Page 11 of Savage Hero

The baby starts fidgeting and making cooing noises. I peek at her and give her a sympathetic smile. “Didn’t think your day was going to fuck out this badly did you, Princess?” I sigh and wash my hands over my face. “Yeah, me neither.”

I should have left the moment Caesar walked into the restaurant. Why am I so stubborn? I sink onto the edge of the tub and rest my face in my hands. Enough wallowing. I have to get myself out of this mess, and fast.

Caesar wasn’t kidding when he threatened to feed us to his dogs.

How could it all have gone so wrong? I could have,should have,escaped when the bullets were flying, but I chose to hang around and try to save a baby whose life was already wrecked beyond repair.

See, if I was really the cold, calculating bitch I make myself out to be, then life would have been a fucking breeze. I wouldn’t have given a fuck about Mom dying. Dad’s disappearance wouldn’t even have bothered me. And I’d have left my two sisters in the government’s oh-so-capable hands while I went and got myself a meth addiction or something.

But Idocare. And it pisses me off royally because that’s what always gets me into shit.

It’s the only reason I took such a dangerous assignment in the first place. The only reason I didn’t sneak out the back door the moment Caesar Domingo walked into La Buena Papa.

I need the money. I need it so badly I got a clit boner when Donny told me about the job he’d lined up for me.Five hundred thousand dollars to ice Bryan Domingo? I’d have done it for a hundred.

I didn’t think twice. I accepted right on the spot.But now I’m here. And I’m trapped. I doubt my day’s going to get any better.

I try the door. Locked. There are no windows in this tiny room. I press my ear to the door, but either no one’s around or it’s too thick for me to hear anything through it.

Standing back, I hop up and down a few times, shaking out my hands and closing my eyes. It takes me a few seconds to focus because Caesar’s stone-cold eyes keep popping into my mind.

He looks alotsexier in real life than he did on Google. Then again, almost every picture of him was a grainy two-mega-pixel image taken a mile away while he was wearing sunglasses.

His rap sheet is as comprehensive as his father’s—and he’s half the man’s age. A thirty-two-year-old Colombian American, born in Bogota but his parents moved him out to Orlando when he was two. An only child. And it seems Bryan was more mentor than father.

He became ahalconefor the Domingo Cartel when he was fifteen. I’m pretty sure he’s asicarioby now, but after the age of twenty-two there isn’t a ton of information available on him. In fact, there’s a span of five years where he went completely off-grid. One article speculated he’d been abducted by a rival cartel and held for ransom. I thought it held up…until I met him.

If someonedidmanage to kidnap him, there would have been biblical amounts of hellfire rained down on them. Newsworthy kind of shit.

But there was nothing.

Since it’s impossible to get him out of my head, I imagine that it’s Caesar’s face I’m kicking in.

And fuck, does it work. I’m filled with superhuman strength—every blow rattles the door. A tiny crack forms close to the handle and spreads.

If anyone’s close enough to hear me, I’m fucked. But if Caesar wants to turn me into kibble, he’ll have to catch me first.

My leg starts going numb, so I switch sides. My left isn’t as powerful as my right, despite all the strength training I did down at the Brennan Boxing Club with Liam and his dad. That club is my second home—and a sight nicer than my first, which is a gross motel just off the interstate.

Wood splinters.

I try the handle again. There’s more give, but it’s not quite there yet. I back up, shake off the pain, and focus.

This time Caesar’s face pops into my head without me summoning him. And then a whole host of unwanted sensations and emotions come with him. Like how pumped I felt when we were tousling a few minutes ago. How heavy he was when he pinned me down. The feel of his hand sliding between my legs—

Oh, hell no!

I kick the door, barely holding back a frustrated yell.Splinters go flying.

You—

kick!

will—

kick!

not—

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