We have enough gun control. What we need is idiot control.
Almost as if in answer to her question, the front door opened.
A tall, good-looking male came out of the house. His hair was shaved to leave his head bald so as to show off the intricate scroll work that was tattooed up the back of his neck, to the crown of his head. Rafael Santiago wore his signature long black leather coat, black pleated pants and a skin tight black knit shirt that showed off every tiny detail of his ripped eight pack.
Gorgeous and deadly, the man was the epitome of the word tough. As a human, he’d been known to cut the throat of anyone dumb enough to look at him too long. He let no one get away with anything. His only motto in life was do unto others before they did it to you.
But for all his bluster and razor-quick quips, she knew him for a sweetheart. Those he considered his friends, he would kill to protect, and he was loyal to a fault.
He wore a pair of dark sunglasses that completely obscured most of his face, but Danger knew the former pirate captain well. He’d been living happily over in Columbus for the last sixty-six years.
