Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
The sound of tires screeching on pavement is our only warning. I toss the bags to the side and dive into her, knocking her to the ground just as the sound of gunshots explodes around us. My first thought is to keep her safe, to shield her. If anything fucking happens to her, the world will burn.
My men snap into position. Gunshots ring as we scramble for cover.
One, two, three men are on the attack.
I’m gonna guess Carlos got the word.
The first man goes straight for the jugular, his gun aimed in my direction. My shot hits him straight between the eyes. As he falls to the ground, I nail a second. The third is a fighter though. He manages to dive beneath the oncoming fire and lunges straight at Renata. I roll to him and pull the trigger, but someone grabs me from behind, and my shot goes wide.
I try to keep my gaze on Renata, but whoever’s got me won’t let me go. I elbow their ribcage and hear them scream in frustration, but I can’t get out from under them in time.
Renata’s scream rents the night air. She’s fighting like a rabid cat, scratching and clawing. Finally, I get a grip on the man who’s got me. I roll over on him and deck him, and my gun skitters to the side. I hit him again and again, blood spurting onto the ground. His eyes are swollen shut, and his lip is bloodied. I lift his head and slam it onto the concrete.
I quickly look around us. Everyone’s down. Renata’s bleeding heavily from a slashed cut on her arm. I bend, lift my gun, and shoot the passed-out asshole between the eyes once, twice, three times.
“I think he might be dead,” Renata deadpans, her lips pursed. She’s holding a hand to her bleeding arm, blood seeping through her fingers.
“You never know. You alright?”
She rolls her eyes. “Got a little paper cut, but I’m otherwise fine. Sorry about that. I suspected someone would attack us, so I wanted to delay. If they attacked when we were hitting the air, we’d never get out of here.”
I gawk at her before responding. “You did that shit because you thought someone was coming?”
She frowns. “Yeah. You have a Band-Aid?”
I blink and stare at her arm. “Jesus, woman. Put your hand down.” I kneel in front of her and assess her arm. “Are you insane?” My voice is harsher than I intend, but she doesn’t flinch. If anything, she stands taller, daring me to do something about it. And fuck, I want to. I want to bend her over my knee and show her just how fragile that defiance is.
“Why?” she asks, looking down.
“Because you referred to this gaping wound as a paper cut and asked for a Band-Aid.”
“It’s not that bad. And can I have a sense of humor, or no?”
I growl in response.
“Please translate that into English. Or Spanish.”
“I’ll translate that,” I say wryly. “My wife is going to learn to behave herself. And if she doesn’t, I’ll make sure she does.”
A smile plays on her lips.
“Hold still. It’s not deep, but it needs to be cleaned. We need to get to the plane now.”
“Aw, handsome, I’m so glad you’re with me. I never would’ve known what to do next.”
I narrow my eyes. “Ahhh, I get it now,” I say as I get to my feet and lift her up.
“Get what?” she asks. God, she’s a mess, but even now, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“You’re taunting me. I see right through your little fucking games. You want to push me, see how far you can go. But be careful, Renata. Push too hard, and you’ll find out the hard way exactly how far I’m willing to take this.”
Her jaw drops open.
“I see where this is going, how you’re going to act the brat and defy me, so I turn you over my knee.” I nod as we step onto the plane. “Fair, fair. But really, honey, you didn’t have to play me. You could’ve just asked.”
I love the way her cheeks flame pink. “I do not! And you will not!”
I snort to myself. “Now who’s lying? On the plane. We need to clean you up.” I don’t need any lie-detection skills to read her this time.
With a quick, haunted look around her, her eyes dart every which way before she moves, looking as if she expects an army to attack us before we leave. It makes me uneasy myself, so I take another minute, weapon drawn, to scout the area. But we’re clear.
This attack seemed spontaneous.
The sooner we get out of here, the better.
And we won’t come back until I personally stare into the lifeless eyes of Carlos Carerra.
“I’m dripping blood everywhere,” she says, her voice choked. I can’t help it—the sound of her vulnerability undoes the knot in my chest.