Page 93 of Bastard

My gaze drops to his pants.

Dios mío. He’s hard.

“I meant what I said. I’m done with waiting. After we return to the village, I’m fucking you inside the hut. After dinner, we’re going to make fast work of the basin. And tonight ... if you can still take it ... I’m going to feast on that tender pussy of yours until you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.”

My mouth falls open. The man has gone completely loco. I mean, what can I possibly say after that?

“Do you still love me?” he demands.

A knife. Straight to the heart. Love. And he’s initiating this discussion.

“Hayden, what’s come over you?”

His pocket makes a loud, buzzing noise.

“I’m a desperate man. Say it, damn you. I’ll do anything to hear you say it.”

“Anything?” I pause. “Say it first.”

He pins me with his eyes. So fierce. So possessive.

Time stands still as I breathlessly wait for him to respond. To break my heart. Or offer me that one elusive thing that I’m dying to hear once again.

His pocket buzzes again. With a curse, he digs out his cell phone. “What is it?” he demands.

I watch a thunderous expression cross his face.

Seconds later, gunfire erupts across the savannah.

34

Hand in hand, we race across the grassland. I’m surprised he hasn’t ordered me back to the village. Though I suppose his reasoning has less to do with my ability to fight and more to do with the uncertainty of if the militants have successfully made their way into the village. The exchange of gunfire suggests they haven’t, that Hayden’s men are doing what he promised they’d do and are protecting the villagers from another attack. I cling onto this thought as we race toward the skirmish, needing to believe it’s so.

Hayden slows and gestures with his hand for us to shelter behind a small knoll. We’re about a hundred yards away from the cluster of trees that camouflages the battle taking place. Between us lies a flat expanse of tundra that, except for a lone decaying elephant corpse about a yard away, has no options for coverage.

Hayden makes a call.

“Thirty men to start,” he repeats. “Sixteen still active.” He pauses to listen to whatever is being said on the other end, then in a firm tone I know so well, orders, “Leave one alive and question him. Report back when it’s done.”

Disconnecting the call, he slides his phone back inside his pocket.

“What now?” I ask.

“We wait for my man to call back.” He stares at me, and with something akin to fascination I watch as his expression softens. “I’m still hard for you.”

I gasp, then grin.

“I’m never going to get enough of you, you understand that?”

“So, this isn’t a short term fling?”

He grunts. “Short term? Nothing about our relationship will ever be short term.”

“That’s not what you led me to believe four years ago.”

“Luciana. Look at where we are right now? Do you really think I’d want this kind of life for you? You’ll always be in danger. Violence is a huge part of the work we do.”

“You forget where I grew up. Besides, Diego works for TORC, yet you don’t hold the same reservations for him.”