Page 5 of The Enforcer

CHAPTER 2

HECTOR

Hector’s personal Hell on Earth had a name: Mary Rossi. The sweetest woman he had ever smelled, but couldn’t have. As he drove over to the club, he swore he could still smell her perfume on him. Having her pressed against him on his bike had been torture. He’d been hard the second he felt her luscious tits against his back.

He cracked open the engine in the hope that the night would make her smell fade away. He wished he could as easily crack open the door to his memory, because every time he thought back on that asshole who put his hands on her, he wanted to commit murder. He should have broken more than his nose and leg. He should have broken everything, and then finished by throwing him out of a window. The fucker hadn’t been good enough to lick her little toes, let alone touch her. For a moment there, he had been consumed by rage, just like in the old days. The days that he fought in backend alleys to make a buck. When he let out his beast and pummeled his opponent within an inch of his life. Ending the night with a bunch of women in his bed, all eager to please Hector ‘the Beast’ Diaz, street-fighter.

He thought he’d sworn off the days when he was controlled by spurts of rage. The military was the world’s best anger management program. Except, when he’d seen Mary’s torn shirt, he’d lost it.

The first time he saw Mary had been at Gio’s wedding, months ago. She’d been glowing in a pink dress, talking to someone over a flute of champagne. It had felt like someone had sucker punched him. Never before had he been overwhelmed by so much lust. He had just wanted to take her into a room, or against a wall—anywhere—and have his way with her. But classy women like Mary Rossi weren’t meant for men like him. He was too rough around the edges; too damaged, too dark, too violent. Too much of a lot of things. So, what did a man do when he got the hots for a woman he couldn’t have? He tried to replace her with something that came close.

He took the exit to South Beach and parked in the back of Club Flux. It wasn’t his favorite of places to go, since it was co-owned by a man he loathed. It was, however, one of the hottest clubs in San Francisco, and drew a very diverse crowd. And since Diaz Security provided the security for the club, Hector came and went there on occasion.

He took a seat at the bar and gave a heads up to the bartender.

Brent gave him a chin jerk. “Want the usual, Wolf?”

He nodded and got a Corona in no time.

The place was booming, and he told himself that he wasn’t going to fuck another blond with long curly hair and baby blues.

“Hi there, big guy. Wanna buy me a drink?”

As far as pickup lines went, that wasn’t the worst he’d ever heard. The woman that sat next to him on the bar was a redhead. She had cropped hair, barely touching her shoulders, but most of all, she didn’t look anything like Mary.

Perfect.

Her eyes roamed over his face and tats, and she licked her bottom lip.

Women usually had one of two reactions when they saw the red scars covering his cheek; either they got scared and averted their eyes, or they wanted to fuck him. It seemed as if there was no in between.

He tapped on the bar to get Brent’s attention. “Give the lady a drink.”

That was all it took for her to plaster herself against him, brushing her breasts against his arm. She was hot and eager, but most of all, she was easy. He knew he could have her in the back alley if he wanted to. He decided to take her home, because that was where his stuff was.

The second they left the club, she groped his ass. They rounded the corner toward the empty parking spot.

An image of Mary’s lips popped into his head. He loved her lips. They were puffy, the bottom lip slightly bigger than the upper. His dick would look fucking good between them.

Don’t go there, Diaz. Not again.

He looked at the redhead. “Get on your knees.”

Red did as he asked and pulled out his dick. She gave him a long lick from his balls to the top. Then she started giving him little kisses, playing with him.

He wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. His hands pulled her hair tight. “Get to work.”

“Yes! Hurt me, daddy.”

Ah shit, she was one ofthosewomen. One look at his scars and she concocted this silly fantasy of him liking to beat women. He didn’t do the ‘daddy’ shit, and he sure as hell didn’t get off on hurting women.

Suddenly the night was pierced with the sound of an alarm going off. Then a man shouted to his right.

“Hey! What the hell is going on over there?”

Hector turned toward the sound coming from his right. Shit, it washisalarm. He let the redhead go, tucked his dick back in his pants, and rushed over to his bike, only to discover that his tires were slashed. Fucking great. Some asshole had put his hands on his baby.

Brent was standing next to his bike, with a smoke. “Sorry man, the damage was already done by the time I saw him.”

---