Page 5 of Jealous Vows

I hate her aiming her defiance at another man.All the righteous anger wafting from her should be mine.It doesn’t matter how well she hides her fear, the trembling of her fingers should be because of me.I should be the only one inspiring her terror.

Soon.Soon I will be the only horror in her life.I’ll be the master of her misery.The king of her fear.The puppeteer of her pain.

Her living nightmare.

My vengeance will be all the sweeter once she realizes the depths of my deception.I couldn’t have planned our first meeting any better.The little doll fell into my hands with such eagerness the most vicious part of me cheers with evil glee.

Sienna Luciano, the niece of the asshole who stole my bride, will be mine.All mine.

Even if it means killing these fools in broad daylight.

The resolve shining from my eyes solidifies José’s defeat.He snarls and yanks her card and a single bill from the inside of his leather coat.I shift my muzzle higher and flex my finger on the trigger, warning him against foul play, and enjoy the impotent rage simmering in his eyes.

He offers her the items between his thumb and pointer finger.

Instead of snatching them away, she sighs and shakes her head.

“No, José.Allof my money,” she commands.

Holy fuck, I’m going to have so much fun taming her.

He growls and mutters profanities in Spanish as he reaches back into his coat and pulls out another bill.

She takes it without fanfare, slips it into her jeans’ pocket, and leans back against me.

Unease travels down my spine.He only gave her forty bucks.Certainly that wasn’t all the money he stole from her.She may not be a mafia princess, but she’s the only daughter of Alessio Luciano, who is, according to the rumors, the most feared mafia soldier in San Francisco.

None of this makes sense.Her father should be protecting her from local biker gangs and ensuring she has the funds to live a pampered life.Even if he has a son by his second wife, his first born and only daughter shouldn’t be this exposed.

Her father’s failures aren’t my problem.If anything, they aid my revenge against her uncle—who I know cares about her since he and the bride he stole from me sent her an invitation to their wedding—so I brush off my concern and settle my arm over her shoulders again.She’s so petite my long fingers close around her upper arm with ease.

“He leaves first,” I demand with a chin tilt toward the jittery youngster.

The idiot’s shock gives way to anger, and I read his intent in the shifting of his weight before he lunges.Sienna squeaks as I shove her straight downward by her nape—the ease with which she buckles is startling—and step into her place.

His pals have better reaction time than I expect.Cursing and grappling, they drag him back the way they came with a teamwork only those facing death can acquire.

Right before José turns the corner, he sends me a glare over his shoulder.I give him a sardonic half-wave before sliding my pistol back into my pocket.

Sienna’s sharp inhale divides my attention between her and the corner.I may have scared them away for now, but there’s no guarantee the hotheaded punks won’t return.

Without turning around, I squat, reach behind me, grab her arm, and haul her to her feet.She weighs less than I expect, so she jerks upright with a hiss of pain from the force of my exertion.I ignore the foreign sensation of guilt invading my chest and hold her behind me, shielding her with my body for a few moments before turning to face her.

No one will steal my revenge from me.Not a biker gang, this sexy little doll, her father, or her uncle.

The moment I release her, she shuffles out from between me and the wall, rubs her arm as though to rid it of filth, tucks her hair behind her ear, and drops her hands to her sides before meeting my gaze.

“I’m sorry and thank you,” she says.

Not expecting an apology, recognition, or her soft, honest tone, I quirk a brow and give her a more in-depth once-over.The little doll is a good liar.She plays the part of rescued damsel well with her honeyed eyes, delicate features, and petite figure.

An odd mix of emotions swirls behind my hunger as I continue down her body.

With red patches on both palms, a bleeding scrape from catching herself on the concrete with her left elbow, and bruises already forming on her nape from my shove, she proves more delicate than I imagined.

I’ll have to pace myself so she survives long enough for me to carry out my revenge.I can’t wait to parade her around New York City covered in my marks.

She needs fattening up first.The winds in New York will definitely blow her away.