Page 13 of Liar

I sip the beer. Pulling a face, I glare at the bottle. How do men drink this piss water?

He makes a noise, and I glance up.Dios,I’ve said it aloud.

It takes everything within my power not to drop the bottle.

He grins at me. And I’m utterly, completely devastated. Whatever is said about this man, whatever badass reputation he has, whatever he’s done, I know better. Because as silly as it sounds, as fast as it happened, there’s a connection between us. I let the warmth of it wash over me. It calms me. It fills me with hope. And oddly enough, it offers me a sense of security, something I haven’t felt in a long, long time. He’ll protect us. Whether or not we’re Lobos.

I grin back at him then, with eyes flashing, take another sip.

“Your name’s Luciana Murillo de Romero?”

“Yes. Just like I said, nothing’s changed,” I layer salt into my sass. Flirting with this sexy man who makes my heart flutter and my thoughts spin wildly inside my head.

“No?” he murmurs. He drinks deeply from the bottle before pinning me with a boldly unapologetic stare. Like he’s blatantly taking measure of me, with an abrupt seriousness any rationally thinking girl might find frightening.

I hold his look, taking measure of him and finding positively nothing lacking, yet still giving back as good as I’m getting.

His lips twitch.

And I laugh before drinking deeply from my beer.

“And here,” he says in a tone so deep, so full of gravel, so possessive, I nearly choke on my beer, “I thought your name was Trouble.”

3

War grips us by the throat then gives us a good shake. No one dares leave home. Loreto is on lockdown while newly-formed alliances fight for control. On one side is what remains of the Mexican Machotes, Los Zetas, and Pitón Salvaje. On the other, The Lobos, Z22, and Sureños.

And the Cobras, who are responsible for my parents’ murder? Diego got his revenge, but at a cost.

“Your brother, Diego.Está loco,” Javier, the Lobo who took me home and who now stands guard over me, says with a huge grin on his face. He’s young, and far too green to be in a cartel. The awe in his tone is unmistakable.

“Hero-worship will get you killed.”

“Your brother singlehandedly took Arturo out of the equation.”

I roll my eyes. Javier’s reaction isn’t surprising. It’s identical to the other Lobos’ reactions over what Diego has done. Incredulous.Awestruck.

“Six men, and he still stabbed Arturo to death. He’s gotcojonesthe size of watermelons, your brother. Boss is impressed.”

Boss ... Bastard ... Hayden.

Bad enough to be indebted to a cartel boss. But to be praised and recognize by one for the blood on your hands? As attractive as the Bastard is, the worst place for my brother and I to be is in bed with any cartel. Staying on the periphery, out of sight and out of mind, is the safest place to be.

Diego, what have you done?

And ... what am I thinking? The mere mention of the man sends tiny shivers through me. Except it’s not fear causing my pulse to speed up and my mind to spin on replay.

I need to shake off our encounter. Purge the memory from my thoughts. End this fascination with him, in the same manner as he ended our meeting, abruptly—with a wave of a hand seconds after finishing his beer.

Forget him.

My first crush shouldn’t be on someone who represents everything I detest.

“Arturo was bleeding out from a stomach wound when we arrived at the Cobra’s compound,” Javier prattles on. “And Diego was fighting off the six men with a truck tailpipe. I’ve never seen someone so brave.”

I march over to the door, frustrated with myself, my wayward thoughts, and Javier’s misplaced admiration of my brother, and snatch it open.

The two Lobos stationed outside turn my way.