“I’ll give you the dockyard,” she told him. “Let me and my people leave. No more death.”
He chuckled. He’d known she wouldn’t concede the city. He was going to have to pry Miami out of her cold, dead hands. “Done.” He turned and walked away, the smoky shadows swallowing him up almost immediately.
“Let’s go,” Vee growled at her men.
Danny fell into step beside her as they made their way back to the vehicles. “You need to stop giving a shit about us, Vee. You won’t win any ground trying to protect your people. There has to be sacrifice in war.”
“Back off, Danny.” She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. Even if he was right. She’d known the truth of his words even as she called her men off, forcing them behind her. She couldn’t be their friend, mother, sister, whatever and win this. But the thought of losing any of them was wrenching. She knew most of them personally, knew their families.
As she stood on her balcony, she acknowledged that she’d never felt so alone. What was she protecting her city, her people, from? And why? If she was smart she would run, far and fast. She had the resources to make her way out of the US, to go hide out somewhere in Europe. Switzerland maybe. She could disappear into the mountains, learn to ski.
But Vee had spent most of her life running, hiding from a terrible marriage through the welcoming arms of cocaine. Now that she’d cleaned up and cleared out her house, she wasn’t about to give up all of her hard work. She was done running.
She sighed and rubbed her temple, nose wrinkling when she felt blood flaking from her skin. Time for a shower. And after she would have a cup of herbal tea, something calming, and sit for awhile. Remember to breathe, to just be without the weight of a city on her shoulders.
She made it two steps through the back door when a shadow crossed her path, and Sotza, tall and sinister, moved away from the wall where he’d been leaning. Studying her while she was out on the balcony, vulnerable. She swallowed the scream that leapt to her throat and simply stopped, straightening her shoulders. If he was here to hurt her he would’ve done it. Maybe tossed her off the balcony or slit her throat while her back was turned. He was silent as a cat, managing twice now to sneak up on her.
“Obviously I need to get better locks and more security,” she drawled, maintaining her cool since he didn’t seem in a hurry to break the silence. Apparently her men needed a lesson on how not to let psycho assholes into her home. What the fuck was she paying them for?
“I agree that you need better security. But nothing would have stopped me from checking on you tonight.” He stalked forward, his long legs bringing him right into her space. She tried to appear relaxed, uncaring, but her whole being was rigid with fear and anticipation. This man exuded calm, controlled violence. It seeped out of his very being. It scared the living daylights out of her. Yet the kind of power he exuded, to a woman who lived mafia her entire life, was also attractive.
He walked around her, looking down as he leaned so close she caught a sniff of smoke from the flares, spicy cologne and hard, male sweat. A hint of cinnamon, a scent she wasn’t expecting, made her mouth water. He stopped behind her, bending his head toward her shoulder. He didn’t touch her, but she felt his heat surrounding her, cocooning, capturing and holding her. “A rare jewel should not be left unprotected. When you become mine, I won’t allow such lapses in your protection.”
She snorted, leaned to the side, away from him, swivelled her head to give him her best scathing look, and said, “I’ll never be yours.”
His lips were so close to hers that she could feel each breath he took skitter across her face, her lips, her chin, her cheek. It was… exciting. Who was this fuck who could invade her space so easily, could bridge her ice, make her weak? When her husband became violent, she’d learned to turn that facet of herself off, the part that yearned for a man’s touch. It was too dangerous to want a man because then it meant she had to give up a part of herself. The part that was too easily betrayed. Her trust. No, better she remain the ice queen.
But without a single touch, this man was obliterating her beliefs.
He didn’t smile, but the slight creases around his eyes deepened in amusement. He said, “You belong to me, Vee, whether you admit it, whether you like it.” He waited a beat, giving her time to respond. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure. She was a mature, experienced woman, not some easily baited youth. He continued, “It’s time to relinquish this city into my keeping. Time to accept defeat and move onto the next chapter.”
Her breath caught. Neither of them moved. Like a scene frozen, they stood together. He at her back, her face tilted up in defiance to meet his. She wished that she’d kept her heeled boots on, wished she was taller. She needed the advantage of height in this moment. Felt the need to prove her worth in a man’s world, in Sotza’s world, and keep her carefully cultivated image. Cool, put-together, always in control.
“And what exactly is the next chapter?” Ice dripped from each word.
He didn’t hesitate. “You will become my wife.”
She let out a short bitter laugh. Took a step forward, away from him. Couldn’t have him in her space while they talked. It was too disconcerting, fucked with her head. Made her want things she knew she couldn’t have. They were enemies. Period. Nothing more. The ‘next chapter’ could only end one way. Defeat. Her death or his. Most likely hers. But she’d learned positivity in rehab, so she wasn’t willing to write herself off yet.
Denial leapt to her lips, but she swallowed it. Why be so predictable? He knew her feelings regarding their upcoming nuptials. “Why do you want to marry me, Sotza?” She used his name for the first time. She took another step away and turned to face him. His eyes held no expression, gave nothing away.
Finally, he responded. “Why not, Vee?” His voice was warm but calculating. “We’re both mafia royalty. You know the role and I can take and rule anything I want. Together we can rule several countries, scores of people, control trade in your country and mine.”
She should have considered his words. Calmly considered each point as he made it. But in that moment she hated him, truly hated him. Like her late husband, Tony, Sotza didn’t want her for herself. Didn’t even want her body. Just wanted an alliance. Well, fuck him! Righteous fury ripped through her. “You can go to hell,” she said, eyes narrowed, voice seething.
His face grew stony and his eyes narrowed in return. “You don’t want to take this path with me, Vee,” he said, calm despite the violence infusing his very essence, outlined in every nuance of his body. He seemed to be restraining himself from grabbing her, shaking her, making her see reason. Good, she wanted him on edge, so he understood how she felt every time they clashed.
Then he hit her where it hurt. “Our union is inevitable. Any resistance on your part will be in vain. It will cost more lives.”
He’d figured out at the dockyard that she was unwilling to sacrifice her people in this war. Still, in that moment, she didn’t care. “Get out.” Her voice held icy command, leaving no room for denial.
He nodded, acquiescing. Perhaps he knew she was reaching a breaking point. Thought she might do something stupid if he kept pushing. He moved toward the front door of her condo, his tread silent, his movements imperceptible unless someone was looking right at him.
God, he was good.
He turned, before leaving, his voice quiet but sinister. “Put the ring back on.”
Then he was gone. Once he was out, his overbearing presence gone from her space, she felt like she could breathe. Her knees went weak and she collapsed, crouching in the middle of her living room. She dropped her head into her hands and clutched her hair. She felt helpless. She felt aroused. But most of all she felt angry.
Rage ignited within her, racing through her veins, lighting her up with purpose. Sotza was just another man, trying to push her around, trying to dominate her. She took several deep, calming breaths, dropped her arms and stood, mind racing. An entire year of work completely undermine
d and dismantled in a matter of weeks. Her precious reputation was in tatters now, thanks to the shadowy, predatory Venezuelan. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the man and carve him into little pieces. First, she had to take back her territory, then she would show him what ‘Butcher’ really meant, mafia style.
Chapter Seven
“I need you to get me a meeting with Juan Domingo.”
Danny started shaking his head before the name even left Vee’s mouth. “Too dangerous. He’s had guys all over you since you took over from Tony. That asshole piece of shit cartel just can’t handle a woman in charge.”
Vee smirked at his heated remark, despite the gravity of the situation. Danny was not just her protection, he was a friend. He’d been her personal bodyguard when she was still married. He’d seen the bruises, the screaming matches, the constant belittling she’d experienced at Tony’s hands. He was the first person she turned to after murdering her husband, had comforted her as emotion had driven her to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Not sadness at the passing of her husband, not fear at possible reprisals. No, she’d been elated. Relieved, unbelievably happy and overwhelmed at the thought of having her freedom. Danny had nodded his approval at seeing Tony’s body, gathered her in his arms and held her until there were no more tears, as he’d done in the past when Tony had hurt her. Danny stood firmly by her side ever since.
She’d known he wouldn’t like her next plan, but kept her voice firm. “I don’t have a choice. I need to talk to him, convince him to accept my leadership. Before Sotza gets to him.”
“You think Sotza hasn’t already talked to Domingo, brought him onside of the Venezuelans?” Danny sat on the edge of Vee’s desk and gave her a stern look. He stayed calm, assured and steadfast. He was the perfect second. He didn’t do drama and he didn’t do reckless, both of which Vee brought to the table in spades these days.
Vee shook her head. “Word on the street has it Domingo’s been deep in his Mexican mountain fortress, probably hiding from Reyes. That stupid fuck knows I’m Reyes’ contact here in the States. Bet he dove for cover directly after that last aborted strike, thinking the Bolivian might have my back.”
“Yeah, Reyes has your back alright. Handed you over to Sotza on a platter. So what makes you think Domingo’ll come up for a meeting?” Danny asked skeptically. “Especially if he knows Sotza’s in town. My opinion, most of these guys are more afraid of The Butcher than even your boss, Reyes.”
“We’ll tell him Reyes is going to shut the borders to him and go to war if he doesn’t get his ass up here for a meeting. And I don’t want an underling. We’re going to have a civilized conversation, boss to boss.”
Danny snorted. She didn’t blame him for thinking her plan wasn’t going to work. It was reckless at best, suicidal at worst. Each time she was supposed to meet with the Mexicans, take a shipment, they attacked her, tried to undermine her regime. Damn near killed her on that last confrontation. But she didn’t have a choice. Sotza was backing her into a corner. Alienating her contacts, brutally taking over Miami. If she didn’t get the Mexicans on her side then she’d soon have nothing left.
Maybe something in her face finally convinced Danny. He nodded and straightened away from the desk. “I’ll see to it.”
Danny moved away from her, leaving Vee to contemplate how she wanted to play her upcoming confrontation with Juan Domingo. A man that had plagued her time as Miami’s queen. A man that was known to kill family members for fun.
* * *
Vee strode into the warehouse like she owned the place. She didn’t. Technically, the Mexicans owned it. Domingo probably had it listed under a shell corporation. It was a place for him to do business whenever he crossed the border. It was big, it was empty, it was easy. It was also eerily silent.
The Mexican cartel were not known for their silence. Especially not when it came to Elvira Montana. They postured, made noise, generally tried to make her feel uncomfortable and undermined at every opportunity. Not all Mexicans, to be sure. She’d done successful business with the some of the cartels further East. But Domingo and his crew were a bunch of pigs. Unfortunately, they were an evil she had no choice but to work with if she wanted to keep trade flowing under her regime.
“We got the right day?” she asked Danny, who was walking beside her, his shoulders tense, his eyes alert. She was half joking and they both knew it. Danny never made mistakes.
“Friday, noon,” he confirmed.
“We should’ve been stopped by now.”
Danny pulled his gun and walked faster, moving in front of Vee. Obviously he agreed. They made their way through the warehouse toward the back offices. No one stopped them.
“At least there’re no bodies,” she pointed out beneath her breath.
Danny shook his head and kept walking. She knew he was thinking what she was thinking. They should’ve brought more men. But Domingo’s instructions had been clear. She could have two outside the building and one at her side. He promised that he would talk, not negotiate, not yet, but he would talk. If she agreed to call Reyes off. Apparently there had been some rumblings out of Bolivia regarding his attack in Miami and Domingo was finally afraid of reprisals.
Her steel-tipped heels tapped against the concrete, echoing through the space as they approached Domingo’s office. Danny said a quick prayer, crossed himself, pushed Vee to the side of the door and opened it.
Vee peeked around his shoulder. “Anticlimactic,” she said drily, stepping around her second and into the empty office.
Danny followed close behind, turning so their backs weren’t to the open door. “We need to get out of here,” he mumbled. “Something’s not right. We can get hold of Domingo later, when you’re safe. Reschedule.”
“Well, fuck,” Vee sighed as she approached the desk. It was completely empty except for a white box wrapped with a red bow. “Somehow I don’t think Domingo will be able to reschedule.”
Vee really didn’t want to open the box. She was beginning to think she wasn’t cut out for this shit. Perhaps she should throw in the towel, empty her accounts and go someplace where she could happily shop for the rest of her life. Get her nails and hair done, both of which were long overdue. And while she suspected it would be a short life, because no way would Sotza let her just disappear forever, she would be happy. For awhile.
Vee untied the ribbon and started to pry the lid off. Danny grabbed her wrist. “Bomb?” he suggested questioningly.
She shook her head and laughed. “No Danny, the Gentleman Butcher is more subtle than that.” She lifted the lid, glanced inside for a few seconds and then replaced it. “He also has the grimmest sense of humour I’ve ever seen.”
Chapter Eight
Sotza debated leaving her alone to stew over this new development. Let the fear gather in her heart. She’d think about running. Maybe take that bodyguard she’s so fond of. He wouldn’t let her though. He’d scoop her up before she even hit the city limits. And then the actual courting could begin.
But Sotza knew her better than that. He was learning everything he could about the delightful woman that was about to become his wife. Every time she made a move he discovered more, filed away the knowledge of her. How she lived, how she worked, the things she liked, what she didn’t like. She certainly didn’t like receiving heads in boxes.
He hit her contact on his phone. He wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up with, “What, you didn’t feel like sneaking into my apartment this evening? I thought you enjoyed preying on helpless women in the dark.”
She didn’t seem the least bit grateful for this latest gift. In fact, seemed to be in a bit of a temper. He pictured her fair complexion flushing with anger and had to shift in his chair, adjust his pants. “I thought you might enjoy an engagement gift.”
“I only enjoy my severed heads followed by absurdly expensive jewelry,” she snapped sarcastically. “Why’d you kill him?”
“He had his men shoot at you, Vee. You nearly died dur
ing your last run-in with him,” he explained calmly. “I can’t have people shooting at my future wife. Sets a bad precedent.”
She didn’t speak for a moment, but he could hear her breath coming out in short angry exhales as she tried to compose herself, tried not to scream at him. “I needed him, Sotza. And you murdered him so you could solidify your claim in the US and undermine everything I’ve been working for.”
“I know.” He took a thoughtful pause. She really wasn’t getting it. Perhaps he needed to reinforce his position, but just a gentle reminder. For now, anyway. “But you don’t need him, Vee. You don’t need any of your former contacts. Once we’re married you’ll stand at my side, running things with me. Not against me. And never in danger.”
“You. Are. Insane,” she bit out.
He laughed. She really was delightful. “Not really, but you’ll soon get a chance to know all of my charming characteristics.”
“Over my dead body,” she snarled.
“Ah, never that, amor,” he assured her. “But if you keep up this resistance, this wonderful dance we’re doing, the dead bodies will continue to pile up. Why don’t we just cut to the end and you agree to quit the fight and become my wife?”
“You know what happened to my last husband, right?” she asked as though talking to a child.
“Of course, a stellar piece of work there. Executing a weak ruler and flawlessly picking up where he left off.” He reached for his drink, Red Rose tea with one sugar, and took a quick sip. “You will make an exemplary partner. I’m honestly becoming as impatient as a young bridegroom.”
Queen’s Move: Book Two of The Queens Page 4