Page 12 of Hostile Rival
When I turn my back to grab a few things, I sense his eyes on my bare legs. “That’s all I know.” His voice breaks the silence. “Just your first name and that you’re Blanco’s top assassin.”
“And that's all you need to know. Like Dragon, I keep my personal life out of the mouth of the enemy.”
I return to him with a bunch of medical supplies. Dropping to my knees, I get to work, running my fingers along the flat sides of the glass and pinch it. He doesn’t complain or flinch when the shard starts to move, only grips the bath for something to hold on to.
“Got it,” I announce, holding three inches of glass up to the light and dropping it into the washbasin. “You’ll live.”
“Great. Thanks,” he bites out in a low rumble, stuffing a wad of gauze over the gash to stop the blood flow. “Don’t let me keep you up any longer.”
I know I should walk away now, but something tugs at me, stopping me from rising. “The cut is pretty deep. It needs stitches.”
“Yeah. I can take it from here.” He waves his hand, dismissing me.
“Sure, you can.” I laugh, getting to my feet. “You studied law, not medicine.”
His eyes turn pitch black, and I feel myself getting nervous. Not from danger, since that would be laughable, because I actually fancy this guy. More like I’d fuck him on the bathroom floor if I knew I’d never see him again. But I sure as hell don’t want him to know it.
He frowns. “Are you medically trained?”
“Nope. Just had a lot of practice.”
“Right, so playing nurse is a regular thing for you?”
I scowl. “I’m not playing. It would be quicker if I do it. And I’m not giving Dragon an excuse to get rid of me for not patching you up. You can pretend you’re one of us, but you're still his brother. Nothing will ever change that.”
“And you’ll continue to pretend you’re loyal to us, Dani…only while it suits you. But at the end of the day, you still work for Blanco. Right?”
“Right,” I agree with a tight smile.
He sighs heavily and doesn’t utter another word. I wash my hands and grab a roll of surgical thread. This isn’t my first rodeo. Thanks to my mother’s illness and my personal scrapes, I was basically a self-taught nurse.
Silence falls between us. I prep the wound with a cleaning solution and stick a suture needle into his flesh, expecting him to wince. Only he doesn’t, but he does growl—low and ever so dirty.
My scalp prickles and the heat between my thighs grows hotter. It shouldn’t affect me the way it does. I don’t think he’d intended it to be so carnal, but hell, it has my heart pounding.
I look up at him every so often, not letting my gaze settle on his for too long. Every time I do, his eyes are locked on my face. Not the ragged sewn edges of his cut or the leaking blood.
No, his expression is unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s zoned out or if he’s thinking about something opposite to pain.
Pleasure.
I cut the ends of the thread and scoot back a bit to study my handiwork. My legs are tingling with pins and needles.
“Done.” I steadily rise before him. “I didn’t expect a Souza to let his guard down long enough to let someone stab him. You need more training if you’re going to survive.”
He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, his towering stature driving me backward without touching me in any way. “Are you telling me you’ve never had an injury on the job?”
I stiffen, seeing an instant change in the way he holds himself now—tall, strong, and dominant. I suck in a breath and fold my arms over my chest to settle myself.
“A few in the beginning.” I had learned the hard way. My pain and suffering came before my new way of life. “No one gets to hurt me again.”
He frowns and steps into me, the smell of antiseptic strong and the tiredness in his voice thick when he asks, “Again?”
“Again,” I repeat, suddenly aware of the concern swimming in his eyes.
I can see it ticking over and sense something sparking from his body to mine. But I’m no fool. Beneath the smooth, tanned skin of this divine gangster lies a rotten soul.
Inwardly, I curse the pull of temptation and sidestep him to walk away.
