The Enforcer

Chapter 2 Hector

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 alone touch her. For a moment there, he had been consumed by rage, just like in the old days. The days that he fought in backend alleys to make a buck. When he let out his beast and pummeled his opponent within an inch of his life. Ending the night with a bunch of women in his bed, all eager to please Hector ‘the Beast’ Diaz, street-fighter.

He thought he’d sworn off the days when he was controlled by spurts of rage. The military was the world’s best anger management program. Except, when he’d seen Mary’s torn shirt, he’d lost it.

The first time he saw Mary had been at Gio’s wedding, months ago. She’d been glowing in a pink dress, talking to someone over a flute of champagne. It had felt like someone had sucker punched him. Never before had he been overwhelmed by so much lust. He had just wanted to take her into a room, or against a wall—anywhere—and have his way with her. But classy women like Mary Rossi weren’t meant for men like him. He was too rough around the edges; too damaged, too dark, too violent. Too much of a lot of things. So, what did a man do when he got the hots for a woman he couldn’t have? He tried to replace her with something that came close.

He took the exit to South Beach and parked in the back of Club Flux. It wasn’t his favorite of places to go, since it was co-owned by a man he loathed. It was, however, one of the hottest clubs in San Francisco, and drew a very diverse crowd. And since Diaz Security provided the security for the club, Hector came and went there on occasion.

He took a seat at the bar and gave a heads up to the bartender.

Brent gave him a chin jerk. “Want the usual, Wolf?”

He nodded and got a Corona in no time.

The place was booming, and he told himself that he wasn’t going to f**k another blond with long curly hair and baby blues.

“Hi there, big guy. Wanna buy me a drink?”

As far as pickup lines went, that wasn’t the worst he’d ever heard. The woman that sat next to him on the bar was a redhead. She had cropped hair, barely touching her shoulders, but most of all, she didn’t look anything like Mary.

Perfect.

Her eyes roamed over his face and tats, and she licked her bottom lip.

Women usually had one of two reactions when they saw the red scars covering his cheek; either they got scared and averted their eyes, or they wanted to f**k him. It seemed as if there was no in between.

He tapped on the bar to get Brent’s attention. “Give the lady a drink.”

That was all it took for her to plaster herself against him, brushing her breasts against his arm. She was hot and eager, but most of all, she was easy. He knew he could have her in the back alley if he wanted to. He decided to take her home, because that was where his stuff was.

The second they left the club, she groped his ass. They rounded the corner toward the empty parking spot.

An image of Mary’s lips popped into his head. He loved her lips. They were puffy, the bottom lip slightly bigger than the upper. His d**k would look f*****g good between them.

Don’t go there, Diaz. Not again.

He looked at the redhead. “Get on your knees.”

Red did as he asked and pulled out his d**k. She gave him a long lick from his balls to the top. Then she started giving him little kisses, playing with him.

He wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. His hands pulled her hair tight. “Get to work.”

“Yes! Hurt me, daddy.”

Ah s**t, she was one of those women. One look at his scars and she concocted this silly fantasy of him liking to beat women. He didn’t do the ‘daddy’ s**t, and he sure as hell didn’t get off on hurting women.

Suddenly the night was pierced with the sound of an alarm going off. Then a man shouted to his right.

“Hey! What the hell is going on over there?”

Hector turned toward the sound coming from his right. s**t, it was his alarm. He let the redhead go, tucked his d**k back in his pants, and rushed over to his bike, only to discover that his tires were slashed. f*****g great. Some asshole had put his hands on his baby.

Brent was standing next to his bike, with a smoke. “Sorry man, the damage was already done by the time I saw him.”

“You recognized him?” He’d been feeling eyes on him for a couple of weeks now. He’d attributed it to his PTSD acting up again and didn’t give it another thought. But now he wondered if it wasn’t just his imagination and if there was a connection.

“Nope. He had a hoodie on. Damn kids.”

Since he wasn’t going to find a tow truck this time of night, he called Achilles. He’d forgotten about the redhead until she appeared at his side again.

“Gonna take me home, hotshot?”

“Not tonight. Little busy over here.” He pulled away when she went for his zipper again. “Brent. Why don’t you take…”

“Heidi,” she said.

“Right. Heidi over here back inside. Drinks on me.”

She left him with a pout, an arm around Brent.

It didn’t take long for Achilles to arrive. He somewhat begrudgingly got into his friend’s car. He hated cars, no matter how spacious the interior was. Closed spaces were not his thing.

“I can’t believe some prick slashed my tires, while I was only standing a few feet away.”

“Happens to the best of us, man.”

“Yeah? When was the last time it happened to you?” So, he was a bit sensitive concerning his bike. It was a vintage model and he’d bought it from his first prize money. He had literally bled for his wheels.

“Last week,” Achilles retorted. “Right at the back of the club, just like with you.”

“Tough neighborhood, I guess.”

“I guess. Though, I’m beginning to wonder now if it isn’t something more.” He dropped the subject and went straight to a topic Hector wanted to talk about even less. “So, about tonight. You went to help Mary, huh?”

“Your point?”

“Just that you could’ve sent someone else. One of the guys who were on call.”

Nosy bastard. This was exactly the reason why he had opted to drive over to Mary’s by himself and had asked Achilles to meet him there. If you didn’t share a car, you couldn’t be grilled.

When he didn’t answer, Achilles smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally making a move.”

“There’s no move.”

“It was about time,” Achilles simply continued. “You two have been mooning over each other forever.”

“There’s no mooning. I don’t f*****g moon.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Let it go, man. She’s not for me. I don’t want her.” When Achilles gave him a look, he shrugged. “Fine, I want her. But only for one night.” Surely his obsession with her would pass after that. “She isn’t the ‘f**k ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of girl. Not to mention the fact that Jazzy would have my balls if I hurt her cousin. Mary’s the type that wants hearts and flowers and s**t. The kind of guy she can bring home to her mother. I ain’t that man.”

“Her mother is an alcoholic living in France with her third husband.”

Hector hadn’t known that. He tried to steer clear of all and any information regarding Mary Rossi. “Doesn’t matter. And how the hell did you know that? You’ve been checking up on her?”

“Stop the growling. I came across an old file on her. There was one on every Rossi girl. Gio must have compiled them when he married Jazzy. Your friend doesn’t do anything half-assed.”

Hector had almost forgotten about those files. He hadn’t been there when Gio had to pick a bride out of the three Rossi granddaughters. His choice had fallen on the most brazen of the girls: Jocelyn. But then his bride-to-be had literally fled the country to get away from him. Hector had been the one who had dragged her back, kicking and screaming. His friend was ruthless when it came to what he wanted. In the end, it had worked out for Gio, though.

Hector had to admit he wasn’t that much different from Gio. Meeting the Dettas had made him realize that blood didn’t make family. Blood didn’t mean s**t when it came to loyalty or love.

It was the Dettas’ grandmother who had taught him that. She had even tried to teach him a value or two. One of them was to always protect the ones weaker than you. Not hurt them. Him making a ploy for Mary Rossi would definitely hurt her. Because if he ever got her in his bed, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

And no woman should be forced to live with his baggage.