El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

  “He found you? He knows—”

  “No, Roman.” I shook my head again, it was spinning with all his relentless questions. “He didn’t find me, and he had no idea I’m a drug lord. It was just a coincidence. It’s not like I had a fucking roster of who would be attending the meeting last night. Wasn’t that the whole fucking point? See who could bring what to the table… make new connections, yada, yada, yada… whatever else fucking bullshit. I told you I didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that, and I made that very clear at the meeting. I’ve done just fine on my own, and I will continue to do so. Bottom line. Do you honestly think I would have showed up at that meeting if I knew Damien was going to be there?”

  “What was he doing there?”

  I shrugged. “Who the fuck knows? Least of all me. But it doesn’t matter, I took care of it. Okay? No one can find me, I’m a fucking ghost. It’s how I’ve stayed under the radar for so long. I change my alias like I change my stiletto heels. I don’t exist. It’s what I’ve built my entire empire on. It’s how I’ve stayed alive from the men who want me dead. I don’t live in any specific city or place, I’m constantly jumping from one safe house to the next. It’s why I have property all over the world. I have no home and no roots, remember? My enemies can’t kill who they can’t find. We set it up that way.”

  “Amira—”

  “You have taught me everything I know, Roman. I’d be nothing without you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. You’re not only my righthand man, you’re my confidant. I trust you and I don’t trust anyone, including myself,” I paused, allowing my words to sink in. “I took care of it. I promise.”

  Everything I said was the truth.

  I took in his ruggedly handsome, lean, oval-shaped face. His chiseled jawline accentuated by graying stubble from his five o’clock shadow. For being in his late forties, Roman kept looking better with age. His long, slender nose, deep set eyes, full lips, and salt and pepper hair only added to his alluring appearance and gracefully aging good looks.

  The bastard got more pussy thrown at him than he knew what to do with.

  “So that explains the nightmare I just heard you screaming through.” He let go of my wrist, grabbing the coffee out of my hand to drink it himself. “You haven’t had one of those in years.”

  “Stop worrying about me,” I simply stated, watching as he continued his way around the kitchen.

  “Amira, you and I both know that’s not going to happen. I’m not just your—”

  “Are we done here? Did I answer all your questions?” I asked in a sarcastic tone. “I’d like to shower and get myself put together since you said so yourself, I look like shit.”

  “I already took care of most of your impulsiveness this morning. Amped up security and guards. Your stunt last night stirred up some deep shit. Go get dressed, we have people to see.”

  “Just go. I’ll meet you there.”

  “If you think I’m leaving you alone again, you’re severely mistaken.”

  I glared at him, turning to leave, but he stopped me. Gripping onto my wrist again and spinning me to face him. He narrowed his eyes at me. “And don’t be condescending, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  I smirked, pulling my wrist free and walked away. “Better watch yourself, Roman. You should see what happened to the last man who tried to manhandle me.”

  “Then the son of a bitch must know how much you enjoy it, like I do,” he called out from the kitchen as I made my way up the stairs.

  I showered, letting the hot water rinse away last night’s memories and sooth my aching ego. Got dressed in a black body suit and a pencil skirt, finishing the look off with tan heels. Deciding to leave my long hair down, wanting to cover the marks on my body makeup couldn’t hide. For no one’s sake other than my own.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon in and out of meetings, figuring out a game plan just in case shit went south. Securing an alibi, making it appear as if I never even showed up to the meeting last night. Using all our connections to find out what people knew already, for instance— Vinny’s family. Roman and Damien weren’t exaggerating, I did start a war of epic proportions.

  “There are more guards lined up around back,” Roman stated, reading my mind as I glanced out the bulletproof tinted windows of our chauffeured car. All members of the security detail were all holding rifles, standing their guard at all areas of yet another one of my safe houses in the outskirts of Detroit.

  I nodded, waiting for my door to open with big, husky men surrounding me. There wasn’t anything I hated more than feeling suffocated by armed guards on my ass. Though I did bring this on myself. I walked into the mansion with Roman behind me, going straight for my office. Wanting to get as far away from the hired protection as possible.

  When I opened the door to my office, Roman’s hand clutched onto my hip. Abruptly stopping me.

  “Do you think you could sway your ass a little less in that skirt? My dick would really appreciate it.”

  I grinned, looking over my shoulder. “Never bothered you before.”

  He laughed, walking past me into the office. As soon as my heel hit the marble floor, Roman’s strong arm hooked around my waist, pulling my body behind his in a protective gesture. Shielding me from I don’t know what. He aimed his gun at the last person I ever expected to see.

  Again.

  SIXTEEN

  DAMIEN

  “What the actual fuck?” Amira frustratingly gritted through a clenched jaw. Grabbing the other Glock out of the man’s holster who was shielding her. She didn’t pay him any mind, stepping out in front of him and aiming it toward my head.

  “Hey, baby,” I greeted, cocking my head to the side. I was sitting on the couch, facing them with my elbows resting on my knees, hunched over. “Did you miss me, Muñeca?”

  She didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger. Grazing my left arm. “That answer your question? The next one will go through your head. Now get the fuck out!”

  I glanced at my bicep and then back at her, unfazed by her impulsive outburst. If last night proved anything, it was how much she wanted to fucking hate me.

  “If you wanted me dead, you would’ve killed me. Instead, you just ruined my expensive suit jacket. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

  “I did. Last ni—”

  “Was that before or after we fucked? Because I don’t remember much talking,” I interrupted, locking eyes with the man who was still standing next to her.

  Waiting for him to make his next move.

  By the time I’d gotten to my hotel room, it was past one o’clock in the morning. I didn’t sleep at all, still riding the high from seeing her again. I spent several hours sitting on the lounge chair out on the balcony, overlooking the lake. Needing to feel as close to her in any possible way. Watching the freighters roll by and the sunrise dawning a new day. I hadn’t spent much time on the water since I left her in Cuba. Not only was it the only place I ever felt our connection, it also brought back too many memories I spent years trying to forget. Except, now…

  I wanted all those memories.

  My eyes followed the movement of his hand when he lowered his gun, holstering it at his side. Then he reached for Amira’s weapon, who reluctantly let it go, and holstered it on the other side of his torso.

  “So you’re Damien,” he announced, eyeing me up and down as if he already knew who I was.

  “Her one and only.”

  Amira scoffed out, “How the fuck did you get in here? How did you even find me?”

  “I have my ways.”

  She stepped toward me. “Dami—”

  It wasn’t until his fingers gripped onto her hip, turning her around to face him that I wanted to pull out my gun and put a bullet in between his eyes. The way I overheard them speak to one another in the hall already had me seeing fucking red.

  Their mannerisms.

  Their closeness.

  The way he was looking at her.

  Had me searing t
o the point of pain.

  Filling me with fucking rage, but I kept my emotions in check. Using the opportunity to take a good look at him. It was obvious he was much older than her. Amira was thirty-two to my forty-one years of age.

  He must have been in his late forties if I had to guess, showing signs of his age. None of that mattered though. Women loved men like him, and by the looks of it, he definitely knew how to pull in pussy of all ages. Including Amira’s. His tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders and muscular physique, making it clear he hit the gym hard. His bulky stature towered over her petite frame, which had me questioning my resolve to fuck him up.

  I watched with stone cold eyes as she nodded. His fingers never left her hip, using them in a comforting, yet possessive, gesture as he continued to softly speak to her. I felt emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe. Burying them deep within me, silently hoping I would eventually unleash them on his fucking face. When he tightened his grip one last time, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, I was fully fucking aware he knew I was watching his every move.

  This motherfucker was baiting me.

  “Muñeca—”

  She quickly spun, glaring at me. “Stop calling me that!”

  “I’ll be close,” the man announced, making sure I heard him.

  She nodded at him and he squeezed her waist one last time before he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

  “You’ve fucked him, haven’t you?” I cocked my head at her, daring her to reply with a lie.

  “Would you leave if I said no?”

  “Fuck no, you’d be lying. What is he to you?”

  “His name is Roman.”

  “I didn’t ask for his name.”

  She eyed me skeptically, contemplating what she was going to say. “He’s my righthand man. He goes where I go.”

  “How convenient. Does he get to make you come too?”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “What do you want, Damien? Are you here to insult me? Your jabs mean nothing. I don’t owe you an explanation, I don’t owe you shit. I finished what we started last night.”

  “The only thing that happened last night was me taking what belongs to me. You.”

  Her eyes widened, licking her lips as I searched her face, looking for answers I would never find.

  I couldn’t believe how much she’d changed after twelve years. Her face, her body, her personality—it was as if I was looking at a different woman. One I didn’t know anymore.

  Days…

  Weeks…

  Years…

  It had all changed Amira, but it had also changed me in a way I couldn’t fucking fathom. The way she looked at me with such hate, physically pained me. Never thinking I’d be at the receiving end of her murderous glare. As if I was just another fucking monster from one of her nightmares. I spent all morning and half the afternoon trying to figure out how I could convince her to let me in again. I was at a loss, which had always been a common occurrence when it came to her. For the first time since we met, I didn’t know where to go from here. The only thing left for me to do was follow my heart.

  Which was such a foreign concept for me. I spent years avoiding the inevitable and doing exactly that. Pushing aside my desire and longing to have her in the only way I yearned, until this very day. My mind constantly won the battle over my heart, but now there were no obstacles in between us.

  No Salazar.

  No Cuba.

  Nothing but the past stood in my way.

  “I’m not yours, Damien. I’ve never been yours. You think of me as this possession you own, you always have. I’m like one of the dolls you spent a small fortune buying me, for what? To clear your conscience of my family being murdered in front of me, or is it because of my sister who you were forced to rape in front of everyone?”

  I grimaced, I couldn’t help it. We’d never spoken about her sister, and she was deliberately trying to hurt me. The worst part was she succeeded.

  “Oh, come on…” she coaxed, taunting me. Satisfied with the pain she was intentionally inflicting.

  Her destruction.

  Of me.

  “You said you wanted to talk, so let’s fucking talk. I’m not a little girl anymore, you can’t appease me with dolls, clothes, and bullshit lies of this and that. I know who you are, Damien... because I am you. They didn’t just turn you into a monster that night, they turned me into one too.”

  I didn’t falter, if I did…

  I would lose.

  Her.

  “You are nothing like me! Do you understand? I didn’t spend the better part of my life making sure of it for nothing! Everyone has demons, Amira. This is yours talking.”

  Her body took on a whole new demeanor. She was calloused and cold standing in front of me now. “Truth hurts, don’t it, baby? How about I tell you how many people I’ve killed. How many souls I’ve collected. How many families I’ve destroyed. I’m no better than Emilio Salazar or you. Fuck, I’m probably far worse.”

  The way she just stood there consumed me in ways I never thought possible. Her presence was comforting and afflicting all at once. There was a malicious, yet captivating look in her eyes. A wall so fucking thick I’d spend the rest of my life trying to break it down. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from hers, and I didn’t want to.

  I could watch this woman all day, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  Because the truth was…

  I’d take her any goddamn way I could.

  “Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

  “Why? Is it working?”

  “Let’s cut the bullshit, Amira. You want me gone? Then answer my fucking questions.”

  “And here I thought I was.” She smirked, leaning against the large mahogany desk in front of the bay window.

  “How did you get to the States?”

  She took an irritated breath, stating, “On a boat.”

  I jerked back, stunned by her response. “How? You didn’t have that kind of money. I would know, remember? I spent sixteen grand trying to get you here.”

  “Well, I didn’t pay 16K.” She smiled, arching an eyebrow.

  “Then how the fuck—”

  “My pussy, Damien. That’s how I got to the States.”

  “Un-fucking-believable,” I scoffed, blown away.

  My mind was spiraling with more thoughts and questions, trying to find some clarity. Some truth within the haze. I shut my eyes and bowed my head in between my hands. Needing a minute to process what the hell she’d just said. The pain was evident all around me, radiating deep into my core.

  She could see it.

  She could feel it.

  She could feel me.

  “I should probably thank you, Damien. I used my pussy the way you did. The son of one of the Cuban smugglers liked me, and I simply gave him what he wanted. Best lay of my entire life, and it got me the fuck out of Cuba,” she added, not letting up on my demise.

  My fists tightened at my temples from the thought of another man’s hands on her. I never wanted to shake her and hold her as much as I did in that moment. Showing my weaknesses was something I never thought I would do, but it had always been different with Amira… and she knew it. I couldn’t think about the future without thinking about the past, and for the first time it had me questioning how we would make it through this.

  “How did Roman come into the picture?” I asked, needing to know.

  “He is none of your business. I refuse to discuss any part of our relationship, and if you don’t like it, you can fuck right off on your way out the door.”

  I stared up at her through the slits of my eyes, longing to feel some sort of connection through what I was about to say to her. “So you do love him, but I can clearly see your feelings for him don’t change the fact that you’re still in love with me too.”

  “You’re twelve years too late, Damien. My love for you died the morning you fucked me over.”

  “It’s fucking astounding how you
think that.”

  “It’s fucking astounding that you don’t,” she spoke with conviction, stepping to me till we were a few feet apart. With each step, I could feel her hatred coming toward me. “But that’s always been the problem between us. You fuck up, I forgive you. It’s an endless cycle I finally put a stop to. I don’t need you, and I sure as hell don’t love you. I don’t know what you expect from me because the woman you see standing in front of you… the cold, heartless, callused, powerful woman. Well, motherfucker, you made her this way.”

  Each blow she delivered, I felt a little more of myself die inside. The carefree, happy girl was long gone, and all that was left of her was someone I didn’t know anymore. Someone I never wanted her to be in the first place. I didn’t know which one was worse, which one hurt more.

  The little girl I saved who turned out to be my worst fucking nightmare. Or the woman I loved who once loved me, and now can’t stand the fucking sight of me.

  “I don’t hate you, Damien, I’ll give you that much. Hate would imply I actually give a fuck about you, and I don’t.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” I confidently coaxed, hanging on by a thread. “You’ve loved me your entire life. I’m embedded in your skin. I’m flowing in your blood. I’m beating in your heart.” Before she knew it, I was standing directly in front of her, pulling her hair away from her face. Grazing my knuckles against her rosy cheek. “I’m a part of you, baby, and I’m not going anywhere. Mark my words, Amira. It’s only a matter of time until I make you mine again, and no one can stop me. Not even you.” I moved away, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. Wanting her to miss my touch before my resolve exploded.

  “Let’s continue our conversation from last night. You know… before I made you come in my mouth and on my cock,” I smugly reminded, grinning at her. “You said you got here shortly after I did. What about Rosarío? Where is she? Did she come with you?” I asked, changing the subject for my sake and especially hers.

  With the way I was feeling right now, I was damn ready to throw her over my shoulder kicking and screaming, putting up a hell of a fight, and lock her the fuck away until I proved my point.