Dark Vengeance Kristi Belcamino (read me a book .txt) 📖

of your wretched life maimed and disfigured and unable to fuck or even take a piss without crying in agony.”

The voice paused and then said, ““You have two days. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said.

X hung up the phone. He already had a plan. He would stay the night in Padang and have dinner with Ms. Mercedes. And then he’d go back to the island and get the girl. She wouldn’t leave Indonesia. Not yet. She still had unfinished business on the island.

Her dog.

The dog was the answer.

That had been the only thing the girl had asked about.

Not very smart.

She had revealed her Achilles’ heel without even blinking.

Stupid.

During the ferry ride over, she’d threatened him. She said if her dog had a scratch on him, she would escape, and then come back to kill him in the worst way possible. If he managed to be gone before she returned, she said, she’d spend the rest of her life hunting him down and making him suffer a long, agonizing death.

She would go back for the dog. And he would be waiting.

He’d called Thom back at the house, but the idiot hadn’t answered. He suspected the bodyguard had passed out. He knew the man drank too much. Recently, it had gotten out of hand. He couldn’t afford to have a drunkard on staff. It wasn’t that bad when he wasn’t home, but what if he was sleeping in his bed and Thom got so drunk he didn’t hear an intruder? Not cool. He’d fire him when he returned home.

For a split second, Thom not answering his phone sent a small alarm through him. Was there any chance Rose had returned and somehow managed to hurt the bodyguard? He laughed. Impossible. Thom was ex Special Forces. She was just a dumb girl. Like Kue and his brother Khan, he was the baddest of the bad.

X shot the bodyguard a text telling him to spread the word—$5,000 for the dog—alive. For now.

Once he had the dog, he would have Rose.

It wouldn’t take long. Especially if the dog’s life was in danger.

And he would make sure the dog’s life was in danger.

12

I wheeled my motorcycle off the ferry and then stood with my hands on the handlebars looking both directions.

I didn’t even really know where to start.

My first stop would be the red-light district. That’s where the other girl, Joan, would be.

I swung by a boat with a fisherman working on his nets and greeted him, hoping he spoke English.

“Hello,” I said.

He grunted up at me. He had a wary look on his face. I couldn’t blame him.

“I’m looking for a girl who might be in some trouble. I heard she might be in a bad part of town. Can you tell me how to get there?”

He immediately frowned. “No place for you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, he spoke English.

I nodded agreeably. “I know. But it’s no place for a girl, either. Can you please help me?”

Five minutes later I was on the road, my motorcycle humming beneath me, the cold night air making me pull the collar of my jacket up.

Soon the neat and tidy shops fell away and I came into an area where trash was piled on street corners and people filled the sidewalks. Music piped out of several small businesses with lit neon signs.

I killed the engine on my motorcycle and hopped off, wheeling it slowly to the side of the road, examining each face I passed. Then I saw some scantily clad girls and women standing at the entrance of a red-lit alley.

As I approached, a woman who looked like she was in her late thirties, put her hand in front of a younger woman, warning her or holding her back. Then the woman came up to me alone.

She wore a tight black miniskirt and low cut red T-shirt so thin you could see her nipples through it. She had full lips the same red color as the shirt and deep black eyes.

“Fifty dollar,” she said.

I smiled. “I’ll double that. But all I need is information. I’m looking for someone.”

She frowned and her head swiveled, her black hair swinging, as she looked down the street in both directions.

“Not here,” she said.

“Okay. Where?”

“You pretend you like me,” she said and then giggled loudly, grabbing my hand. Her hand was silky soft and I could feel her long nails pressing into my palm.

Steering my small bike with one hand, I followed her down the alley.

She opened a door and gestured for me to go inside. “Leave bike.”

I shook my head. “Bike comes with me.”

She frowned but then looked over my shoulder.

I turned to see what she was looking at. It was a man, a small man blending into the shadows. The lights only caught his face. I saw him nod.

The woman held the door open while I wheeled my bike inside. There was a small hallway and then stairs. “Bike is safe here.”

I leaned it against the wall.

Glancing back, I saw the man was still standing there, watching us. She nodded at him and closed the door.

“We can talk here,” she said as soon as the door closed. “We don’t have to go to bedroom. Some men stay right here with me.”

Lovely, I thought looking around at the dank space.

“I’m looking for a girl named Joan. She came over from the islands. She isn’t quite right in the head,” I said. “It’s not her fault, though.”

I somehow felt compelled to add that last bit in.

“I know her.”

“Good. Where is she?”

“A house at the end of the street—blue with brown door. It has boards but you get in from the alley. One board fake. Lift and get inside.”

“Thank you.” I handed her two fifties instead of a hundred-dollar bill. That way she could keep one of them and hand the other over to her pimp. “One for just you.”

She smiled and tucked it into the waist of her skirt.

I headed toward the door. She reached for my arm.

“Please. We must