Who had touched her? How deep were her wounds?
His hand clenched and loosened on the phone. “How many motherfuckers do I need to kill?”
“I’ll handle it. Just deal with the body. I need to go—”
“Give me a way to contact you.” So he could locate her. And reclaim her.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t you fucking hang—”
She disconnected the call.
CHAPTER 1
Ten years later…
“Lower. That’s it. A little lower…” Camila rocked her hips beneath the scratch of whiskers. “Right there, churro.”
Churro, my ass. This underweight stick of a man reeked of sweat, stale smoke, and neglect. Or maybe it was the mattress.
Not that she expected a pleasant experience. The man between her legs worked for someone vile. Someone who didn’t deserve to live. Shame she didn’t know who that someone was. But she was here to find out.
Bony hands curled around her waist, his wet mouth slithering across the waxed mound of her pussy. Here we go.
A purr vibrated her throat, her pleasure as fake as her role tonight. But damn if she didn’t sound convincing. With her legs spread, back pressed against the mattress, and a hundred-and-fifteen pounds of athletic nudity on display, she could rob a man of all common sense.
As soon as she could seduce him into position, she’d take more than just his wits.
He shifted lower, curled his tongue inside her, and Whoa! What the— A charged warmth of bliss shot across her skin and bowed her spine.
“Mierda, yes!” She turned her neck, hiding the shock on her face.
Holy hell, he knew how to give head. She melted against the suction of his lips, clinging to the tingling rush of sensations. As far as surprises went, she could roll with this one. She might even come.
With wicked flicks of his tongue, he peered up at her, his pupils bloated in the dim light of a floor lamp. “Condom?”
He wouldn’t get that far, but he’d picked her up at the local bar under the assumption she wanted to fuck.
“Got it covered, baby.” She grabbed his brown hair and held his mouth against her pussy. “I’m almost there.”
An orgasm wasn’t in the plan, but fuck it. He did things with his tongue no warm-blooded woman could refuse. Tenacious and sinful, he licked in and out and all around, reviving the ever-present ache inside her.
His unappealing looks didn’t matter. Whenever she climaxed, it was always the same face behind her eyelids. Jet black hair. Dimpled smile. Sun-soaked complexion. Strong jaw. Strong everywhere. With eyes like ripe limes, golden in the center and ringed in deep green.
At least, that was her silly, childhood memory of Matias. The past twelve years—doing whatever unspeakable shit he did—likely marred his beauty. Time had certainly hardened his voice. Wrapped it in ice.
But she could hear his timbre in her head, sharp and incisive. Come for me, mi vida. Come now.
Heat bloomed low in her pelvis, gathering into a rhythmic pulse and tumbling her over the edge. She detonated on the stroking tongue, grinding and panting with abandon. Damn.
He raised his head and snaked a hand over her abdomen, his gaze hungry and full of intent. He could look at her however he wanted as long as his fingers continued their prowl upward.
Inching along her ribs, he teased each bone in his path toward her tit. His position was just…about…
Perfect.
She captured his arm, shifted it diagonally across her chest, and held it tightly against her. Tight enough to widen his eyes.
Strengthening her grip, she lifted her knees above his head and pinned his neck between his own shoulder and her inner thigh.
“The fuck?” He writhed and twisted, trying to jerk free.
His other hand swung toward her face, but she knocked it away and clamped her legs around his thrashing neck. Jesus, he was strong for a skinny fucker.
She yanked harder on his arm and adjusted her hips, maneuvering him into a restrained position.
Finally. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and her breaths came in short bursts.
Realization glistened in the stark white of his eyes, and he snarled like a rabid animal.
That’s right, baby. I know who you are. You’re so fucked.
He bucked his chest against the mattress, his teeth snapping too damn close to her stomach.
“I have kids.” His sunken cheeks blanched, his voice a choked rasp. “I’m a father.”
Good for him. She had a father once. And a mother and sister. Her heart twisted, the loss as raw as the day she discovered their deaths. They would never know what happened to her. Would never know she made it out of that attic of shackles and horrors. She’d escaped a fate worse than death.
The same fate this piece of shit inflicted on others.
“You should’ve thought about your kids…” She hooked her foot beneath her other knee and squeezed her legs. “Before you stole someone else’s.”
The compression of her thighs and the pulling grip on his arm crushed his bicep against his throat, strangling his ability to speak. And breathe.
Her muscles strained to defend the position as he kicked and rolled his hips. Keeping his arm pressed beneath his chin, she swatted away his attempts to punch her with his free hand. Over and over, he flung his fist toward her face, fighting for blood, for air, wild in his desperation.
No bueno.
If done effectively, the chokehold would cut off the blood flow in the arteries on both sides of the neck. It should’ve been over within seconds. Why was this motherfucker still squirming?
She tightened her legs and cocked her head, studying the waning twitches in his body. Unconsciousness would come soon. She settled in and tried to steady her heartbeat.
Months of stalking Austin’s worst criminals had led her to Larry McGregor. Mailman by day and slave trader by night, he spent his downtime hooking up with sleazy women at the local bar. Bet he regretted that vice right about now.
Her thighs tensed, burning to snap his neck. But she needed him alive.
Surveillance confirmed he held a teenage girl in an abandoned
