by Pam Godwin
“I watched you for a couple of months. Determined your patterns, your goals, who you were closest to.” He lifted his chin at Tate.
Her former roommate sat directly across from her, his knees brushing against hers.
“Matias approached me at a bar.” Tate bent forward and gathered her hands in his. “He told me your history with him, how you guys grew up together, that he was the one you called to deal with the bodies, and that he loved you. So I knew you trusted him to some degree.” His leg bounced. “He told me he was the boss of the Restrepo cartel and that he was the kind of guy who took what he wanted. But he couldn’t take you because you’d been captured before. He couldn’t just rip you away from your life because he’d never win you that way.” He smirked. “He pitched this crazy fucking plan to me, Camila.”
“What plan?” She pulled her hands gently from his.
Next to Tate, Nico put in ear buds and reclined in the seat, closing his eyes. He’d heard this story so many times, had been there through it all. Matias didn’t blame him for shutting them out.
Tate gave Matias a questioning look, and Matias gestured for him to continue. It would be better for her to hear this part from him.
“There was a slave ring in Austin. Just a couple of local guys. Not affiliated with anyone. Those are the guys you initially started tracking.”
“Oh, God.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I can totally guess where you’re going with this.”
Matias put a hand on her thigh, and she didn’t push it away. She didn’t touch it, either.
Tate gave her a small smile. “Matias told me that night he intended to kill off that slave ring and replace it with his own people. He would continue to operate it, except the slaves would be fake. Actresses. All of it staged to draw you in. And he needed my help.”
Her face turned white.
Matias tried to hold his breath, but he couldn’t. He needed to make something very clear. “I know you would’ve taken down that operation within weeks. You’re so damn tenacious and brave those motherfuckers didn’t stand a chance. But I was selfish. I wanted you fighting at my side, in Colombia, against some of the worst slavery on the planet. I needed you.”
She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes, her expression giving nothing away. Then she looked at Tate. “So you went along with this?”
“Not immediately. I left the bar with my goddamn head spinning.” Tate pulled her arms down and forced her to look at him. “A month later, he flew me to Colombia and took me on one of his raids. It was a fucking barn…” He swiped a hand over his mouth, his blue eyes darkening with memories.
A shiver raced through Matias as he recalled that night. He’d never been enslaved, but the depravity he’d witnessed over the years had deeply connected him to her cause. All the effort she invested—the spying, planning, and risking her life—meant as much to him as it did to her. She was his, and he was wonderstruck by her ambition. She hadn’t let her own captivity ruin her life. She was too strong a woman to hide in fear. Instead, she used her knowledge and experience to save as many lives as she could.
She would’ve eventually expanded her campaign beyond Texas, and it was his responsibility to be there, protecting her when she did. There were so many predators in the world, breeding the kind of horrors she fought against. Like the barn.
“There were children,” Tate whispered, “naked and shackled, being auctioned off.” His shoulders shook, and he met Matias’ eyes. “Matias saved every one of them and left an unholy massacre in his wake.”
“You fell in love with him that night.” The stubborn set of her chin eased as she studied Tate’s face.
“Uh.” Tate laughed and raked a hand through his blond hair. “As much as a straight guy can appreciate another man, I guess. I was willing to do whatever he asked of me.”
At some point over the past four years, Matias developed a soul-deep respect for the guy. Deep enough that he would kill anyone who tried to harm Tate.
“Your heart beats for the end of slavery.” She echoed Matias’ words to Tate. “You found that same passion in Matias.”
It was exactly the thing Matias needed to hear her say. She understood him in a way no one else could.
“For sure.” Tate wiped his palms on his thighs, avoiding Matias’ stare. “By the way, he was dead set on capturing Van and Liv and selling them into slavery.”
“What?” She froze.
Matias still wanted to punish them, but… “Tate filled me in on how they were coerced into human trafficking, so I made an exception and spared them.”
“Thank you.” She played with the ends of her hair. “I’m still reeling over the fact that you and Tate know each other.” She eyed Tate suspiciously. “Four years ago, you left for a week to go on a soul-searching road trip across the States.”
“He was with me in Colombia,” Matias said. “After the raid at the barn, he stayed at the estate for a few days.”
“Why did you involve Tate at all?” she asked.
“He was the closest I could get to you.” Matias’ stomach sank just as the helicopter dipped and recovered altitude. “He watched over you, protected you, and called me every day, letting me know every detail of your life, including the things you confided in him.”
“What things?” she growled, shooting a glare at Tate.
“This is why I wanted you to have this conversation before I arrived.” Tate frowned at Matias as he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
Matias caught her chin and touched her mouth with his, quick and chaste. Then he released her, but kept his face close. “You told him your sexual cravings. Your desire to be held down, controlled, fucked hard—”
“Okay, stop.” She leaned back. “I know what I told him.” She turned her glare on Tate. “Not cool, man.”
Without Tate’s intel, it would’ve taken Matias a long damn time to figure out she was a sexual submissive. He knew she leaned that way as a sixteen-year-old girl, but she’d also been young and innocent. After her abduction, he’d been shocked as hell to learn that her submissive cravings had only deepened.
“He told me things, Camila.” Tate cocked his head. “His sexual preferences. You were both in my fucking ear. Him wanting to dominate you. You wanting to be dominated. I knew, without a doubt in my mind, you were perfect for each other. So I helped him out.”
“With his plan,” she said. “And that was…?”
“To get you to come to me willingly.” Matias paused as the helicopter shuddered through turbulence. “I knew, eventually, you would try to infiltrate my fake slave ring disguised as a slave—”
“Oh, no.” Her face turned ashen. “OhGodOhGod, I tortured and killed Larry McGregor.”
“He was a legit scumbag,” Matias said. “At first, you were tracking a real slave ring. I took those guys out, trickled you a few leads, planted people in your path, but after four years, you weren’t biting.” He smiled. “You were really cautious, and I’m fucking proud of you for that. But I was growing impatient. So I hand-selected Larry McGregor, a bona fide kidnapper. He’d never murdered anyone. Still, it was a risk I didn’t like. Tate ensured me you would go back to his house and immediately choke him out.” His nostrils flared. “Except you decided to—”
“I had to get him in that chokehold.” She straightened and lifted her chin.
“Wait.” Tate widened his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t fuck—”
“I didn’t.” She sniffed. “What about the girl in Larry’s barn?”
“An actress,” Matias said. “I placed her in Larry’s path.”
She stared out the window as the helicopter vibrated and swooped with sideways movements and occasional rapid changes in altitude. He already missed his smooth-gliding Bell 429.
“I was making a difference in Austin,” she said quietly. “So why do I feel like such a dumb, predictable pawn?”
He didn’t want her to think he’d used her passion against slavery to trick her. Nor did he
intend to belittle her extraordinary accomplishments.
His stomach hardened as he formulated his words. “You took down Van Quiso’s operation, did you not?”
“With help.”
“How many of your freedom fighters volunteered to infiltrate a slave ring as a slave? Look at me.” When she did, he rested his forehead against hers. “The only predictable thing about you is your prowess. Frankly, I’m blown away by your badass-ness, Camila Dias. As a capo, I can’t not recruit you. As the man who loves you, I can’t not be at your side while you put yourself in danger.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “You manipulated me.”
“And you manipulated me, sneaking your sexy ass into my cartel with the intention of removing my head from my body.”
“Well, yeah.” She laughed nervously. “I…uh, decided that was a terrible plan.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
The helicopter wobbled, and she leaned away, tilting her head as she stared at Tate. “How did you get to Colombia so quickly?”
“I’ve been in Bogota since you left,” Tate said. “Waiting for this guy to fly me to you.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows drew together. “Do Liv and Van and the others know?”
“Yeah.” Tate picked at a hole in his jeans. “I filled them in after Van dropped you off.”
“Bet you had a good laugh when I had that chip put in my tooth.” Her jaw hardened. “That damn thing cost me a lot of money.”
Tate grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
She blew out a breath. “This is a lot to take in.”
“You wouldn’t have come to me any other way.” Matias gripped her hand. “I couldn’t capture you, couldn’t chain you to my bed and force you to love me. It would’ve created a huge ugly thing between us. So I devised a plan that would bring you to Colombia, one that wouldn’t put you in a situation where you’d be consumed with trying to escape.”
“Wow,” she whispered, staring at their entwined hands. “Fucking brilliant, really. I never once tried to escape. My interest was solely on you and your slaves.”
Exactly.
Tate angled his body toward the window and closed his eyes as a smile played on his lips.
“You looked past my criminal activities.” Matias traced her fingers where they curled around his. “The weapons, drugs, torture, my position in the cartel—all of it. You wouldn’t have accepted any of that had I knocked on your door and explained it to you.”
“You’re right.” Her grip tightened, and the vertical lines between her eyebrows deepened. “I probably would’ve stopped calling you if you’d told me you were a capo. But that doesn’t mean I’m not angry about your secrecy.”
“I’ll make it up to—”
The soft weight of her hand covered his mouth.
“You’re going to make it up to me by stepping out of my way when I take over your anti-slavery operation.” She raised her brows in challenge.
He pulled her hand down and held on to it. “How about a compromise? I’ll stand by your side while we run this thing together. It’ll be one of my priorities, but I can’t leave the cartel. I have too many enemies. If I walked away from this life, I would lose the protection and resources it gives me. It would be a life on the run, and I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe the way I need to. Believe me, mi vida, I will chain you to my bed before I sacrifice your safety.”
For the first time since she stepped onto the helicopter, her eyes shone bright.
“I never asked you to leave this life, but sometimes…” She leaned up and peppered his mouth with quick electric kisses. “Sometimes I might ask you to chain me to your bed.”
THE NEXT MORNING, CAMILA stood in Matias’ closet—their closet—and stared at the door that hid skeletons. It’d been a low priority on her list of things to puzzle out, and he’d said she would have access when she was ready. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.
She continued to stare at the mysterious door as she dressed for the day. A simple white sundress. Flip-flops. No bra or panties, since he had a habit of ripping them in his haste to remove them. And no collar because she didn’t find it in its usual resting place beside the bed.
He always removed it at night—a thoughtful thing to do since the stiff leather was uncomfortable to sleep in. But she felt naked without it. Disconnected from him.
He wasn’t around to ask about it. A few hours earlier, he’d left her utterly exhausted and satisfied after waking her with his mouth on her pussy. As she’d drifted back to sleep, he’d kissed her and told her to find him when she was ready for the day.
She smiled as she strode out of the suite and wandered the halls, searching for him. She passed dozens of guards and other cartel members, and no one gave her a questioning look as to why she was collarless and strolling alone. Had he made some kind of announcement?
Twenty minutes later, she found him on the terrace by the pool, deep in conversation with Nico and Tate.
Tate.
Seeing him here really fucked with her reality. In a good way. Her worlds had collided, but instead of everything crumbling down around her in a fiery crash, it all just kind of…gelled.
Even so, she’d had a long talk with him and Matias on the flight home about how all their planning behind her back was the same as lying, and lying was the opposite of trust, and if they pulled that shit again, she wouldn’t be as forgiving.
On the far side of the terrace, Matias sat with his back to her. As she emerged from the interior living room, he turned immediately, like he had some kind of internal radar tuned in to her location.
His white t-shirt pulled across his muscled shoulders and put his gorgeous ink on display, giving him a rough and dangerous look that made her heart shiver. He was powerful and infuriatingly domineering, but he was also so deeply sentimental she felt like a cold-hearted bitch in comparison.
He gave her a wink that liquefied her insides. Then he turned back to his conversation.
A quick scan of the terrace revealed two paths to reach him. One would take her around the left side of the lounge chairs. It was a few extra steps out of the way, but far more appealing than the other choice.
If she took the direct path alongside the pool, she would pass Yessica and the bevy of giggling women in string bikinis. Since she hadn’t left Matias’ side over the past three weeks, his presence had served as a buffer between her and these women. A conversation with them was overdue.
She looked at the safer path longingly.
Don’t wimp out, Camila. Show them your teeth.
Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, she chose the path of most resistance.
The giggling stopped as she approached the lounge chairs, and four pairs of mascara-caked eyes locked on her.
“I heard Matias removed your collar.” Yessica fingered an olive out of her martini—at ten in the morning?—and popped it in her mouth.
So Matias had made an announcement, but it could’ve been anything. The slave is off her leash. The slave was never a slave. The slave is my life, and I’m going to marry her and have lots of babies…
She sighed. How to reply?
Touching a hand to her naked throat, she went with honesty. “I miss it already.”
Matias sat some thirty feet away, his upper body twisted in the chair and hands gripping the armrests as if moving to stand. She gave him a sharp shake of her head, and he relaxed, but didn’t turn away.
A warm wind rustled across the terrace, rippling the water in the pool and producing a backdrop of whooshing noises. She doubted he could hear her from where he sat.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” One of Yessica’s friends, a pretty blonde, adjusted the strap of her red bikini top. “He’s not a one-woman kind of man.”
“Oh really?” Camila kept her tone light and playful as her stomach boiled with acid. “How’s that?”
“Well, we’ve all fucked him.” The blonde gestured at the other three women. “He visits lots of beds.
Never sticks around.” She shrugged. “He’s the boss. Too important to be tied down.”
Camila tried to ignore the twitch in her eye and the pang in her chest as her smile strained her face. She focused on the fact that this woman had casually mentioned Matias’ role as the boss in front of his supposed slave. Now she really wanted to know the specifics of his announcement.
“But he seems to prefer Yessica.” Another blonde plucked an olive from her bloody mary and tossed it in Yessica’s modest cleavage.
They all laughed as Camila tried her damnedest to keep her fists from bloodying their noses.
“He makes his rounds, but he always comes back to me.” Yessica stretched in the lounge chair, her tiny swimsuit revealing far more of her Latina curves than it covered. “I’ll just hang out here until he comes in me…I mean, comes to me again.”
“Huh.” Camila gave her a thoughtful look. “When was the last time he came in you?”
“It’s been…Oh, you know.” Her eyes darted away, and she grinned, but it was taut at the corners. “He holds out for a while then he comes to me all pissed off and sexy. Sweet Jesus, that man gives good angry sex.”
Camila’s stomach threatened to hurl. She felt Matias gaze hot on her face, but she refused to look at him. It was crucial that she establish her position here without his dominating interference.
“And good gifts, too.” Yessica’s eyes sparkled. “He always gives me dresses and pearls and makeup—”
“Does he give you the belt?” Camila asked sweetly.
She really didn’t want to hear this answer, but she needed to understand if Yessica had been just an orgasm to him or if she was one of the women he’d shared a more intimate relationship with. The kind that involved pain and acceptance and trust.
“A belt?” Yessica pursed her lips. “You mean, does he beat me?”
“Yes. Did he whip your ass with a belt?”
She snorted then exaggerated a full-body shudder. “No, sweetheart.”
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” She narrowed her eyes.