Page 100 of Hit Man

I brace myself for what I’ve learned often follows.

He doesn’t disappoint. “You didn’t listen to me,chava. Why are you still here? Do you have any idea what might have happened to you? In a Lobos warehouse? In Neza itself? You’re enough to drive a manloco.”

Stop. Don’t poke the devil and think you’ll live to tell about it. “It doesn’t take much,” I inform him, rejecting common sense completely.

This stops him cold. Matter of fact, his mouth hangs open, stuck somewhere between chewing me out and snapping it closed in an attempt to hold back the rush of curses I’m expecting to follow.

He’s wearing a jacket with a wolf and crossbones.

Dangerous.

Handsome as sin. Built for sin.

“Why are you dressed like you belong in that cartel?”

“What I do is no concern to you.”

I blink.Ouch.So in other words, mind my own business.

“Pendejo.”

His eyes narrow. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Are you threatening me?” Now I’m pissed.

“You’re in my way.”

I straighten my body, my spine stiffening with my displeasure. “How about I get out of your way for good?” I spin on my heels.

“Stop. Don’t you goddamn get it? It’s not safe here for you.”

The nerve of him.

I stalk forward and kick the coffee-table leg, narrowly missing his shin. “You think I don’t know that? If it hadn’t been for that low-life scumbag Maxwell . . .” I’m so angry thinking about whatthatman has done, I struggle for air. My money, my dreams, my . . . hope.

In a blink, he’s up and at me, clasping hold of my upper arms and forcing me back against the side of the building.

“I’ll get your money back.” His lips inches away from mine. Close, close enough to kiss. “But I’ll say this once more. Leave. Mexico. City.”

“I wish I could. But there’s a small problem. My passport is not within my possession. I tried to get a replacement at the embassy but Juan Carlos’s men were stationed outside.”

“Mierda,” he murmurs, as he stares deeply into my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have worked something out.”

“I tried to but you cut me off and insulted me.”

“Now I’m pressed for time . . .”

“I’ll hang low. I’ll play it safe until a replacement can be arranged. I’ll stay in bed all day, every day if I have to.”

His eyes go dark, like coffee minus the cream. “I’d like to give you a reason to do so. How I’d like to stay in bed with you with me deep inside you, all day, every day.” He draws his head impossibly closer, and licks his lips.

My own lips part, unintentionally inviting him in for a taste.

He shakes his head. “You’re the worst kind of distraction. Exactly what I don’t need right now.” But he doesn’t pull away, and his eyes fill with hot, unbridled lust.

My heart races, adrenaline still pumping through my veins, urging me into action. I need him. I need to feel him. I need him to take me, fuck me, drive away my fears while I’m in the safety of his embrace. After another near-death experience, I desperately want to feelalive. I step toward him until we’re barely touching.

He cocks his head, pretending I have no effect on him. But I’m close enough to see his nostrils flare. I rake my eyes down his body and back up.