His expression is like granite as he considers every word.
“I shot him in the foot. Barely clipped his shoe.”
That earns the slightest raise of an eyebrow.
I attempt a smirk. “I threatened to shoot his dick off.”
“How many times did he put his hands on you?”
My smile falls as I touch my cheek. “Once.”
“And did anyone else touch you?”
I shake my head no. “They convinced him to leave me alone.”
“They should have stopped him before he touched you. Were they all Z22?”
“Yes. Why?” I frown.
His jaw ticks in an otherwise stone-cold face. Diego would be shouting bloody murder right now. But Hayden ... what is he thinking?
“Next time, his penis will be pigeon feed,” I nervously joke.
His fist slams into the seat in front of us. “Pull over.” He lifts me off his lap and sets me on the seat next to him.
The driver does as was demanded. A few seconds pass before he opens the door.
“The doctor needs to thoroughly examine her then have Javier escort her home.”
Where is he going?
But he’s halfway down the road before I can get the words out.
22
Asharp rapping noise wakes me up.
It takes my weary mind a second to process. Someone is pounding on my front door. I glance at the clock. Four a.m. I want nothing more than to hide beneath the covers.
I pull my gun from beneath my pillow, scramble from bed and race to the door.
“Luciana, it’s Javier. Wake up.”
I crack the door open.
“Come on. We’ve got to go, now.”
“What’s happening?”
“Bastard’s orders. You need to come with me.” He looks over his shoulder then back at me. Panicked.
Fearful.
“It’s Diego, isn’t it? Something’s happened to him.” I wring my hands together, trying not to fall to pieces.
“No, Luciana. I’m sorry if I made you think that. It’s just that—” he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the exerted effort. “The Bastard ... qué desastre.”
The Bastard, not Boss. And he’s called Hayden that twice. “Javier, what disaster?”