5. Daniela
“So, you think I’d give you my eyes willingly?” I laugh under my breath, pitying these two amateurs. “This isn’t a game. You come at me, and I’ll kill you.”
The guy wearing a baseball cap glances over his shoulder at his friend who rolls his eyes, the two of them thinking they’ve got the upper hand.
“Cuff her, Jonny. I want this puta tied up like my uncle was when she stabbed him.”
Jonny digs out a set of handcuffs from his back pocket.
“My pleasure, To?o.”
As To?o angles his head back to me and our eyes meet, the familiar rattle of submachine guns firing off 800 rounds a minute sends his brows snapping together.
“They’re here already,” he mutters.
“Let’s get this over with.” Jonny lunges at me, his reactions panicked.
The second he wraps his hand around my forearm, my instincts to kill flare up. A black mist descends, and I move quickly, twisting Jonny like a pretzel and punching his throat.
While he struggles to breathe, my focus jumps to To?o and his gun.
He pulls the trigger and I dodge the bullet. A hiss of anger spills from his lips, the stench of violence thick in the atmosphere.
His efforts to grab me are short-lived when I twist sideways, spin, and raise my leg high, booting him in the face with the back of my heel.
To?o staggers, blinking wildly. Blood explodes from his nose, which distracts him for a second.
I don’t waste the opportunity, silently loving the surge of adrenaline in my veins.
While he wipes his nostrils with the back of his hand, I snatch his gun, aim, and shoot him in the thigh, happily watching him writhe on the floor.
From behind, a sudden red-hot burn slices my cheekbone.
Motherfucker.
Patting the cut he’d just carved into my flesh, I rub the blood between my fingertips, glaring at Jonny’s heaving chest and flaring nostrils.
“You’ll pay for that,” I snarl under my breath.
Jonny glances at the gun in my hand and then his gaze cuts to the river of blood leaking from To?o’s leg.
“Don’t shoot…please.”
He lowers his blade, understanding a knife means shit when my finger is on a trigger.
“I have a kid at home. A daughter. We need the money.”
“Kill her, for fuck’s sake, Jonny,” To?o pants, his face growing paler.
“Drop the blade and give me the cuffs.” I hold my hand and crook my fingers. “Now.”
I silently recoil inside when he swallows, drops his only weapon, and obediently hands over the cuffs, a look of terror clouding his eyes.
In truth, I could kill them both and walk away. However, something stops me.
Maybe it”s their age or the fact we’re caught up in this world through bad choices––or not having any choice at all.
Doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft. I’ve just tapped into a little piece of compassion that’s been absent in my life for far too long.
“On your knees,” I mutter, pointing the gun at him.
Moving quickly, I slap the cuffs on their wrists, linking them together and steal their cell phones.
With Jonny kneeling beside his friend, I snatch the blade from the floor, position his hand on top of his thigh and stab right through, pinning the two limbs together.
His howl sings in my veins and I smile inwardly.
Sometimes inflicting pain is more satisfying than cold-blooded murder. Plus, they wouldn’t get far in this state.
I rise and stare at them for a split second, my heart pounding from the stench of spilled blood and my little victory.
“Next time, I’ll empty a clip in your foreheads, comprendes?”
To?o spits at my boots, his temple beaded with sweat and his teeth bared. Not caring, I extract the SIM cards from each of their phones, drop the devices, and stamp my boot down hard.
Once they’re well and truly smashed, I flip up my middle finger and back up to the door, slamming it shut on my way out.
The constant chaos of gunfire echoes everywhere.
Looking left, then right, I see shadows at one end of the hallway. With only a handgun and a few bullets to protect me, I dart in the opposite direction and follow the turns.
Despite not knowing where the hell it would take me, my body tingles. Not from fear. Fuck no, from the rush of danger I’ve grown accustomed to, and the desire to prove myself a worthy opponent to each and every fucker who thinks I’m their prey.
In no time, I’m facing a fire escape door, kicking the metal push bar and standing back when it flies open.
Quickly scanning the loading bay area packed full of cargo containers and trucks, I take a beat to study the silver clad exterior checking for snipers. Confident there aren’t any on the roof, I bring my focus back to the ground and hunt for a suitable place to take cover.
Ready to get the hell out of here, I duck low and crouch behind a wooden pallet. A plastic membrane’s wrapped around the cargo, and I use the shadow it creates to hide in.
Intermittent shots are fired and men yell.
At this point, I don’t trust anyone.
All I can do is stay in position, observe, and figure out if any of these guys are my soldiers on a rescue mission. After my assessment, I come up with a plan to get out of here alive.
Overhead, the sky is clear and blue. The late afternoon sun dapples patches of light on the concrete and glints on the windshields of parked trucks lined up in an orderly sequence.
They’re like lighthouses warning of the danger all around me.
In the distance, a handful of men dressed in normal clothes pour out from behind a truck near the boundary fencing.
Even though they aren’t wearing face coverings, they’re too far away for me to study their features.
Then I catch a glimpse of another soldier. Except this guy wears all black and skirts the length of a trailer with his machine gun primed and his strides confident.
The peak of a non-descript baseball cap hides his eyes and casts a shadow over his face.
He’s not like the others. More self-assured and lethal. Goosebumps race over my arms and I dare to think it could be Matheus.
Except, the guy who rounds a truck and disappears isn’t wearing a balaclava to hide his identity.
It couldn’t be him.
Shaking off my obsession with Matheus, I consider my next moves. Use the vehicles for cover. Dodge the testosterone fueled assholes firing machine guns. Reach the boundary gates. Warn Blanco of the danger.
In theory, it should be simple.
Despite the fact I take great pride in my skills as a sicario, I can’t outrun a team of men who have more ammo than me.
I’m good, but I’m not bulletproof.
Frenzied bullets continue to spray. One narrowly misses me, others arc over the top of my hiding spot, and another burrows into the wood above my head.
Recognizing the need to keep moving, I tuck my hair behind my ears, crawl on all fours and strategically stay in the shade.
I ignore the stinging slice over my cheekbone and stop beside a huge tire of a shiny green transportation truck.
In that moment, a sudden flow of inexplicable heat charges my veins and prickles the back of my neck. It’s not something I can control or understand.
The sensation is a flaming hot awareness reaching deep inside of me.
I glance right, squinting at the far end of the long trailer, not seeing anyone.
But that scorching vibration hums through me and I start to think I should start running. When I take a couple of steps, something locks around my ankle, tight and aggressive.
I lose my balance and end up toppling, breaking my fall with one hand and expelling a gust of air when I land.
My ears prick at the nearby muffled noise. I roll onto my side, point my gun and stare at a metal chassis and a familiar, unmasked face beneath it.
Matheus.
Stunned, I don”t fight back when he roughly drags me under the truck with him. Both of us stare at each other, not saying a word, only breathing heavily.
This guy who thinks he’s my hero is so close I can smell the pungent hit of nitroglycerin left after firing his Uzi, cigarette smoke, and him.
Woody amber cologne and Matheus Souza. I’ve become addicted to that unique masculine scent.
Trapped in his gaze, I feel myself burn in the richness of his chestnut eyes. Even now, in the middle of a war zone, I’m buzzing next to this guy.
It’s abnormal and stupid.
“You okay, Dani?” his hoarse voice rumbles between us.
I grunt at his question and roll my eyes.
“I was fine until you pulled me under here. You’re delaying my escape.”
The carnage unfolding around us fades when he bites off his glove, thumbs my cheek and glares at the blood covering his skin.
Without saying a word, he draws it into his mouth and sucks.
My pulse thrums. I have to work hard not to whimper when his eyes darken, so full of anger and temptation.
“I hope you killed the fucker who did that to you. Or did you leave him for me to sort out?”
His devastating smile gives me butterflies.
A shiver prickles my scalp and I wonder if the slash mark would leave an ugly scar. Yet another reason for my sister to be a better match for this man.
“Not quite. He got the message though,” I mutter, checking over his shoulder.
A tactical vest covers the black base layer stuck to his broad chest and his utility pockets are packed full of replacement magazines.
Jet-black hair hangs over his forehead, draping sideways a little so the tips of his messy bangs are kissing long, inky lashes.
That powerful wave of attraction hits me hard. I’d be a fool to fall right back into his arms again.
Not going to fucking happen.
“Why aren’t you wearing a mask?”
“Because I came here to rescue you…as myself. Dario recognized one of the guys who took you. Eduardo’s nephew was the ringleader. They worked for him––for us. And now everyone will understand they can’t fuck with the Souzas, or you.”
“Those men out there have a video of me stabbing Eduardo…and the two of us hooking up afterward.” I point out, ignoring my dry throat and the magnetic pull between us.
Christ, I could lick his salty skin and have one final taste.
“They figured out I work for Blanco and watched you stand right beside me while I killed him. You’re a target because of it. Now they’re going to ruin your organization from the inside.”
I continue, acting unfazed when I’m anything but.
“Everyone in your family is in danger, because I showed my face, and they caught it on camera. That’s how they found me so quickly. Now they think I’m your woman, or whatever. Which l’m not,” I add quickly.
Matheus frowns at my admission and when he goes to speak, I cut him off.
“They had footage of us fucking, Mat. Eduardo was in the background.”
“Say that again.”
“They had surveillance footage, Matheus. They saw the whole thing. Then followed us to Blanco’s house. Here…” I dig out the SIM cards from my pocket and shove them into his hand. “…you have the resources to make the video disappear. You’re exposed, Mat. Your face could be out in the public domain next to a contract killer. If they’ve already uploaded it to the internet, the police will be all over you as an accomplice.”
He glances behind him when footsteps clatter alongside the truck. Bringing his full attention back to me, he pockets the SIMS and strokes my cheek again, gentle and careful.
The pad of his thumb glides through the trickling blood and then he exhales, a hint of alcohol on his warm breath.
His brow creases and his eyes drill into mine.
“I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry. Now how about you repeat the part about you not being mine,” he mutters.
Heat erupts in my core. All I can think about is kissing his beautiful lips and running my hands over his muscular biceps.
“Come on, Mat. Don’t play dumb.”
His jaw clenches before he narrows his eyes and yanks me closer.
“You are mine, little firecracker,” he grits out. “I’ve told you that already. You and me. Always and forever. Nothing will ever change that.”
My body goes completely still, and I forget to breathe. Those damn butterflies dance in my belly and my silly crush for this guy blows out of proportion when he wraps his hand around my nape and bumps our foreheads together.
Before I get the chance to challenge his lies, his wet lips are on mine and an overwhelming spark of desire sets my blood on fire.
No!
I can’t let him under my skin. Not again. I need to get away from here—from him.
Now.
With his tongue slipping into my mouth, making me insanely wet between my thighs, I pluck up the motivation to fight back.
He’s playing me.
Marrying my sister.
Disrespecting both me and her by thinking he, a Souza fucking god, could have it all.
Well, he can’t have me. Even if I want to rip off his pants, squeeze his dick, and feel how hard it is for me.
I bite down on his tongue and instantly feel him jerk. As his head wrenches backward, I can’t help but notice how his eyes flame and he winces a little as his shoulder tenses.
He’s injured, which makes him an easy target. I could use it to my advantage if I needed to do so.
Hissing, he swipes the tip of his tongue with his forefinger.
“You fucking bit me?” He frowns, completely shocked. “I came all this way to save you and you draw blood. And not in a cute, kinky way either, baby.”
A niggle of remorse siphons through me. I didn’t enjoy hurting Matheus.
There was no rush or thrill to it. Which is so utterly pitiful on my part.
All I wanted was control of the madness he had injected into my veins. Except it didn’t work. I’m still hungry for him.
“First you ran from me and now this.”
His expression morphs from bewildered to dangerously seductive, his eyes dropping to my parted lips.
“You’re practically begging for punishment, aren’t you?”
I exhale down my nose in a gust at the same time as a nearby explosion rattles the truck overhead. Flaming debris lands a few meters away and half a body settles next to it.
“Don’t ever kiss me again. You can’t have both of us.” I gather myself up and scurry in the opposite direction. “You made your choice.”
“Wait. Let me explain,” his raspy voice chases me.
Not waiting to hear what he has to say next; I crawl out from under the truck, driven to put distance between us.
When I straighten, another bomb blast knocks me backward. I stumble and hit something hard—Matheus with his washboard abs and towering height.
Big hands circle my waist, and he spins me around. His lips move, but I can’t hear what he has to say.
There’s only a loud ringing in my ears.
My head is swimming from being held tight against him and the desire to kiss him is still there.
I growl under my breath, shove into his tactical vest, and offer him my best death glare. Nothing he has to say holds any importance.
“Go ahead and marry Sofia,” I shout to be heard, the words hurting my heart. “But if you end up ruining her life, I’ll kill you, Souza.”
And then I do what I should have done the first time we met.
I give him the middle finger and run.