Page 17 of El Malo

I glower at him, a spark of the real me climbing to the surface. I’ve spent four years being someone else that I’ve nearly snuffed out Rosa Daza. I flip him off and start for the door. I’ve just yanked it open when he grips my elbow painfully.

“Rosa,” he snaps. “What the fuck is your problem?”

I try to jerk my arm from his grip to no avail. “I’m just so over this,” I admit, tears threatening.

“There is no this,” he reminds me. “There was never a this.”

I recoil at his harsh words. “Let me go.”

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers as he releases me. “It’s dark.”

“No need,” a deep, dangerous voice rumbles from the hallway. “I’ll take over from here.”

Javier Estrada, dressed to the nines in a fancy pale gray three-piece suit, is leaned against the scummy peeling wallpaper looking incredibly out of place. I’m frozen to the dirty carpet, a deer caught in the headlights.

How much did he hear?

He must read my expression because he chuckles. “He doesn’t look old enough to be your father. But it appears I misunderstood. He’s your daddy.” He smirks as he straightens and steps forward.

Michael pushes past me, his body blocking mine from Javier’s approach. My heart sails at his protecting me. “We’re nothing anymore. We broke up.”

Pain cuts through my abdomen.

I think the words are more for me than Javier.

Javier’s brown eyes dart to mine and he gauges my reaction. I flinch because, in essence, that’s exactly what just happened. Bowing my head, I attempt to calm my nerves.

“Come, manzanita,” Javier says, his voice commanding and somehow soothing all at once. “I will escort you.” He opens his jacket to reveal his piece strapped to his body. Not only is he always carrying, but he’s like the big man in this city. The one they all fear, worship, or respect. With him, nobody would touch me.

“We can still be friends,” Michael murmurs. “I’ll take you out to dinner on your next day off.” His eyes pin me and I know he wants me to play along.

I give him a clipped nod that I understand. I understand the mission, but I do not understand why he’s thrown my heart in the blender. Has it always been one-sided? Michael retreats into the room and closes the door. I’m left standing alone with my boss, leader of the cartel, and the man whose finger was inside of me this morning. I’m caught somewhere in between my chest aching from Michael being so cold to my skin feeling inflamed from Javier’s scorching stare.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, his voice low so that if Michael is listening, he can’t be heard.

I lift my eyes and regard him in confusion. “Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

His gaze rakes over my dress and he flashes me an impish grin. “I followed the dress, mami.” His dimple forms and a flash of heat surges through me.

Seduce him.

Simple.

I can do this.

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