Queen’s Move: Book Two of The Queens

by Slater, Nikita

  She ignored his hand and slipped quickly past him, pushing herself awkwardly to the side to avoid touching him. He took her arm and swung her around until she was facing him. He allowed his mask to slip, let her see some of the things he shielded from the world, his savagery, his obsessive determination to own everything around him. She shivered and tried to step back but he followed her, pressed her against the side of plane. She was forced to curve herself into the small space.

  “My patience isn’t endless,” he said quietly. “Step carefully, Vee. Leaving me will never be an option, not now and not in our future.”

  She didn’t respond at first. How could she? She certainly didn’t agree with his statement. She’d be leaving him at the very first opportunity. But she also suspected she was dancing close to the edge of his patience. The face he projected to the world was of a man whose calm was eternal. But she was beginning to see the man underneath. He was so much more, so much worse than anyone suspected. She needed to know the worst.

  “Or what, Sotza? What will you do to me if I leave?”

  His answer was immediate, telling her that he never doubted the course he set his actions on. He was as decisive as he was brutal. “I will find you, kill anyone and everyone that helped you. Then hunt and kill everyone you know until I’m certain there’s no one left to help you leave. I will make sure that you are so dependent on me that every thought in your head must first be filtered through me.”

  She gaped up at him as he allowed his terrifying words to settle in, then pulled her out of the corner and tucked her loosely against his side. Even though she had room for movement, could step away if she wanted, his hand wrapped around her arm was unbreakable. He led her to the exit door, which had been opened by the flight attendant. They left the plane together, side by side, a united front. She suspected this was on purpose as there were several men, Mexicans she thought, standing nearby, eyeing them with speculation.

  Sotza leaned into her, bending his head until his lips brushed the top of her ear. “You need to follow my lead. These men cannot for one moment believe that you don’t belong to me.”

  Vee glanced at the AK-47’s held by some of the men in the group. A show of force, but the loose way in which they were held, pointed at the ground, told her the cartel didn’t see them as a threat. Had they never heard of Sotza before? “I’m not stupid, Sotza. I’m not going to draw any unnecessary attention to our situation. Jumping from your care into a Mexican cartel doesn’t seem like a smooth move.”

  “Not stupid,” he agreed. “But sometimes reckless with an alarming disregard for your own safety.”

  She gritted her teeth but refused to respond. In fact, she thought she had a healthy respect for her own life. It’s just that some things were more important. The lives of her friends, the safety of her home town. Perhaps Sotza couldn’t identify because he’d never had anything he cared enough about to put ahead of his own health. Then again, the man was indestructible. A legend, practically a phantom in the way he worked. One moment there, attacking with speed and brutal precision, the next, gone, a path of devastation behind him.

  Vee turned her attention to the man who had stepped out from the group of Mexicans. He was not quite what she was used to when it came to cartel leaders in this part of the world. He wasn’t fat, wasn’t dressed any differently from his men. He was tall, built strong, his skin deeply tanned, tattoos covering most of the visible parts of his body. The only thing that stood out on him was his arrogance. It showed in the way he stood, the boldness of his gaze as he watched Vee and Sotza approach.

  Vee was somewhat surprised when a grin broke across his face, transforming him from brutal leader to carefree man. He spoke Spanish, directing his comments to Sotza. “My old friend, I am proud to have you in my home.”

  Sotza released Vee and the two men embraced. The other man kept his hand on Sotza’s back. Vee was astonished. She didn’t think Sotza liked being touched. As long as she’d known him, she was pretty sure she was the only person he’d touched. Weird. She’d gotten the impression that Sotza wasn’t close to their host. Why was he insisting on a united front when he knew this other man? Why not tell him that she was his unwilling prisoner? She was starting to wonder if Sotza had used this meeting as an excuse to keep her in line. Or did he genuinely have business?

  “And who is this?” The Mexican asked, turning to Vee. “Muy bonito.”

  Sotza stepped back toward Vee and wrapped his arm around her waist. He gave the other man a mildly stern look and said simply, “This is my fiancé.”

  Ignoring Sotza’s ‘stay away from her’ signals, the man took Vee’s hand and squeezed it, smiling down at her. She really wished she had her heels on. She didn’t trust this man and didn’t like being a solid foot shorter than him. Even with heels she wouldn’t close the gap, but she would narrow it. There was some power to be had in a snazzy outfit that told men she was both equal and all business.

  “You are a lovely woman,” he said to her in rapid Spanish, his eyes twinkling. “You should leave Senor Sotza, come spend some time with me. My home is beautiful and I am very rich, easily able to afford a woman of your obvious good tastes.” Despite his warm reception, she didn’t for one second believe he wouldn’t gut her if things went sideways. She wanted to roll her eyes and snort. She was still wearing jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and boots. Good taste, right.

  Vee glanced curiously at Sotza to see how he was taking the Mexican’s flirtation. He didn’t look visibly moved, but she felt a stirring tension about him, a readiness to strike when and if necessary. She didn’t get the sense that the Mexican was flirting in any real sense anyway. Almost like he was playing a game, trying to nudge Sotza.

  “I am Nicolás Garza, but you may call me Nico,” he took her arm and waved them toward the vehicles. Since Sotza maintained his silence, Vee went easily with Nico, Sotza following behind them.

  “Vee Montana,” she murmured, watching him carefully.

  A flicker of recognition passed across his face before he shuttered his response. He looked down at her, more carefully, guarded. He studied her. “Lately of Miami, Florida?” he asked, a new sharpness to his voice.

  Before Vee could respond, Sotza reacted, taking Vee’s arm from Nico and tugging her back to stand next to him. They stopped at the vehicle. One of Nico’s men was holding the door open. Rather than get in, the three stood in tense silence. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the gunmen become more alert as the mood of their leader shifted. Then she noticed Sotza’s people had followed them off the airplane and stood at their backs. She barely dared breathe. She’d been in tense situations before, negotiating, renegotiating and having to turn down bad trade deals. But she’d always been in control, able to talk her way out of a situation before it flared into something more. Only the Mexicans had openly challenged her.

  “My fiancé is late of Miami, si.” Sotza stressed the word fiancé as though it held more power than her actual name. She supposed time would tell which was more important to Nico, good relations with The Butcher or getting to the woman that wasn’t well loved among his compatriots. “As my wife she will soon become a permanent citizen of Venezuela.”

  Vee stiffened slightly but kept her mouth shut. He just answered one of her questions, where he was going to take her to live. She’d suspected it was deep in the Venezuelan jungle but hoped he might decide to settle in the US. She should have known better.

  Finally, after a nerve-wracking minute of silence, Nico studying Vee from top to bottom, his gaze speculative and cold, Sotza’s arm tightening around Vee, Nico nodded at the vehicle and turned, striding around the other side. Vee released the breath she’d been holding and side-eyed the guys with the AK’s. They seemed to relax a little. Her palms were sweating as she reached for the door and shifted her body to half face Sotza. She looked up into his grim face.

  “What was that?” Vee asked quietly as they slipped into the vehicle.

  “He’s trying to decide if he wants
to fuck you, marry you or kill you. Perhaps all three,” he said, climbing into the vehicle after her.

  The breath caught in her throat and for a moment she was tempted to climb over her ‘fiancé’ and run back to the airplane. Then she remembered who she was. She was nobody’s bitch. She was a motherfucking mafia queen. She murmured, just before Nico slid in through the other door, taking the seat directly next to Vee, “I don’t support any of the above, just so you know. He doesn’t look like the marrying kind.”

  Sotza flashed her a quick smile as Nico waved for his driver to get moving. “Neither was I, but you’ve worn me down.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They put her in the same room as Sotza. Of course they did. He requested it, and when Sotza made a request it became a demand. She hadn’t said anything as the female servant escorted Vee and two of Sotza’s men to the big, lush bedroom. The men stayed outside the room while the servant showed Vee around. A large canopy bed took up a good portion of the suite and there was a washroom off the bedroom with a large whirlpool tub, a shower and a private toilet. Vee didn’t know what was going on, how long they were staying, how long she would be forced to stay in Nico’s villa, feeling threatened and on edge.

  Vee didn’t like not knowing things. She had grown fond of ruling her own destiny. Not knowing what was happening or what might become of her made Vee feel stabby. She decided if Sotza touched her, even a little, she would stab the shit out of him. No, if he even looked at her in a way she didn’t like she was going to stab him.

  That thought made her feel better as the serving woman retreated and Vee was left on her own. The first thing she did was check the door, it was unlocked. Then checked the guards. Yup, still there. As she closed the door and turned back to the room she decided she was grateful for the men on the other side of the door, even if they belonged to Sotza. At the very least they would alert her if danger was approaching.

  In that case, she would stab whoever came through the door.

  Vee walked toward the bed, noting a suitcase on top. It was purple so she was pretty sure it wasn’t Sotza’s. She opened it cautiously and then tossed the top back when she realized it was filled with women’s clothing. They didn’t belong to her as she was forced to leave most of her stuff in Miami and the rest in Canada. She frowned as she lifted a cashmere tank top fringed in delicate lace around the collar. Tossing that aside she began digging in earnest. She came up with several more tops, a few pairs of jeans, some black leggings, a pair of shorts and a pencil skirt. There were also several pairs of lacy panties and two bras that matched the underwear. At the bottom was a pair of four-inch heeled stilettos. The heels were made of sterling silver.

  She didn’t need to check the tags, she knew everything in the suitcase would fit her. Was purchased for her, the store tags still attached. Her heart did a tiny stutter as she tried to decide what it meant. When did he get her this stuff? At what point had Sotza decided she would need a new wardrobe? Or a partial new wardrobe, she thought, eyeing the contents critically. But what disturbed her the most was the accuracy in style. Everything in the suitcase was something she would definitely wear. The clothes reflected her style – business sexy, no-nonsense, semi-functional. But ultimately the outfit was secondary to the attitude of the woman wearing it. And Vee, well, she had an unlimited supply of attitude. She knew how to own her role, give as good as she got. She snorted and turned away from the suitcase. Except where Sotza was concerned.

  Vee wandered idly around the room, restless and annoyed. It bothered her that Sotza and Nico were doing business without her. Though she thought she understood the reason for her exclusion. She wasn’t exactly safe in Mexico. Not until they established a new trading partner and tensions with Domingo’s cartel eased. The cartels didn’t typically work too close together, in fact, they were at war with each other more often than not. She was probably reasonably safe, locked away in Nico’s compound.

  Vee just hoped she wasn’t being excluded because she was a woman. Because Sotza imagined they were about to be married. She would have to gut him in a particularly painful way if he thought she was going to stand down and became the barefoot, pretty arm candy type. She’d tried the trophy wife thing with Tony. It hadn’t worked out - mostly for him.

  She wandered into the bathroom and took a closer look. It was every woman’s dream. Clean, light, sparkly and big. A jetted whirlpool tub took up a good portion of the space with a spotless cubicle rain shower right next to it. The toilet was in its own spacious closet and the vanity had two sinks. The space was awash in white marble. She had to admit, Nico had good taste.

  She looked longingly at the tub. It had been an age since she’d been able to just sit and soak away her tensions. She felt hot and sticky from travelling between climates and sitting on an airplane for so many hours. But did she have enough time to bathe and change before Sotza appeared? Vee thought she probably did. Negotiations always took time. The men would talk, smoke and drink. She could afford to take some time to herself. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do.

  She reached for the hem of her shirt, but stopped, glancing around, toward the ceiling. Would Nico install cameras in his guest suites? Probably, she decided. But she couldn’t see them if they were there. Did she care? Not really. Vee wasn’t a shy woman. She’d changed in front of men all the time. Swiftly stripping down after a job along with her men. It had been impersonal. She was their boss.

  She flung her shirt to the floor and reached for the button on her jeans. When her clothes were off she turned on the water, making it was hot as she thought she could handle. She sifted through the bath accessories and chose a strawberry scented bubble bath, adding a large dose to the streaming water. While the tub filled she went through the basket of women’s products on the vanity and opened all the drawers, snooping through everything. After her inspection she decided that if Nico wanted to marry her, she would accept. His taste in décor and women’s things were spectacular. Somehow, she didn’t think Sotza would be nearly as attuned to a woman’s desires. She pictured him in a cold, gothic mansion with dark furnishings and secret passages.

  Vee brushed her straight, blond hair with a hairbrush and then piled it on top of her head so it wouldn’t get wet. She dropped into the tub with a sigh, grateful that she was able to sit facing the open doorway. She picked up the white loufa and sponged her limbs caressing her skin with careful attention. It felt heavenly to simply sit still and pamper herself. When she finished washing she leaned back until her head rested against the porcelain, closed her eyes and tried to let everything go. Life was beyond her control right at this moment, there was no point in worrying or she would drive herself crazy.

  She wished she’d thought to light the candles she found in one of the drawers. The ambience would be so much nicer without the bright overhead lights. She was idly wondering if there was nail polish to be found, she didn’t remember seeing any, when Sotza stepped into the bathroom.

  “If I’d known I would be coming back to this I would’ve left Garza earlier.”

  He was like a cat, she decided. Silent, swift and with no sense of boundaries. Without opening her eyes, she said, “You can leave now.”

  She hoped when she opened her eyes he would be gone. She knew it was a useless hope, but she hoped nonetheless. Sure enough, when she finally looked, it was to find her persistent would-be lover standing over her, looking down at her wet, naked body with glittering carnality lighting his eyes. It stole her breath. Gone was the cool indifference, haughty indulgence, both replaced by a look of lust. Just pure lust. It made the rough valleys of his face appear even more masculine, more aggressive.

  He sat down on the edge of the tub, his eyes sweeping hungrily over her. She was in so much more trouble than she thought. She realized in that moment that she was out of her depth. This wasn’t going to be a marriage of convenience, with a little boring sex on the side. He seemed out of control, sheer want overriding his cool façade. It scared her, this sca
red her.

  “I want to get out,” she whispered, gripping the edges of the tub as if to stand.

  “In a minute,” he countered, putting his hand over top of her wet one and holding her in place. “I like seeing you this way.”

  She tried for flippant, though her heart was still pounding. “You like seeing a naked woman? Well that’s refreshingly unusual for your species.”

  He tilted his head a little, studying her. “I like to see you vulnerable.” He paused, then added, “And naked. You are as perfect as I knew you’d be.”

  “And you’re a fucking pervert,” she snapped, tugging at her hand. “Let me up.” She definitely needed to get herself dried off and into some clothes, maybe even those steel-heeled stilettos. She needed armour.

  His gave her a flinty look and released her hand only to lean over and catch her chin in a harder grip. He stared down at her for several long seconds. Her heart beat fast and hard against her ribcage. She knew she was pushing him, the way she talked to him with a complete lack of respect. His gaze said everything she already knew. Any other man in his position would’ve taken her months ago, beaten and fucked her into submission. His patience wasn’t limitless and she was pushing her luck by skating so close to the edge. Sotza played with her, enjoyed the game, enjoyed her fight to a certain extent, but she wouldn’t be allowed to resist forever.

  He gave her a quick, ruthless kiss. She didn’t have time to protest, to push him away. He was already pulling back when she brought her hands up to shove him. She pressed shaking fingers against her stinging lips and glared at him. She longed to blast him with every rancid thought running through her head, but he was right, naked and wet, sitting in a tub, she was vulnerable. What could she do if he decided to shove her under the water and hold her down until she’d learned her lesson?

  Vee dropped her eyes to the bathwater and sat stiffly, waiting for him to make the next move. He’d won another round and he hadn’t even had to use force. No, The Butcher was showing her without words that she would belong to him, no matter what she said or did. Their violent courtship was his playground, and the bully owned every moment.