Page 56 of El Malo

I squirm and scream and spit at him, but he doesn’t move. His massive body crushes mine against the countertop. He gives my wrist a violent shake and the cleaver falls to the floor with a loud clatter. His foot kicks it away. Then, he twists me around. I yell at the top of my lungs when he yanks both hands behind me.

“Hold still,” he barks as he twists something around my wrists.

I panic and thrash, but he’s too strong. Too expert with his movements.

“A zip tie?” I screech. “You just have those handy in your pocket?”

He chuckles. “Of course I fucking do, Rosa. It’s my job.” With that, he twists me around and hoists me over his giant shoulder. I’m wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt. I don’t like that his hands are touching my thighs.

Hot tears form in my eyes as he carries me. “P-Please don’t touch me.”

He stiffens. “I’m not like that sick fuck who hurt you. I’m just keeping you safe until Javier gets back.”

“Bring her to my office,” Javier’s low, seductive voice growls from the shadows.

Terror claws its way up inside of me. I don’t know why he sounds so dark and ominous, but I have a clue. He knows. He has to know. I’m going to die tonight.

I try to look for Javier but from my position, I can barely move. Tears flood down my face as I await my fate. I know when we reach Javier’s office because I get a whiff of his heady scent. Bad guys smell so good.

“What happened?” Javier demands. “Put her down so I can look at her.”

I’m dropped to my feet, but Marco Antonio’s massive hand grips my bicep to keep me from running away. Javier’s back is to me as he stares out the window, both hands on his hips. Today he’s dressed in his hunt-down-Michael outfit. Dark jeans. Boots. A white tank top. His Desert Eagle sits in his holster at his side. He cracks his neck and if he wasn’t so hot, he’d look positively terrifying. Broad shoulders. Ink crawling along each area of bared flesh. Muscles everywhere. Even his stance is threatening.

“She tried to hit me with a meat cleaver,” Marco Antonio says, amusement in his tone.

Javier snaps to attention and jerks around. His eyes blink in confusion. “What?”

“He stole my tequila,” I argue with a pout. I may be about to die, but I’m feeling quite petulant at the moment. Like a spoiled child who didn’t get a second piece of chocolate cake.

“All this chaos because you were trying to get fucked up, manzanita?” Javier asks, a black brow arched.

God, he’s so hot.

No dimple today. All of his features are sharp and focused. He’s in full-on cartel badass mode. And I’m desperate to fuck him like this. I want to fuck the bad guy who’ll probably kill me. Desperately so. It’s a revelation I’ll mull on later, but right now, I want him. In all of his nefarious glory.

The end is near, I can feel it.

“So let me get this straight,” he mutters as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his switchblade. It flips out and the metal glints under the light. Thunder cracks beyond the window, making my heart race. “You’re in my house being a drama queen over a fucking drink while my men and I are out there busting our asses to find your ex-boyfriend.” He approaches me and pokes the tip of his blade between my breasts. “One would assume you aren’t grateful.”

I don’t know the answer here. Am I supposed to condone his wanting to kill a fellow agent? Agent Daza says fuck that and craves to kick him in the balls. But the raped and abused woman, Javier Estrada’s girlfriend, Rosa Delgado nods. She whispers, “I’m grateful.”

His features soften and the agent inside of me is once again pushed into the shadows. One day soon, I’ll go into town and try to reach Stokes. Today is not that day. I’m playing games with a monster and I’m enjoying them.

He grips a fistful of my shirt and pulls it away from my body. I stare down in fascination as he cuts my shirt in two. Then, with his strong, warm fingers, he pushes the fabric over my shoulders on each side, exposing my front to him. Next, the bra gets cut between my breasts. He shoves the now empty cups to the side, revealing my tits to both him and Marco Antonio.

With a snap of his head, he glowers at Marco Antonio. “She turn you on?”

“No,” Marco Antonio answers without hesitation. “She belongs to you.”

Satisfied, Javier gives him a clipped nod before regarding me. “I want to punish you. For riling up my men and causing strife. Angel almost got his throat cut when I ran into him in the carport. For disobeying me, mami. I told him to not let you drink.”

Guilt rises up inside me. Angel is only trying to do his job. It’s not his fault his choices were either die brutally or work for the king of the Mexican cartel doing shit jobs like babysit his bratty girlfriend. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. And I am. I feel bad that I’m letting my feelings infect everyone around me.

I’m losing touch.

This is supposed to be a job.

Yet, it’s not.

---