Cassandra drove along the Eastern Road trying to decide how to handle her brothers. Duane was violent and abusive, but Tyrone, Anton, and Dylan were even more so. They would think nothing of slapping her around. I’m prepared for their asses. I didn’t get through living in a house with four violent brothers without learning a thing or two, and I’ve learned even more on the basketball court.
Cassandra arrived at the Atlantis Hotel parking lot about twenty minutes later. Dressed in her sneakers and dri-FIT workout clothes, which seemed to be the only clothes she owned lately, she jogged to the marina less than a quarter of a mile away. It took her less than five minutes to find her brothers in the outdoor pizzeria talking to a few American teenagers. The security guards littered throughout the property conveniently looked the other way. Cassandra shook her head in disgust. The guys seemed to be joking around with the tourists, but just then, Cameron reached into his pocket.
Cassandra took off in a full sprint, running to intercept him, almost toppling him to the ground when she embraced him. “Cameron, hey,” she shouted breathlessly. “I have something to tell you,” she continued in the same loud voice.
“Get the hell out of here,” Anton growled. The fierce scowl on his face would have frightened anyone. It certainly frightened the teenagers, who immediately turned and stumbled away from them.
Dylan grabbed a fistful of her thick black hair and pulled her away from Cameron. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Told you we should have kicked her ass out of our house weeks ago,” Tyrone muttered.
The security guards, who, only moments ago, had been diligently minding their business, surrounded them. “Hey, not around the tourists, man. Y’all take that shit home,” one of the guards demanded.
Dylan loosened her hair and stepped back.
Cassandra drew back and socked Dylan as hard as she could with a closed fist in his eye.
Dylan roared in pain.
“Don’t touch me again, you lil’ punk,” Cassandra yelled so she could be heard above him, “or I’ll gouge your damn eyes out next time.”
Cameron wrapped his muscular arms around her and pulled her away from a furiously advancing Dylan, Tyrone, and Anton.
Cassandra knew it was stupid to antagonize her brothers when she still had to live with them, but she also knew that if she showed an ounce of weakness, their treatment toward her would be even more violent. She had learned at an early age that if she didn’t fight back, they would just keep attacking and tormenting her. They were all bullies, quick to pounce on any sign of weakness. But they were also all very big men at over six feet tall and very fit. They competed aggressively among themselves on who had the fittest bodies, resulting in them spending a lot of hours in the gym on a daily basis. So a five-foot-ten basketball point guard wasn’t going to intimidate them.
However, a pissed-off sister, who had always given as good as she got, certainly made them think twice about taking her on individually. To her advantage, Cassandra was quick, knew how to street fight with the best of them, and was very unpredictable. But she also knew that if they ever closed rank and attacked her together, she would be significantly outnumbered, overpowered, and probably decimated. Thank God they’re too dumb and too egotistical to ever think like that.
The security guards surrounded them then and coaxed her brothers out of the Marina Village. Once they were outside the resort, they all walked toward the parking lot with her brothers leveling all manners of threats at her.
“You gonna be sorry you ever did that, bitch!” Anton scowled.
“Somehow I doubt that.” Cassandra, staying well out of their physical reach, continued taunting them. She grabbed Cameron’s hand, ensuring that he remained close to her and wasn’t going anywhere with their brothers.
They had just gotten into the almost deserted parking lot where she had parked. It was a relatively well-lit lot with security within shouting distance. At this time at night, the lot was essentially used by the employees and a few locals visiting the resort. There weren’t many people mulling about, mostly locals with a few tourists in the mix. The locals all knew who the Kelly brothers were, and none of them would dare challenge them.
Dylan advanced on her, got in her face, and glared down at her. “You hit me,” Dylan said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you! I don’t give a fuck who you are!” He grabbed her by the throat.
“Man, don’t do dis, Dylan,” Cameron pleaded. “Y’all know how much Cass don’t like the family business.” Cameron moved closer to his brother and sister, grabbing Dylan’s arm.
Chapter Two
Xavier Bautista rolled his six-foot-seven muscular frame from the bed and stood to his feet. Called X by his friends, he surveyed the calm ocean view from the double windows of his bedroom. He was a massive man at over two hundred pounds of sculptured muscle. He had velvet chocolate skin with numerous scars on his face and body and piercing onyx eyes. No one would ever call him handsome. His features were too harsh, too devoid of emotion, permanently frozen in cold disinterest. In fact, his brutalized features and size gave men and women pause; they were leery and intimidated by his size and ruthless looks.
On orders from his bosses, he had been on the island of New Providence for almost two months, recuperating from the violent assassination of his teammates and his grandparents. After he’d been undercover for over three years in Colombia, his assignment had ended more deadly than any of them had anticipated. As a United States DEA agent for six years and US Special Forces before that, he had gone undercover in South America in his last assignment.
In Colombia, because of his intimidating presence and ability to speak flawless Spanish, he had been Ramón García’s bodyguard while undercover. García had been one of the most deadly drug dealers in South America, extremely violent and a sociopath. The fact that he was ridiculously wealthy and had a large amount of men under his employ meant that he had the resources to carry out decades of atrocities. It didn’t hurt that García also had the Colombian, Venezuela, Mexican, and Panamanian governments well into his pocket. The corruption had been so deep it was almost insurmountable. For over fifteen years, the US government had tried time and again to bring García down. It had taken Xavier’s team a year to get Xavier into García’s inner sanctum and two years before they brought the entire operation down. But this hadn’t been done without major casualties to the DEA unit. When they had returned Stateside with their prisoner, a hit had been placed on all six members of the team. After the seven months’ trial, García had ordered that the entire team and any close relatives be hunted down and killed. García’s men had succeeded. All of Xavier’s teammates and their families had been assassinated. Xavier had been the only one to survive, but he had been fatally wounded and left for dead.
Xavier had been in the process of moving his grandparents—his mother’s parents—to a secure location when they were ambushed by a swarm of García’s men in Miami. When he had regained consciousness hours later, he was told that the doctors had removed fifteen bullets from his body. Although he had killed their attackers before passing out, Xavier had been furious by the death of his grandparents. They had been cold, emotionless guardians, feeling that their only responsibility toward him was to provide food and shelter. Despite this, he had still cared that they were the only family he had had left. His mother, originally from the Dominican Republic, had been killed in a car accident when he was twelve years old. The sound of his mother’s tormented moans of pain after the collision still haunted him even as an adult. She had been the only person who had ever loved him.
He had lived with his maternal grandparents ever since. Xavier had never known who his father was. The fact that he had killed all nine men who had attacked them was the only fact that had kept him sane.
Xavier had walked out of the Mount Sinai Medical Center one day after the bullets were removed from his body and had immediately boarded a flight to Nassau, Bahamas, on orders fr
om the special agent in charge of the Miami office. The doctors were astounded by his swift one-day recovery. He had silently listened to their befuddled musing, not once offering an explanation. They won’t believe me anyway.
The DEA owned a few properties in the Bahamas, and he had been given indefinite use of a house on Paradise Island. It was a pretty sizable house in a gated community on the private island.
Xavier took a last look at the now deserted beach from his bedroom window, pulled his hoodie over his head, and exited his temporary home. Although he had been on the private island for more than two months, Xavier rarely left the house during the day. He usually did all of his exploration during the night, walking the five miles to downtown Nassau and back again to his condo. He drove around the island numerous times, exploring some of the darker areas of the city. While the DEA had a team working with the local authorities, Xavier was still surprised by the level of illegal weapons and drugs readily available on the streets; obviously the work of law enforcement was inadequate. His curiosity over this resulted in him prowling the local streets at night trying to find out what was going on. With silent surveillance, he quickly uncovered numerous gangs and criminal syndicates operating almost without any opposition from the police.
During his exploration, he also found it incredible the amount of liquor stores, churches, and gambling housings around the island, all three almost within mere feet of each other. He shook his head at the irony of it all. For a population of only four hundred thousand, these streets are certainly not boring.
It was on one of his return nightly trip from downtown Nassau, when he was taking a shortcut through the parking area of the Atlantis Hotel, that he saw four men surrounding a young woman. He moved in closer to hear what was being said as one of the men grabbed the woman by the throat. Up to now he hadn’t interfered in the criminal activity going on, but the sight of this woman stopped him in his tracks.
“Bey, Dylan, let her go,” the young man with them pleaded.
“No, Cam, let him try me,” the woman hissed, obviously having trouble speaking with the grip around her throat. “He thinks I won’t kick his ass right here, right now. Think you can take me on now, Dylan? You don’t remember the last time?”
“Shut up, bitch!”
Xavier could see the man’s fist tightened.
Even while being held by the throat, the woman continued to taunt him and laugh in the man’s face. “I made you bleed last time, pig,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but who the fuck was crying?” the man she called Dylan yelled.
“Yeah, I cried. I cried because I have a pussy for a brother!”
Dylan roared in frustration and raised his other fist to strike her, but the woman viciously slammed her knee with a loud smack into his groin. He immediately released her, fell to his knees, and grabbed his injured appendage, howling in pain.
Xavier blinked in commensurate sympathy with the other man.
The woman wasn’t finished with him though. She kicked him hard in the chest, causing him to fall on his ass. ‘Don’t ever touch me again, you big douche,” she yelled.
“You bitch!” One of the other men shouted, advanced on her, and swung his fist.
She ducked smoothly, avoiding the violent swing. “What, Anton? That little pussy can’t fight his own battles? You have to beat up the little girl for him?” she taunted.
“Shut up, Cass!” the younger man yelled, trying to shield her again. “Y’all need to stop this before someone gets hurt.”
But Dylan had recovered sufficiently to rise to his feet, and he had a gun in his hand. “I’m gonna kill dis bitch!”
Xavier had seen enough. He walked silently toward the now tense group. “Good night, do any of you have directions to the Marketplace Restaurant?”
They all turned to him and tensed further. Xavier knew how menacing he looked. The black hoodie was pulled over his head, obscuring his face, not that the sight of his face would have given them any comfort. He towered over the men in front of him, but he knew that their numbers might give the bully with the gun some confidence.
Dylan turned and pointed the gun at him. “You see any damn tour guide here, grim reaper looking mudderfucker?”
Xavier raised his hand in a conciliatory manner, still not revealing his face. “Hey, man, I just want directions.” But his gaze landed on the young woman, really seeing her for the first time. He felt like he’d been poleaxed directly in his chest. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Smooth toffee skin, golden-colored eyes, long thick curly hair, and an incredibly sexy body. She was dressed in dri-FIT-shirt and sweatpants that were molded to every inch of her curves.
Xavier had met many tall women, some taller, but he had never seen any with such lush contours. It was obvious that she was quite fit, not an ounce of fat on her, but she was unmistakably round in all the right places. She had round high breasts, not too big but enough to fill his large palms, and a curvy ass that rivaled Beyoncé’s. This woman was the physical embodiment of his dream woman, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance in hell of ever having a woman like her. His cock, which had been relatively dormant during the past two months, was making itself known with a vengeance now. His excited member pressed insistently against the hard material of his jeans. Xavier came out of his trance to hear her brother threatening him again.
“Get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet in your ass.”
“Bey, Dil, that’s a tourist bey! You better calm the fuck down! We don’t need the US government coming after us,” the man called Anton cautioned.
“I’m going to kill Cassandra! That bitch almost slammed by balls into my stomach. This time I’m going to kill her, tourist or no tourist.” Dylan kept his gun trained on Xavier. “If this sucker don’t get the fuck out of here, his ass will be gone too.”
“I don’t know what you still crying about. Your balls are like tiny grapes,” the young woman they called Cassandra taunted Dylan. “I’m surprised you felt anything. That little thing you call a dick is the size of my pinkie.”
Dylan swung around and pointed the gun back at her. “I hate—”
“Shoot her and your brothers will be collecting your brain matter for days,” Xavier said calmly, his weapon now visible to all of them. Xavier nonchalantly pushed the hoodie off his head.
There was a collective gasp, and they all froze.
Yeah, I’m an ugly mudderfucker. Xavier stared at them coolly. He didn’t need to glare; his size and stillness was enough to encourage fear in anyone trying to oppose his will. He ensnared the young woman’s gaze, and he was shocked that she didn’t seem to be repulsed by him in the least. She was giving him the same curious perusal that he was certain he had given her. She smiled softly at him, but he couldn’t return the expression. His face remained frozen in the expressionless stare that he had been wearing since his mother’s death. He couldn’t even remember ever smiling since then; there had been nothing in his life to bring that about.
Xavier was surprised that, even though he didn’t return her smile, her warm regard never wavered. With her gaze steadily on him, she spoke confidently, “Dylan ain’t stupid enough to shoot me. My brothers may be dumb as doorknobs, but I’m sure they remember what would happen if I suddenly died. If I don’t make my daily check-in with my contact, all of their business will be delivered to the relevant authorities and their lives won’t be worth living. Y’all still remember that right, geniuses?”
“I really hate dis bitch,” one of her brothers growled.
“Love you too, big brother.” Cassandra smirked. “Y’all just being salty cause I win again.” She frowned at Dylan. “You’d better put that thing away before you hurt yourself. Nothing says dumb more than a man who shoots himself in the foot, both physically and figuratively.”
To Xavier’s astonishment, he felt his face starting to crack. Was that a fucking smile? Sweet Jesus! He almost raised his hand to feel his face in wonder.
The pre
viously hostile Dylan dutifully put his gun away while glaring at his sister.
Cassandra smiled and playfully punched Dylan in the arm. “You know better than to be threatening tourists in this country,” she scolded him before turning and walking toward Xavier.
Dylan continued to scowl and mutter under his breath.
Her scent immediately filled Xavier’s nostrils, and he inhaled the alluring fragrance before he could stop himself. She was all woman, smelling feminine and soft with a hint of something exotic. His body incredibly hardened further, and he felt dazed from the unexpected emotion she elicited from him. He almost jumped out of his skin when she reached up and touched his bicep, but of course, he hadn’t visibly moved a muscle.
“What the hell?” he grunted under his breath. No other words passed his lips.
She simply smiled and curled her finger at him, silently asking him to bend so she could talk more privately.
Xavier was shocked to find himself so easily obeying her. He bent his head.
She spoke directly in his ear. “Sorry to disrupt your night. Thank you for trying to protect me. If you wish to remain undercover on this island, you shouldn’t blow your cover so easily.”
Xavier swallowed, too stunned to speak. He simply stared down at her, his expression blank, neither acknowledging nor denying her comment.
She turned and walked away from them toward the parking garage that was yards away from the clearing where she had been fighting with her brothers. “Come on, Cam. I’m not leaving you with these street thugs, and don’t bring their shit in my car. I’m too pretty to go to prison.” She activated the doors to a car on the perimeter of the open garage.
After seeing her in action, Xavier wasn’t surprised that Cam obediently handed over something to his brother and followed her to the Honda Civic she had climbed into.
Xavier: (Indestructible) Page 2
