Unveiled (Vargas Cartel #2) by Lisa Cardiff

wood covered the walls. I wove through the crowds of people taking advantage of the happy hour menu. My leather soles clicked over the gray and white checkerboard tile floor.
    Hattie sat at a booth in the corner, twirling her fingers around the stem of a nearly empty glass of white wine. Her other hand tapped impatiently on the sleek and industrial-looking gunmetal tabletop. My late arrival didn’t go unnoticed by her.
    Like every other time we had met in the past week, I nodded to her, and then I walked directly through the bar to the back entrance. Normally, we walked the two blocks to my car and drove somewhere outside D.C., but tonight she was coming to my apartment for dinner.
    “You’re late.” She circled her arms around my neck.
    “Dinner complications.” My gaze drifted to her lips. I shouldn’t kiss her here, but I couldn’t resist. My lips settled over hers, brushing back and forth until her lips parted. My tongue slid against hers, the honeyed melon flavor of her wine coated her mouth.
    I stepped back. “I’m starving. Are you ready to leave?”
    “Yes. I didn’t eat much today. Let’s go.”
    I slid an arm around her waist, keeping her close as I pushed open the exit door. I had taken a few steps when I noticed a man standing at the end of the alley. He wore a long black trench coat, even though it was an unseasonably warm night in May. I shoved Hattie behind me, cursing inwardly that I didn’t bring my gun.
    “What’s wrong?” Hattie whispered, one hand clutching the back of my shirt and the other on top of my left shoulder.
    “Go back inside.”
    “No. I’m not leaving you.”
    “Now!” I yelled, brushing her hand off my shoulder.
    “Don’t move. Either of you,” the man said, flashing the gun strapped to his waist.
    I pushed Hattie aside, and she stumbled, crying out as she fell on all fours. I ran forward, my feet pounding against the asphalt. When I closed the distance between us, I launched myself at the man, shoving him against the brick wall. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and his body sagged like a rag doll.
    I wrapped my hands around his neck and smashed his head against the wall, each sickening thud acted like gasoline fueling my anger.
    He sneered as his fist connected with the side of my face. My chin whipped to the side. Blood exploded from my lip and the taste of iron seeped into my mouth. The man lifted his gun, but I grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the wall until it fell out of his hand, clanging against the cracked asphalt.
    He kicked my knee, and I grunted as pain radiated up my leg. Adrenaline flowed through my body, igniting a murderous fury. I dove forward, caging my arms around his waist, tackling him. Straddling him with my legs, I put him in a chokehold. The man bucked underneath me, clawing at my hands. Blood oozed over my fingertips like black lava from the back of the man’s head. Gasping, his lips turned a faint shade of blue. Violence hemorrhaged from my pores. I wanted to kill him. I was going to kill him.
    Distantly, Hattie’s shrill screams vibrated down the manmade corridor of brick, stone, and cement, but I was too preoccupied with delivering violence to focus on her. Sweat dripped down my temples, mingling with the blood seeping from my lip. My Vargas bloodline craved death— the split second in time when the soul abandoned its physical form, and the eyes dimmed for eternity. The darkness inside me eclipsed the light.
    My fist collided with his face.
    Once.
    Twice.
    Three times.
    I couldn’t stop. I loosened the reins on the darkness living deep inside of my soul. I was blind and deaf to everything except the bloodlust crackling in my synapses.
    A car screeched to halt at the end of the alley. A second man ran out of the car flashing his gun. The silver glittered, reflecting off the street lamp.
    “Let him go,” the man yelled, pointing his gun between my eyes.
    I rolled back, lifting my hands into the air. “What do you want?”
    The