by Logan Fox
What had he been expecting? To find her tied up in the basement, nothing but rats and spiders to keep her company?
He hadn’t been expecting a drunk, happy Cora back from a shopping trip with the girls.
She’d been having the time of her life while he and Lars recovered from the injuries her tío had inflicted on them.
And why wouldn’t she? She was a cartel princess. Spoiled, pampered, naive. It should have pissed him off, but instead he was glad she was no longer miserable.
“Our cartel is expanding rapidly into some—” Javier waved a hand as if looking for the right word “—hotly contested territories.” He steepled his fingers in front of him, his arms on the expensive office chair behind the desk.
“You’re expecting resistance,” Lars said.
“Of course.” Javier shrugged. “It’s to be expected.”
“Plata o Plomo?” Finn asked.
“And others.” He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head, and then fixed those dark orbs on Finn then Lars in turn. “Although I doubt any violence will reach us here, I prefer to be prepared.”
“So Zachary hasn’t come for you yet?” Lars asked.
Javier turned his gaze on him, but only long enough to give a small, dismissive shake of his head. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“Which territories?” Finn asked.
Javier laughed. “That’s cartel business—”
“And none of ours,” Finn completed. He let out a rough, low laugh. “So that’s how this is going to work?” Finn sat forward, elbows on the table and hands gripping his elbows. “You point, we go?”
“You are bodyguards. Nothing more, nothing less.” There was a certain emphasis on the ‘more’, but Finn couldn’t figure out if that was Javier making a point or Javier just being a prick and pronouncing his perfect fucking English.
“We getting paid?” Lars asked.
“I wouldn’t expect you to work for free. Despite the obvious…perks of your position.” Javier’s secret little smile made Finn want to drive his knee into the man’s groin. Repeatedly.
“Fine. When do we start?” Lars slouched in his chair, looking for all the world as if he’d rather be pulling teeth.
“Tomorrow.”
“Yeah? Not right away?” Lars sat forward in a rush. “Surely you can’t wait for us to start protecting her? You must have been going bat-shit crazy these past few weeks, waiting for us to heal up. Who was looking after her then, huh? Your guys?”
Javier shrugged as he gave them both a long look. Then he twined his fingers together and placed them on the desk in front of him, elbows on the edge. “Gentlemen…I am sensing some hostility.”
Finn and Lars both broke out laughing.
“’Cos you beat the living shit out of us?” Lars waved a hand. “Nah. Forgive and forget, right?”
Javier brought his fingers to his chest. “I am not your enemy.” A flash of his eyes took in both of them. “Bear that in mind.”
And then he was standing, and Finn and Lars came to their feet with another quick glance at each other.
“Now, I’m sure you’d like to catch up with Elle.” Javier gestured toward the door. “She and Ana will most likely be in the jacuzzi. They seem to live there these days.”
Finn’s eyebrows hitched up, and he heard Lars make a quiet sound in the back of his throat.
“The roof,” Javier said. And then gave a small, knowing smile before dismissing them with a flick of his hand.
10
Serious shit
“No, Ana! I can’t—” Cora began, but the blond ignored her—something she did a lot these days. Champagne sloshed into Cora’s fluted glass, most ending up in the jacuzzi’s roiling water.
Ana laughed, and brought the bottle to her lips, not bothering with a glass. When the bottle sank, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, “We’re celebrating.”
“We are?” Cora studied the bubbles for a moment. The champagne was pink—well, rosy anyway—and so frothy it was threatening to spill over the rim.
The color almost matched the orange and pink hues of the setting sun. The view was spectacular up here, especially when the sun was going down. And, at night, the stars were a mess of glittering dust; a fragment of glass, ground underfoot.
“We have to. Your boys have come back,” Ana murmured, giving Cora a sultry look. “Now you won’t be lonely anymore.”
Apparently, it was no surprise that Cora had spent a night with Finn and Lars. Did everyone on the staff know? How was she supposed to look anyone in the eyes?
“I’m not lonely,” Cora lied.
And how that pissed her off. After spending every night of her twenty-year existence alone, she couldn’t understand why her bed felt so empty when she went asleep.
Cora shrugged away the thought, and drank from her glass. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she rubbed it with the back of her hand.
It was cold on the rooftop; steam coiled from the jacuzzi’s agitated surface. Her long black hair was cold where the water had plastered it to her shoulders and neck.
There were people with them on the roof tonight. Some of Javier's sicarios, Silvia and a gaggle of her friends. It was as if there was a party happening, and they hadn't been invited.
“Is something happening here tonight?” Cora asked.
Ana shrugged. “I’m always the last to know.” She drank from the bottle again and gave Cora another shrug when she threw her a frown. “What? I am. Gabriella tells me nothing when she's here.”
Strange, how Gabriella seemed to tolerate Ana one minute and make her life a misery the next.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Cora asked.
“What?” Ana took another swig from the bottle.
“She’s his wife.”
Ana shrugged, but it was an uncomfortable looking gesture. “So?”
“You’re fine with it?”
Another shrug. Mischief gleamed in Ana’s eyes as she leaned forward and whispered, “Javier is a really good fuck.”
Cora swallowed hard, and looked into her champagne glass.
“What, I’m embarrassing you now?” Ana laughed her crystalline laugh and shoved Cora. “You know, it’s not as if you’re related. You could take him to bed if—”
“I have my boys, remember?” Cora cut in hurriedly, trying desperately to subdue a rising blush. God, Ana had no filter when she’d been drinking. And it wasn’t the first time she’d insinuated something like this. “I just thought it would be weird. Like, uncomfortable, with his wife here. She seems jealous.”
“Of what, us?” Ana shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice was harder. “She says me and Silvia will never be able to please Javier like she can. We’re just her stand ins.”
“Stand ins,” Cora murmured, eyes wide. “Wow.”
Ana scoffed, and then muffled the sound with a long swig from her bottle. “That’s not the worst. When she first found out, she insisted that she watch.”
Cora spun to Ana, spluttering, “What?” through an incredulous laugh.
“It’s true,” Ana said despondently. “She watched. And then she told us how bad we were at pleasing her husband. That I had cellulite.” Ana rolled her eyes. “That’s why I’m only allowed salad when she’s here.”
Cora laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of stately Gabriella watching while Javier—
She grabbed the bottle from Ana and chugged down enough that her throat burned from the bubbles. Then she dragged her hand over her mouth and leaned close to Ana. “No more of that,” she said and, hearing herself slurring, hurriedly set the bottle of champagne down too. “And no more of that.”
“What, already? It’s like—” Ana hunted around through their towels until she found her watch. “It’s only six.”
A group of people arrived on the roof, talking and laughing among themselves. Where was everyone coming from?
“We should go,” Cora said. She felt exposed out here in the illuminat
ed jacuzzi. “Just now someone wants to join us."
“Looks like a cartel meeting,” Ana said. “Javier likes to have them up here. It’s the view, you know?”
Ana proffered the bottle of champagne again, wriggling it from side to side when Cora held up a hand. “No? What if you’re part of the meeting, huh?” she said. “You'll need this,” she added in a sing-song voice.
“Enough,” Cora said, waving a hand with what she hoped was utter finality. “I have an important discussion to have…” she stopped, derailed by the mess of her words. “I need to talk to Finn. To my boys.”
“Oooh,” Ana crooned, grabbing the bottle and holding it out to Cora again. “You’re definitely going to need courage for that.”
Cora glanced at the bottle, then up at Ana. “You’re the devil,” she muttered, swiping the champagne from her. “The fucking devil.”
11
Festivities
The top of the stairs opened out to a bar that stretched across the narrow side of the rectangular roof patio. The glass wall opposite opened up onto a fully tiled roof with glass fencing all the way around. There were lots of people up here; some clustered around the bar, others grouped around the intimate cocktail tables scattered across the roof.
The sun was about to set, and twilight made the small lights strung along the glass fencing glow like hovering fairies.
It was impossible to miss the glowing jacuzzi. It cycled through hues of pink, purple and blue, illuminating the two figures inside.
“I could live here,” Lars said, turning to glance at Milo as he came up the stairs. The man took one look at the roof and his lips twitched into a sour expression. “What? Not minimalistic enough for you?”
“Fucking rich people,” Milo muttered under his breath.
“Fucking drug dealers, you mean,” Lars correctly quietly. “Well, let’s go say hi.”
Milo squinted past him. “They’re wearing clothes, right?”
“Inside a jacuzzi? I doubt it.” When Milo didn’t follow him, Lars spun back. “But I’m pretty sure they’re wearing bikinis.”
Despite his reassurances, Milo still didn’t look happy. Then again, he didn’t know the man for his ready smile. Milo had always been serious. Over the years, that had intensified into a grimness he wore like a shield of armor.
It was surprisingly effective; you couldn’t get hurt if no one could get through, right?
Until someone did. Someone too small and dainty for it to have been possible. But she’d gotten through, and he was hurting.
Fuck it.
A few people turned to watch them. Most of the men on the roof were armed, and he was sure Milo’s trigger finger was as itchy as his. This was where Cora spent her evenings? Jacuzzi, sure. That was understandable. But all these people? She’d struck him as a bit of a recluse.
Maybe that was just the fact that she was on the run. She was probably a social butterfly when she wasn’t being hunted like an endangered buck by rival cartels.
Lars strode up to the jacuzzi. It took a few seconds before Cora spotted him. When she did, she sat up so fast that she sent a small wave over the side of the hot tub.
She was wearing a bikini, but it was a tiny, hot pink thing that did more to emphasize her breasts than cover them up.
“How about you drop down a few inches again,” Lars said through his teeth. “Ain’t no conversation happening with those puppies out.”
Ana giggled, and glanced across at Cora as if they were communicating telepathically. Cora blinked up at him a few times as if she didn’t have a fucking clue what he was on about, then looked down. And then slid back into the water, face pink enough to match her bikini top.
Milo came to a halt beside him. “Cora, can we—”
“You can’t address Queen Eleodora like that,” Ana said. She waved a hand and scooted over to the opposite side of the hot tub. “Get in, subjects.”
Cora laughed, but it was probably because of Milo’s incredulous expression.
“Subjects?” he rumbled quietly.
“She’s drunk,” Cora slurred. “Me too, I think. You don’t have to—”
“Hey, when in Rome…” Lars shrugged off his jacket and then stripped off his shirt.
“Lars—”
“What?” He turned to Milo and gave him a half-shrug.
“You really think we should be—”
“We’re not on duty.” He unbuckled his belt. “Yet.”
Milo threw him a glare that should have incinerated him. Instead, it just made him smile. The man could be such a grouch when he wanted. “No one’s making you get in. You can stand over there and guard us.”
The man’s shoulders tensed like Lars had slapped him with a glove and demanded a duel. “Fine,” he murmured, and took off his jacket, folding it neatly and setting it down on a nearby bench.
It was a treat watching him undress. He was so careful about packing his clothes just right; everything folded, pistol still inside its holster and on top of everything.
Lars stripped down to his bright-red boxers and slipped into the water with a sigh. Ana gave him a once-over, and hid a secretive smile behind a bottle of champagne as she took a swig before offering it to him.
“Very expensive champagne?” Lars said, studying the bottle. “On a school night?”
“We’re celebrating,” Ana declared, right before Cora kicked her, splashing water over Lars in the process.
Cora’s brown eyes went wide, and then she and Ana burst out laughing. But that sound cut off as soon as Milo appeared, naked to his form-fitting black trunks.
Fucking show off.
The man was built like a goddamn Olympic weight lifter; the water brimmed when he got in. He immediately began glancing at everyone as if deciding who he’d interrogate first.
Trust him to fuck up the mood in a pink-back lit jacuzzi. Lars rolled his eyes and took a long swig from the champagne. “It’s almost empty, babe,” he said, handing the bottle back to Ana.
“There’s more,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “I’ll go fetch.”
“I’ll have a soda,” Milo said.
Ana laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and then stood. Water cascaded from her, and she shivered theatrically before grabbing a towel and slinging it around her shoulders like a shawl.
Leaving her ass bare. Which was a wonderful sight to witness as she hurried over the tiles towards—
“Lars?”
Cora’s cold voice snapped his attention back to her. “My queen!” he said, and handed her the champagne bottle. “So what are we celebrating tonight?”
She was trying a serious face, but it didn’t stand a chance against his grin. She took the bottle, glanced at Milo as if asking for fucking permission first, and tipped it against her lips. “I thought I’d never see you two again,” she said quietly, and then handed the bottle to Milo.
Milo watched her for several long seconds, eyes flashing over her face, before taking the bottle from her. But he didn’t drink straight away; instead, he leaned closer and tucked hair behind her ear. “Me neither.”
“Hey, you just going to let that warm up?” Lars asked. Padding feet sounded behind him, and he turned to smile at Ana as she splashed back into the jacuzzi with another shiver. She had a bottle of champagne under each arm, and set one down behind her as she offered the other to Lars. “You’ll open?”
“I sure will,” he said. “But first, a toast.”
Cora produced a glass, as did Ana. Milo glanced down at the champagne bottle in his hands and hoisted it up a reluctant inch. Lars’s grin spread, and he popped the champagne. The cork shot to the other end of the patio as he hurriedly topped up the ladies’s glasses before lifting the bottle.
“To Queen Eleodora,” he said loudly. “Shall her reign of terror be long and fruitful.”
“Reign of terror?” Cora said dryly, almost on top of Milo’s murmured, “Fruitful?”
“It’s a fucking toast. Drink.”
Lars tipped back the bottle and gulped at the champagne.
He heard shoes behind him just as Milo looked down from taking a swig from his bottle. Milo sat forward, and looked ready to stand and go for his gun.
Fucking Javier. It had to be him; no one else had that effect on Milo.
“Boss,” Lars said, turning to Javier as the man approached.
His two bodyguards were with him, which he’d expected, but the fact that he was arm-in-arm with his wife was what took Lars off guard. A third person trailed a foot behind Javier. The resemblance between him and Javier was a dead giveaway, of course. The guy had the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth. Even the same grin, once he’d laid eyes on Ana and Cora.
“I see you’re settling in,” Javier said, coming to a halt. He lifted a hand, toying with the first button on his silk shirt.
For a strange, confusing moment, Lars thought he’d strip and join them in the jacuzzi. But then Javier smiled widely, and swung his arm out, scooping his son’s shoulders and herding him forward. “Mr. Finn, Mr. Eklund…I’d like you to meet my son, Neo.”
Lars threw the guy a mock salute, and Milo remained as motionless as a wet statue.
“Now, If you’d be so kind as to dry off, I’d like to start tonight’s festivities with an announcement.” Javier waved a hand toward a small stage Lars had assumed was for a band.
“Announcement?” Cora said, at the same time Ana blurted out, “I don’t want to get out.”
Javier turned, gave Cora a nod, and cocked his head at Ana. “Then stay, my dear. This doesn’t pertain to you.”
When Lars glanced at Ana, she wore a pout. Cora stood, hastily wrapping a towel around her curves, and threw him and Milo a nervous glance. Fuck, now he was nervous. And about what? An announcement? Javier made announcements all the time. He probably made a statement about it every time he took a shit.
Milo stood. If water had run off Ana like a delightful, tinkling fountain, it poured from Milo like a vengeful waterfall. The kind that drowned people who got too close.
“What announcement?” Milo asked.