The man paused, clearly processing the words. “No, that’s just her wishful thinking.”
Marco took a step forward, closing the door behind him, forcing Ricardo to move back. “I can grant her that wish.” Without warning, his fist flew, connecting squarely with Ricardo’s face.
“For all you put her through,” Marco said, primed for a fight. He wanted one, needed one, to vent his anger and frustration and his fear. And Ricardo was the perfect boxing bag.
Ricardo rubbed his jaw, eyes flashing with fury, but he didn’t hit back. Instead, he looked past him—and down.
“Tio Malco?”
Marco stiffened, then turned and picked up Sam. “Hey, Sammy. Hmmm. You smell so good.” He nuzzled her neck, tickled her sides until she was squealing.
He was aware of Ricardo’s eyes boring holes into his back. Resistin
