_ Kill For Her

I smiled at María José in a reassuring way, hiding the hurricane brewing beneath my skin. 

"And what exactly did Luis Miguel do?" I asked in a deceptively calm voice. 

Because I needed to know. 

Because if he had done anything—anything—to make my precious, innocent flower suffer… 

Then I was going to make him suffer, too. 

Tenfold. 

I was never a patient man. I preferred my problems to be solved swiftly, preferably with a knife between someone's ribs or a bullet lodged in their skull. 

It was cleaner that way—efficient. But as María José recounted what those kids did to her, I found myself gripping the wooden crate beside me so tightly that my fingers ached. 

"Wait," I said in a dangerously calm tone. "You're telling me they made you trip over a tomato stall, then stole your father's money to pay for it?" 

She nodded, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt.