my voice even and convey the truth behind my words.
“You want to fuck me with your cock, Saint? You want to fill up my tiny pussy with your cum?” I tease in a breathy voice. The muscle in his jaw ticks and not even two seconds go by before he pounces on me with a growl. The firm planes of his body cover mine as he shoves me back, settling between my thighs. I feel his hardness press against my damp center, and I let out a breathy moan. He twists a hand in my hair and tugs on the too long strands, dragging my gaze up to his.
Seconds pass.
He searches my gaze, and I search his.
Then he’s kissing me. His mouth slams against mine with a brutality that hurts so good. His lips are plump and skilled; he kisses with the finesse of a man who knows how to drive women insane. I let him kiss me. I let him grope me, ignoring the sparks of pleasure his touch elicits. Ignoring the warmth flooding my veins as I try to focus on the goal.
Now, the internal voice screams.
When he least expects it, I take the nail that’s grasped in my hand, and I swing my arm back, gaining momentum to jab it in his neck. He must sense it coming because he grabs my neck in a punishing grip and catches my wrist midair. The nail falls from my grasp, and I freeze. We both do.
Slowly, his gaze drags up to mine, and my heart drops.
Oh no.
“Such a sneaky, sneaky, girl, Tesoro.” His grip around my wrist tightens. It becomes so painful I let out an agonized whimper. “How stupid do you think I am? Do you think I’m that starved for pussy I’d believe you for one fucking second?” he grits out, getting in my face.
A tear leaks out of the corner of my eye, rolling into my hair. “I’m s-sorry.”
“Oh, are you now?” he asks, quirking an amused brow. He’s enjoying this. Enjoying my fear, enjoying the pain he is, no doubt, about not inflict upon me.
Fear pools in my belly, and a tear slips down my cheek. “Yes.”
His amusement fades, slowly turning into a glare. “Time to teach you a lesson.”
Before I can fight him off, he drags me up by his unforgiving grip in my hair and I let out a screech of pain. My scalp burns and when he tosses me onto the bed like I’m a rag doll, I scramble away from him, trying to find a way to save myself. Trying to find an escape.
There isn’t one.
Saint stalks toward me, murder in his eyes, but we both jerk to an abrupt halt at the noise. I’d never known what it was before last night, but I do now.
It’s gunshots. And they’re close.
Far too close.
I see it there in his eyes.
I’m not the only one in danger anymore. We all are.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saint
Ballsy, brave bastards.
I’d expected to be followed to my home when I left such obvious breadcrumbs, but I didn’t actually think there’d be violence. Surveillance for certain, but not a full-on attack. Surely they know they’ve embarked on a suicide mission.
The motherfucker who ruined my plans to punish the pretty little girl with nefarious intentions is about to meet his maker. If whoever it is makes it to the second level of my home, I will take pride in crushing his face in with the bottom of my foot.
“Who is it?” Melody whispers, as she slides off the bed and onto the floor, crouching as though to hide herself from them.
“Someone very, very stupid,” I murmur, my Glock already aimed toward the door. “Stay quiet.”
She drags the blanket off the floor and wraps up in it. “Be careful.”
While keeping an ear out, I turn to drag my gaze down her form. Her green eyes flicker with worry but not fear. I’m curious about her response to the situation. It’s almost as if she really did mean those words.
Be careful.
Since when has anyone ever uttered those words to me?
Mother?
“Stay put,” I instruct, as I twist the knob and quietly pull the door open.
My men are quiet, which means there’s a hide and seek game going on with our trespasser. I edge along the wall in the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky boards. Melody remains silent, much to my approval.
I can’t allow myself to get distracted by her, but I can’t help but admit I enjoy her presence. Where I originally thought she