Page 67 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

Smith

Michelle, Elonzo’s sister , was DEA.

I expect to feel rage, betrayal. But there’s just a cold hollowness spreading through my chest like I’m being pumped full of nitrogen.

“If it wasn’t you who put a bullet in her...” Elonzo’s voice fades to white noise as I drop my head.

I stare at the marble floor, watching my blood drip onto the polished surface.

Each drop is a second ticking by, another moment closer to extinction.

Because I know what comes next. The Bogota Cartel doesn’t just kill their enemies.

They send a message, loud and fucking clear.

They’ve mowed down several rival families like this—gathering everyone in the same room before gunning them down, execution style.

But not before they’ve had their fun.

The zip ties bite into my wrists as I test them, feeling for weakness. But there isn’t any. Not yet. I could pull free, but it would take dislocating a thumb, and that’s not something I can do on the sly.

“She was dead the moment she walked into that warehouse,” I say woodenly.

“Don’t be sad, Hutch. You did her a favor. I’d have made it messy.” He waits until I force my eyes to meet his before continuing. “But you? You’re not getting the same courtesy.”

I keep my face blank.

Let him gloat. He’s proud he landed a blow, and he’s milking it for all its worth.

That can’t be what I focus on right now. Survival is the only thing that matters. Processing all the shit he told me can come later, when everyone’s safe.

I take in my surroundings—a quick scan through lowered lashes.

Elonzo wasn’t taking any chances. Fourteen armed men. Almost as many hostages, but only a handful even know how to fire a weapon.

Ricky is bleeding out beside me.

Troy is MIA. Either dead or incapacitated. Something else I can’t afford to process right now.

Then there’s Zoey. Fierce, beautiful, brave Zoey in her oversized hoodie, murder in her eyes.

Her breath comes in short, rapid bursts that I mistake for panic until I see the disgust and loathing in her eyes.

She’s looking at me like I’m a monster.

No time to process that.

I force my eyes away, continue cataloging the room.

The cartel soldier closest to me—a lanky kid with tear-drop tattoos—holds his weapon carelessly, almost forgotten at his side.

He’s a weak point in Elonzo’s armor, but attacking him would be like tossing a grenade into a crowded room and hoping it only hits your intended target.

The goal is simple.

I need to get Zoey out of here, so I know she’s safe while I deal with the rest of the hostages.

Elonzo focuses on Zoey, the change in his voice drawing my attention back to him.

“Not your little rat friends, either.”

I can feel my composure cracking, face hardening. “Leave her out of this.”

Elonzo laughs it up, pointing and slapping like we’re at a carnival and I’m a freak on display. It’s over as quickly as it starts, Elonzo serious as he crouches down in front of Zoey.

“Tell me, mamacita . You love this piece of shit?”

I can see it happen before it does, like a fucking omen.

Zoey’s brittle, “Fuck y—” getting cut off by Elonzo’s backhand.

Still, I’m not prepared.

My vision goes white, and I’m struggling against Miguel’s chokehold before I realize I’ve moved. My throat stings, like I yelled, but fuck knows what I said or if I even spoke.

When Zoey forces her eyes open again, there’s blood on her lip and fury in her gaze.

Elonzo turns to face me, spreading his arms wide. “Our boy Hutch has found himself another puta to care about.”

My mind scrambles, pulling together a half-baked plan that feels like a fucking lose-lose any way it pans out. But I’ve got no other option.

This isn’t like it was with Michelle. I won’t be the executioner this time.

If I can get Zoey away from here, get her to safety, maybe it’ll offset Michelle’s death, and go some way to making amends for the monster I’ve become.

But the only way I can think to make that happen feels more monstrous than anything I’ve ever done.

Zoey already thinks I’m a sadist. A freak.

Poor little kitten has no fucking clue what I’m capable of.

When I laugh, she and Ricky both flinch in surprise. Elonzo narrows his eyes, but curiosity makes him pause.

It’s all I need.

“Seems I haven’t made myself clear.” My voice drops to an annoyed rumble. “I never gave a shit about your sister. Michelle was a good fuck, but a lousy girlfriend. Too eager, too desperate, too fucking clingy.”

Elonzo’s eyebrows lift. “Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m not buying it.”

I shrug. “Think you’re the only one who figured out she was working with the DEA? Wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of taking her out.”

Elonzo truly is a sick cunt, because the side of his mouth twitches up in an approving smirk. “Was it worth the bullet it cost you?”

“You know it was.” I hold his perverted gaze as long as I can bear before letting my eyes drift to Zoey. “Know what else was worth it? Her.”

Her expression instantly switches from confusion to horror. “Wh—” she begins, but I cut her off with a sleazy chuckle.

“She fights me like a fucking virgin every time. Trained her that way. Course, if you’re a pussy, she can do some real damage.” I make a point of looking at Luis. There’s murder in his eyes, but he just spits at the ground, too cowed by Elonzo to do anything about the insult.

Elonzo glances over at Luis and laughs, his gun dipping a few inches. “ Marica ? 1 !”

Luis purses his lips like he wants to spit again, but doesn’t.

“I usually gag them when the bitching gets too much,” I carry on, “but this one’s screams only make me harder.”

Elonzo chuckles, shaking his head like we’re swapping war stories. “Michelle told me you were a sick fuck,” he says. He shakes off his mirth, raising the gun back up. “But enough of your stories?—”

“You ever fuck Michelle after you got her back?”

It’s a riskier gamble than betting the farm on a garbage hand. But when you’re holding nothing but a busted flush, you have to go all in, or risk your opponent seeing right through your bluff.

Elonzo’s jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. “Whatchu say t’me, hijueputa ?” he drawls.

Every gun is suddenly pointed at me. “No?” I shake my head. “One of your guys, then?”

Elonzo’s eyes flick around the room, scanning his men’s faces. The silence thickens around us like boiling tar. I wait, hoping I strike it lucky. Elonzo gives Miguel a double-take, like he saw something he didn’t like in his henchman’s eyes. Guilt? Shame? Fear?

That’s my cue.

“Pity. Michelle was one of our top sellers. I trained her well. Just like Zoey over here.”

Miguel only starts breathing again when Elonzo’s eyes return to me. “You tryna set us up on a date, Hutch?”

I shrug. “Call it what you want. I disrespected you, so let me make it up. Take her upstairs, sample the merchandise. If you want more, I’ve got another twenty Angels for you. Trained and ready.”

“We don’t need your girls.” Elonzo gives me a condescending flick of his eyes. “Got our own. And we can bring more over the border if we need them.”

“That why do you keep stealing ours?”

Elonzo suppresses a smile, his mouth squirming. Then he barks out a laugh, shrugging. “What can I say?”

“There’s a reason you prefer our girls. Killing her would be a waste. And that’s coming from someone who’s slit a girl’s throat because her blow job had too many teeth.”

Elonzo studies me for a moment, half-smiling like he’s remembering the punchline of a joke he heard the other day. I keep my eyes trained on him, not giving him any reason to suspect a lie. Something must satisfy him, because he shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me.

“Trading your girl for your life?” He clicks his tongue, tsking me as he shoves his gun behind his belt. “Damn. That shit’s dark, even for you, gringo .”

He goes over to Zoey, who cowers away from him with hunched shoulders. But there’s nothing cowardly in her eyes when they dart my way. They’re venomous, and rightly so. I’ve just painted a target on her back.

Better she hate me and live, than love me and die.

He grabs her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Your pussy as good as he says, mamacita ?”

Zoey doesn’t even hesitate. “Go to hell, you pathetic, cockless piece of?—”

Elonzo’s punch sends her sprawling to the floor with a whimper. I beg her to stay down at the same time as I’m willing her to get up.

She pushes herself up with one elbow, glares at Elonzo, and spits blood all over his white vest.

He steps back, hands up, letting out a bemused, “Oh-ho!” as he stares down at the bloodstains.

“Twenty just like her, huh?” Elonzo shoves his gun behind his belt and points out a few of his men. “Bring her.” He gives the rest of the captives a dismissive glance, lifts his chin at his remaining men. “You know what to do.”

It worked.

Thank fuck.

A handful of his men gather around Zoey, dragging her to her feet. She tries to kick one of them in the shin, but he plants a fist in her side that makes her retch out blood and spittle.

I catalog every feature on his face, making sure I can pick him out of the crowd later.

Elonzo selected some of his best men. Luis, Miguel, two more. I guess Zoey is their reward. If I can contain the situation down here fast enough, then I can save her from the worst of it.

She’s not coming out of this unscathed, but at least she’ll be alive.

I’m hoping that watching me slaughter the men that violate her will serve as some form of apology.

Ricky meets my gaze. His face is white, his lips trembling, but his eyes are alert. He gives his head the smallest shake, and mumbles, “You fucking asshole,” low enough that only I can hear.

I turn away, making deliberate eye contact with our security team where they’re lined up against the wall. Some are too injured to realize I’m planning an attack, but three of our men give me silent confirmation that they’re on board with whatever happens next.

Tear Drop is first. He’s following Zoey’s progress across the room, rifle still dangling forgotten at his side. Still the easiest victim.

Elonzo stops at the doorway, scanning back as if to check if there’s someone else he wants to invite to the party.

The moment his eyes land on me, I realize this has all just been fucking theatrics.

Elonzo played me from the start.

“Front-row seat, gringo .” Elonzo beckons me, his already depraved smile becoming lecherous. “You’re a numbers man. Let’s see if you can count how many dicks your girl can take before she splits open.”