Page 34 of Tangled in Red

Brett sucked in a breath then narrowed his eyes. “Quiero matar Edward!”

Diablo burst out laughing, playful nipping at the skin right under his mate’s ear. “Look at you, little bird. You’re picking up Spanish like a pro.”

“Sí, papi.” His mate grinned so wide it made the skin around his eyes crinkle. He was also redder than the fucking fire extinguisher Diablo was tempted to grab.

Reaching for the cover, Diablo pulled it over them. Brett settled in his arms and was asleep in seconds. The male felt damn good cuddled against him, better than Diablo thought he would.

“Mi amor, mi vida,” he whispered into red hair. “Nadie te lastimará mientras yo respire.”

The promise was as binding as any vow. No one would hurt Brett as long as Diablo drew breath. The devil himself would make sure of it.

Chapter Eight

Brett checked his phone for the seventh time in the last twenty minutes. Still nothing. Not a single text from Diablo. The hospital gift shop, with its bright lights, felt like a prison today. The fluorescent lights buzzed maddening, matching the chaos in his head.

“God, I’m pathetic,” he muttered, swiping his thumb across the screen to refresh his messages again. Nada.

“You’re his mate now,” Brett murmured to himself, the word still feeling new and weird. “Mate.”

The automatic doors slid open with a quiet hiss as a woman entered, heading straight for the stuffed animals. Brett leaned against the counter, trying to focus on anything other than the urge to call Diablo. Would it come off as too needy? Too desperate? They’d only been apart for four freaking hours.

His phone buzzed, sending his heart into hyperdrive. Brett almost dropped it in his eagerness to check the screen. Wow, needy much?

Spam. Fabulous. With how much these phone companies charge, you’d think they could just nuke this junk.

“This is ridiculous,” he groaned. “He’s probably busy with pack stuff. Or sleeping. Or bench-pressing motorcycles to keep that body drool-worthy.”

And now that was all he could think about. Diablo’s inked muscles and those powerful hips flexing like sex was an Olympic sport. He could still feel his mate’s touch, those sinful lips, and—

“Hi.” A woman approached the counter, holding a little blue teddy bear, smiling as Brett rang her up. He went through the motions of scanning, bagging, and processing her payment, but his mind stuck on a very naked Diablo.

Even though Brett had showered this morning, the guy’s scent clung to his skin, like his mate had branded him…with that very talented mouth. Ugh! Brett needed to think of something else before he popped wood in his pants.

After she left, he grabbed his phone again, chewing on his bottom lip, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. Should he be the one to text first? What would he even say? Hey, miss you already was desperate AF. How are you feeling? sounded like a dad move. Can’t stop thinking about last night was a hell no unless Brett was ready for a serious talk, which he definitely wasn’t. He could barely survive small talk with Diablo. If the man so much as hinted at last night, Brett would probably short out the register, the lights, and possibly the entire hospital wing.

“Just text me and end this torture,” he muttered angrily at his phone. “Is one stupid message really too much to ask for?”

A customer drifted toward the “Get Well Soon” cards, shooting Brett a quick glance, and moved on. Brett forced a smile that vanished the second she turned away. Three more hours of his shift stretched ahead like an eternity.

His mind kept replaying his incredible night. Diablo’s hands mapping his skin, the pressure of his body, and those glowing eyes when he claimed Brett as his mate.

Before Brett could make up his mind, another customer strolled in. A tall man wearing an expensive-looking suit, his polished shoes clicking against the linoleum. A stylish cascade of black hair was swept back from his face, showing off a strong jaw and a distinctive scar above his left eyebrow—two lines intersecting in an X.

Brett shoved his phone into his pocket and straightened when the guy approached the counter. Something about the stranger made Brett’s uneasy, but he pushed the feeling aside. Probably just a doctor or hospital administrator. They always made him nervous.

“Good afternoon.” The softness in his tone disarmed Brett, despite every instinct screaming for him to run. “I’m looking for a gift for my nephew. He’s five, I believe.”

Just a normal request. Brett relaxed slightly. “Of course. What kind of things does he like?”

“He’s dinosaur obsessed. Any recommendations?” He turned his head, glancing around the shop. “I’m terrible at picking out gifts for him. Perhaps you could help me pick out something?”

“We have some great dinosaur options. Let me show you.” Brett mentally cursed when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he resisted the urge to check it.

Coming around the counter, he led the man toward a display of stuffed animals. “We have some great options for kids. The plush animals are popular or maybe a coloring book and crayons if he’s feeling up to activities?”

Something hard pressed into his side, just below his ribs. Brett froze, eyes darting down to see the outline of a gun beneath the man’s suit jacket.

“You’re going to smile and walk toward the exit.” His voice was eerily calm. “Alert anyone, and I’ll put a bullet through your kidney. Painful way to die, sweetheart.”

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