Page 7 of Dirty

I locked eyes with him. “I’m here for the girl.”

He stared right at me for what seemed like forever. The lack of reaction from the other men led me to believe none of them spoke English.

His eyes went thin. “The girl?”

“Yeah. The girl,” I said flatly. “I’m taking her home.”

He spit out a laugh infused with insanity, and then reached behind his back with his left hand. His movements – at least for that instant – seemed to be in slow-motion.

Maybe it was because it was three in the morning. Or it could have been that he hadn’t slept in days. It very well may have been that he was just that confident that I wasn’t armed.

Regardless, his lackadaisical approach to producing what I expected was a gun left me plenty of time to react.

I pulled my pistol with my left hand at the same time I swung my right fist toward his temple.

My knuckles slammed against the side of his skull, knocking him completely off his feet.

“Que nadie se mueva!” I shouted.

Nobody move!

The man leaning against the wall spun around and began to run toward the back of the house. Letting him get away wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.

I took aim and squeezed the trigger. A thunderous boom expanded throughout room, making the space seem smaller with each passing second.

The would-be escapee fell into a pile in the hallway at the same time the shirtless man crumbled onto the floor at my feet.

I pointed my pistol at the two wide-eyed idiots on the couch.

The one seated on the right nodded toward the table. “Tomo lo que quieras.”

Take whatever you want.

I pressed the sole of my shoe against the shirtless man’s neck and tilted my head to the side. “Alexandra! Get out here!” I shouted. “I’m taking you home!”

The silence that followed left me wondering if I was too early, too late, or had somehow managed to get the wrong house.

Fuck.

With my eyes still fixed on the two couch dwellers, I yelled her name again. “Alexandra!”

The man beneath my foot started to writhe around. As he did, the two men on the couch began to look around the room nervously.

“Alexandra!”

The shirtless man moaned. “Mataré a toda tu puta familia.”

I’ll kill your entire fucking family.

There was no doubt in my mind that he’d follow through with his threat. I pressed the sole of my shoe firmly against his thorax, wishing he would have simply remained quiet.

If asked, the men in my MC wouldn’t describe me as killer. At least not immediately. It wasn’t that I was incapable of it, or that I was unwilling. It simply wasn’t my answer to the majority of the problems I’d faced in my life.

Fighting was my preference, and I was good at it.

But, when someone threatened my family – be it blood or my brothers in the MC – it earned them a one-way ticket to meet their maker.

I pointed the barrel of the pistol at his chest and pulled the trigger.