Antonio catapulted from his deep slumber, dripping in cold sweat. “Puta madre, ” he whispered and flipped on his stainless steel reading lamp. It had been the same damned nightmare every night for the last month. Ever since he’d found that fucking tablet in Mexico. Or had it found him?
Doesn’t matter. It’s what you were looking for, the answer to your prayers.
“Everything all right, baby?” A silky arm slipped out from beneath the steel-gray satin sheets and rubbed his bare thigh.
“Uh… yeah. Sure.” He looked down at the mop of brown hair. Her face was as obscure as her name.