"You don't know who you're fucking with," he snarls, reaching for something in his waistband.
I move faster than anyone my size has a right to, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. Before he can draw his piece, my knife is pressed against his throat, just hard enough for him to feel the sting as it breaks the first layer of skin. His eyes bulge, fear replacing bravado as he realizes he's miscalculated.
"No," I whisper, my mouth close to his ear. "You don't know whoyou'refucking with."
A thin line of blood trickles down his neck as I apply the slightest pressure. Behind me, I hear Luna's sharp intake of breath, but I can't look at her now. Can't see the horror that must be on her face as she witnesses what I am, what I'm capable of.
"This is your only warning," I continue, my voice pitched for his ears alone. "The girl is off-limits. Forever. You see her on the street, you cross to the other side. You hear her name, you forget it immediately. She doesn't exist to you anymore. Understood?"
The fight drains from his eyes, replaced by raw fear. "Understood," he chokes out.
"Good," I say, easing the pressure slightly. "If I hear that you so much as looked her way, I won't be this merciful."
I release him with a shove, watching as he stumbles into his crew, knocking two of the other guys back. The message has been received. They retreat to their car, trying to salvage their pride with mumbled threats that we all know are empty.
Only when the car disappears around the corner do I turn back to Luna. She stands exactly where I left her, clutching her dog to her chest. But her expression isn't what I expected. Instead of horror or disgust, her eyes hold a mixture of adulation, awe, and something else—something that makes my blood heat and my dick stir. Desire.
"You okay, preciosa?" I ask, sheathing my knife and taking a step toward her. I move slowly, carefully, not wanting to spook her after the violence she's just witnessed.
She nods, unable to speak. The little dog in her arms whines softly.
"They won't bother you again," I promise, gently taking her elbow to guide her away from the street. Her skin is warm under my touch, soft in a way that makes me want to run my hands over every inch of her. "Did they hurt you?"
"No." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Just scared me a little.”
Fury rises again, but I push it down. Later. I'll deal with Los Lobos later—permanently.
"What's your name?" I ask. I already know it, but I want to hear her say it. Or maybe I just want to make conversation, prolong our interaction.
"Luna.” Her voice stronger now. "Luna Martinez."
"Javier Santiago," I reply, offering my real name instead of my road name for the first time in years. Something about her makes me want to strip away the layers, show her the man beneath the cut. "They call me Saint."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips, transforming her face. "That seems...ironic."
I laugh, surprised by her boldness. "You have no idea."
She strokes the Chihuahua's head gently.
"Your dog okay?"
"He will be now."
She looks up at me then, really looks at me, her dark eyes searching my face as if trying to solve a puzzle.
"Why did you help me? Yesterday and today?"
I could lie. Could tell her it was nothing, just being a Good Samaritan. But something about those eyes demands the truth.
"Because from the moment I saw you, I couldn't look away," I admit, the words coming easier than I expected. "Because something inside me recognized something inside you."
Her breath catches, her lips parting slightly in surprise. A blush spreads across her high cheekbones, making her even more beautiful. "That's...not possible."
"Isn't it?" I move closer, drawn by an invisible force I can't resist and don't want to. "You felt it too, no?”
The blush deepens, confirming my words. "I don't even know you," she whispers.
"Then get to know me," I challenge gently.
