**Catalina

I was glowing with body glitter under the streetlamps as The Pound’s guards shoved me in the back of a limo. I remembered the last time I’d been in one of these. Mateo had been bringing me back to Efrain.

Goddess, how I missed him. It ached in my soul.

A sleazy middle-aged Italian man was sitting in the back of the limo already. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a forest of springy chest hair. “Hey, babe.”

I swallowed. “Mr. ...