Enemy Sworn

by Karin Tabke

  “That’s crude.”

  “Would it have been more gentlemanly for me to have said ‘deflower you’?”

  Sophia cracked a smile despite her dilemma and upset. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you—you tell me your name and I’ll make out with you.”

  Sophia smiled slyly and went for broke. “How about,” she started as she grasped the hem of her short dress and began to pull it up, “you make out with me.” She pulled it up and over her head. Then tossed it to the sofa and stood brazenly, clad only in heels and thong panties, before him.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times as she watched the heat in his eyes intensify. When his fiery gaze caught and held hers, heat flushed intensely through her. Sophia didn’t get out much but she knew she had a great body. She was a yoga addict and had inherited her mother’s lithe curves.

  “And then kiss me all over.”

  He sank his hand into her hair and pulled her against him. When her nipples speared his chest, she closed her eyes, not wanting the sensation to dissipate. “Would you please . . . hurry and do something before I die.”

  His deep chuckle sent shivers of desire through her. “Plea—” When his hot lips closed around a hard nipple, Sophia’s knees buckled. His free arm slid around her waist to support her wobbly knees.

  She dug her fingers into his thick hair, surprised at how soft it was. He groaned and tightened his lips around her. Arching into him, she let what was left of her inhibitions go.

  Turning her head, she caught his thumb between her lips and bit him. He groaned, pushing it deeper into her mouth.

  He pressed the pad of his thumb against her teeth, and she sucked it. “Ah, now you’ve gone and done it,” he rasped as his free hand swept along her belly, then slipped beneath her sodden panties and he finally, thank god, slid his finger so far into her she felt him touch that deep, intimate part of her.

  Breath rushed from her lungs and her muscles clamped around his finger, imprisoning him. When he slowly withdrew it and slid it back in, she whimpered and sucked his finger harder.

  His lips pressed to her throat as he began a rhythmic thrust in and out of her.

  Sophia could barely contain her body’s reaction to his touch. She didn’t care that she didn’t know his name. It was better this way. She would take this night to the grave. It was the best of her life to date and would never be topped.

  His lips trailed the column of her neck as his finger slid deeper into her. It was simply sublime. She could not imagine how his penis would feel inside of her. But she was anxious to find out.

  He dragged his teeth along her neck as his fingers stroked her cheek. When he touched the slight swell from where her father had struck her, she flinched.

  He made a feral sound as he grasped her chin gently and turned her face up to the muted light. His eyes rested on the swell. Bella had put cover-up on the emerging bruise, but even with ice and anti-inflammatories, she couldn’t hide the swelling or the pain of the injury.

  Sophia clasped her thighs together, not wanting him to stop what he was doing, but he carefully slid out from her. She practically sobbed.

  “Who did that?” he demanded.

  Sophia pulled out of his grasp, grateful he didn’t force her to stay within it. “I bumped into a doorjamb.”

  Gently he traced the high curve of her cheekbone just above the swell. “You’re lying.”

  Tossing her head back, giving him some tequila-induced attitude, she said, “What does it matter? After tonight we’ll never see each other again.” She smiled seductively and ran her fingertip down his chest, stopping at the top button of his jeans. Slipping her finger through the belt loop, she pulled him toward her.

  “Now, either get back to what you were doing or I’m going downstairs to find someone who will.”

  “Tell me who did this to you and why, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Fresh tears stung her eyes. Damn it, she just couldn’t seem to get away from them in front of this man. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Moving away from her, he reached for the door. “It matters to me.”

  “You don’t even know me except to know I want to get fucked tonight!” Her crude words made her flinch but they were true. Why couldn’t he just give her what she wanted? One night of great sex she could remember so that when her despicable husband touched her she could relive how good it was tonight.

  His eyes darkened as he was about to say something but thought better of it. Instead he pushed the door handle down.

  “My father!” she screamed.

  His hand stopped as his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your father what?”

  The damn tears fell. The hurt of being struck by the man she loved and respected above all others took hold. She shook her head, choking back a sob. So much for having the best night of her life. “My father hit me because I had the audacity to argue with him over the man he chose for me to marry next week.” She laughed as the absurdity of her situation hit her. This was the twenty-first fucking century and she was living the life of a medieval princess. She started to laugh. “I’m a virgin princess! The man I’m being forced to marry is an evil warlord.” Her gaze rose to his, its intensity sobering her. “I don’t want to give him what I want to give you. I chose you. Not my father. Me! I want you to make love to me tonight, my only night of freedom,” she sobbed. “So that when I have to submit to the man I’m being forced to marry, I can think of you and how good it was to get me through it.”

  He took a step toward her, then another, and before she knew it he was holding her tightly against him.

  “Okay, angel,” he whispered against her ear as he stroked her hair, “I’ll give you what you want, but not here.”

  Sophia looked up at him and the compassion in his eyes was almost too much to bear. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Get dressed.” She nodded, and as she stepped back to look for her dress, he picked it up from the sofa behind him and placed it over her head. Just as he brought it down over her hips the door burst open and several men, dressed in dark cargo pants and long-sleeved dark shirts, filled the room. Two grabbed her almost lover as the third one gut-punched him.

  Dark and Dangerous grunted in pain but used his body weight to shove the two holding him back and then pushed off the floor with his feet and kicked the other one in the gut. He flew back into the mirrored wall. Sophia screamed, “Antonio, stop!”

  “Stay out of this, Sophia!”

  He went in again but Dark and Dangerous was ready. He made some kind of martial arts move to twist out of the grasps of Jorge and Sam, two of her father’s bodyguards. But Tony was strong and well versed in hand-to-hand fighting.

  When the door opened and two more of her father’s men rushed in, she knew no matter how strong Dark and Dangerous was, he would die in this room tonight. He had touched el patrón’s daughter. The penalty was death. She was powerless to stop it.

  “Stop,” she screamed, trying to force her way into the fray. Tony shoved her back. She hit the wall hard, the impact causing her to cry out in pain. Dark and Dangerous growled, and in a herculean effort he threw off the three men who had pinned him to the floor. As he rose to get to her, the glint of Tony’s blade caught the dim light. Sophia grabbed her purse from the floor where it had fallen and dug for her own blade.

  “Tony!” she cried. He must have heard the desperation in her voice because he stopped his attack on her would-be lover.

  His eyes widened when he saw that she pressed the sharp tip of her stiletto against her carotid. “Let him go or I die, and if I die you die.”

  “Prima,” Tony growled. “Drop the knife.”

  She pressed it against her skin and flinched when it punctured her flesh. “Let him go and I’ll leave with you.”

  Tony looked over at the four men who had the
ir hands on Dark and Dangerous. He nodded, and as Dark and Dangerous flung the hands from him, Tony grasped her upper arm and said, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Sophia yanked her arm from his and said, “You gave your word.” She moved to where her knight in shining armor stood. “Idiots, move!” she hissed, pushing the bodyguards out of the way.

  They looked to Tony, who nodded and stepped toward the door.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the man she had chosen but who fate decided she could not have. Not even for a night. She turned and left with her cousin and his four henchmen.

  As they drove back to Terra Oro, Tony quietly said, “He knows where you were.”

  Sophia turned to her cousin. Tony was smart, fair and didn’t possess the bloodlust for fighting most of their familia did.

  “I don’t care.”

  “You will pay, Sophia, especially when he discovers what you were doing.”

  “Thanks to you,” she spat.

  “No, he didn’t hear it from me, but from his men who saw you with him.”

  Sophia shrugged and looked out at the black night. “I hope he kills me. Then I won’t hurt anymore.”

  Tony reached over and grabbed her hand. “Let me talk to him, see if I can reason with him.”

  She smiled sadly and squeezed his hand. “Don’t bother. He won’t listen and all that will get you is trouble with him. Let him do what he will, it can’t be worse than marrying a Vargas.”

  “What?” Tony asked, surprised.

  “I’m to marry one of the despicable Vargas brothers a week from tonight. A worthy penance, I suppose, for my indiscretion tonight.”

  “Vargas has no honor!” Tony’s hand squeezed hers painfully. She pulled her hand from his grip.

  “Papa values their bloodline more than honor.”

  “Did you—back there at the club?” Tony looked at her then back to the road. “Have sex with him?”

  Heat scorched her cheeks but she shook her head. “I wanted to, but no.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I can’t catch a break in this life. First my sister’s reject gets himself killed, then my choice is reduced to one of the two most heinous men I have had the displeasure to meet, and then tonight I go all out to find a man I chose and the one I pick doesn’t want to have sex with me. What’s wrong with me, Tony?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you, corazón, you’re perfect.”

  Sophia exhaled. “Thank you for that, cousin.”

  “Would you consider me for your husband?”

  “What? We’re first cousins!”

  “I know it’s improper, but Sophia, it would make the most sense.”

  “And it’s illegal!”

  “I am only a half first cousin. Remember, our fathers have different mothers, we share only our paternal grandfather’s blood.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “It’s not natural, Tony.”

  “I’ll speak to my uncle. Maybe it’s not as far-fetched as it seems.”

  Sophia shivered and looked at the man she had always considered more of a big brother than a cousin. But a husband? Never.

  Later, as she closed the door to her suite of rooms, Sophia stopped as the fragrant scent of a cigar hit her.

  From the shadows her father’s voice disrupted the silence. “You have brought shame upon this house, Sophia.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa.” But she really wasn’t. She’d do it again.

  “You understand there are consequences for such an action, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  chapter five

  A day and a half later, just as the sun made its debut, Mateo opened the throttle of the low-slung Harley as he entered the Imperial Valley in extreme Southern California, also known as Dumas territory. As highly trained as he was, Mateo didn’t need a firearm to aide him in his mission. His only weapons were his switchblade, his brain and his hands. They had served him well for years. Had he wanted to take out Dumas’s thugs back at the club he could have, but that was not the plan. He had made contact with Sophia. Once her father learned of her impropriety with a stranger, she would be soiled goods in his eyes and, as such, make Mateo’s claim more palatable to the old man.

  Not that he needed to up the ante. Mateo’s lips tightened into a thin line. He had no qualms using whatever means necessary to get to the root of Dumas’s evil. Including but not limited to beguiling the boss’s daughter. The same boss’s daughter who despite her innocent act could not be that out of touch with the evil that spawned her. Mateo was sure she was in as deep as her old man. And he would show her no mercy.

  Adrenaline surged through him as he ate up the miles between him and the woman who despite her parentage he had not stopped thinking about since he watched her strut across the dance floor two nights prior.

  Despite his attempts to push the memory of her from his thoughts, Mateo’s body tightened with tension and his dick thickened. She had ignited a burn in him he had never experienced before. He shook his head, knowing that even after the burn was quenched he’d want to torch it again. There was something about the enigmatic Sophia Dumas that had nothing to do with sex and it pulled him to her. He didn’t want to think about it because if he picked at it, he’d bleed, and he had bled enough for ten lifetimes.

  Cursing, he opened the throttle more, hoping the thrill of the speed through the endless ribbon of desert highway leading to the small town of Terra Oro would take his mind off the thrill of seeing Sophia Dumas again.

  As he sped through the last leg of highway, he picked up a few friends.

  Like shadows, Dumas’s soldiers flanked him on their slick, black all-terrain motorcycles.

  With each mile he traveled closer to the compound, his escort increased in number and proximity.

  A mile out, they had swelled to several dozen, tightening around him. He had gone as far as he could go without a fight.

  Slowing to a stop, Mateo allowed the dozens of bikes to surround him. He held up his right arm, baring a silver vambrace. “Javier Bertram is nothing but buzzard shit. To the victor go his spoils. Take me to el patrón so that I can claim them.”

  “You don’t get to claim shit,” the biggest of the group said as he dismounted his bike. With his commanding presence, it was obvious that he was the leader. He was dressed to intimidate in a black paratrooper-style jumpsuit, black combat boots and black helmet with dark wraparound glasses. The others were dressed exactly the same. All of them bore black leather double holsters with 9mms weighing them down, secured at each thigh with Velcro straps. Half a dozen leather magazine pouches hung from the tooled leather along with a nine-inch knife sheath on each. Yeah, they were badass. And Mateo would be a fool not to feel threatened, but fuck if he was going to show it.

  “Not your call,” Mateo sneered. He gave his bike some throttle but held the brake. The heavy machine lurched powerfully forward but was contained by his hand.

  “You got a death wish coming in here like you own the fucking place,” another soldier said.

  Mateo grinned and nodded. “I’m gonna own it, so choose your next words and your next actions carefully.”

  “Who are you?” the boldest one demanded.

  “The Widow Maker.”

  Momentarily the soldiers seemed too shocked to react. Mateo didn’t wait.

  Fisting his hands, Mateo hopped off his bike and pounded his chest, taking two bouncing steps toward the leader of the group. “Let’s do it.”

  Collectively the men moved back on their bikes, regarding Mateo with indecision. If he was who he said he was they had no other choice but to deliver him to Dumas. One, there was a price on his head, and two, he was due the respect of the meeting. If they ended him right then and there they would have some explaining to do. Not a position anyone wanted to be in when it came to el patrón.

  Besides, Mateo’s
Widow Maker rep preceded him. They were smart and didn’t want to die. By challenging him a few would. He moved back to his bike, then mounted it. “Take me to Dumas.”

  chapter six

  As they proceeded through the main gates to the township of Terra Oro—in reality the Dumas compound—Mateo’s senses pulsed with awareness. Though it was early in the morning, the populace was up and about. And though they appeared well fed and clothed, they wore blank stares he recognized. It was the same look Sophia had in her eyes as she was dragged out of the lounge.

  Hopeless resignation.

  Surrounded by Dumas’s soldiers, Mateo absorbed every detail of each structure, each person, each scent. His gut told him this was where Dumas was brewing his lethal drug, O. It was there, the smell of it subtly hiding beneath the scent of overflowing flowerpots, endless trellises of bougainvillea and some purple grape-looking drapey stuff. The streets teemed with bright, aromatic flowers, not, he realized, for aesthetics but to hide the stench of chemicals. It was there to the trained nose. He caught wisps of it but try as he could to pinpoint the direction it came from, it didn’t appear to be coming from any specific direction. Was everyone associated with Dumas elbow deep in the manufacturing of O? Was that why there was no specific source? Or were the towns’ folk so used to the smell they didn’t notice it anymore?

  As they slowly drove down the streets lined with blooming terra-cotta pots, it occurred to Mateo that the little town was not only immaculate but was also aesthetically pleasing, like a fairy-tale village. Each shop front was welcoming and tidy, with brightly painted stucco, festooned with blooming flowerpots, open doors and welcoming refreshments. It was in complete contrast to the sullen inhabitants who stared at him as he drove by. Dumas was smart. Paint a pretty picture to outsiders and attract no unwanted attention. It must cost the kingpin millions a year just to keep the small town flush with the flowering pots. They went a long way to conceal the ugliness lurking just beneath the surface.

  At the end of a limestone walkway a sprawling, brightly painted three-story hacienda rose up behind the fifteen-foot carved limestone fountain centered in the spacious courtyard. Red, pink and white bougainvillea wildly sprouted from the ground-floor planters and climbed along the stucco walls to the balconies, entwining with the ornate wrought-iron railings, then creeping toward the terra-cotta-tile rooftop. A colorful mosaic of blue, white, orange, red and green tiles framed the large archway that preceded two enormous hewn-wood doors with great wrought-iron handles. As Mateo approached, the soldiers slowed to a stop and directed him to cut the engine and dismount his Harley. He did, pulling off his helmet and hanging it from a handlebar. He unbuckled one of the saddlebags and withdrew a heavy backpack and slung it over his shoulder.