Run. Run!
Danger.
My instinct kicked me in the gut, my mind reeling.
I had absolutely no recourse but to take off running. Within seconds, I was able to hear heavy, solid feet behind me, the man’s gait faster than I would have imagined given his massive size.
Terror ripped at every emotion, my entire mind reeling. I let off a solid wail, frantically looking for anywhere to go. The darkness was ominous, overpowering in every manner. I was in a city I didn’t know, in a country where people spoke little English and I’d fallen into a tourist’s biggest trap. I was a huge fucking fool. There was no one coming to save me, not a fucking soul on this street that would give a damn that a woman was being accosted.
My God, had the asshole laughed? The sound reverberated into my ears, dark and evil just like the man himself.
My anger turned to rage, flashes of light shifting across my field of vision. This motherfucker wasn’t going to kill me. I twisted around, tossing the larger bag in his direction, taking off running once again. Clothes I could do without. The anguished thud as the fucker tripped was satisfying, but the action had barely slowed him down. My God, he was gaining on me.
I heard the sound of another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. Then it slowed down, the headlights flashing in my direction. No. No!
This had been a setup. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!
As fast as I could run, the asshole was gaining on me. The sound of screeching tires matching my high-pitched scream as my feet pounded on the pavement. I jerked toward the street, weaving past a parked car in my effort to get to the other side. There was the sound of a car door, another pair of feet. My life flashed in front of my eyes.
Whoosh!
“Argh!” This time, the guttural scream hadn’t erupted from my throat, the deep bass echoing in my ears. Another hard thud was followed by an angry shout in Spanish. Suddenly, everything seemed to be in slow motion, the sounds exploding behind me vicious and brutal. When I no longer heard the sound of anyone following me, I turned, gasping for air, headlights from the same vehicle illuminating the street.
The light from the building washed over a small area, accentuating a man dressed in a white dinner jacket, his long raven hair pulled into a ponytail. There was no mistaking the shimmer of the knife in his hand, the reflection of the blade unmistakable. He snarled, kicking the man several times before standing to his full height, removing some kind of cloth from his pocket and wiping the blade.
Blood. He had to be wiping away blood from stabbing the asshole who’d been following me.
Ready to kill me.
By all rights, I should be paralyzed with fear, but another instinctual realization settled in. Whoever the stranger was, he had no intention of harming me.
From where I stood, I could clearly see the outline of the man who’d been following me, his body slumped onto the sidewalk. I suddenly realized I was walking closer, my body reacting while my mind attempted to process anything about the stranger who’d saved my life.
He tipped his head very slowly in my direction, his gaze locked onto mine and while there was no way I could see his eyes, I could swear they were boring into mine. Everything about him reeked of danger and possession, as if he owned the streets, and people were prepared to bow down to him.
After sliding the weapon into one pocket, he eased his phone from another. The husky sound of his voice floated in my direction, every word spoken in Spanish. I was still petrified, unable to process what had just occurred.
The roar of an engine caught my attention, the same vehicle moving closer to the stranger, a door opening. The headlights were suddenly blinding, forcing me to shield my eyes. Without any hurry in his step, the man walked toward the car. Before he climbed in, he took another look in my direction.
Acknowledging me.
Protecting me.
Wanting me.
Then the sleek vehicle drove past, the dark windows hiding those inside, but I could still feel his heated gaze.
As well as his burning desire.
Chapter Two
Rafael
I am the danger. I am the darkness. I am the hunter.
The statements were all true. There was great power in being labeled a dangerous man, the term instilling terror into the hearts and minds of my enemies.
I’d been born into a ruthless family, my father notorious for his brutality. I’d inherited his business savvy as well as his lack of mercy for fools and traitors. I’d also been given a gift by my mother—her love of music. I chuckled at the dichotomy of the two. I’d never known how two such different people could have fallen in love, but their passion continued to this day, providing their three sons with an unbridled respect of family.
I rubbed my eyes then donned my sunglasses as I stepped out of my Maserati, eyeing the beautiful landscaping surrounding the gothic building. I’d always been a sucker for architecture, my love of old ruins as a child providing extensive fantasies of Spanish conquistadors. The ornate detailing was exquisite, the stonework precise, all carved by hand. I couldn’t imagine how much time it had taken in order to design and build such a thing of beauty.
However, I wasn’t here to admire the structure or the pristine landscaping provided by dozens of daily workers. I had family business to attend to.
I glanced toward the two men I’d brought as protection as they pulled their vehicle into one of the parking spots. At this point, their presence inside wasn’t needed, the danger level low. Even a bloodsucking pig like Alviro Calleja wouldn’t dare attempt to assassinate the son of a mafia leader.
Or there would be hell to pay.
I was a man who appreciated the aspect of consequences, atonement for the dark and ugly sins of the trade. In my mind there should always be honor, even among opposing organizations, but that wasn’t always the case. I knew this meeting could potentially prove my point.
I didn’t bother buttoning my suit jacket, merely sliding the key fob into my pocket and heading to the door.
Enemies.
My family had far too many, the kind of people who’d forgotten about humanity. Our adversaries were ruthless in every manner, but not nearly as merciless as anyone from the Galicia mafia, of which my father had been the head for decades. Our family had been the ultimate power within Spain, driving the course of both criminal and legitimate business activities in our organization with an iron fist. It was insanity to cross us.
But someone had.
And one day, the monster would face my wrath personally.
Death was a part of my world, the grim reaper hungry for souls damned by their vicious, primal nature. I was no different than anyone else in the business. I would meet my maker soon enough and there was no doubt I’d spend eternity enslaved in hell.
Death.
Exactly what I deserved, but not on this day.
Just before I walked inside, the crisp blue sky drew my attention. This was certainly a beautiful late afternoon, the warm breezes wafting the scent of jasmine and other flowers across my nose. I was surprised I was in such a good mood, especially given the job at hand. One of my soldiers had gotten wind that the second in command of the Los Charlines clan had actually stepped foot into one of the Santiago establishments requesting to speak with me. The asshole was either a fool or prepared to die.
However, I wouldn’t put anything past the new and very brutal leader of the Los Charlines.
My father had insisted that I honor the original terms that had been established with the Los Charlines clan, an agreement that had been made with the previous leader. The repugnant man had been gunned down by members of the Portuguese policia, although rumors had flown immediately about the person behind the assassination, a member of his own organization.