Guns and Royalties Book 2

Rafael

Demons.

They haunted him. No amount of tequila could erase the memory of his baby sister’s tears.

Her pain. Her vacant eyes staring back at him.

When will it end?

Monette.

She’d be a teenager now. Damn it! What a lousy big brother he was. He was useless. He couldn’t even save her.

In the darkness of his room, heavy curtains blocking out the world, he downed the rest of the strong liquor.

Even though the alcohol was starting to hit him, his mind was still racing.

Too active. Too much. Too many painful memories swirling around in his head.

He could do some paperwork to pass the time. But...

Rafael squinted, trying to make out the time.

Damn it!

Tomorrow he’d be overseeing his men’s training. In a few weeks, he’d be choosing his new second-in-command.

Rafael’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten anything but booze since he got home.

He rubbed his eyes, grimacing. If he remembered right, his aunt always left something for him in the kitchen for his midnight snack.

He used to sneak down at night, despite his mom’s strict rule against sweets or carbs before bed.

His heart squeezed at the memory. He shouldn’t be dwelling on the past.

The strong booze had numbed his thoughts, making him feel vulnerable.

Just for tonight. He planned to eat his fill. Get drunk. Be vulnerable in his own home.

No one would notice, especially at this hour. He was all alone.

Rafael moved slowly as he made his way through the dark hallways of the hacienda.

He knew every corner and crevice like the back of his hand: he could do this with his eyes closed.

Hearing his stomach growl again, he grunted in annoyance.

At his age, he should have had a wife, as was expected of him.

Someone to love and care for. Someone to protect. Someone his mother would have approved of.

No! Never!

All those dreams were in the past. He wasn’t worthy of a wife, let alone a family.

The somber mood Rafael had been in since he arrived had only gotten darker.

Planning to grab a quick bite and then go to bed, his long, slightly unsteady strides brought him to the familiar kitchen.

Another painful memory made him growl. As his eyes adjusted from the dim darkness, his steps faltered.

He stopped, assessing. He couldn’t be this drunk.

Surely, an angel hadn’t descended from heaven to lead him to the gates of hell.

A vision.

A girl so light on her feet, with beautiful blond hair cascading down to the small of her back, humming as she gathered an assortment of food.

Oh my God!

He was suddenly so aroused he couldn’t think straight. It had been too long since he’d been with his usual women.

Now, no matter how hard he tried to remember their faces, he couldn’t.

He was captivated. Enthralled. By an angel.

Could he sleep with her?

He hoped so. Another sin to add to his list.

In his drunken state, he watched her graceful movements towards the fridge.

The sudden burst of light made him flinch, snapping him back to reality.

He blinked, trying to focus. He needed to. This woman could be an assassin sent by his enemies.

Damn it!

How could one person distract him so much? Annoyed, mostly with himself and his primal needs, he reached her in a few unsteady strides.

Damn, she smells good.

Growling, annoyed at himself for his lustful thoughts, he demanded in his usual intimidating voice.

“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

He watched her body stiffen and his suspicions were confirmed. The angelic beauty was an intruder.

Determined to see her face, he grabbed her bare arm, got distracted again by her soft skin, and found himself sprawled on the kitchen floor with bruised ribs and a bloody nose.

Damn it! He wasn’t that drunk. And she wasn’t that fast.

Rafael was pretty sure the angel was sent to kill him. She had the potential.

From his position on the floor, he could see her delicate features twisted in disbelief. And guilt.

He paused. Distracted. Again.

No one had ever bested him before. No one. Except for his childhood friends, now the mafia king and the general.

Well, he had an excuse tonight: he was drunk.

Not that drunk, Rafael.

Slowly getting up, wiping the blood from his nose, he eyed his opponent. Graceful and slender. Subtle curves and noble beauty.

Only the determined look on her face showed she was far from the angel he’d imagined when he first saw her.

He could take her down in a few moves guaranteed to subdue her, enough for him to find out why she was in his hacienda.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she warned.

Bold. So confident. She didn’t know what she was up against.

“You already did.”

His dark eyes never left her face. Her stance showed she was trained. Good.

Let’s see how good you really are, angel.

Relaxing his shoulders, gauging the distance between them, he took two big steps and pulled her into his arms to trap her.

To his surprise, she didn’t struggle, nor did she try to escape his hold.

Again, he was thrown off. She was so soft and smelled so good. Like fresh flowers in spring.

Damn it, Rafael! Focus before you get your balls kicked.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

She sounded out of breath, but he wasn’t holding her too tightly. He could feel her heart pounding. Only thin layers of clothing separated them.

She’s trouble! Focus!

Looking down at her face, he frowned, showing his disapproval.

“Tell me who sent you and I’ll be merciful.”

She had the nerve to roll her eyes at him and pout.

“You’re so dense. No one sent me. We both work here. Well, I just started a few months ago. Look, you can ask your aunt and uncle.”

“You’re lying!”

He knew everyone in his household. And Uncle Roman would have told him if they’d hired new help.

“What? No way. Tia must’ve spilled the beans to El Patron. Listen, let me go and we’ll hash this out with them in the morning. Okay?”

Rafael’s brow furrowed. She seemed genuine enough. But then again, all spies did.

Was she messing with him? She came here for him, for El Patron, yet she was clueless about her mission?

With her arms trapped by his, he tried to decipher her inscrutable eyes in the dim light. He found himself wondering what color they’d be under the sun.

“Or maybe I’ll just lock you up until morning. Then we can have a chat with Tia.”

Yeah. That sounds like a plan.

He’d be more than willing to play jailer for the rest of the night.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t get a say in this, kiddo,” he retorted, his tone dripping with condescension.

Her eyes narrowed, clearly irked.

“Claro que tengo, señor.” (Of course, I have a say, sir.)

Oh, a firecracker. Nice.

As he adjusted his grip, preparing to sling her over his shoulder and haul her to the nearest cell, he momentarily forgot that her hands were still free. All he felt was a slight twinge at the back of his neck…

Damn sly fox! His last coherent thought.

And then everything went black.