Free Final Cut Miami Voodoo You Love? by Belinda McBride Page B

He sought mercy deep within, a sense of old friendship. He found nothing. He rested his hand flat on the table, letting wicked claws morph from the tips of his fingers.
    “Someone hurt my mate, Ramon. Do you know who that might be?” His voice had dropped an octave, and came from an odd place in his throat. He caught the rancid scent of the witch’s fear.
    “ Não sei !” he choked. “I do not know, Antonio!”
    He leaned forward, till he was just inches from the other man’s face. “Did you do this, Ramon? Did you know she was my mate somehow? Maybe the cards? Did you mean to take revenge for what I did to you?”
    Ramon jerked his head abruptly. “No. No, please, Antonio. I will make it right. I will tell you… Tonight I will tell you who has the other end of the rope. Por favor , Antonio!”
    “He didn’t do it.” Coco sounded devastated. “He’s just saying those things because he’s afraid.”
    Antonio didn’t turn in her direction. He never took his eyes off Ramon’s frightened face. “ Como !” He hissed. “Who?”
    Ramon gasped. “Miguela, my wife!” He dropped forward, choking through his fear. And oddly, Antonio wasn’t so certain Ramon was completely afraid of him. He stood, reached across the table and fisted Ramon’s collar. He knocked the fedora off his head, revealing the scars running across the other man’s face. Claw marks, smaller than they would be today, running from the side of his face up into his hairline. That day so long ago, Antonio had twisted under the weight of the larger boy’s body, reaching and slashing, spilling blood for the first time in his life.
    He pushed Ramon and scanned the bar, noting that Nicola and Coco waited on the far side of the table. He breathed deeply, pulling the tiger back into himself. He nodded then, moving to Coco’s side. As a group, they moved toward the exit. When he reached the door, a beefy hand grasped his shoulder. Antonio shot a deadly look at the bear shifter.
    “I send da boss on break. But you do shit like that in here again…”
    Antonio had to let the thick, German accent process before he understood the man’s words. He nodded. “He knows who did this to Coco. And she’s my mate.”
    The big man stared down at him, as though reading Antonio’s very soul. “Ja. I see.” He glanced around. “Boss comes back soon. You need extra fist?”
    He considered the offer for a moment. “You think a half-assed witch will be able to take on a 500-pound tiger?” He arched a brow.
    The bouncer whistled. “I hear you tell Coco you were Siberian. Didn’t think tiger.”
    Antonio grinned. “She didn’t either.” He winked at the man. “Name’s Antonio Silva. I might be back in soon.”
    The bear shifter clasped his hand in his massive grip. “Gregory. I’m here always. You need help, call at me.” He nodded for emphasis, his bald head gleaming in the neon lights of the bar. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a card. “Anytime.”
    * * *
    Ramon and Miguela lived in a run-down neighborhood. Clearly being a witch for hire didn’t pay as well as Ramon had hoped back in the old days. Thankfully, it was within walking distance of the bar; Coco was focused enough that he didn’t have to watch every step she took. She lost her balance only once, giving a delicate growl of frustration when she stubbed her toe on a crack in the pavement. He wanted to help her more. He wanted to pick her up, carry her over all the perils before them, not just tonight, but forever. But he had the feeling that if he tried to enforce his dominance over her, she’d do her best to assert her independence. It was the Siberian way, after all. Her submission had to be freely given, and on her own terms.
    So he’d let her walk on her own, allowing her to take help when she needed it. Her hair gleamed in the moonlight; with the mats combed free, it hung to her shoulder blades. Before Nicola had braided it, it had waved and curled; even in