Page 106 of Bastard
“I knew it,” Barrington exclaims. “What did you tell her, you bitch?”
“You like to degrade women, don’t you? I’m happy I helped her escape.”
My brother curses, then says in a rush, “Qué chingados. You bastard. You expect me to stand here, doing nothing?”
Barrington stutters. “You—”
“I’ll tell you what I told her, cabrón,” I cut him off, my temper at an eleven on a scale of one to ten. “That you don’t have thecojones—the balls—to handle a strong woman like her.”
Barrington shifts toward me.
I slam my free hand into his wrist, forcing the knife to fall to the floor. At the same time, I jerk the nose of my gun backward, and without the slightest hesitation or the tiniest bit of reluctance, shoot him straight between the legs.
“And now, he doesn’t,” the odd man in the poncho quips, seconds before chaos erupts.
Diego barrels forward, pulling me away from Barrington, who’s on the floor at my feet. Dying a slow death, just as he deserves. “What the fuck, Luciana?”
A few of Barrington’s men put up a fight, though most realize the battle’s over and drop their weapons.
“Did that motherfucker hurt her?” I hear Hayden call out.
Diego’s eyes skim over me in quick yet careful assessment. “She’s fine.”
“How the mighty has fallen!” Kylie’s voice rings out. She even sounds like Madelyn.
“Had to see it with me own eyes,” mutters Irish Pancho Villa.
“He took one hell of a beating for her.” This, from the handsome man with his arm looped around Kylie’s shoulders.
Hayden slowly moves toward me. “Your cheekbone.”
“My cheekbone?” I say, still angry—I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. “You didn’t fight back. Why didn’t you?”
“Sh, Luciana. It’s the adrenaline—”
I hold my finger up and shake it at him. “Don’t shush me. Why let them beat you like that? They could have killed you.”
Laughter erupts.
“Not even on their best day, conejita,”Diego says. I elbow Diego in the side and am rewarded with his sharp exhalation.
“So, this is Luciana,” Kylie states.
“Correct,” Declan replies.
“Big-Boom’s sister?” This from Poncho Villa.
“Shut your face, Shamrock,” Diego grumbles.
“Boys, you’re asking the wrong questions.” Kylie waves at Hayden. “Just look at the Bastard’s face ... he’s positively livid.”
My eyebrows arch in alarm as I swing my attention back to Hayden.
Dios mío. She’s right. It’s in the tick of his jaw and in the fire in his eyes. “Get to work.”
Men begin to move, but Kylie, it seems, isn’t finished. “The question everyone should be asking,” she says, her tone ripe with wonderment, “is what Luciana means to him.”
Everyone pauses to look at Hayden.
