Page 13 of Don't Trust Him

“Okay,” I see her say. That’s when I really look, and not just at her body, and I see how hard she was fighting.

I may have held back. Fuck, I know I was.

But she was fighting for her life.

Eliza at my mercy does fucked up things to my brain. I want to protect her, but I like her being a little soft creature at my mercy, too.

This is a romance novel, baby, but I’m nobody’s hero.

“You’re not going to run away?” I ask quietly.

She looks at me for a long moment.

“Do I need to?” she asks. She feels something. It’s the same thing I’m feeling.

“You’re not afraid?” I ask again.

“Do I need to be?” she asks again.

“A smart man would be,” I say to her.

“You’ve dealt with a woman like me though,” she says back, inching closer to me.

I get close enough to Eliza that I’m pressing my nose into hers. “I don’t think I ever will, either,” I say.

Inhaling her scent, my rock-hard cock presses into her. Despite all logic and reason, I fucking want her.

When I realize she’s getting a little faint, I hold her up. Looking into Eliza’s eyes, I know something is going on inside her.

What, I don’t know.

Eight

Eliza

Grayson’s holding me, and I shouldn’t let it affect me. Shouldn’t focus on how much I want him to grab me. How I want to grab him. I didn’t realize just how dizzy I started to get. The whole lightning fast events in front of me are starting to catch up with me.

All of a sudden the situation I’m in starts becoming clear. As if a fog has lifted.

I see the bloodied remains of Juan.

I take a deep breath and wipe some of the sweat and blood off my mouth with the back of my hand. “Didn’t Juan realize Grayson and I were trying to kill each other over here?” I say, crouching down and bending my knees, grasping them.

I never take my eyes off him.

I never take my eyes off any danger.

When Grayson’s sharp eyes look into mine but I see his body isn’t tensing up to swing at me, I’m disarmed and my brain goes in a thousand dangerous directions.

The past filters in and takes over the present. It’s been so long since I had this kind of, well, panic attack, and my brain checked out of reality.

The sharp, tangy smell of gasoline permeates my nostrils and my dreams when I sleep. My brain feels coated in it. It haunts my memories, tearing me back in time to another place, when my destiny was not my own.

Before I took charge in my role as distributor, designating smuggling routes that made other narcotraffickers fucking cum in their pants imagining how well I moved product.

I work for Cabeza Dios, and I work very fucking hard for them now. But I only work for them because they took my father and mother from me.

How our capo, Lorenzo Quentin himself, killed my family. His mercy is why I live, and parts of me whisper it is why he’ll die. I can’t share that with anyone, though. Because no one smart betrays a cartel.

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