Page 24 of Hunter's Revenge

“I should go,” I say. “I have some work I have to do.”

“Alright. See you around, Gwen.” Malik’s eyes hold mine.

“See you around, too.” I smile, tamping down my obvious attraction to him. And my nerves.

I snap my fingers at Sebastian, and he runs over to me, leaving the squishy ball to roll down the path.

For good manners’ sake, I throw one last smile over my shoulder at Malik before Sebastian and I leave.

I don’t look at Malik again, but I can feel him watching me as we walk back up the beach.

The deadly cocktail of attraction and temptation follows me with his gaze, but so does that sense of danger.

I could be completely wrong about his tattoos, meaning something sinister.

Lord knows I’ve had my fair share of being wrong lately, and the man is covered in tats.

Maybe the sense of danger I feel is that sixth sense again rearing its ugly head. It resurfaces from time to time because I could never tell anyone who I truly was. Or rather, who my father was.

But given the circumstances of the past, it’s understandable why no one could ever know that Santiago Navarro was my father.

The ability to smell danger comes with being the daughter of a former cartel king.

I wish I could say I never picked up that vibe on Gage, but I did. I just refused to believe it at the time and look at what happened to me.

If I am right about what I sensed about Malik and his tattoo, I definitely need to stay away.

Even if I liked how he made me feel.

ChapterSix

Malik

Captain Jim Davison rests a hand on my shoulder. “Make sure you take a decent break when you’re home, son. It’s going to be intense once we’re back on duty.” His voice is firm but carries the carefulness of a concerned father.

“Decent break? What’s your definition of decent, Jim?” I smirk.

He’s about to answer when an explosion shakes our surroundings. Then masked men rush in through the door and open gunfire on us.

Jim pushes me out of the way and a bullet pierces his heart.

I’m about to get up and fight when everything fractures around me like already broken glass being smashed into more pieces.

Darkness surrounds me, then electricity spreads over my body in painful, rippling waves.

The intense torture my masked captors inflict on me daily is their pleasure.

“Bratva scum.” Someone spits in my face, and they administer another dose of electricity to my body.

This time the pungent smell of burnt flesh assaults my senses and I feel death is at the door. Another powerful jolt of electricity shakes my soul and the darkness around me becomes thicker, stifling, suffocating. I can’t breathe.

Then the cold metal of a gun is placed at the side of my head.

Click-clack.

I jump out of the darkness and into the bright morning sun spilling through the bedroom window.

My gaze darts around the room, searching every corner. Although I’m sitting on the bed and can see my surroundings quite clearly, it takes a moment for my brain to process where I am.

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