Copyright
SPIDER’S WEB
Copyright© 2019 by Dani Matthews
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not meant to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book. Trademarks have been used without permission.
The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Act of 1976 to be identified as the author of this book.
Photo credit: Shutterstock.com
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Epilogue
One
Catalina
It’s taken me far longer than I’d expected to track Nikolas Del Toro down. The man is known to be a selective socializer. Every move he makes has a purpose, and if he’s in a public establishment, there’s a motive behind it. He isn’t known to socialize just for entertainment.
I’d known just how difficult it would be to approach him, but this meeting needs to happen in public. Once he realizes who I am and that I’m in his territory, I’ll become vulnerable to him and his cartel. It’s crucial that this plan unfolds just right.
Deep within my chest, my heart aches. This is the only way to bring my father to justice for Zac’s death, and to somehow find peace within myself.
I push aside memories that want to steal the breath from my lungs and straighten my spine. My gaze lifts to the second level VIP balconies. Del Toro has deep pockets and owns shares in plenty of businesses in Los Angeles, including the popular dance club I’m currently standing in. It’s packed tonight, and I’ve noted more than one celebrity up in the VIP’s.
Only one balcony holds my attention though, and it’s the only one with a private stairwell leading up and down from it. It’s separated from the other VIP areas, ensuring that whomever has purchased the balcony for the night has complete privacy.
This is where I find Del Toro.
It’s impossible to see him clearly from where I stand, but I note that he has two of his personal security with him, and another is located at the top of the stairs—preventing anyone from attempting to gain access to the balcony.
I could be making the biggest mistake of my life tonight, or it could be the first step to true independence. A year ago, I would have been intimidated by such a powerful man. Nikolas Del Toro’s name is known far and wide in the seedy underworld of the illegal drug trade. He’s known to be calculated and ruthless, and yet he’s well-respected—but not because he sheds blood like my father’s organization and so many others.
No, Nikolas Del Toro will find your weakness, and he’ll slowly and methodically dismantle everything you are without ever shedding a drop of blood. He doesn’t rule his territory with the threat of death. He rules his organization with the threat of things far worse than death. Without protection or a business, one becomes stripped of all that they are and become just another street thug, vulnerable to all the criminals that roam the streets. Sometimes, the unknown can be worse than death itself.
The man is also well-connected. He’s the spider running every sticky, symmetrical strand in his web that is Los Angeles. He’s a predator, and if you get caught in his web through betrayal, you’ll wish to God you hadn’t. He’s known to have politicians in his pocket and has made allies with plenty of powerful men in southern California. He also has men located at the border, including agents that give access to his shipments entering the United States. His network is impenetrable, and throughout the years, he’s eliminated any competition that’s posed a threat. He’s also made the Mexican Hernandez Cartel his exclusive supplier, making it impossible for anyone within his territory to challenge him. Nikolas Del Toro is the face of a new cartel era, and those still set in the old ways are beginning to take notice.
So here I am, about to set in motion a plan that could cost me my life, but I don’t really have anything to lose now that I’ve lost the only person that made life worth living. When my father killed Zac, I had nearly given up, but then I’d realized that if I joined him in the afterlife, Zac’s death would have been in vain. I had to take action, and since then, I’ve depended on my driving need to seek retribution against my father.
I shake off my melancholy thoughts and focus on the present. It’s either now or never, and it doesn’t get much more public than this.
As I cross the club, moving between warm bodies, I remain focused on the bouncer at the base of the stairs. This will be the tricky part, but I’m hoping that Del Toro will be curious about the woman claiming to be Catalina Herrera—because he will no doubt dismiss the idea of me actually being in his territory.
The bouncer watches me approach through hooded eyes. His arms are crossed over his muscular chest, and he’s dressed in the club’s security uniform—black jeans and a black tee with ‘security’ printed in block letters on the front near his shoulder. In the flashing strobe lights, I see his eyes narrow as I pause before him.
I draw myself to my full height, which isn’t much. I’m five-three, but tonight I’m five-seven thanks to the four inches the stilettos give me. My expression remains poised as I say over the music, “Please inform Mr. Del Toro that Catalina Herrera would like a moment of his time.”
A smirk plays across the corners of the bouncer’s mouth. “Try another night, sweetheart,” he replies.
I recognize him for what he is, a club bouncer who doesn’t have a place inside Del Toro’s inner network. So naturally, he wouldn’t recognize my name. Time for a new tactic. I arch an eyebrow and give him a look that warns he’d better think twice. “When he finds out you turned me away without notifying him, it’ll be your head, not mine.”
We both know it’s not an idle threat. Perhaps not physically, but there are plenty of other ways men suffer when crossing Del Toro.
He’s aggravated now, clearly debating whether to interrupt the big boss man upstairs or send me on my way. There’s doubt in his gaze, but I’m counting on him wanting to err on the side of caution. “I’ll be escorting you off the premises if this is just a ploy to ride his dick,” he warns.
I say nothing and patiently wait.
His expression tightens, and then he adjusts his ear piece. His lips move as he speaks into the small mic. I can’t hear him, but that doesn’t matter. As he waits for a reply on the other end, his eyes remain on mine. A full minute goes by before he blinks as the suspicion in his eyes relents. He gives me a respective nod and motions that I can go up to the balcony.
My heart begins to pound inside my chest, but to the casual observer, I appear calm as I begin making my way up the stairwell. At the top, a man stands there, watching me with vigilant eyes as I make my ascent. He’s wearing a dark suit, and I can see the ear piece that allowed him to commun
icate with the bouncer below.
I’m about to walk into the lion’s den. No, parlor is more fitting, I amend.
Once I’ve reached the top, the unsmiling man indicates that he’s required to pat me down. I’d expected this. As far as Del Toro’s concerned, I’m not who I claim to be and have a hidden agenda. He’s going to assume this is some sort of setup, and I’m going to need to prove otherwise. Luckily, I’m prepared.
The guard quickly pats me down before signaling that I’m cleared to approach Del Toro. I’m escorted across the VIP balcony to where the man himself is lounging alone in a luxurious booth as his eyes slowly roam over me from the tip of my stilettos to the crown of my head. Thankfully, I haven’t interrupted a business meeting or…anything else. He’s alone, and I couldn’t have asked for a better setting.
As I cross the floor, I make note of the small, private bar located in the corner where a male bartender stands, waiting respectfully to bring Del Toro anything he requests.
Two men in suits stand on either side of the VIP booth, expressions impassive as their eyes remain trained on me with an alertness that only bodyguards can pull off.
Del Toro lazily but fluidly rises to his feet as his ice blue eyes focus intently on my face. There’s a hint of recognition, which means within the six months I’d been in my father’s compound, a photo of me had somehow circulated to the competitors. I’m damned lucky no one’s recognized me yet and taken measures to end my life as a message to my father.
I pause before the booth, eyes locked on Del Toro. He’s taller than I’d expected, and even with my added four inches, I feel uncomfortably small in his presence. I’m also trying to ignore how potently sexy he is.
The dark button-up shirt he’s wearing with black slacks enhances the light blue of those intelligent eyes and brings attention to his handsome face. His hair is a light cool brown, and he has a shadow of stubble along his chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw. He’s young for a cartel leader of his magnitude, and my research revealed that he’s thirty-two. Unlike most of the elder cartel leaders, Del Toro looks fit and more than capable of handling himself in a weaponless fight.
Guilt slithers through my veins for even acknowledging his physique and looks. It feels like I’ve betrayed Zac in some small way. Fortunately, during the past several months, I’ve learned to hide what I’m thinking.
Del Toro holds out a hand. “Catalina Herrera. You’re a long way from New York, or should I say Philadelphia,” he says smoothly over the club’s music.
Inside, I can’t help but smirk a little. Apparently, my father hadn’t been able to keep my sudden disappearance from the much-anticipated engagement party in Philadelphia under wraps, and I bet that has made him more than a tad irate.
Good.
I slip my hand in Del Toro’s, ignoring how warm his palm is against mine. “Mr. Del Toro,” I say coolly before politely extracting my hand.
He motions for me to take a seat in the lavish booth across from his own. After I gracefully sit, he settles back into his side of the booth. His eyes deliberately look over my shoulder before returning to mine. “I’m not sure whether to admire your arrogance or call it pure foolishness,” he says, referring to the fact that I am all alone.
“And here I thought a man of your…stature would be more interested in why I’m here rather than where my escorts are,” I return smoothly.
His eyes narrow over the subtle dig, but then a gleam appears as he picks up the glass before him, taking a drink as his eyes remain on mine. He then lifts a hand and flags the bartender as he sets his glass back on the table.
The bartender immediately appears at my side, his eyes expectant.
“Water please. A napkin and pen as well,” I tell him, keeping my tone light.
The bartender nods and moves away.
When my eyes return to Del Toro’s, I find that he’s watching me with a keen alertness. “You’re causing quite a stir back in Chicago,” he comments.
I don’t rise to the bait. This isn’t the place to discuss what I’m willing to offer and what I expect in return. Tonight’s about gaining his attention and proving that I’m not under my father’s control.
When I don’t reply, his eyes turn to steel. “Let’s quit with the games. Why are you here Miss Herrera?”
Before I can respond, the bartender is back with my water. He sets a napkin beneath the glass before placing a pen beside it. I look up at the bartender and smile. “Thank you.”
Once he returns to his station at the private bar, I move aside the glass and slide the napkin closer. I pick up the pen and write down all the information Del Toro will need. I can feel his eyes on me, undoubtedly displeased that he’s not in full control of this conversation.
When I’m finished, I place the pen back on the table’s glossy surface and fold the napkin in half, holding it out to him. “This is a peace offering of sorts.”
He makes no move to accept it. “You’re far from home, Miss Herrera. I think you’re forgetting that you’ve put yourself in a delicate situation, one that I could easily take advantage of.” His gaze drops to the napkin I am still holding before lifting back to mine. “You are in no position to be handing out peace offerings.”
His reaction is just as I’d expected. This underworld we both exist in doesn’t allow for women to hold power—unless they’re on their backs beneath a man.
Chauvinistic pigs.
If I had any interest in running a cartel, I’m certain I could give these men a run for their money, but I’m not. I want out, and Del Toro’s the key to my freedom.
After deliberately setting the folded napkin on the tabletop, inches from his hand, I give him a pointed look. “I’m fully aware of my situation, which is why I didn’t enter your territory without a means to ensure my safety.”
His eyebrow lifts slightly, and amusement lurks in the depths of those icy, bottomless eyes. “Is that so?”
Slowly, the corners of my lips tilt upwards, and I watch as his eyes track the movement. “You have a mole in your organization. One that you’ve allowed far too close,” I reveal.
His expression doesn’t change, refusing to believe that one of his own has betrayed him. “You’re wasting my time, Miss Herrera.”
Checkmate, bastard.
He’s right where I want him.
I smile pleasantly. “Remember that when you search me out with questions about my peace offering.” I rise to my feet, eyes cool. “I’d say it’s been pleasant, but we both know otherwise.”
As I walk away, no one prevents me from leaving. I can feel Del Toro’s eyes burning into my back, but his guard at the stairs allows me to pass by. I make my way unhurriedly down the steps and throughout the club, aware that I’m likely being followed.
Once outside the club, I flag a cab and let it whisk me away to the five-star hotel where I’ve secured the presidential suite. I’d paid with cash so as not to let my whereabouts be traced. Parting with the large sum had been discouraging since I hadn’t saved as much as I’d hoped by the time I’d made my escape. I still have enough to live off comfortably, but the presidential suite was a necessity that I couldn’t forgo. Del Toro’s men won’t be able to infiltrate the hotel without gaining attention, and I’m hoping that this won’t end with myself being taken against my will. I’m well aware that the man doesn’t soil his public image, and he takes care not to bring attention to his nefarious business ventures. If he makes a move against me, it’ll be in private—hence the public confrontation.
As the elevator carries me up to the presidential suite, I smile to myself. It won’t be long before Nikolas Del Toro will be requesting my time, and he’s going to do it with great reluctance. It’ll sting his pride knowing he’s fallen into my plans, but a man like himself needs to be taken down a peg or two. And even after our terms of negotiation have been laid out, he still won’t have the advantage that he’ll expect.
It’s impossible to have power over your opponent if they aren’t afraid of
death. I’ve faced it once, and I’m not afraid to stare it down once more.
* * *
I’ve never been in love…until now.
Boys have come and gone, and my heart has been broken more than once, but Zac Chandler has broken down my barriers and made a place for himself that I quit denying months ago.
As his green eyes meet mine from across the room, a slow burning heat simmers within their depths. An answering heat uncoils in my belly. We’re at a college bar with a few of our friends, but neither of us have ever been much into partying. We both prefer quieter establishments where we can actually carry on a conversation.
I set aside my drink as Zac wanders over to my side, his warm hand settling on my hip as his lips brush my ear. “I can think of better things to do with our time,” he says over the music.
His words bring a smile to my lips as I turn in his arms and look up at him. He’s a good-looking man with short, tousled blond hair and a face that probably appears in plenty of college girls’ fantasies. Not only is he hot in that rugged jock way, but he has the kind of personality that draws people to him. He’s easy to be around, and his sense of humor is priceless.
I’m so in love with him.
We’d started out as friends last year, and slowly, that friendship developed into more. Our relationship hasn’t been easy. His ex was a problem at first, and then my father, of all people, tried to pay off Zac to leave me. What kind of father offers five-hundred thousand dollars to his daughter’s boyfriend to break up with her? I’d confronted my father over the phone, but all he’d said was that he wanted me focused on my studies. I’d told him to go to hell.
Something’s not right with that situation, but all I can focus on is the fact that I mean more to Zac than half a million. He is the most genuine, kind-hearted person I have ever known. He sees me for who I am and knows that I’m not the spoiled rich girl that people assume me to be. He knows my vulnerabilities, and he loves me more for them.
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