by Eve Rabi
I was twenty-one, a sassy college student who took crap from no one. While holidaying in Mexico, I was accosted by The Devil of Mexico called Diablo and shot, because the bastard mistook me for a spy. I survived, only to encounter him again months later. How’s that for luck? Furious and sick of all that I’d been through because of him, I slapped him, told him to go fuck himself and braced myself for the bullet. He could shoot me – I no longer cared. But, to my surprise, he became...