“The fuck you mean?” Mouth pulling back into a snarl, he steps into my space, dipping low. He cants his head to meet my eyes.
“How many, Snake?” Not looking away but meeting him head-on.
“How many what?” His voice is so awful, so cruel like even having to speak or acknowledge me is annoying.
“How many men have you killed because they tried to claim me?”
“Lost count.” He pulls himself to his full height, his eyes slitted into the creature he’s come to be named for. La serpiente has fully emerged.
“And all this time you tried to act like we meant nothing — like I wasnothingto you.” My throat tightens at the accusation.
His tread is heavy, his gaze is hard as he moves to corner me at the counter. “The fuck you say?”
“You acted like I was nothing to you.” Tipping my chin up, I meet his fierce gaze.
Hard hands cup me so gently my eyes nearly tear as I meet the dark hazelnut of his.
The coarse pads of his work-worn fingers brush my cheeks. “You are everything, Saban.” Stepping closer still, his mouth covers mine in a soft brushing caress. “My everything.”
So much promise in his eyes. Cherished has no meaning because what his eyes hold is so much more than that.
He takes the kiss deeper. His mouth consumes me. I drink him up. Lapping, tasting, taking everything he wants to give me. Elation barrels through me. I’m like a tumbleweed dancing along the prairie with no direction, no will of my own as he devours my mouth.
Not even breaking the kiss, he lifts me onto the counter so our bodies align. Every inch of me connects me with him. His body is so warm. The hot Alabama sun and detailing his chopper did the work. Our bodies hum, and we lock into each other like we were always meant to be. Looping my arm around his thick, corded shoulders, drawing him closer, I sink into the man I always knew was meant to be mine.
“My little torment,” he groans, dragging his dick against the softest parts of me.
“Snake,” I moan, straining to get closer. He could ask me anything in that moment, and I’d do it.
I feel the instant of the vibration of his phone moments before he pulls away, his mouth pulling into a hard line when he glances down.
“Wassup?” Holding up his finger for silence, he moves to the door going outside.
I jump down in a huff, disappointment at the interruption slicing through me.
Refilling his water, I place his bottle back in the fridge.
His expression is troubled when he dips his head back into the door. “I have to take care of some business with Angel. Don’t wait up.”
Nodding, I look on as he leaves without a backwards glance. The cold reality of life may well have doused me with the water I just poured.
The legitimate enterprises of the Cruz Construction, of which Hadrián is the COO of has long hours, but cartel and MC hoursrun longer, and I know without a doubt this is what his leaving now means.
I grew up in this world and nothing about it surprises me, so what compels me to look up his location well past midnight is a mystery. I chalk it up to the newness of what’s happening between us.
The dot pings in the middle of nowhere just like the night Easy, and I were taken. My tummy drops. Angel was stabbed that night. What if something happened again?
In minutes I’ve pulled on my Henley and jeans, tucked my locs back into a low ponytail and peels out of our driveway following the signal of his location.
Pitch black, sinister and bad vibes hammer down my spine when I arrive at the destination where Snake’s geolocation leads me.
I walk my bike the last little-bit once I know I’m close enough to the location.
Leaving it behind a thicket, I creep forward. I see a figure crouched badly in brushes not nearly high enough to obscure her from anyone daring to look this way. She’s trying to hide but not doing a particularly good job of it. Then I see her face.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” I ask, eyeing Kandie, the town resident cut-up, tipsy baker and gossip queen. She jerks her head in my direction. Her curls are piled in the back in a slapped-together messy bun.
Her eyes go wide like I’ve surprised her. Our hair is the only difference. She’s dressed the same as I — in all black. Well, one more difference is the black camouflage I used on my skin to deflect the moonlight — something Snake taught me on the trek to the US, to help us blend into the darkness when the patrols were out.
