Novels by Spark ville

The scalding water didn't stop the chill.Isabella stood directly under the heavy spray, scrubbing a rough loofah over her forearms until her skin was raw. The water pooling at her feet ran a faint, sickly pink before spiraling down the stainless steel drain.She braced both hands against the wet glass of the shower wall. Her lungs burned.You just pulled a bullet out of a capo on a concrete floor.The sheer insanity of the afternoon threatened to crush her, but she refused to let it. She closed her eyes, locked the trauma into a tight, dark box in the back of her mind, and turned the water off.Ten minutes later, she stood in the massive, slate gray master bedroom. An emerald silk gown lay across the dark duvet. It wasn't a dress; it was camouflage.Isabella pulled the heavy silk over her head. She reached behind her back, her damp fingers slipping uselessly against the tiny metal zipper. The freezing air conditioning hit her wet hair, sending a violent shiver down her spine.The hea

Isabella didn't answer his question right away.She reached into the heavy red toolbox, grabbed a roll of black electrical tape, and quickly bound the bloody piece of fabric tightly over the sabotaged artery to hold the pressure."He's stable to move," Isabella said, wiping her bloody hands on her scrub pants. She looked up at the soldiers holding the flashlights. "Get him to a real hospital before he loses the leg."She stood up. Her knees ached against the hard concrete.She turned to Diego. He was still standing at the edge of the light, waiting for her."I need to speak with you," Isabella said. Her voice was flat.Diego's dark eyes narrowed slightly. He gestured to the open warehouse with a bloody hand. "Habla.""Not here," Isabella said, her tone leaving zero room for negotiation. "Alone."A muscle feathered in Diego's jaw. He wasn't used to being given orders by anyone, let alone a woman in bloody hospital clogs. But he gave a short, sharp nod.He turned and walked away from th

Isabella's fingers cramped. The hot, slick muscle of the sicario's neck fought against her grip, but she refused to let up the pressure on the severed vessel."I said move!" she screamed over the chaos of the warehouse.A heavy, red mechanic's toolbox skidded across the concrete, crashing to a halt against her knees. Javier dropped to a crouch beside her and ripped the metal lid open. It was full of grease stained wrenches and rusted hardware."The needle nose pliers," she commanded, not looking away from the pooling blood. "And the thickest zip tie in there. Get them."Javier slapped the cold metal tool and a black plastic strap into her waiting palm.Isabella looked up at the circle of armed soldiers staring down at her. "Give me the tequila."A soldier ripped a half empty bottle of clear liquor from a nearby crate and handed it down. Isabella bit the cork, spat it onto the concrete, and poured the high proof alcohol directly over the rusted pliers. The sharp, burning stench of the

Isabella stared at the gold barrel of the pen.It was just a piece of metal and ink. But in Diego's hand, it was a loaded gun pointed directly at her brother's head.The massive executive suite was suffocatingly quiet. The only sound was her own ragged breathing and the faint, rhythmic tick of Diego's watch.He didn't rush her. He didn't speak. He just waited, motionless, letting the silence crush the last of her resistance.She reached out.Her fingers were trembling. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop the shake.She took the pen from him. It was heavy. Much heavier than the cheap plastic ones she used to chart patient vitals in the ER. It felt cold against her skin.Isabella looked down at the cream colored paper.Marriage Certificate.The printed words blurred for a second. She blinked hard, forcing her vision to clear. She thought of her brother. She thought of him bleeding out on that warehouse floor weeks ago, of the supplies she had stolen to keep his heart beating

"I can pay for it."Isabella hated how small her voice sounded. She gripped the edge of the mahogany desk, her knuckles turning white. She refused to look away from him."I have money saved. And if you need off the books medical work, I am the best trauma surgeon in this city. I will work off the debt. You won't hear a word of complaint from me."Diego didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He just stared at her as if she were a child trying to explain global economics."Siéntate, Doctora," he commanded softly, gesturing to the heavy leather chair opposite him. "Sit down. Before you pass out on my floor."Isabella didn't want to submit, but her legs were shaking so badly she had no choice. She sank into the chair, the cold leather swallowing her."I don't need your money," Diego said, his voice dropping into a smooth, deadly rhythm. "And I don't need a basement doctor. What you don't understand is who you stole from. Those crates belonged to my distribution network."He tapped a manicure

"Push another milligram of epi and get your hands out of my surgical field before I cut them off!"Isabella screamed the order over the frantic, high pitched wailing of the heart monitor. Sweat stung her eyes under the blinding glare of the surgical lights, and the metallic stench of copper was heavy in the air."Pressure is bottoming out, Doctor! We're losing him!" the anesthesiologist yelled back."I know what the monitor says! Suction!"Isabella plunged her hands blindly into the pooling slick of dark blood filling the civilian's chest cavity. Her jaw was locked tight, her muscles straining as she searched entirely by touch. She shut out the noise. She shut out the panic. The human body was just plumbing and electricity, and right now, she was the master electrician.Got it.Her fingertips brushed the jagged tear in the descending aorta."Clamp."A scrub nurse slapped the stainless steel instrument into her waiting palm. Isabella locked it down over the artery with a sharp, mechani