Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The smart thing would’ve been to keep her mouth shut and let Luis get rid of them quietly. But her conscience couldn’t accept murder as a solution until she knew for sure they were bad men.
So here she was, standing before them on the microscopic chance she was saving their lives, which would only happen if they joined sides with La Rocha Cartel.
Martin folded his arms across his shirtless chest, the valleys between his abs obscenely deep in the glow of the dingy light bulb.
The swollen bruises around his eyes didn’t diminish his hotness. His square jaw bore a speckle of darker hairs in an otherwise blond five o’clock shadow.
The golden hair on his head was short enough to maintain order while Ricky’s spiky black strands stuck up in every direction.
Ricky took the heavy box from her, and the sight of veins and sinews bulging in his sculpted forearms swept a tingling heat through her.
God, had she ever seen anything sexier?
Arms. She was drooling over forearms.
“Come in,” Martin said, making the invitation sound more like a command.
She stepped in and locked the door behind her, scrunching her nose at the putrid stench of sewage.
“There’s a scented candle in the box.” She coughed against her fist. “It might mask the smell.”
They stared at her with blank expressions. Maybe her spiel about needing a friend had been too honest? If they didn’t believe her, they might kill her on suspicion alone.
The gun in her waistband felt hot against her tailbone. She wasn’t a good shot, and Ricky had already disarmed her once. She was out of her league.
“Smells like you brought food.” Ricky turned to the box and removed the candle, followed by plastic containers of pork pozole and Mexican rice. “This is for us?”
“Yeah. Everything in there is yours.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “I gathered what I could.”
The box included basic supplies, such as clothing, soap, shaving razors, toothbrushes, towels, blankets, toilet paper, cutoff plastic milk cartons to use as dishes, powdered milk, instant coffee, and her only cooking stove.
Martin removed a stack of shirts and cotton pants. “How did you get all this?”
“I bartered a few things. Some of it I already had.”
Home-cooked meals were brought in by families of the inmates, and she knew who to approach to trade for it.
Ricky dug through the box, the muscled column of his neck stretching into sloping shoulders and taut ripples of brawn along his spine.
Her cheeks heated.
“This is incredible, Tula.” He lit the candle with a match and located a plastic spoon for the pozole.
She glanced at Martin and found him watching her with a glint of suspicion in his emerald eyes.
Her mouth dried. “I promise I didn’t poison anything.”
His expression hardened.
She returned his glare. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve just let you starve.”
“Eat.” Ricky smacked the container of rice against Martin’s chest and turned to her. “Come here.”
Two uncertain steps carried her the short distance. She craned her neck to look at him.
Lord have mercy, he wasn’t even touching her, yet she felt him up and down the front of her body. As she swayed into his force field, his dark masculine scent curled around her.
The light press of his knuckle lifted her chin, igniting tiny shocks of electricity across her skin.
“I’m going to thank you now.” His rich brown eyes darkened as they dipped to her mouth.
Oh, God. He was going to kiss her. She ached for it as much as she dreaded it. He scared her. This scared her. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing.
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, causing his breathing to accelerate. He angled in and pressed his thumb against her lip, tugging it from her bite.
His cheeks rose with amusement. Or pleasure. Maybe both. Then he grabbed her and crushed that heart-melting smile against her mouth.
Warmth flooded her chest, and her pulse burst into a gallop. It wasn’t just the hot glide of his lips. It was him, breaking through the walls she’d erected two years ago.
His hands tingled down her spine and skimmed around the shape of her butt. They rested on the backs of her thighs, his fingers tucked between her jean-clad legs. He used that grip to hold her tight against him.
He didn’t open his mouth to deepen the kiss, but a promise breathed past the seam of his lips. When he decided to take her, it would be explosive and unstoppable.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her mouth.
Her entire face tingled as she stepped back.
Martin’s presence felt like a pulsing beacon in the small space. When she peeked at him, she was surprised to see a soft smile in his eyes.
“I brought a bottle of tequila to wash that down.” She motioned at the spoonful of rice he lifted to his mouth.