Page 69 of Falling for the Enemy

I stop moving, stare locking with hers.

You’re going to pay for that one, Hermosa.

Ignoring my hostility, she nods in my direction, the move pain-free now that she's received meds. "He’s a capable man.” She winks. “I’m sure he can clean my side and mend my lip.” Crossing her legs, she gives me a glimpse of her thighs when the blanket covering her lap slips. “In fact, I want him to."

The bastardo doc doesn't wait for me to agree.

He nods and turns, heading for the door as if hellhounds nip at the backs of his ankles. "If your pain worsens or doesn't begin to improve within the next few days, don't be afraid to return,” he says, throat bobbing. "I'll leave a prescription upfront for you to pick up on your way out.”

The door being pulled open gives me a brief glimpse of my men loitering in the hall, along with Ari’s men. Her second-in-command glares at me from the chair where he sits, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. He's still pissed over being told to wait outside by his jefa after she, once again, chose me over him in a move he better get used to.

"Alejandro."

Hands returning to fists, my eyes temporarily close. The sound of my accented name rolling off her tongue is a sweetness I'll never get used to. "Do you plan to help me? Or would you rather head into the hall and extend the pissing contest you and Casper are engaging in?"

Casper. That's his name.

If he doesn't watch his step where she and I are concerned, a ghost is exactly what he'll become. Blocking him from my mind—or else I may truly kill him—I cross the room.

Lips parting the slightest bit, her breath quickens as I reach behind her and untie her gown, allowing it to fall open, revealing her bare chest and injured side.

"Why me?" The sight of her torn flesh is like a crowbar to the face. I should’ve arrived at the warehouse sooner. Then she wouldn’t be hurt. If I can find a way to bug her phone or drop listening devices in her home and vehicle, I’ll have a better shot at intervening in the future. "Tell me, baby."

Her chin rises. "Which time?"

Understanding precisely what she's asking, I open the suture kit and slide on a pair of latex gloves. I won’t be responsible for giving her an infection.

"Both."

"It’s simple.” She shrugs. “I only wish for your touch. No one else's." I'll be a lying hijo de puta if I say her words don't cause my hands to tremble because they do. "As for me calling out your name back at the warehouse, I had an epiphany."

If she didn't already have my attention, she'd have it now.

Lifting her arm, I gently cleanse her side with a disinfecting wipe, taking extra care not to cause her more pain than needed.

My gorgeous girl doesn't even flinch.

"What kind of epiphany?"

She blows out a small breath. "The kind where I realize I may not hate you as much as I should."

I toss the soiled wipe into the trash and retrieve a pair of sterile forceps from the pack. They’re too small for my thick fingers, but I’ll make do. "Is that so?"

Her free hand curls around the waistband of my pants, her nails dangerously close to my cock. "Da, it is." Remaining still, she hisses when I remove the first sliver of wood.

I hate hurting her.

I’d rather chop my dick off.

"That's good, Hermosa,” I reply, pulling a second splinter free. “Because I don't hate you as much as I should either." Hate is the opposite of what I feel for her. "Maybe we won't have to kill one another after all."

Judging by her expression, she remains unconvinced. "That's why you're here though, isn't it?" Her head tilts, those soul-piercing blue eyes never once deviating from mine. "To kill me?"

My hands freeze. "Is that what you think?"

A single dip of her chin.

That's the only reply she offers.

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