Milo’s mind went from calm concentration to incredible anger when he heard Toro’s voice. He’d seen enough of girls being mistreated – between his own knowledge and Ruta’s descriptions as they traveled – to be utterly enraged. He’d seen everything he needed to see for that. But Tess had been hurt, and while he’d hated Toro for the other girls, he hated Toro more intensely for this. Perhaps it was indecent to be more enraged on behalf of the woman he cared about, but perhaps it was just human nature. There wasn’t an easy way to tell, and all in all, he didn’t much care. He turned slowly, his hands curling into fists.
“Interesting isn’t what I’d call it,” Milo said. It was easy to keep the rage out of his voice; he’d spent years practicing. He’d watched his last brother murdered just a day before, and had lived in total terror for the last several hours, worried about what would happen to his woman and his baby. If not for training and practice, he’d be shouting. “I call it, you’re about to be killed for what you’ve done.”
Okay, that was a pretty cheesy line, as these things went, but he hadn’t practiced for this moment. He’d been focused on calming Tess down, reassuring her that she was safe. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might not want those things from him. Not yet, Ruta had warned him. She will want your hands in time, but trust me when I say that she may need the hands of another wounded woman first. Try not to be offended, if it comes to that.
He’d promised to try. At least Toro gave him something else to think about.
“It will be interesting when she has to watch you beaten to death by my men,” Toro said.
He pulled a cell phone off his belt clip and dialed a number. Milo kept silent as Toro lifted the phone to his ear. He delighted in the expression on the obsequious man’s face as whatever guard captain or security chief he was trying to call didn’t pick up. He tapped a button, presumably to end the call, then tapped another number. The same thing happened. His face went red, but whether it was with anger or fear, Milo couldn’t tell.
“All your guards are down, Toro,” Milo said. “There’s the bastard you brought in here, but…”
Toro turned and saw one of Ruta’s men choking out the last guard Toro had. Toro’s face went redder. “What—”
“How it happened doesn’t matter,” Milo said. “The point is this. We walk out with the girl. You walk away from the drug trade. I’ve spoken to Silk Road, and they will even allow you to keep the wealth you have amassed. But you don’t deal again, not in drugs or in flesh. You do, and I will personally find you, and I will personally cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat.”
“You spent so long trying to find me this time,” Toro blustered out, “what makes you think you’ll have such an easy time finding me again?”
“Because this time you won’t have a master assassin like Bastille covering your tracks.”
Milo had seen the documentation himself. Bastille had erased records of credit cards, masked cell phone signals, done a thousand things that an idiot like Toro would never have thought to do. Bastille was trying to draw Milo out so he could have his revenge. Without that, Milo would have dealt with Toro the day after he left the penthouse.
The man kept trying to puff himself up, but it was such a clearly foolish effort that Milo couldn’t even be bothered to care. Another man he might have threatened. Toro, he just stared up and down and tried not to laugh.
“Which will it be, you miserable excuse for a human being?”
“Fine,” Toro spat.
Milo’s eyes narrowed; he was almost positive that Toro had no intention of doing either of the things he had just agreed to, but given the choice between murdering a man in front of the mother of his children and coming back here to end Toro in the middle of the night, he would easily and happily choose the second option.
Ruta had found Tess clothes that weren’t falling to pieces and had helped Tess into them. Tess was still visibly shaken, but she was moving under her own power now. He’d take her to the hospital first thing, and they could make sure the baby was fine. Tess looked up then and gave him a shaky smile, and he felt something lighten in his heart.
Which, because Toro was a fool, was when he came at Milo.
It was an idiot move; a moment before, cool and impassive Milo might have just stepped aside and used an armbar to drop him to the floor – let the other man run himself into Milo’s fist, break his nose, and move on. Milo who was in love had no such kindness in him. Milo in love was Milo protective. He let Toro run himself into Milo’s fist, yes, and he broke the son-of-a-bitch’s nose, sure, but that wasn’t where it ended. He followed Toro, spouting blood, down to the ground. He let his knee drop onto Toro’s crotch, hearing the man give a wet scream as his genitals were smashed under Milo’s knee. He slapped Toro, hard, with the back of his hand making blood spray in the direction of the door. He heard Tess give a little scream, and he didn’t care. Ruta had her. He had this. He needed to deal with this.
Toro tried to punch him; Milo caught his arm and with a simple twist, dislocated his elbow. After that, there wasn’t any more fighting. Milo had seen the bruises that lined Tess’ arms and legs, the dark purple mark on her cheek. He didn’t care whether Toro had put those on her, or one of his men had done the deed itself, it had happened under Toro’s watch; Toro needed to pay.
Milo beat the man until he stopped moving, and then he beat him a little more for good measure. He felt two hands on his shoulders, and his fists stilled. He came back into himself, and he went utterly still. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted Tess to see him in any sort of state, but like this? Beating a man to death with his fists? He felt the blood now cooling on his face, the wetness dripping off his hands. Some of it was his; he felt where his own knuckles had broken open on Toro’s bones. Never hit a man with a closed fist, they said, and it was true, but he hadn’t cared. Some things were more important than they were smart.
His head hung down; he didn’t want Tess to see him like this. Shooting a man was one thing, but this? Blood-spattered and enraged? Not like this.
“I told him,” he heard Tess say. There was nothing angry or disgusted in her voice, just a calm, quiet surety. “I told him you’d kill him with your bare hands.”
Something in him lurched with a quiet, desperate hope.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”