I’m hard for you.

Daniel slammed his fist into the man’s stomach and he cried out, attempting to bend over to protect himself. Except he couldn’t. He was strung up on the makeshift cross Toro had constructed. Arms and legs restrained.

And you’re hard for me.

He struck the man again and again, knuckle dusters sending blood flying.

Me gusto tú boca.

Daniel went after the man’s face, pounding away until he no longer felt his hands. He couldn’t get away from that persistent voice in his head. Stavros Konstantinou’s voice.

You’re hard for me.

Aroused by Stavros Konstantinou.

He no longer saw the face of Chucho. He was punching Stavros, blooding him, pulverizing him in an effort to stop those words. It was one thing to lie out loud, but inside his head there was no escaping the truth anymore.

He was aroused by Stavros Konstantinou. By the way he spoke. The way he fought. The way he bled. The way he looked at Daniel.

Petra’s killer.

That anticipation he’d experienced, the fire in his belly when he thought about Stavros. It had a name. Not anger. Not hatred.

Want.

His chest threatened to cave in on him, and his arms grew heavy, so he stopped and yanked off the knuckle dusters before flinging out a hand to Toro who stood silently at his back. Daniel hadn’t come for this. Toro was beyond capable of doing the dirty work, but he’d needed it.

The spilling of blood was supposed to calm him, but it made him think about Stavros licking his blood off that knife.

The bat Toro handed over settled into his palm, and he gripped it then swung.

Chucho’s head snapped back. He’d long stopped screaming and begging for his life. Now he simply made low, moaning sounds. His blood scented the air, strong and acrid when mixed with the piss that soaked the front of his shorts, the only article of clothing Toro allowed him to wear.

Daniel put every frustration into his swings. Hitting Chucho everywhere, head to toe. He was about to die, and Daniel saw it the second Chucho gave up. His body went limp. He was a mangled mess of red.

Done.

But Daniel couldn’t stop.

He kept going, blood coating the bat and loosening his grip. He couldn’t stop.

I’m hard for you.

Me gusto tú boca.

Petra’s killer.

There was betrayal. Then there was this. Stavros took Petra from him. Stole her life, stole their life. Their memories.

Yet Daniel wanted to touch him. Wanted to do all the things Stavros had spoken of in order to hear him beg. He was losing control. Losing his mind. Losing Petra all over again.

“Tío.” Toro grabbed his arm, stopping him from going after Chucho’s face again. “We need them to recognize him.”

Much like the one before him, Chucho’s demise would send a message. And his body parts would be dispersed to the different members of The Ghost Gang’s hierarchy. If they could identify the victim.

Right now Chucho was a pulverized mess.

Daniel wanted to keep going.

Beat him into a puddle. A surrogate for the one he wanted.

Wanted to hurt. Maim. Kill. His captive.

Stavros was in his head constantly now. Throaty voice goading Daniel into kneeling for him. He’d set out to break the Greek and instead the captive was turning out to be the captor.

“Boss?”

He jerked away from Toro’s tight grip and dropped the bat. It hit the floor with a loud echo, and he lifted his gaze to find his nephew watching him warily.

The infamous Daniel Nieto was falling apart. Was that what Toro saw? Because it was the way Daniel felt. Like his world was crumbling again. Going up in smoke again.

“You are coming undone, my friend.”

Syren had seen this coming, why hadn’t Daniel?

The Greek had been the architect of that the last time.

He was back to finish the job, helped along by Daniel himself.

He turned back to Toro. “Do it.”

His nephew nodded then got the buzz saw. Together, they went to work dismembering the body.

Legs, from the hip down, with the tattoos declaring him part of Felipe’s organization. Hands, cut from the shoulders with even more tattoos. The gold rings on the fingers of his right hand.

Torso, with the healed knife and bullet wounds.

And finally, Chucho’s head, eyes still open.

Daniel took pleasure in this, dealing with his enemies. It was a love he got from his father. The Nieto patriarch had settled his scores in much the same manner, and he’d taken along his sons so they could witness it firsthand. Antonio could handle it just fine, but his passion had been with the numbers side of things.

Daniel was the one who got aroused by the sight of blood and anguished screams. His father saw it and exploited it. Before he took over for the old man, he’d been the one settling the scores. Killing for the organization. Spilling the blood. Soaking up the screams.

He got a high from it, and he refused to feel bad. His wife, she understood him. She kept that beast on a short leash, releasing him only when she felt it absolutely necessary. And afterward, she’d make love to him. Let him touch her with his bloodied hands, leaving red fingerprints all over her body.

“Done.”

He swallowed and dragged a hand over his face, wiping away any traces of the turmoil inside him as he faced Toro again. “Handle it,” he said. “You know what’s next.”

“Sí, jefe.”

Looking at the concern on his nephew’s face eased some of the stress inside him. “What is it?” he asked. “What is on your mind?”

Toro shrugged, gaze searching. “Something is wrong.”

Perceptive. Much like his father. “What makes you say that?”

Hands shoved into his pockets, Toro remained silent for a while. He was as tall as Daniel, as tall as his father. The Nietos were tall men. Along with his brown eyes, every feature of his face was Nieto, from the sharp jaw to the nose and stubborn chin.

“I don’t know,” Toro finally answered. “You seem…angry.”

If it were anyone else questioning him, Nieto would have handled it differently. But this was Toro. This was family. He trusted his nephew’s judgment. “I am angry.” He chose to go with the truth. “But not at you.”

Toro nodded with his lips pressed into a hard line. “What is it?” His gaze narrowed. “Problems with the Greek?”

Toro had been there to help Daniel drug Stavros and get him from Lisbon to the States. He’d also been the one to offer up Wilhelmina’s pricey and very specific services, but Daniel made sure to keep him out of the loop on everything else having to do with his captive. He didn’t want any of it falling back on Toro’s shoulders.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” He threw an arm around Toro’s shoulders. “How is your mother?”