Page 34 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

“Ah, yes. The Ashfords,” he drawled. “Yes, I’m well aware who owns the cabin.”

I nibbled on my lower lip, unsure whether I had the upper hand or if he did. He seemed unconcerned with the Ashford influence.

“Leave now, and I won’t say anything to them.” He threw his head back and laughed. Not exactly the effect I was going for. “Just leave Gabriel and me alone.”

He locked eyes with me. I felt inferior, sitting at his feet because I was too astonished to find him here to get myself together.

“I can’t do that,” he purred, his expression filled with some sardonic amusement.

I swallowed. “But the Ashford family will come after you.”

“Let them come.”

I should have known the criminal wouldn’t be afraid. Especially one that looked so goddamn sexy in his jeans.

“So you’re going to kill me?” I choked out, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. Goddamn it, I wasn’t ready to die. I should have known to refuse the Feds when they made me a star witness for the Tijuana Cartel. Damn it, I was so stupid. That’s the last time I refused to listen to my gut feeling.

Crap, there wouldn’t be a next time to listen to my instincts.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he wiped his expression to an unreadable mask.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Unless you force my hand.”

Oh, shit.

“A-and Gabriel?” I whispered, scared he’d separate us.

“You’re his mother,” he explained. “I won’t kill the mother of my only living brother.”Thank God.“But you’ll come with us.”

“You can’t just take us,” I protested. “Gabriel has school. His friends. I have a job.”

All excuses and lies. We couldn’t go back to our everyday life. The cartel would find us and kill us.

Raphael didn’t miss a beat. “You have a job that made you and my brother a target. Didn’t you learn in your research that the Tijuana Cartel and Santos family are rivals?”

Fucking hell. That part I fucking missed.

I blinked. “Y-you are?” I croaked.

“Yes,” he retorted dryly. “What kind of reporter are you if you don’t do your homework?”

This son-of-a-bitch.

Suddenly, all I could see was red and all I could taste was anger. My heart raced with fury and before I knew it, I was up on my feet and my hand flying through the air. Just as my palm was about to make contact with his gorgeous face, he caught my wrist and spun me around.

A breath of air escaped me and my cheeks burned. How in the hell did he move so goddamn fast?

His hand on my skin. His hot breath against my ear. His body pressed against my back. Instantly, the anger evaporated and arousal took its place.

Much to my horror and dismay.

I struggled against him, my butt brushing against his hard body, but it was fruitless. He was much stronger than me and eventually I went still, my heavy breaths filling the room.

“Let go of me,” I hissed, the throbbing between my thighs pulsing with an ache that I hadn’t felt in a long time. No, scratch that. That I had never felt before. I couldn’t understand this reaction to this man. It was a foreign feeling and the only logical explanation was that my attraction to this criminal was the result of my lifelong abstinence.

It was wrong on so many levels, because I hated him. His entire family.

“Don’t try to hit me again, mi reina.” It was a soft and gentle warning, but ruined with the slightest clench of his teeth. “I let you get away with it yesterday. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

---