Page 2 of Hostile Secret
These days the thrill of sex is downgraded—its competition, the rush of a sleek sniper rifle in my hands and the exact moment of lead penetration.
Only when my accurate aim turns off someone’s lights do I feel alive.
Papá got what he’d wanted all along—a monstrous sociopath.
The tyrant can sit on his fire forged throne beside Satan and marvel at the monster he had created in me.
We should be strapped into our seats and obeying all sorts of aviation rules. But she’s taking all of me and doesn’t seem to care. Hell, I certainly don’t give a fuck. Danger is a regular occurrence for me, my way of life.
While my powerful brothers walk among criminals in broad daylight and rule over cities as cartel kings, I dominate the shadows as the master of death.
I’m basically a better looking version of the Reaper. Globally feared in criminal circles and proficient in the art of murder.
“We…should…oh…my…God…buckle…up…” she pants.
“You want to stop?” I growl incredulously, spearing her pussy harder.
“No—fuck—no!”
Thought as much.
My palm swathes her throat, bringing her spine flush against my chest. I could easily choke her and steal her last breath, but she’s an innocent. Besides, someone needs to fetch my drinks on the next leg of this journey.
As soon as the front wheel bumps onto the landing strip, she falls apart. My balls cramp up and my thoughts return to the past. To those peaceful seconds before I had pulled the trigger, when I exhaled a relaxed breath, then observed the victim's brains spatter the artwork behind him through my squeaky-clean scope.
A release fizzes through my core. I can’t decide if the mild hits brought on by the victorious memory or the slippery warmth of this woman’s pussy.
Either way, I’d blipped out and barely scratched the itch of what my dark urges deserve. Christ, I’m so fucking underwhelmed.
I maneuver her away from me, peel off the cum filled condom, tie a knot, and toss it onto the chair opposite.
“Tell the pilot I want to be airborne in an hour.” My voice is raspy from tiredness as I stand to fix myself.
“Yes—sir. It’ll be a pleasure to have you on board again. Will you be flying to Colombia alone?”
I collect my bag from the overhead locker and fish out my sunglasses. “No.”
That’s all I say. It’s none of her business. No one needs to know the reason I’ve temporarily landed on my brother's island, or that he’s screwed me over with some bodyguard bullshit.
I don’t like unexpected disturbances. A seventeen-year-old girl with eyes like a tropical ocean and a body created purely for sin, taking up residence in my private domain, is the epitome of a big fucking disturbance.
Something tells me the next few weeks are going to be a challenge.
1
INDIA
Every time I close my eyes, I see him.
That’s where my big brother lives now—in agonizing memories.
One morning, he drove me to school in his flashy car, played hip hop music at full blast like he always did, and reminded me to behave as we rolled up to the school gates.
My good behavior was non-negotiable. We had an understanding. He took care of me to the best of his ability, and I respected his rules.
But that was the last time I saw him. In a matter of hours, I was extracted from school by armed Souza soldiers and told Reno was never coming home again.
He was a brother, a make-shift parent, and my best friend all rolled into one cool guy. Myeverything. Now he’s dead and I have to navigate this world without him in it.
