Page 5 of Savage Hero

Old guy who loves his beans.

Kid who should be in school.

The couple and their tiny little baby inside the pink-and-blue stroller with the big gray elephants stitched on the outside.

They’re all going to die.

I was going to kill Bryan Domingo, but those innocent people,they’rethe reason I turn around. They’re the reason I run back instead of letting fate do my job for me. Because it’s obvious there’s another hit out on Bryan, and unlike me, they’ve chosen a shotgun approach. Or, well, a machine gun approach I guess.

But before I can get my superhero on, I run into a brick wall.

A brick wall with throat tattoos.

Chapter Three

Savage

Icatch the little man-girl when she turns around and runs into me. Her getup shouldn’t have fooled Father’s guards. Then again, they’re almost as old as he is. Is it any wonder they can’t see past the fake mustache to the pretty girl beneath?

Eyes the color of a fresh bruise widen as my hand goes around her throat. I shove her into the wall. She makes a satisfying little grunt when she hits the exposed bricks, and shows me her teeth in a pained wince when I drag her up to eye level.

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

“Your worst nightmare, Papi.”

Her fist comes out of nowhere. I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact that she even dares to try to punch me, or that her meaty little fist connects straight to my jaw and throws my head to the side.

Neither.

The mostsurprising thing is thesecondfist. Her uppercut slams into my solar plexus and sends a wave of debilitating pain through my chest and arms.

My fingers go numb and, before I can recover, she’s wriggled out of my grip.

What. The.Fuck?

I swing around, watching her tear down the passage, headed straight back to the restaurant.

Fuck it. Hope she enjoys her last few seconds on earth, because when Father’s men see her barreling around the corner, she’s dead.

But then she starts yelling, and I’m suddenly not sure of anything anymore.

“Everyone down! Get the fuck down!”Her voice is deep for a woman’s, a little husky. Or maybe she’s still trying to keep up the ruse.

Outside, a car roars up to the restaurant.

I start running.

“Get down!” the blue-eyed girl screams.

I turn the corner as a black Mustang slams on brakes right in front of the restaurant. Dust billows up, obscuring the car’s open windows.

A drive-by.

Adrenaline floods my system. I surge into the restaurant, taking stock of the situation with a single glance.

Everyone is on the floor. Everyone except the girl, and my father. Possibly because the blue-eyed girl has a screaming baby in her arms, and hasn’t decided what to do with it yet.

When my father locks eyes with me, a wealth of information passes between us. We both know who’s in the car—or at least, whopaidthem. It’s the Bogota Cartel, our biggest rival.They’ve been after my father for years.

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