but I step toward him and fire a couple more.

More warning shots. More shots to scare the living daylights out of his sorry ass.

It works.

Dust clouds the air as he throws himself back with his arms in the air.

Seeing him sweat brings me joy. The fear on his face as he jumps up from the bullets is priceless.

“Bitchass cheating motherfucker!” he pants, finally losing his balance. He trips over himself and crashes down onto the ground.

I come up on him and stop only a couple feet away. Pointing my NAME OF GUN at him, I stare down at him without mercy. “I told you to put your fucking gun away. Then we’ll settle this like men.”

“Or how about I shoot you right now.”

A laugh rumbles out of me. “D—that’s your name, right—do you really think you’re in a position to do shit right now? Look at you. I’ve been here all of five minutes, and I’ve got you on your back like a little crybaby bitch. Your gun.”

Without waiting for his response, I step forward and punt it out of his grasp. The metal weapon goes flying several feet away.

D peers up at me, more blood on his lips, then he gives a disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious—you wanna scrap?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I taunt. “Get the fuck up and show me how tough you are, D.”

I shrug off my shoulder holster and turn away, walking it to the SUV.

Tasha’s by the open driver side door, eyes wide and watery. I hand her the holster with my guns.

“Louis… what are you doing?” she chokes out.

“Hang on to this for me. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

“You can’t. Don’t do it. Don’t fight D.”

“Stay here.”

D’s watching me as I approach him. An unmistakable hunger lives in his eyes—he’s realized it’s me or him and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to come out on top.

Survival of the fittest.

“Well?” I say as we stand facing each other, surrounded by the flat, brown desert terrain. “Go ahead, D. I’ll let you make the first move. Take me out.”

Slowly, one step at a time, he starts circling. His gaze remains on me. “All this over T, huh?”