Page 83 of Wild Angel

Messing with these two is only slightly more entertaining than watching paint dry, but at least I got in a workout.

Unsurprisingly, Savage’s gym contains state-of-the-art fucking everything. There’s even a punching bag in one corner. Doesn’t look like it gets used much, though.

I’m avoiding it.

I tend to zone out when I’m practicing, and that’s the last thing I need to do right now.

Right now, I need to think.

I don’t know who “Doc” is, or why it’s so important that they found him, or the significance of his death. At least, I assume he’s dead. That’s what I picked up from Vito and Savage’s discussion, anyway.

Guess people drop like flies around here. That’s cartel life for you.

Matias is sitting on one of the big bouncy balls near the stretch zone, playing some game on his phone. I walk over to him, casual as fuck, and ask, “So this Doc guy, who is he?”

“None of your business,” he says.

“Were you asleep when I got married to Savage?” I pat a towel against my forehead, the back of my neck. “His business is my business.”

Matias grates out a laugh, but he doesn’t even bother looking at me.

No fucking respect. I’ll have to speak to Caesar when he comes back.

I reek of sweat, so I head for the shower, grabbing post-gym sweatpants and a T-shirt from the open closet on the way.

Thankfully Caesar’s goons don’t attempt to follow. I guess they know this place well enough to realize that I’d need power tools to burrow my way out of the villa’s basement.

I’m busy changing into the gray sweats when Savage’s phone vibrates. I glance at the frosted wall separating the changing area from the rest of the gym and see Savage’s two blobs waiting out there for me.

Grabbing Savage’s phone, I press the button on the side. The screen lights up, showing a text message.

That’s when my heart shoots right into my fucking throat.

I FOUND HIM

Chapter Forty

Nyx

Matias almost falls off his pink bouncy ball when I charge up to him. “What now, woman?” he grunts. His accent is much thicker than Sam’s. His face is also much more beat up—broken nose, scar on his chin, a gap next to one incisor when he grimaces.

“How do I get hold of Sa—Caesar?”

He sneers at me. “You don’t.”

“It’s urgent.” I’m trembling, ready to fucking explode.

That message must have come from Patrick. I mean, what are the chances someotherweirdo sends Savage something like that?

“What’s wrong?” Matias gives me a condescending glance. “You run out of lipstick?”

My jaw clenches. My hands curl into fists. But I force myself not to uppercut either of these dickheads, because I need their help. I know I can’t just walk out of this villa—they’ll need to take me.

“It’s about my sisters.”

Matias frowns. “What about them?”

“Didn’t Savage tell you?”

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