Page 30 of Life

“Let me go!” I scream directly in his face like a flailing banshee.

“No way, Spicy. Not a chance! I’m not letting you near that slimy fucker.”

After spending an inordinate amount of time struggling, I finally realize he’s not budging even a little bit. “Are you going to let me go?”

“Are you going to slow your California roll?”

I fake a smile.

“You think I don’t know what you look like when your smile’s genuine? Babe, don’t confuse me with your dumb ex.”

“Are you referring to your brother?” I seethe.

He glares. “No.”

“Didn’t think so. Watch what you say to me.”

“Fair enough. Now can we talk about this without you going off half-cocked?”

“I don’t have a cock!” I bite back, my wit in full form.

“You could have one in about two point five seconds if you wanted, babe. I’ve made it absolutely clear I’m at your service.”

“Cazador…” I warn.

“Yeah, babe?” He smiles.

“You disgust me.” My voice is low and full of malice, making it obvious exactly how I feel about being restrained and not allowed to do or go where I want.

“That’s fine. I’ll wear you down.”

I sigh and go completely limp in his arms.

“Ah, now there’s my nice girl. See, I knew there was a nice side to you. Listens to authority figures. Pro column,” he says before standing up and righting us both. “Now to make dinner. Hope you like chicken and rice. You can make the salad.”

I snarl my reply. “I don’t cook.”

He yanks my arm, pushes me ahead of him, and smacks the rounded part of my ass cheek and thigh. Enough to sting and entice. “Hey!” I jump out of the way, moving toward the kitchen.

“Nobody can fuck up a salad. Not even you.”

Yep. Doesn’t know me at all. “If it involves food of any kind, you’d be surprised.”

“I’m rarely surprised.”

“Give me time.” I smirk, trying to make a point and catch him off guard.

Instead, I’m the one caught off guard by his next reply.

“Plan to, babe. That’s what I’m doing here, and I’ve got all the time in the world to make you mine.”

Chapter Eight

Alittle overa week has flown by with nothing remarkable happening with Antonio. Eli and Chase’s men have been keeping an eye on him, but for all intents and purposes, Antonio’s been a good little parolee. Reports from the guys are he gets to work on time, goes straight home, and meets up with his parole officer as mandated by the court. To any law enforcement officer, it would appear he was following the rules. And Eli’s scare tactic of visiting him at work must have hit the mark. However, I did not buy it, because I know exactly what Antonio is capable of. He’s a meticulous, calculating, and most importantly, patient man. And no way was I going to share that with Batman and his comrades.

Nope. Instead, when Eli leaves today to do a drive-by of Antonio’s workplace, I’m going to pack my shit and get the hell out of dodge.

No one deserves to be cooped up in a house—albeit a large house—with a grumpy, testosterone-filled bounty hunter with nothing but getting laid on the brain. All week, I made it a point to wear more clothing than was actually comfortable so he wouldn’t ogle. Of course, he did not follow that same courtesy. No, Eli liked to walk around clad only in a pair of basketball shorts or his flannel pajama bottoms. I swear the man has those thin cotton things in every variety of plaid under the sun. And each and every single one of them is so sexy I have to practice Bree’s yoga breathing techniques in order to ward off the fire burning inside me. But I do it. For Tommy. Because it would be wrong to hop into bed with his brother within three weeks of burying him.

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