Page 65 of Hostile King

“I can see what’s under his skin, what he hides from the world. He has a heart, especially when it comes to the mistreated dog he rescued and nursed back to health. Kind of like what you do here.”

Enrique pushes off the doorjamb. “We’re nothing alike.”

I shrug. “We’re all capable of doing bad things. Our upbringings were very different—being raised by a psychotic criminal creates high expectations. And you know what—not all monsters carry guns. They wear pretty dresses and fake smiles too. What makes a childhood bully any less cruel than a man who’d take a bullet for me?”

I glance over my shoulder at Tomás in slumber. Even laid out on a narrow bed, muscles glistening with sweat, he still captures my breath.

“Or should I say, whotooka bullet for me.” I correct myself, falling deeper into the spell of him and I.

Enrique’s hum reverberates in his chest, lifting all the hairs on my scalp. It’s not threatening, more a show of his annoyance.

“The cunt doesn’t deserve your loyalty. I know who Tomás Souza is. Don’t you think it’s odd how his fiancé was blown up this morning, and here you are, covered in his blood and defending his honor like the good little girl he wants you to be.”

I’ve said enough about us. All this talk about my personal life is giving him ammunition when I know zilch about him, aside from the story Sal had fed me. My chin hitches high in defiance.

“How come you’re out here, all alone?”

His mouth quirks at the corners, his dark hairs twitching with amusement. “He’s taught you well, girl. Maybe you’ll go the distance with him, if he doesn’t fuck up your life first.”

He saunters into my space, a mountain of a man with an uncaring swagger. I brace for what he plans to do next. Rather than touch me, he closely skirts the very spot I’m standing on and moves to Tomás where Enrique’s brawn crowds his prone form.

“Who said I’m alone?” He adds.

“Aren’t you?” I watch his casual movements, how he’s methodical in his surveillance of his patient, regardless of his opinions of him. “Animals don’t count.”

“We’re all animals, aren’t we?” Enrique chuckles from deep in his chest, the sound verging on illicit. “I guide tourists through the park and tell them all sorts of interesting information. They eat that shit up like candy, especially the groups of women.” His lashes flick upward as he angles into me. “I get my fill of human interaction when it suits.”

He winks and laughs with a smoky darkness that oddly makes my core quiver.

“Just because I choose to live out here, doesn't mean I’m a loner. It gives me the freedom to pick and choose who I deal with. If you decide you’d like to hang around for a while—when he goes back to Colombia—I’d happily teach you a few things.”

The wordplay isn’t missed. Over the weeks, I’ve grown accustomed to the single-minded train of thought some men seem to indulge in. Given the slight creases around his eyes, he surely matches Tomás in age, and with those years of experience he’d be an excellent educator for someone—I’m not that girl.

The thought of another man touching me is horrifying.

My gaze falls to Tomás’ chest rising with every shallow breath he takes. My belly aches from the distance separating us. He’s lost in his own mind, healing from within, while I have to witness his gruesome journey.

Rather than appear rude, I opt for a charm offensive to drive home my point. “You could have turned us away back there, but you didn’t. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for us. How you saved his life. I know my close friendel Fantasmais grateful for the diligent care and warm hospitality you’ve shown us. None of us will forget it. I promise you.”

He cracks his neck from side to side. “When you leave, do me a favor and forget all about this place.” His expression becomes serious. “I won't be as accommodating the next time you people land in my territory. My debt toel Fantasmais paid in full—and then some. I won’t welcome those bastards again for anyone.”

Enrique watches me closely, thick brows nipping together in a scowl.

I swallow and push back my shoulders to stand taller. His pensive brown eyes swirl, a sandstorm brewing. I feel it in the air, the danger lurking under his inked skin like poison. The vibrating urge to do something depraved and the threadbare self-restraint to keep himself in check.

“Until then—” His tone switches to silken and smooth, toxic and seductive. “Hang out for a while. Shower. Eat. Pray—for a happy ending.”

The corners of my mouth twitch to an indifferent smile and I do a one-eighty, strolling out of the room with as much confidence as I could portray.

“Come and find me when you want that clean shirt. You’ll find a towel in the bathroom,” he calls after me.

We have no way to reach André or his other brothers. The only available weapon is hidden, tucked next to a boulder beyond this man’s porch. Our phones were destroyed and Tomás’ survival depends on Enrique’s flimsy goodwill. My rib cage squeezes the air from my lungs, each step putting distance between Tomás and I.

Glancing over my shoulder, I narrow my eyes at the sight of Enrique slouched in the chair I’d vacated. When he air salutes me with two fingers, I smile tightly.

“I’ll be right here, girl. Five minutes. After that, my bedside manner goes to shit.”

I nod and continue walking, passing a steel, wall-mounted locker secured with a padlock. Maybe it’s a gun cabinet. A safe place to store the rifle I saw him with when we’d first met. What man would live in the wilderness without a decent arsenal of weapons? He doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who would take a chance with only one gun.

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