Page 76 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

Raphael pulled me closer to him and Caine took a step closer, blocking his view. Suddenly, I fucking loved Raphael’s men. That man was a million times better than Santiago Tijuana.

“Miss McHale, how are you parents?” Santiago taunted.

“Mrs. Santos,” I corrected, supporting Raphael’s lie, then shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

The mayor's eyes widened. “NottheMcHales?”

“ExactlytheMcHales,” Santiago drawled, watching me like a snake. Ready to strike at any moment. I hated the bastard more than I thought possible. “Their political career rivaled those of the Kennedys. In fact, I thought there were rumors of you connecting with Aaron Kennedy.”

I stiffened. “And I heard a rumor of a contract.” I feigned a bored expression as I let my eyes roam behind him, as if he wasn’t worth my time. “And here we are. I’m married.”

Fucker!

“Things change,” he gritted, keeping a fake smile, resembling a grimace.

“Oh, I look forward to having you as a Miami resident,” the mayor chimed in, oblivious to the tension simmering around us.

“I hear your brother has new followers,” Raphael said. “The preferred Tijuana brother.”

This earned Raphael a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but at least the bastard's attention was no longer on me.

“You stole from me, Santos,” Santiago hissed in Spanish. The mayor still stood around with a frozen smile on his face, looking like a discarded puppet. It was exactly what he was, a puppet among the criminals.

“She never belonged to you, cabrón,” Raphael responded in English.

Thick tension permeated the air and made it hard to breathe, while my eyes darted between the two criminals. Something dark lurked in Raphael’s eyes and it was clear, at least to me, that a single wrong move by Santiago and Raphael would go into killer mode.

Diablo.

My eyes flickered to his hand wrapped around my waist and there it was. The tattoo that I dreamt about sometimes. My temples throbbed as my mind hunted for something. Something important.

It evaporated, just like all of Anya’s dreams of freedom before she died.

Forcing a smile to my lips, I turned to look at Raphael. “Ready to make the rounds, dear?”

Raphael’s eyes were on Santiago, something dark in his gaze.Drip, drip, drip.Yes, Raphael was neck deep covered in blood, but at least he didn’t deal in human trafficking or raping innocent women. His father might have, but he didn’t.

A corner of Raphael’s lips tugged up. “Gentlemen.”

His voice held an unspoken threat of retribution and suddenly, I found myself happy to have him on my side.

ChapterThirty-Three

RAPHAEL

One thing I could be certain of.

Sailor didn’t remember me nor La Reina. It was as if she never even visited the club. Of course, now I knew that one of the women with her that night was Aurora Ashford.

“I never thought I’d ever see Diablo waiting for his lady in the hallway of the bathrooms,” Diego teased.

I didn’t give a shit. Her safety was the most important thing to me. Sailor had to use the restroom, and I refused to let her roam this place unprotected even for a second while that fucker Santiago Tijuana was here.

He was getting escorted out. Right about now. And sure as shit, protests and complaints in Spanish shattered the air.

I let out a sardonic breath as I flicked a bored glance in the direction of the noise, just in time to see my two bouncers muscle Santiago down the corridor.

“What the fuck is Sanders doing with Tijuana?” Caine grumbled.

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