CHAPTER 2
HECTOR
Hector’s personal Hell on Earth had a name: Mary Rossi. The sweetest woman he had ever smelled, but couldn’t have. As he drove over to the club, he swore he could still smell her perfume on him. Having her pressed against him on his bike had been torture. He’d been hard the second he felt her luscious t**s against his back.
He cracked open the engine in the hope that the night would make her smell fade away. He wished he could as easily crack open the door to his memory, because every time he thought back on that asshole who put his hands on her, he wanted to commit murder. He should have broken more than his nose and leg. He should have broken everything, and then finished by throwing him out of a window. The fucker hadn’t been good enough to lick her little toes, let
