Page 85 of Falling for the Enemy

The only option for us is forever.

If she needs time to digest the fact that she and I truly are permanent, then I’ll give it to her. I’m not a total pendejo. But she’ll have to process her emotions with me at her side, as well as in her bed.

I’m not going any-fucking-where.

“You stay at my side as well,” she replies as if she can read my racing thoughts word for word. “You never know when I’ll need to shoot someone in order to keep your spine free of bullets.”

Smartass little witch.

“You’re never going to let me live—”

“¡Jefe, vámonos!” Christian shouts from where he stands thirty feet ahead, leaning against one of the Kings’ armor-plated Suburbans. “The ghost says we’re clear!”

“You heard the man, Jefe,” Ari says, her taunting tone one she’ll pay for later. Whether with her pussy or mouth, I haven’t decided. “Casper says we’re clear; therefore, we ride.”

Pulling down the designer sunglasses that rest atop her head, she turns and hops into the passenger seat as I round the front of the vehicle, Benito and Christian heading my way.

A foot from the driver’s door, her bull catches my eye. Standing by the black SUV in front of us, he nods to my woman.

“Take care of her.” His blue eyes drill into mine. “If something happens because you fail to protect—”

I’ve had enough of his shit.

“How many times do we need to do this?” How I haven’t killed this cabrón yet is anyone’s guess. “She belongs to me, not you. No matter how badly you wish for the opposite—”

The humorless laugh that spills from his lips silences me. Temporarily. “You think it’s Ari that I want? If so, you haven’t been paying attention, Jefe,” he mocks, further pissing me off. “It's not my Pahkan whose heart I wish to own.” He pauses. “It’s her sister’s.”

Not much takes me by surprise.

His unexpected confession admittedly does.

Followed by the relief that rolls through me.

The hijo de puta could be lying, but he’s not. I’d bet my life on it. The hunch is one I feel bone-deep after an array of light bulbs begin to flash in my head, each of them leading me to the same conclusion.

He protected and guarded Ari out of duty.

He built Mina a ballet studio out of love.

It seems I may not have to kill him after all.

Deciding to bury the hatchet, I nod. “I’ve got my woman’s back. You have my word.” Running my hand through my hair, I exhale. “Watch your own once we get on the property. Stefano’s a worthless bastardo, but his rabid mischief of gutter rats will swarm to protect him.”

By lifting his chin, all traces of anger disappearing from his face, he seemingly accepts the rare olive branch I just extended. He then turns and climbs into the King-filled SUV next to the bomb-loving enforcer.

Once I’m behind the wheel of Ari’s SUV, she reaches across the console and curls her soft hand around my chin, turning my face to hers as I start the ignition. “Spasiba,” she whispers, thanking me. “That meant a lot, Krasavchik.”

“If all it takes is making peace with someone to ensure you continue looking at me the way you are right now,” I say, pulling her hand from my jaw and kissing her knuckles, “then give me a list of names, baby.”

From the backseat where he and Benito now sit, Christian gags. At times, like now, his behavior resembles that of a sixteen-year-old girl rather than the twenty-three-year-old cartel lieutenant he is.

He and Anna would get along perfectly.

Ignoring his bullshit, along with the smug look Benito wears, I lace Ari’s fingers with mine and shift the transmission into drive. “Let’s go kill some Italians, Hermosa.”

My woman’s face lights up.

We’re a twisted match made in Hell.

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