The next day Victor woke up with a slight headache. He cursed as he stood up and stretched in his underwear, his muscular frame catching the morning light that filtered through the half-drawn curtains. Years of rigorous training had sculpted his body into a weapon—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, abs defined like carved stone, and arms corded with muscle. The scars that decorated his torso told stories of survival, the most prominent being three puckered circles on his chest where bullets had torn through him five years ago.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temple while unbidden thoughts of Selena crept into his mind again. The way her eyes had widened at the club, that flicker of something beyond fear...
"Damn it," he muttered, pushing the thoughts aside. He ha
