Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
And the sexiest man alive.
Were it a different situation, Nero would have said it out loud and embarrassed Miguel by making a big deal out of his actions, but mockery wouldn’t make it out of his mouth this time. How could it when this man had spilled blood for him?
Miguel’s mouth opened. He glanced up with eyes like two pools of midnight sky and winced when he rolled his shoulder to assess the damage he couldn’t see. Nero felt himself salivate when muscle moved under tattooed skin. His eyebrows were straight, which usually made his face even more expressionless, but they now pulled close together. Miguel’s face was angular and noble like a panther’s, yet this man was a reptile like Nero. Ruthless, powerful, and just as deadly. Were they both aroused by bloodshed too?
A part of Nero figured there was more than enough proof that Juan had tried to kill him, and he considered waiting for an ambulance for Miguel. But then again, what if some rookie cop decided to shoot one of them, because he hadn’t gotten the memo about who Nero Moreno was?
He offered Miguel his hand.
But the moment Miguel heard the police siren, he turned away, slapping Nero’s forearm with one of his long braids. “We have to go,” he said and grabbed a bottle of vodka off a nearby table, jumping to his feet.
“Thirsty?” Nero asked but already moved toward the bar counter. He jumped on and swung his legs to the other side, knocking off yet more glass.
“I’ll use it for disinfection later,” Miguel said and leapt over the counter, heading for the back door.
Nero winced at the sight of shards sticking out of wounds that seeped blood into Miguel’s tank top. None of them looked deep, though they’d undoubtedly wreck the beautiful tangle of skulls, knives, snakes, and all manner of death and destruction inked into flesh as a warning to anyone who’d dare come too close.
Nero and Miguel burst into the empty backroom, dashed through a tiny staff kitchen, and made their way into the alley behind the club as sirens blared ever louder. They needed to get away, and fast.
In the dark, Nero stumbled over a stray trash bag, scattering its contents, but that wouldn’t stop him on his way toward a street he could already see in the narrow frame of the buildings ahead.
Whistling at Miguel, he leaped past the prone form of a person likely too drunk to realize they were no longer alone, and ran.
It wasn’t the first time Nero had managed to evade the cold fingers of death, but despite technically having bodyguards, he never counted on them for safety, as they were more like glorified PA’s who’d gladly stab him in the back. Miguel’s loyalty was a complete surprise and now tumbled in his skull like a dice made of gold and diamonds. Finding himself with a man ready to protect him when push came to shove felt like pulling a fifth Joker out of a set of cards and not knowing what to do with the unexpected luck.
“Over there.” Miguel grabbed Nero’s arm, stopping him with a painful tug. But before Nero could have barked at him, his gaze settled on a figure standing in a gap between buildings close by, right next to a motorcycle. The man was smoking and making rapid gestures as he spoke on the phone, unaware of their presence.
Miguel didn’t wait for an answer and headed there with his gun in hand, and shoulders stiff as if he were about to bulldoze through the unsuspecting stranger despite the glass stuck in his flesh.
Nero’s heart skipped a beat, and despite knowing he should reprimand Miguel for trying to call the shots, he went against his nature and followed his bodyguard’s lead.
From up close, he could see the stranger had headphone buds in and remained blissfully unaware of the predators sharpening their claws right behind him in this concrete alleyway smelling of rotting food and piss.
“Yes, he fucking pulled out a gun in the club. Where was security when that happened?” the man shouted into a speaker attached to his headphones, but when Miguel’s boot creaked against some piece of metal, he spun around and froze, faced with the steel muzzle.
Even in a place so shadowed, Nero saw his face go pale. “M-Miguel?” he asked, tearing the headphones out of his ears.
Nero stalled, but as he looked at the man more closely, he realized it was the stranger who’d chatted to Miguel at the bar, just before Juan’s little stunt ruined a perfectly fine evening.
Miguel made a strange noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “You asked if I was dangerous. Now you know. Keys.” He showed his open palm, and the guy’s shoulders fell.
“Come on, man...”
Nero scowled and pushed past Miguel, grabbing the stranger’s balls so hard he stumbled on the nearest wall and dropped the phone. Someone’s voice rose from the device, but they weren’t here to help their friend in peril. “We asked you nicely, didn’t we? Don’t worry, you might get it back. Eventually.”