Page 87 of Her Passionate Hero

“You’re still not getting it, are you?” LL asked. “That wasn’t San Marcos that was that dumb shit Mateo. That boy is many bricks shy of a full load.”

“He’s worse than that, LL. He’s a pedophile. He was raping his sister. I don’t know how old she was when it started. He needs to be taken off the board.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” LL slammed down his drink on his desk.

“Where the fuck can I find San Marcos?”

“Shit, Hunter, if I knew that, I would have taken him out years ago. I have your information on Mateo though. He lives with his girlfriend, and I know where she lives.”

“I’ve already got that information.”

“Well, shit.”

Lorenzo and Martin were gone when he got outside. He checked in with Aiden and Zed. They had Mateo’s girlfriend’s place staked out. Dalton said he’d stashed Aliana and now had something cooking. He’d get back to him. So, Hunter had some time on his hands. He knew exactly how he planned to spend it.

Chapter Twelve

When he got to the underground garage, he texted Aliana and got no response. He called her, still nothing. He took the stairs up to her floor three at a time. When he got to her door, he started out with a soft knock. Nothing. Then he pounded.

He heard a muffled ‘Hunter’ before the door was opened, which at least told him she’d used the peephole. She stood there in a towel, her blonde hair billowing around her.

“What’s wrong?” she cried.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he pushed her inside with his body, then closed the door. Holy hell, she was almost naked. Scratch that, she was naked underneath that towel. Granted, it was a big hotel towel, but it was a towel.

“I was blow drying my hair. It’s loud, and it takes forever. You didn’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Let me get dressed.”

Not on my account. But he didn’t say it out loud.

She hadn’t packed clothes when she’d left her grandmother’s house, so Shorinda had given her some to borrow. He was interested to see what the short and curvy nurse had to offer that would fit.

Aliana’s hand reached out of the bathroom. “Hunter can you pass in the hotel robe. I think I saw in the closet.”

“Why?”

“These don’t fit. They’re too tight.”

“Huh? That doesn’t make sense.” But he had an idea of what was going on, and he wanted to see.

“She told me she kept her skinny clothes. But because she’s shorter, she thought the yoga outfits might work. They don’t.”

Yep. Spandex.

“It’s just me,” he coaxed.

“Hunter, give me the robe,” her tone brooked no argument. God, the Vice Principal voice made him hot. He handed her the robe.

She came out rocking the robe like a queen.

“I really wanted to see the yoga outfit.”

“It was lime green, it would have clashed with the last of the bruises,” she said haughtily. “So, tell me what’s going on.”

He looked around the room. Dalton had done well, it was a mini-suite with a couch and a coffee table. He saw she’d already taken a nap on the king-sized bed.