How in the hell could Dani be mixed up with somebody who supplied money to rebel groups similar to the one who had held her captive and tortured the hell out of her?
Yeah, maybe Danica wasn’t immersed in the world of international business, but she had to know about Becker. If she hadn’t discovered his dirty secrets before, Jett certainly hadn’t held back on telling her all about the new guy in her life. Shit! Didn’t she trust her own damn brother?
Jett’s concern for his little sister had brought me here to Miami when I had other places I should be. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t here for me, but I knew I was bullshitting myself. For some reason, I’d never been able to forget the haunted look in Dani’s eyes after her rescue and on the way home to the States.
Trying to kiss her on the jet had been an idiotic thing to do. Hell, even now, I don’t know what had possessed me to touch her. But for some reason, I hadn’t been able to stop myself.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t known she’d been gang-raped over and over again. The way she had fought me, and the fact that I’d forced her into a full-blown panic, had left me feeling guilty ever since.
However, the moment before it had happened, the instant she’d trusted me before things had gotten out of control—the chemistry that had flared between us had haunted my ass, too.
I wasn’t going to even pretend that what I felt for Dani was brotherly, and that I was completely here for Jett.
I’m here for myself, because I can’t forget her.
Hell, for some reason, I hadn’t even been able to be with another woman since I’d kissed Danica. How fucked up was that?
Not that I had relationships, but it would have been nice to have my healthy sex drive back again. One kiss and I’d practically been castrated. I hadn’t made an effort to fuck any woman since I’d felt the silky softness of Dani’s mouth beneath mine. The desire to get laid had been nonexistent. I was too obsessed with her.
I reminded myself that I wasn’t pursuing her or any kind of relationship. I was just trying to save her ass…again.
The hair stood up at the back of my neck, and it pulled my mind from my fucked-up thoughts.
I shoved the picture back into my pocket and turned, already aware that I was being stalked.
It was almost disappointing that my would-be robber wasn’t going to be much of a challenge.
He was all of maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, and didn’t come anywhere close to my weight or my slightly-over-six-foot height.
The punk spoke in a voice that was meant to be menacing, but wasn’t. Not to me. “Give me your wallet or I’ll put this blade through your heart, mister.”
Yeah, I’d been a walking target for robbery or mugging since I was strolling through a less than desirable area of Miami late at night in a custom suit. Still, this little prick was either bold or strung out on drugs if he thought I would just hand him my wallet. “Not happening,” I drawled, annoyed. “Now beat it, kid.”
He raised his arm in a threatening manner, wielding the knife wildly. “You think I’m a kid? I kill people like you every day, dude,” he replied in a cocky tone.
If I ever laughed—which I didn’t—I probably would have snickered. But I didn’t show emotion—not ever. However, the youngster in front of me was rather amusing. He reminded me of an adolescent who had watched too many bad gangster movies.
I reached out, and in a split second I’d snatched his wrist, squeezing a nerve on his lower arm until he was forced to let go, and the weapon dropped onto the sidewalk with the loud clatter of steel meeting the cement. I pushed him into the cold metal of the streetlight pole, his face plastered against the post, and the Glock I’d previously kept concealed at his temple.
“That hurts,” the kid griped nervously.
I leaned into his body and said close to his ear, “A bullet in your head would hurt a hell of a lot more. Go home, get off the drugs, and quit stealing from people to fund your habit.”
“I live in a foster home,” he protested, his voice anxious as I pushed the barrel of the gun into his temple just a little bit harder, hoping to scare the bejesus out of him.
“Then you’re damn lucky to have a roof over your head,” I growled. “Take advantage of it and quit being a little asshole. Keep this shit up and you’ll be dead before you’re legally able to drink.”
I let go of him, but I put my foot over the knife on the ground before he could snatch it. “I said go home,” I warned in an annoyed tone.
“Who the hell are you? I ain’t seen you around on the streets,” the kid asked hesitantly.
“Somebody you don’t want to mess with,” I answered vaguely.
The brat turned around and ran until he was out of my sight. I kicked the knife deep into the bushes next to the sidewalk, just in case he came back for it. I wasn’t about to make it easy to find.
The boy was a bully, and I hated that. I probably should have called the cops and let them take him to jail, but I had bigger things to worry about. And although it was probably wishful thinking, maybe the punk would straighten himself out someday.
Problem was, he was obviously hooked on something. It wasn’t hard to read the desperation of an addict. Fucking hell! I hated seeing a guy that young screwed up on drugs.
Shoving the gun back into its concealed holster, I pulled my jacket closed. I hadn’t even taken the safety off. The kid might be a juvenile delinquent, but I still wasn’t about to shoot a boy who probably wasn’t old enough to vote. My only purpose had been to scare the shit out of him.
I brushed off my suit jacket because it was one of my favorites, and then proceeded to walk to the end of the block and to my destination.
When I arrived, I realized the bar was basically a dive, the neon sign in the window blinking like Christmas tree lights.
“Real fucking classy,” I muttered to myself, unable to see Dani in this place.
However, this was where she was meeting up with Becker. This sleazy bar was the best the jerk could do? Danica was a goddamn Lawson, a woman who had more money than she could ever spend. And this is where the two lovebirds were trysting?
Jett had told me where his sister was going for the evening. I wondered if he knew that it was a haven for prostitutes and drug dealers.
Probably…not. My buddy would most likely lose it if he knew his little sister was hanging out in this dive.
I shook my head as I peered into the front window. If Jett had known, he’d have been here, even if he was recovering from his latest procedure. Dani’s brother would have a damn heart attack if he knew she’d even set foot into this neighborhood and this shithole of a bar.