El Capitán Veneno

They don’t call him Captain Poison for his manners. Madrid is tearing itself apart in the streets. A shattered officer is dragged into a house of women who have the nerve to save his life. Broth. Pillows. Pity. Don Jorge would rather the bullet had finished the job. The daughter of the house will not be barked off. She doses him, deals the cards, and uses the nickname that makes waiters duck. He is trapped in a bed with a broken leg and a worse problem: he cannot win a war against kindness. This is not a battlefield romance. It is a siege. And the captain is already inside the walls.