Enemy Sworn

by Karin Tabke

  “Right now your continued good health serves my purposes.”

  “And when it no longer does?”

  She shrugged but smiled; those dimples he was quickly falling in love with popped up. “Then, Señor Loco, I will find a way to get rid of you.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Mateo looked deeply into her eyes. Despite her proclamation, he wanted nothing more than to slide his lips across her lush, pouty ones. “Kiss me,” he huskily said.

  Shaking her head, she moved back to the edge of the bed and then stood. “No.”

  He grinned. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

  “I know I will.” She strode over to the tray Alma had brought in and removed the lids. Spicy aromas wafted up to her nose. It was midafternoon, and right about this time the hacienda would be quiet. Though they were very much American and Terra Oro on American soil, Dumas stuck very close to their European heritage and took siesta a few hours each day.

  “There are chilaquiles here as well as a meat omelet, hash browns, fruit and several types of fresh-baked muffins and tortillas.”

  Throwing the covers aside, Mateo stood, and when his wife’s eyes dropped to his semi-erection, he did the gentlemanly thing and wrapped the sheet around his waist. The next round of sex was on her.

  A half hour later, their bellies full, Mateo suddenly felt drained. The emotional and physical strain of the last few days had caught up with him. He needed a few hours of shut-eye to recover. Although it was only midafternoon, the day had been long. He slid into the comfortable bed and closed his eyes as Sophia tidied up the room.

  “Good night, wife,” he said, smiling.

  “Good night, husband,” she softly said.

  • • •

  Several hours later, Mateo woke with a raging hard-on to a dark, silent room. He groaned, wishing his wife was not such a distraction. All he wanted to do was touch her and be touched by her. The constant craving was getting between his big head and the mission he needed to focus on.

  For long minutes Mateo lay quietly in the bed listening to Sophia’s low, soft breaths beside him. His hard-on throbbed; he ignored it.

  Stealthily he slipped from the bed, amazed at how good he felt. His shoulder hurt, but not like it had earlier. The antibiotics and that salve Sophia had spread on it took the sting out of it.

  Moonlight streamed through the French doors that he assumed led to a balcony. He made a trip to the bathroom, then quickly dressed. Deftly he made his way through the bedroom and the sitting room to the main hallway outside of Sophia’s suite of rooms. As he closed the door behind him, he flattened against the wall and listened.

  The hacienda was tomb silent, but his instincts told him there was more to the silence than met the ear. He moved quickly down the long hall and as he approached the double staircase leading down to the main floor, angry voices drifted to his ears.

  Standing at the head of the staircase, he closed his eyes and listened. The voices were coming from the atrium area. Keeping to the shadows, he glided down the staircase to the main foyer area. All traces of that morning’s violence were gone.

  Moving soundlessly down the smooth tile hallway, Mateo honed in on the voices, but as he surveyed his surroundings he found it highly suspect that there was no sign of any security. Were the grounds surrounding the house so tightly guarded not even a bug could slip in undetected? And if that were the case, he’d bet his right arm that not only was Sophia’s suite of rooms bugged, but the entire hacienda was as well.

  The voices lowered as Mateo moved deeper into the voluminous door-lined hallway. Twenty doors in all. All thick carved wood with wrought-iron adornments like the huge double doors that opened to the courtyard. As he continued silently toward the voices, Mateo made mental notes of his surroundings. When he came upon a large carved wooden door at the very end of the long hallway just past the atrium, the scent of fine cigar smoke wafted to Mateo. He moved in closer to stand just outside the door.

  “It has never been done before, Patrón,” a man’s voice said.

  “It has never been done because until now there has never been an enticing enough carrot to draw them from their lairs,” Dumas said.

  “What if they refuse to come?”

  “Not only will they come running the moment they are summoned, but they would not dare disrespect my invitation,” Dumas said arrogantly. “Amigo, we are on the precipice of a greatness our illustrious ancestor Bonaparte only dreamed of. It is the second coming and this time we will not fail. In less than a week, the heads of the most powerful cartels in the world will be here, a guest in my home, and when they leave they will either be in my pocket, or their head will be rolling on this floor.”

  What was the carrot? A piece of the O action? It had to be. The O was worth billions to traffickers. If Dumas pulled it off, the heads of the most powerful drug cartels in the world would be assembled in the same room. The thrill it generated within him nearly matched the thrill of sinking into Sophia. The cartel heads would be easy pickings. And it would go down as the biggest bust in DEA history. He needed to get this info to Command ASAP.

  Mateo stepped back and bumped into a warm body.

  • • •

  “What are you doing here?” Sophia hissed. She’d woken to find him gone. And just as she’d suspected, he was snooping around. Her instincts were right on the money. He was here for something other than her. And though she was loath to admit it, her ego took a hit with the confirmation.

  “Mi hija?” her father called as the door to his study swung open.

  Her belly buzzed nervously. She could out her husband here and now and be done with this charade. But if she did, she would have to suffer marriage to a Vargas. She shivered. No way. She gave Mateo a quick glance. At least with this one, for now, she had the upper hand. Sort of.

  “Papa,” she called, her gaze holding Mateo’s. “I was just showing my hungry husband to the kitchen.”

  As her gaze shifted to her father, he smiled even as he bit down on a fat, hand-rolled cubano. His incisors glittered white and the dark eyes she had inherited from him shone with confidence only his kind could convey. He looked every bit the king of the realm. She looked past him to see Pablo Sandoval, her father’s cousin and the mayor of Mexicali, standing quietly while staring at something on the ceiling. Following his gaze, Sophia saw only the oak-beamed ceiling. Putting two and two together, she realized he was avoiding her.

  “Mayor Sandoval?” she said, stepping past her father. “It’s been a long time, how are you?” she pleasantly asked, extending her hand.

  The mayor quickly shifted gears and smiled as if he had no idea she was there and just realized it.

  Sophia wrinkled her brow at his actions. Why would he ignore her?

  “My dear, you look as beautiful as ever.” He kissed her extended hand.

  They were all actors tonight, weren’t they? “Thank you. May I introduce my husband, Mateo?”

  The mayor smiled nervously and looked at her father, who nodded. “Of course, it would be my honor.”

  Sophia made the introductions. As Mateo and the mayor shook hands, she said, “Mayor Sandoval is my father’s cousin. He introduced my parents.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” Mateo respectfully said.

  “I am glad everyone is happy. Now, please,” her father said, “Paul and I were just concluding our business.”

  That was her cue to exit. And in light of recent events, her father was the last person she wanted to be around. Her hurt spurred her anger. And with each minute that she thought of their history together, the angrier she became. She realized that she was not going to remain here. That somehow, she would escape this jail, this life, this hell. And her ballsy husband was going to help her.

  Sophia grabbed Mateo by the hand and dragged him from the study, closing the door behind them.
“I’ll show you the kitchen now. There’s all kinds of food. Mexican, American, French, you name it, the cooks do it all. We even have a pizza oven,” Sophia chirped, knowing her father listened. His hearing was as honed as a bat’s. Sometimes she thought he could read her mind.

  “How did you know I was hungry?” he asked.

  She turned a jaundiced eye at him. “A wild guess? I mean, what other reason could there possibly be for you to be wandering the hacienda in the middle of the night?”

  Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on Mateo, but he acted as if he didn’t get it. He grinned. “Married less than a day and we’re already reading each other’s minds.” Abruptly he stopped and she bumped into his hard chest. Still smiling, he slid his arms around her waist and said, “I think you should accept the fact that we are meant to be and allow me to make mad, passionate love to you tonight.”

  She elbowed him in the side, pushed out of his arms and continued down the hall until they entered the kitchen. Flipping on the light switch, she quickly turned to Mateo with the sole purpose of rerouting his desire for her body to his desire to fill his belly. She asked, “What did you have in mind? A sandwich? Enchiladas? A pepperoni pizza?”

  “One of each? I’m famished.”

  “One of each coming right up.”

  As Sophia moved around the kitchen she periodically glanced over her shoulder at her husband, who was blatantly inspecting every corner of the large gourmet kitchen. Sleek stainless-steel appliances lined the walls. A long butcher block prep table ran down the center of the spacious room. The only place to sit was at a small café table butted up against the wall near the walk-in fridge and freezer. No one ate there; eating alone was discouraged. For most meals, everyone gathered in the main dining hall, and for the most part it worked out, but there were nights when Sophia just wanted to take her meal to her room and enjoy the quiet. If her father was in residence she didn’t dare defy him. When he wasn’t, she snuck her food to her room, unwilling to set a bad example by being flagrant about it.

  Now, she set down the food on the small table and despite the upheaval of the day and the light meal they’d had hours before, Sophia suddenly felt ravenous.

  “Come, start with this while your pizza bakes.”

  They ate in silence for several long minutes, each a thousand miles away from the other with their own thoughts. There were a dozen questions she wanted to ask, but she bided her time, knowing he would not just drop the truth of his intentions at her feet.

  She started when Mateo’s big, warm hand settled on hers. Instinctively she pulled away but his fingers tightened around hers. Imperceptibly he shook his head as he leaned over and kissed her gently on her bruised cheek and whispered so softly he was barely audible. “We’re on candid camera.”

  “Of course we are,” she whispered back. “The hacienda’s filled with them.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “I’ve lived with them all my life. A man of my father’s status and wealth must take unprecedented precautions. My mother was kidnapped twice before she ran away, and when I was fifteen I barely escaped an attempt.” She shrugged. “So, having cameras here in the kitchen and other areas of the house is warranted—” Taking a bite of chicken, an unsavory thought occurred to her. Were there cameras in her private space? She choked.

  Mateo gently patted her on the back, and said, “I don’t care how many cameras are watching. I want to clear that prep table over there, spread you out like a banquet and savor every inch of you.” Heat rose in her cheeks.

  Mateo leaned into her and his gold-colored eyes sparkled with sexy mischief. “You’re blushing, diablita. It becomes you.” He winked at her, and kissed the tip of her nose before sitting back. Nervous that she reacted so quickly and wantonly to him every single time he paid the slightest bit of attention to her, Sophia stood and took the pizza out of the oven. Slicing it, she gave him the lion’s share.

  “Perhaps we can discuss that tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to discuss it now.” He gave her a brilliant smile she knew was no act. She could only imagine what he would do to her if they were really speaking about what they implied. Her skin warmed for different reasons and suddenly she wanted to know.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to describe in great detail what he would do to her, but she didn’t have to. Taking her hands, he pulled her into him and for her ears only softly said, “I’d spread you out, hands over your head, and secure them to the end of the table, then spread your legs, tying your ankles to the other end of the table.”

  Heat bubbled beneath her skin. “I don’t think I’d like to be restrained.”

  “Hmm, I think maybe you would. Because I’d like to drive you so crazy for my cock you’d beg me to give it to you.”

  “I don’t beg,” she lied.

  He chuckled. “Want me to prove you wrong?”

  Her breath hitched high in her throat. Maybe, if there were no cameras . . .

  “After I had you secured, I’d rip that nightgown down the middle from your neck to your toes and peel it away from your skin.” He ran his nose along her jaw line. “Your nipples would already be hard, begging for my tongue to lick them.” He nipped her earlobe. “Your nipples are so sensitive, Sophia. They love the stroke of my tongue. I’d suck one as I stroked the other with my fingertips.”

  Sophia closed her eyes, parted her lips and imagined him doing just that.

  “Your tits would plumpen, and your skin would flush warm.” He pressed his lips to her ear. “And your pussy would be dripping wet.”

  Sophia’s eyes flew open as she gulped for air.

  “My cock would be rock hard like it is now. You would fight the restraints, your breath shallow, your heart hammering, your throat raw from your repeated demands that I sink deep inside you.”

  Tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue, his fingers stroked hers. “But I wouldn’t give you what we both wanted. Not yet. I’d kiss my way down your belly, lick between your thighs, tease your clit with my tongue.”

  Sophia moaned. “Yes, just like that, angel, you would purr as I ravaged your pussy.” His fingers slid along the inside of her wrists, sending shock waves through her entire body. “You have such a sweet pussy, Sophia. Tight. God, it’s tight and wanton.” His fingers dug into her sensitive flesh. “It belongs to me.” The dangerous edge to his voice held the promise of dire consequences if she should ever forget it.

  It scared her. She didn’t want to be afraid of him, but she was. Violence was as natural to him as it was to her father. They were more alike than she would care to admit.

  She pushed away from him and picked up a piece of pizza and pressed it to his lips. “Here, eat this and cool off.” She needed a minute to collect her thoughts. Sex with him was too easy. He was using it to sink his hooks into her. To lull her into thinking he had feelings for her. To weaken her resolve. And ultimately, control her.

  But what if she did the same? Used their mutual attraction to sink her hooks into him, and in so doing, weaken his resolve to take his place beside her father. The power of sex could be her ticket to freedom. But . . . she wanted to have her cake and eat it too.

  Holding her gaze, Mateo took a bite and slowly chewed. When he swallowed, he took the slice from her hand and turned it around, offering her a bite. She took it, wanting more to take a bite out of him. As she chewed, he brought her fingers to his lips and licked off the grease from the cheese that had leaked onto her hand in slow, tantalizing strokes.

  “Mateo,” she rasped, squirming in her seat. “I need you to stop.” She swallowed hard. “Please.”

  Miraculously, he did just that. But his fiery gaze held hers until he finished his pizza. Unable to sit still when she wanted to be his next meal, Sophia busied herself cleaning up the mess she had made preparing their dinner. Finally, Mateo stood, for the moment satiated.
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br />   “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand.

  Taking it, she strolled with him back to her suite of rooms. No sooner had she turned the light on to the sitting room than Mateo grabbed her hand and walked straight into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast.

  “I already took a shower,” she said.

  Pressing a finger to his lips, Mateo shook his head, then stepped into the shower and pulled her in with him, shutting the door behind them.

  “There’s a concealed camera in the sitting room that wasn’t there earlier. Your father had it planted either while we were asleep or while we were gone just now.”

  “My father would not dare do something so disgusting!”

  “I’m sure he didn’t do it for pleasure but to make sure you weren’t up to something you shouldn’t be up to.”

  “Like what? What would I be ‘up to’?”

  “Like plotting with me to escape. Or maybe it isn’t about you at all but about me. His way of keeping tabs on me.”

  This was ludicrous, her father installing hidden cameras in her room. The house she understood, but not her room! “How are you so sure about the camera? Why would you even notice?”

  “It’s my business to know those things. I’d sweep the rooms for bugs but the cameras will pick up my actions.”

  “What is your business, exactly?”

  “You know what I do.”

  “Be specific, Mateo. How do you make your money?”

  He focused on her and let out a long breath. “I’m a contractor that specializes in removal.”

  “Of what?”

  “Whatever my client wants.”

  “An assassin?”

  “I prefer to call myself an exterminator. I only get rid of the bad ones.”

  “So you’re an assassin.”

  “That’s such a perverse word.”

  “Who paid you to kill Javier?”

  His eyes narrowed. “No one. He was personal.”

  Sophia nodded. Blood for blood. It was the first commandment of her father’s world. And because she chose to remain here, for the time being, it was her world too.