Page 25 of Born Sinner
Don’t poke the bear, Lola…
But I can’t help myself. I’m hardwired to push boundaries.
Tossing him a salutatory wave, I arch an eyebrow at the phone clutched in his hand and free the snarky smile I’ve held back since leaving my apartment.
He scowls in response, dropping his phone on the table like it burned him.That’s what I thought. Busted, big guy.My smile widens, which causes him to fold his arms tightly across his chest and stare at the shot in my hand like it’s a glass of battery acid.
Sighing, I leave him and his euthanized sense of humor behind and meander my way through the crowded club.I miss my cousin.The one who used to play hide-and-go-seek with me all over the estate. The one who snuck me my first taste of tequila behind the counter of his father’s Houston cantina.
The one who used to laugh.
RJ doesn’t laugh much anymore. Not since he abandoned his Texas roots to follow Santi to New Jersey two years ago in order to become his second-in-command and first shield.
The brother and cousin I once knew are gone.They’ve both molded into replicas of their fathers.
Leaving those thoughts behind, I stop a few feet away from the dance floor, my gaze sliding up a private staircase leading to a roped off area on the second floor VIP area. For the second time tonight the same thought floats through my head.
If they only knew…
If only I didn’t have to hide. If only I could flash my last name like an all-access pass,that’swhere I’d be instead of fighting for a drink at a crowded bar.
“María! Over here!”
I glance over my shoulder to find Avery waving frantically from the edge of the dance floor. From the looks of it, she took her own wardrobe advice to heart. That fire-engine red number she’s wearing isalmosta dress.
If it covered her ass.
“All right, María Diaz,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s showtime.”
I don’t waste time sipping my shot—I inhale it. Warmth floods my veins, my eyes closing for a beat as thoughts of my stalker invade my head.As the feel of him still sticks to my skin.Not only has he infected my mind, he’s branded me...twice.
Once without my consent.
And once in spite of it.
Opening my eyes again, I stare at the dance floor and at Avery and my friends’ smiling faces. With each passing second, my anger escalates. I envy their blissful ignorance.
They’re not mice.
They’re not trapped by a sadistic Santiago just waiting to strike.
That’s it.
I slam my empty glass onto the crowded table beside me, ignoring a wave of irritated protests as I stalk toward the dance floor.
How dare Sam violate my apartment and then dismiss me. I’m the daughter of a drug lord. I don’t get caught in someone else’s head-on collision.
I cause my own.
The base is heavy, and the beat is loud—perfect for drowning out the thoughts poisoning my head. There’s no talking. No bullshitting. It’s too fucking loud to do anything but let the tequila take over.
Before long, everything fades into the background. I just dance, pretending to be normal for a few unguarded moments, until I feel a hard chest press up against me from behind. I stiffen as two rough hands anchor onto my hips, pulling me against something even harder.
Shit.If RJ sees this, we’re both screwed.
I scan the club, frantically searching for a pair of murderous eyes. Thankfully, the crowd is too thick, allowing me to wiggle out of the guy’s hold before the Mexicansicarioin him erupts, inciting a riot.
Twisting around, I extend my arm to put a safe amount of space between us. “No thanks,” I yell over the music.
