Virna DePaul: Turned

Ten minutes later, the man walked in. Ana was finishing up an order for a last-minute customer, one of her late-night regulars, Bobbie Hernandez. As usual, Bobbie was accompanied by a pretty girl. Even as she tensed, Ana continued to chat with the two of them, refusing to look at her unwanted guest even though she really wanted to. Bobbie glanced at the other man curiously, but he simply stared back, expression inscrutable.

The moment Bobbie and his girlfriend left, Ana snapped around the Closed sign so it was facing out. Moving away from the glass door to the solid wall beside it, she leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned to him. As she watched, he shrugged out of his jacket and sat down, shirt untucked, legs splayed out in front of him.

“Don’t get too comfortable. I’m closed now. You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I say what I came to say,” he said softly. “You know that.”

His voice caressed her, as did his gaze. Once you were able to see past all the mesmerizing angles of his face and body and his slick clothes, he had nice eyes. So dark they almost seemed black. Like dark chocolate. Or a richly decadent espresso. Two of her favorite things. Automatically, her gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants. It was lovingly framed by his thighs, the fabric of his jeans pulled tight against them so it molded itself to the hard muscle.

She’d touched him when she’d patted him down, so she knew he was well endowed. Big and intimidating even when he wasn’t aroused. He’d stirred when she’d touched him in the alley and the memory of her fingers on such an intimate part of him made her flush. Given her history, the reminder of his masculinity and vitality should scare her.

Why wasn’t it scaring her?

Why had she suddenly grown warm, throughout her entire body but particularly between her legs? Why did she have the sudden urge to kneel in front of him and unzip him, so she could see what she’d already felt—

For God’s sake. Stop! Men had never caused her anything but pain time and again. This man wouldn’t be any different.

Forcing her gaze away from his body, she focused on his positioning instead. Despite his relaxed pose, she noted how he, too, had placed himself where he could see the entrance, but still remain out of view and out of range of anyone on the street.

“How about I call the cops?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff.

“How about we make a deal instead?”

“What kind of deal?”

“I want my gun back. And something tells me you’re not just going to hand it over to me.”

“So?”

“Let’s focus on what happened outside. Do you really believe you would have gotten my gun if I hadn’t wanted you to? You’re good, sweetheart, but as I said earlier, you were holding back. I did the same.”

She’d held a gun to his head. Slammed his face into a wall. And he thought she’d been holding back? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she clipped out, even though part of her did.

“You were willing to fight dirty, but only to a degree. You’re ashamed of who you were. The way you used to talk. The way you used to fight. That shame hinders you.”

His perceptiveness grated at her. He was right. She hated the person she’d been. Resented any necessity to be that person again. But she was never going to admit it to him or anyone else. “And according to this absurd theory of yours, you decided to take it easy on me to keep things fair?”

He grinned. “Don’t believe me? Let me prove it to you. Fight me. Fight me with everything you are. Everything you’ve got. I get the gun back, you listen to what I have to say. All of it. You consider what I’m offering you before you make your decision.”

“And if you don’t get it back?”

“I leave, but first I’ll give you some of the information I have on your sister.”

Suspicion flickered through her … and temptation. “Why don’t you just give me the information anyway?”

He smirked. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. Come on, Ana. Give it your best shot. Show me what you’ve got. Show me what you learned on the streets,” he taunted.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

He sobered instantly and she could tell he knew. He knew . He knew what she’d done in the past to survive—maybe he even knew what had been done to her despite the fact that she’d have rather died—and she couldn’t hold back the intense shame that washed over her, making her feel nauseous.

“I was referring to your fighting skills,” he said softly.

“I know what you were talking about.”

“So then?”

“How do I know you won’t just retrieve your gun—assuming you are able to retrieve it—and shoot me instead of giving me the information I want?”

“You’re a smart girl. I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Like I said, smart girl.”

Without another word, Ty lunged out of his chair, not for her, but for the counter behind her.

Ana didn’t bother protesting his sneakiness. He wanted her to fight him with everything she had? So be it. This time, as fast as he was, she was faster. Probably because she had the advantage of knowing exactly where she’d put his gun. Vaulting over the counter that separated the work area from the customer area, Ana grabbed what was handy—a couple of heavy coffee mugs—and hurled them at him.

They bounced off his chest. She turned swiftly, but his arms wrapped around her from behind just as she was reaching for the shelf underneath the cash register. “Stupid move,” he growled. “You led me right to it.”

“Or maybe I just led you to this.” She tightened her grip on the small club and, even with her limited mobility, swung it down, aiming for his knee. Just in time, he raised his leg, decreasing the distance between her and her target so it deflected the blow. With his arms wrapped tight around her in a bear hug, he lifted her off the ground and swung her around so they were facing the opposite counter.

With her feet dangling and the air being squeezed from her lungs, she began to see stars. “So what are you going to do now, little girl?” he taunted in her ear.

What she did was drop the club, plant her feet on the cabinets beside her, and twist her body so she leaned closer to one side. Then she shifted her arm behind her so she could grab his dick in a punishing grip. He bellowed and she shoved herself to the other side so that his arms loosened just a bit—just enough so she could hit him in the gut with her elbow. It wasn’t a powerful hit, but it was enough to gain her a bit more freedom. Violently twisting his manhood, she finally managed to cause him enough pain that he loosened his arms. She pushed off the counter, sending him crashing backward, and twisted out of his grip. Breathing hard, she bolted out of reach and turned to face him.

He had paled to a sickly white but the look in his eyes was murderous. His lips were flattened in a tense, thin line. She actually grinned, feeling more alive than she had in months. Hell, years. She danced around on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to come at her. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a poor sport. This was your idea, amigo .”

“Where is my gun?” he bit out.

She couldn’t resist. She glanced down beneath the cash register again, expecting him to dive for it while she went in the other direction. Once she opened the cabinet and had the gun in her hands, she’d have won and that meant—

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to finish her thought. The premature victory was cut short when Ty rushed her, pushed his shoulder into her stomach, and hefted her over his shoulder. As the world spun, she screeched. “You asshole.” She pounded at his back and tried to kick her legs, but he wrapped his arms around them like vices, prohibiting her movement. “You bastard. Yo le mataré. No, usted deseará que usted estuviera muerto! I’m going to cut off your balls. I’m going to—to—”