by Sasha Leone
Then a new head pops in through the partition.
My heart nearly explodes.
No way.
“Hey there, little bird.” That smile. Those dimples. The emerald green in his eyes is still just as vibrant as ever.
Angel Montoya.
He lunges forward through the little partition and his lips meet mine. My tied tongue unfurls as he pulls back—a thousand questions race through my mind, but only one comes out of my mouth.
“Where the hell have you been!?”
His smile only gets wider; those dimples deeper. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first, let’s get you the fuck out of here.” before I know what’s happening, Angel has his gun drawn and pointed at the back door on the other side of the limo. A long silencer is attached to the barrel and the loud thump that emanates from the weapon when he fires hardly even makes me flinch. I’m too shell shocked to be mad at the carelessness of him firing a gun just feet away from my face, especially when the locked door bursts open, giving me a way out of this death trap.
Angel pulls back out of the partition, disappearing for a split second before reappearing at the newly opened door. His hand reaches to me like a ladder out of hell.
For some reason, I hesitate to take it, but that hesitation only lasts for a split second, and in the blink of an eye, I’m rippled from the limo and pulled into his warm, muscular body.
Oh god, how I missed the heat of his chest.
Still, the bliss of feeling him again hardly masks the pain of his tug. “Ow!” The yelp escapes my lips as a sharp ache ripples up my wounded arm.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Angel growls, seemingly noticing my bandages for the first time. “What did they do to you!?” The fury in his voice is limitless, but he seems to holster it in favor of staying focused.
For a dream-like moment, I ignore everything else in the world. My cheek melts into his heaving chest and I can feel his heart beat—but Angel’s familiar musky scent is masked by the smell of fire. After a moment of reveling in his sudden return, I turn to the scene that stopped my motorcade.
Up ahead, in front of the two now blood covered limos that were leading my car to some unknown location, is a makeshift blockade of burning cars. The flames flicker up to the sky and a crowd of rioters dance around the bonfire.
I turn to look back behind us; a few brawny men in muscle shirts and ripped jeans are finishing off what remains of Dante’s security detail. The violence is swift but merciless. The streets run red with blood. My cheek instinctively digs back into Angel’s chest.
“Come on, we need to get out of here.”
I’m not given much time to process what’s going on. Pain rips through my arm as Angel tugs me away from the chaos. I scream in pain and Angel stops in his tracks. “Oh yeah, fuck. Sorry.”
He’s probably apologized more to me in the past two minutes than he ever has before. It’s almost weird, hearing a word like sorry come from his lips, but I don’t have time to linger on it. A split-second later, Angel has swept me off of my feet.
He whisks me from the fire and the blood like a stolen bride and I swear I hear the crowd of rioters start to cheer behind us.
That sound fades, though, and my ears rush with blood as we sprint down a tight alleyway. A surreal tint comes over the world. Is this really happening? Am I finally being freed from my nightmare?
We turn a tight corner and a truck swerves to a stop right in front of us. The world rushes back into focus as Angel rips open the back door and throws me inside.
I slide across the seat, but before I can hit the opposite door, Angel dives on top of me. His muscular torso covers me like a blanket of pure steamy heat. “Go!” he orders, and the squeal of racing tires accosts my ears.
My savior holds me tight as our escape vehicle twists and turns down the winding alleys of the slum village. His big round biceps flex around my aching body, holding me in place and protecting me from the violence of our getaway. As the car speeds around sharp corners, we’re thrown from side to side, but I don’t ever hit anything but Angel. He has me completely wrapped up. Even my pain seems to subside under his blissful grip.
My mind wants to go blank; my body wants to give in. There’s no ignoring the hardness growing between Angel’s legs; it pushes up against me like a rod of divinity. He wants me bad—and, fuck, I want him, too.
Suddenly, we come to a screeching halt. Angel’s vice grip around me eases as he pops a peak through the tinted window above us.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Our second getaway vehicle is supposed to meet us here. We’re going to switch onto something a little more... compact.”
Somehow, I immediately know what he means. We’re about to get on a motorcycle. “Angel... I... I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold on.” I can hardly process the fact that he’s here in the flesh, but I gesture towards my bandages and daintily flex my sore limbs.
“What did they do to you?” he growls, a fury blazing behind his deep guttural voice.
“It wasn’t them,” I whisper. “It was me...”
Angel’s roughness suddenly softens as he places a tender palm against my cheek. His huge rough fingers caress my jaw as he pulls my gaze into his. The emerald green tint to his eyes digs deep into my soul and nearly makes me forget all of the anger I was harboring towards him just minutes ago.
He’s back... He’s finally back.
The steaming tiger studies me with great interest. It doesn’t take long for the concern in his gaze to give way to desire. That thick wet tongue of his lashes against his lips and my legs tingle in expectation.
“Angel...” There are so many things I want to say. An immense confession weighs heavy on my tongue, but I can’t speak. I just want to look at him a little longer.
“Cat...” The low rumble of his voice sends a flock of butterflies racing through my belly. I close my eyes and fall into his hand.
The next thing I know, his lips are on mine.
This kiss isn’t as quick as the first one. The passion that Angel delivers through his mouth pushes me back against the truck door and steals away all of my pain.
I raise my hand to his chest, unsure if I should push him away or draw him in even closer. My mind is scrambled with a million different thoughts, but they all give way under the hardness of Angel’s growing desire.
God, I missed him.
“You look better than ever,” he says in a low voice when he finally pulls away from my lips.
I cough out a muffled chuckle as he moves his tongue down to my neck—a tiny whimper of pleasure follows close behind. “Are we safe?” I manage to eke out through the veil of pleasure that descends down upon me along with Angel’s kisses.
“Not yet,” he replies through heavy breaths. His lips are on my clavicle now, his hand wrapped around my upper thigh. I sigh and run my hand through the back of his hair.
“We need to get out of here,” I breathe.
“There’s nothing we can do right now but wait... and catch up.”
I know what kind of catching up he means. Angel doesn’t want to talk. His hands slide under my sundress and his fingers slip around my panties. He pulls them down around my ankles and I don’t stop him.
Empty bliss straddles my stressed mind like a cowboy trying to tame a wild steed, but my responsibilities won’t let me give in completely, not yet. I tighten my grip around Angel’s black hair and pull him backwards just as he slides a finger between my soaking petals.
“Not now,” I whisper, with hardly any conviction in my voice. His touch feels so good, his penetration feels so right... but something is wrong. He doesn’t know about what our passion has already created...
Angel’s teeth graze the tender skin of my throat just as a thunderous roar graces my ears. I turn my gaze out of the tinted truck window and see a motorbike appears out from behind a row of sheet covered clotheslines. It rumbles to a stop just outside of our truck.
Angel gives my neck one last k
iss before unsheathing his finger from my privates. My entire body slouches in response to his sudden absence. Somehow, I’m both disappointed and entirely relieved.
Angel and I need to talk before we can fuck. He needs to know that things have changed; he needs to know that I’m not just going to welcome him back into my life so easily. It took me one night to break into my prison, why did it take him two years?
8
Angel
I’m still hard when I lift Catalina onto the seat of the motorbike. My arousal hardly falters as I jump on behind her and wrap my arms across her smooth skin to get to the handles.
The little jungle bird’s warm body trembles along with the engine as I rev the ignition. I wasn’t lying when I said she looked as good as ever; I also think I made it clear that she felt as good as ever, too. But that more sensual reunion will have to wait until we’re truly safe. I probably shouldn’t have pounced on her so quickly, but I couldn’t help myself, she just makes me so fucking wild.
“Ready?” I whisper into her ear.
She nods and I immediately kick down. The engine roars and we speed forward through the clotheslines ahead and into a tight alley that no car could ever fit through.
Residential windows blur by as we race for freedom. In the distance, I can hear police sirens; they’re just as dangerous as any of Dante’s foot soldiers. Juan’s made it clear that nearly everyone in this crumbling city is under Dante’s thumb in one way or another, and law enforcement is no exception.
Cat shakes beneath me as we break through the thick humid air of the alleyway. It seems to stretch on forever, but, finally, we explode into an opening and I make a hard right turn, up a hill that leads to the center of these slums.
That’s where we’re going to meet Juan. He’s going to be our personal escort down a series of interconnected underground tunnels that even I didn’t know existed. Apparently, the closest checkpoint is up ahead. I just have to get us there before anyone else can get to us.
Luckily, the sun is going down, and that means the local residents are already rushing inside to avoid breaking curfew. They clear the streets and make for easy driving. I keep my foot to the pedal and we roar through the shanty buildings like a bullet through hell.
Cat holds onto my arms with an impressive stoicism and a wave of pride and relief washes through my chest. She’s still as strong as ever, Dante didn’t break her spirit.
Up ahead, I spot our final destination.
The little grove covered parking lot is nearly empty, except for a man bent over a manhole cover near the center. He looks up when he hears us approaching.
It’s Juan.
We don’t exchange pleasantries when I skid to a stop in front of him. The panicked look on his face sends a shot of dread through my racing heart.
“What!?” I immediately growl before he can talk, sensing that something is wrong.
“It’s sealed shut. The fucking entryway has been sealed. Help me pry it open, quick!”
I leave Cat on the bike and rush over to the manhole cover Juan has been working on. Sure enough, it looks like it’s been melded into the ground.
“Did you not check to make sure it was still open before we made this fucking plan!?” I grumble, pulling out my switchblade and working it along the crusty edges of the rusted metal.
“There wasn’t any time,” Juan shoots back. I don’t push him any further. We both know that time is of the essence and a fight isn’t going to resolve anything.
“We need a blowtorch or something,” I grumble. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to cut this thing up before we’re overrun by Dante’s men.”
“What do you need?” That’s not Juan speaking. Catalina has jumped off the motorbike and stumbled over to our side.
“A blowtorch,” Juan says.
Sirens grow in the distance. I glance up at my former bride, expecting to see fear in her big brown eyes—if she’s afraid, she doesn’t show it. Instead, a look of determination comes over her beautiful features. “What can I do?” she asks.
I jump up from the unflinching manhole cover and give her a quick kiss—I can’t fucking help it, her lips are just too soft to ignore. I missed her taste so much; I need more... but more important issues threaten to tear us apart at the moment. I turn her around and we both scan the surrounding area. Small shops and residences line the parking lot, but they’re all dark. “We need to find a blowtorch, or at least something that can open this fucking hatch.” I growl.
“Do you think we can find anything useful in one of these shops?” She reads my mind.
“Let’s go look,” I nod, patting her on the ass for luck. “Keep digging,” I yell back to Juan, tossing him my switchblade in the process. “We’re going looking for fire.”
My hand finds Catalina’s and the warmth of her palm sends a shockwave of heat up my arm. I sneer with determination and whisk her off to the nearest shop. One of these dark windows has to hold our salvation... otherwise we’re screwed.
Approaching vehicles rumble off in the distance. There’s no doubt in my mind that they belong to anyone else but our enemy. No one other than Dante’s men would dare be out after dark—not even the rioters have that much gusto, not yet. I try to ignore the approaching thunder as I tighten my grip around Catalina’s little hand. The escape hatch in the parking lot is our only way out of this. It’s do or die time.
The first door I dig my shoulder into hardly puts up any resistance. We barrel through into the dark store and Catalina is immediately behind the counter, looking for something useful.
“Grab all the lighters you can carry,” I tell her, spotting a display of fireworks on the other side of the counter. “We’re going to have to melt through enough of the steel to get my hands through; maybe then I’ll be able to rip the rest of the hatch off.”
Before I get to the fireworks, I spot a rack of towels down the nearest aisle. I’ll need those. “Find any lighters?” I ask, ripping down the towels and slinging them over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” Catalina chuckles. I look over and see that she’s filled the front of her dress like a pouch. A proud grin crosses my lips. Our eyes meet and a playful slyness dances over her elegant features. Is she having fun!? I knew I fell for this girl for a reason...
Our little moment doesn’t last long. A sudden air rattling roar fills the space between us and we both snap our attentions outside. The source of the roar quickly disappears, but we both spot Juan desperately waving at us to hurry the fuck up.
“Let’s go,” I say and we both rush out of the shop with our loot.
“Wait.” Cat stops in the doorway.
I turn around, muscles flexed and my mind racing. “What’s wrong?”
Cat looks down at the loot in her pouch. “We’re stealing this stuff.” Her voice is filled with guilt.
My head nearly explodes. “Are you kidding me!?” I rush back to her, but when I go to grab her arm, she pulls away from me.
“We’re in the slums, Angel. These people can’t afford to get robbed...”
I bite my tongue as an impatient rage simmers just below my surface. Be patient, Angel. I hear a voice of reason worm its way through the fire. For her. For Cat.
My hand is immediately in my pocket. I rip out my wallet and storm past Catalina back inside the shop. She watches as I empty every last bill onto the counter we just ravaged. “Happy?” I growl, trying to mask how desperate I am for her to say yes.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, let’s get out of this hell hole.”
Cat nods and turns back to the parking lot. She gets a head start, but it only takes me a few strides to catch up. The last thing I want to do is let her get too far from me. I’ve put so much effort into finally getting her back, so much time into getting this close, that I’m determined never to let her go again. I’ve made a promise to myself to protect her, and it’s not one I’m going to break; not for any fucking reason.
“Did you find a blowtorch?” Juan a
sks when we return.
I stare down at the manhole cover; its edges are barely any more chipped than when I left. “No,” I mumble. “But we did bring fire.”
Catalina lets go of her dress and a flurry of lighters fall onto the pavement below. Juan immediately seems to understand. The three of us grab a lighter each and start fanning the edges of our unflinching manhole cover.
Before we can make much progress, that deafening roar we heard inside the shop passes over top of us again. It shoots by like a missile and I immediately know what it is.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“Was that a helicopter!?” Catalina shouts, as the roar passes.
“Dante’s got the whole police force under his grip,” Juan shouts. “I didn’t order a helicopter, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one of my overzealous underlings did. Everybody who words directly for Dante knows that an important package was being transported today, and now they all know that it has been stolen. Dante’s not in town right now, but it’s no secret that there will be hell to pay if he comes back and his prized hostage is missing.”
“We’re running out of time,” I growl, splitting open my lighter and tracing the fluid inside around the edge of the hatch. Catalina and Juan follow my lead. We soak the stubborn metal in flammable fuel until we only have a few lighters left.
Before I can set the fire myself, Catalina has flicked open her own blue flame. Juan dips the tip of a nearby stick into the puddle of fuel and then presents the torch to Cat. The fire takes hold quickly, and when Juan tips it down to the manhole cover, a huge blue explosion shoots up through the darkness.
“Fuck!” All three of us shout at the same time.
If the cops didn’t know where we were before, they sure as hell do now.
But...
“It’s working!” Catalina shouts.
“Fucking hell,” Juan grumbles.
The steel around the edges of the manhole cover are curling up under the intense flames. We don’t have much time to revel in our little victory, though, because the roar of our stalking helicopter quickly returns with a vengeance, and this time, it’s brought along a spotlight.