My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

There’s something therapeutic about their fear—the horror as the truth smacks them in the face.

They’ll never walk out of here alive.

“Malcolm—”

“Quiet.” Turning the heel against his mouth, I feel another tooth break. “Just listen for a bit, and while you do, come up with a better excuse than that.”

Gasps turns to gurgles. The two shitty brown eyes beneath me widen, and his face begins to turn an unhealthy shade of purple beneath all the drying crimson staining his flesh. Tears fall—both brothers making different noises of despair—while Javier and the others in the room stand back.

For two minutes we wait. Listen to the final moments of a man choking on his life’s essence and lack of air. It’s a haunting sound to most, while I find it rather soothing.

His death means my wife is at peace.

Ron squirms, his movements that of a headless snake during its final moments, and then nothing. No rising chest. No choking cries. Silence.

And only then do I turn to fully face the younger brother, eyes on his. “You have two minutes to make me change my mind, Tillis. Speak.”

“I-I made a mistake.”

“Carry on.” Taking the few steps between us, I stand beside Javier and hold out a hand. Robbie eyes our exchange and pales as a solid gold blade is placed in my palm. It’s a favorite of mine and has met many of my guests over the years. Specks of their blood still linger on the handle, and I leave it as such in remembrance of each one. “Keep talking and stand.”

“The chains don’t allow me to, and my leg can’t hold me with this wound.”

I nod at Javi who undoes each chain, then retakes his place beside me. “What’s your next excuse? And before you mention your injury again, keep in mind that I won’t hesitate to decorate this floor with your brain matter.”

Swallowing hard, he nods. “As you can understand, Mr. Asher, I’m scared.”

“A rational feeling, but one that won’t change the outcome. Now stand.” Shaky legs follow my command, and a thin body holds still. “Speak, Tillis. Tell me why I should let you live?”

“Her brother owed us money, and we owed that amount to someone else. Gambling debts. We owed a pimp for the use of a prostitute my brother favored that we share.”

Snapping my fingers, Javi takes his chair and moves it out of the way where he retakes his seat. “And...”

“People came after us, and we figured that she’d be easy pickings. The girl has without fail been pretty afraid of her own shadow since I met her.”

“Is she, now?”

“Well, she was.”

“Was?” I feign surprise, but I know the little demon that sleeps beside me each night quite well. She’ll never resort to violence first but will pull the trigger if it involves someone she loves. London would kill for me, just like I’d bathe the world in blood before laying it at her dainty feet. “Tell me, Robbie. What happened when you approached my wife outside of her doctor’s office after following her for two weeks? And don’t lie; I’ve always been but a few steps behind you two idiots.”

Tillis swallows hard, his eyes shifting toward his brother’s dead body a few steps from us. He’s grown pallid from blood loss, his speech a tiny bit slurred. “He spoke while I stood there taking her in. She’s always been beautiful, and I remembered her father’s proposition in exchange for the money. Her body for a year in exchange for...son of a bitch!” Robbie bellows, screaming out in agony as I slash a line across his face from right cheek to left eye. The knife slices through his flesh like butter, creating a flap that overflows with sanguine fluid.

“Your first mistake was thinking of her in any way other than being mine. Of being touchable to a piece of excrement like you.” His hand grips the skin of his flappy cheek, pressing it in place to stem the blood flow. “Your second error was attempting to touch her hand that day.” The next strike is to embed the knife under his chin and up through his tongue. I don’t force it to go upward, just enough to stop his mouth from running and trying to sell lies after each excuse. No more. “Now, grip the tip of your dick with one hand and pull it away from your body. Do it now before the price becomes higher.”

There are unintelligible grumbles. Whimpers and crying.

But the motherfucker is smart enough to do as I say. There is some common sense left in him.

Eyes on his terrified ones, I hand over my knife and wait. The command is pretty obvious.

His lust for what’s mine has brought us here.

“You have five minutes.” While I’ve been speaking with Robbie, Javier found me a seat like his and placed it to his left. He’s holding out a wet rag and a bottle of water, the latter I drink down in three gulps after wiping my hands clean. “Thanks. Where are they now?”

“They’re picking up special gifts. Mariah threatened me to leave her alone or else.”

“She’ll shoot?” I snort. That woman still threatens him on a daily basis.

“Worse.”

“What is worse?”

“Don’t ask questions you’d hate to hear the answer to.”

I shudder. “Noted.”

As soon as the word leaves my lips, an agonizing scream rends the air and a wet thud meets the cold floor. The small appendage Robbie called a cock is at his blood-soaked feet and his body sways, legs caving in on him a few seconds before his body meets its final resting place while alive.

He shivers, his body curling in on itself from the pain as more of his life’s essence pools around his body.

He’ll bleed out beside his brother. The