“While you destroy my father, I expect to be under your protection as an ally, not a prisoner. And when this is all over, I want out,” I say steadily. “I want a new life overseas and no contact from you ever again.”
He leans back in his seat, exuding a calmness that I’m not feeling inside. “What makes you think I’ll uphold my end of the deal?”
“Your cartel is based on loyalty, and you honor your contracts unless you’ve been given good reason to renege on them. It’s how you became so powerful so fast.”
He remains silent, and I can tell he’s thinking.
“You’re probably wondering what’s to stop you from simply taking the information I have,” I speculate.
“The thought crossed my mind,” he doesn’t bother to deny. His eyes harden with calculation. “This meeting is an illusion, Miss Herrera. The moment you stepped foot in my territory, you became mine. You’re still breathing because I allow it. You’re sitting here because I allow it.”
“I’m not yours, and you’ll get the information in increments depending on how our contract is progressing,” I tell him, choosing not to rise to the bait.
His lips tilt slightly in the corners as he all but smirks at me. “You’re not as strong as you think. Everyone has their breaking point.”
I lean forward as if I’m going to share a secret and look him dead in the eye. “Torture won’t work on me.”
Now the bastard smirks.
His reaction has me settling back in my seat, and I calmly remove the watch on my left wrist before slipping off the cuff bracelet on my right. My stomach drops over using my moment of inconsolable grief to prove a point, but it has to be done. I reveal the one-inch vertical scars slicing across the veins in both my wrists.
The first week after Zac’s death, I hadn’t been able to face living life without him. I was weak and so grief stricken that I’d taken a blade to my wrists. It was only after I’d done the deed that I’d realized what a terrible mistake I was making. Taking my life meant Zac’s death was for nothing, and worse, I’d be disappointing him. He would want me to move on and would be devastated if I did something so drastic. He would want me to maintain his memory, to use our memories to draw solace from. So I’d called for help and had remained in this world. Then, when I’d learned my father was behind his death, I’d begun to focus on avenging Zac.
Del Toro blinks when he sees the scars, and I’m pleased that I’ve taken him by surprise.
“You see, I’ve been willing to meet death before, and I’m willing to dance with him again should you betray me,” I warn him.
His eyes lift to mine, and a heavy silence briefly settles over us. “What’s to stop me from simply killing you when you’re no longer useful?” he asks bluntly.
“Your negotiating tactics are appalling,” I say dryly.
He shrugs. “I don’t give false assurances.”
Strangely enough, I admire his honesty. “You’re a man of your word, and as long as I give you no reason to turn on me, you will uphold your end of the deal. You run your cartel by a code of honor, and you expect the same in return from those you associate with. I did my research, Mr. Del Toro. The way you conduct the operation of your cartel is the reason I approached you first.”
His brow cocks with amusement. “You have no proof that I’ve never broken the code.”
“Then I’m dead either way,” I say matter-of-factly. “I won’t survive a marriage to Miguel Navarez, and I will forever have a target on my back.”
His eyes bore into mine. “Is taking down your father worth your life?”
“Yes.”
He takes a drink of his scotch as he thinks over our conversation. “You seem quite certain that the information you have is secure.”
“It’s quite safe,” I assure.
He looks unconvinced.
“It’s all in my head. Everything,” I say, bracing for his reaction.
His features slowly darken as he carefully sets down his glass, his eyes beginning to simmer. “You don’t have the information that you claim,” he says ominously.
I release an inward sigh. “It’s memorized. Is it that difficult to believe?”
“When you claim to have an entire cartel’s structural and internal workings memorized, yes,” he says with scary emphasis. He looks like he’s ready to throttle me.
“Test me,” I challenge.
His voice is low and flat as he warns, “You’re on thin ice, Miss Herrera.”
“Give me something to memorize—something an average person wouldn’t be able to recall,” I suggest, knowing that I need to turn this conversation around—fast.
He looks like he’s close to bailing on this meeting. “This is absurd.”
I remain calm as my gaze remains fastened on his. “Absurd or not, this conversation can’t move forward until you believe me. I can prove my memorization skills without giving you the vital information that I hold.”
His patience is clearly hanging by a thread as he calmly adjusts the watch on his wrist. He’s debating whether to humor me or not.
“What do you have to lose? An extra five minutes of your time?” I ask with a hint of challenge.
His eyes slide to the man sitting at the table to the left of ours. “Tomàs, find her something to memorize,” he says drolly.
We watch as he rises to his feet and exits the cocktail lounge, disappearing from sight. A heavy silence ensues until the man—Tomàs—returns and hands Del Toro the restaurant’s menu.
He scans the four pages before passing the menu book to me. The look in his eyes warn me that if I can’t prove my worth, I’ll be wishing I’d never stepped foot in his territory.
Fortunately, I’m more than confident I can rise to the challenge. I’d learned early on in school that my memory could almost be called photographic. It’s easy for me to study something and then recall it in detail at a later date.
The menu is four pages long and filled with various selections. I’ve just barely finished reading the last page when Del Toro plucks the menu from my hands and places a pen and paper before me.
I pick up the pen and glance at Tomàs. “I’ll need more paper,” I murmur before bending my head and re-writing the menu along with the prices. I’m extremely good with numbers, which was why I’d been majoring in accounting.
Five minutes later, I hand two sheets of paper to Del Toro and patiently wait. He takes his time comparing my lists to the menu. His expression remains indifferent, but I know I’ve nailed the challenge. A minute later, he sets the papers down. “Point made.”
“Like I said, I will give you the information in increments to ensure that I have your cartel’s protection,” I reiterate.
“I will not allow you on my estate,” he clips out.
“Perfect, because I don’t want to be there. While I’m in Los Angeles, I have every intention of living my life as I see fit without anyone else’s input. Including yours. My personal life is just that, personal. All I ask from you and your cartel is protection.”
“That can be done.” His eyes turn purposeful. “And now for my terms,” he says deliberately.
This is exactly what I’d been concerned about, but I’m willing to hear him out.
“You may have the information, but my cartel will be executing how it’ll be used. That means how I dismantle Herrera will be up to me, not you.”
My eyes narrow. Just when I think I’m past one hurdle, another one arises. I’d known there’d be things to iron out before the deal was made, but I’d expected it to be pretty cut and dry by the time we reached this point.
“I have every intention of destroying him,” Del Toro continues as if sensing my indecision. “But it’ll be on my terms. You’ve done your research, you know what I’m capable of.”
He’s right. “Agreed,” I say as much as it pains me.
His expression shifts back to his usual impassive mask. “I expect the information you have to be vital to Herrera and his organization. Shoul
d it not meet my expectations, I will deliver you to Miguel Navarez trussed up in nothing but a scarlet bow,” he says bluntly, the threat in his tone very real.
I look at him with exasperation. “That defeats the entire purpose of this meeting.”
His eyes glint dangerously. “You’ve already stated that death doesn’t scare you. But I do believe that being condemned to a life with your fiancé does.”
Shit. So much for not giving away too much. I’d known that if I slipped up in any way, he would use it against me.
“We’ll begin tonight,” he announces, taking full control of the conversation.
“Pardon?” I ask, still a little rattled from his threat.
“Herrera needs to know you’re here. With me.”
I frown with confusion. “What’s the point?”
“Humiliation,” he explains simply. “If he can’t keep his own daughter under control, how can he be trusted to control his lieutenants and soldiers. Furthermore, when it becomes known that his daughter is sleeping with the enemy, he becomes the fool among his associates.”
I fix him with a look of disapproval. “Embarrassing him shouldn’t even be considered a priority. I’ll give you everything you need to ruin him.”
His eyes burn into mine. “Dishonor is just the beginning to destroying him. I’m going to peel back every layer that man has, beginning with his egotism. You will play the part tonight or until I deem otherwise,” he instructs with a stern command in his voice.
“I won’t play your whore,” I reply flatly.
“You will, because this is how his downfall will begin. Francisco Navarez will not appreciate you making his son look pathetic for not being able to control his own fiancée. That’ll in turn cause a crack of dissention within the foundation of his relationship with Herrera. One is only as strong as those that have your back.”
“If this is just a ploy—”
“To what?” he cuts in. “Bend you to my will? To get you in my bed?” He looks amused. “You’re overestimating your uses. I will bend you to my will, because if we’re in this together, you will need to adhere to my terms—just as I to yours. As for sex, it’s never far from my reach, and I have no need to pursue someone for it. Any intimacy between us is for show only so word can get back to Herrera. You are just a means to his end, Miss Herrera,” he says cuttingly.
I stare hard at him as my jaw clenches with anger and resentment. We’re after the same thing, but I won’t cater to his ego. Again, he’s underestimating me. There’s also something in his gaze that hints that this is personal. Any other cartel would want to end my father and reap the immediate benefits, not make him suffer first.
I sense there’s a lot more going on than I’m aware of.
Four
Nikolas
“She can’t be trusted,” Santos insists, his voice clipped as he switches to fluid Spanish. He typically does this when he’s frustrated or angry.
I adjust the cufflink on my sleeve and glance at him. We’re in my private quarters as I prepare for this evening’s charade. “I’m aware, and precautions will be taken.”
“We can take Herrera down without this hoax,” Santos counters.
If he were anyone else, I would have dismissed him already, and quite possibly from the organization. I don’t take well to others questioning my motives. However, I’ve known Santos since we were teens. We’ve been through much together, including saving each other’s asses when we’d had targets on our backs while fleeing New York.
Out of everyone in my life, I value Santos and his opinions above all else. That doesn’t mean I’m amenable to his arguments. I will listen and keep an open mind, but that’s as much as he can expect from me. We didn’t come this far with him making the decisions. No, I brought us to where we are today, and he knows that.
I hold his gaze and switch to Spanish, acknowledging how he feels about Herrera’s daughter. “We vowed we would make Herrera pay someday, and that day has arrived. It’s too easy to simply destroy his organization, we need to destroy everything that man is,” I say calmly.
Santos walks over, scrubbing a hand across his jaw. “We do this to honor Manny, yes. But involving the daughter and flaunting her on a personal level can cause cracks in your plan. You can’t control her, Nikolas. She’s a wildcard.”
“She can be controlled, just as anyone else,” I say smoothly.
I’m looking quite forward to the challenge. She has fire running through her veins, and I find myself a bit intrigued. Most women are easily influenced, and those that have challenged me in the past have only done so in bed. Outside of the bedroom, none have dared to be so forthright.
I also don’t take well to being tested or underestimated. She thinks she has the advantage because she holds the information I need, but I’m going to prove otherwise. That cool facade she wore earlier is just that, a mask to hide the real woman beneath—and I’m quite certain there’s a temperamental passionate woman hidden within. If she can hold onto her poised self-control, that means I’m not getting under her skin. And if I can’t wedge myself beneath that barrier, I can’t control her.
Santos is right, she’s a wildcard, and that makes her incredibly dangerous. Her actions here in my territory are pertinent to taking Herrera down, and if she doesn’t play by my rules, that leaves cracks in my plan. Cracks that Herrera could slip through.
My expression hardens.
Tonight will be about laying the ground work and showing her that the advantage she thinks she has is nothing but an ambitious illusion.
Five
Catalina
As I prepare myself for the upcoming evening, I am conscious of Del Toro’s security standing just outside my suite door. He’d assigned me Tomàs, and he’s stoically remained in the hall since I’d left the meeting earlier.
I glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and make a face. I was informed—yes, informed—which still has me grinding my teeth, that Tomàs would be bringing me to the club this evening.
“I feel like a whore,” I mumble as I adjust the fabric along my hip. It isn’t the clothing that makes me feel this way. The jumpsuit is quite expensive and screams sophistication. It’s the fact that I’m supposed to pretend I’m sleeping with Del Toro that makes me feel like I’m selling myself to the Devil. This was never supposed to be part of the agreement, and I hadn’t seen it coming. Unfortunately, denying Del Toro what he wants would put a wrench in our arrangement. There are compromises to be made, and this one is on me.
Pretending to be interested in him is minor in the grand scheme of things, I’ll admit that. The problem is that I’m doing this for Zac. To pretend being involved with another man feels like a betrayal, and I’m struggling greatly with the idea. Sure, Del Toro is attractive. I grimace. Major understatement. The man is downright sexy and all alpha. Just the sight of him can send a woman’s libido into overdrive.
Not mine, though, I quickly amend. My heart and body still belong to Zac. I’m not ready to let another man touch my body or get close to my heart. Maybe someday, but certainly not anytime soon.
I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale. I can do this, I tell myself. Del Toro is just a stranger that I have to pretend I like. No more than that. I don’t actually have to sleep with him, and I can feign interest without getting too close.
Piece of cake.
I give myself one more passing glance in the mirror, inspecting the jumpsuit. I didn’t want it to appear that I was trying too hard, so I chose a black jumpsuit instead of a dress. It needs to be apparent that I view this as a business arrangement, and yet the suit is still sexy enough to fit into the club environment. The top is a halter with a plunging neckline that flaunts a hint of cleavage, but not too much. The material is sparkly and forms to my upper body, showing off the curves of my breasts and my small waist while the smooth, black trousers swing loosely around my legs. Silver, strappy high heels complete the look. Because the atmosphere will be casual, I’ve left my hair down a
nd put on minimal makeup except for my scarlet red lips.
I’m ready to face the Devil.
* * *
During the limousine ride from the hotel to the club, Tomàs sits across from me in complete silence. He doesn’t seem to like me, or maybe it’s just the rigid demeanor he emanates. If he’d smile just a little, he would probably be quite handsome. Instead, his lips are pressed in a straight line, and his dark brown eyes give nothing away as to what he’s thinking. The man appears to be impeccable, and it makes my fingers itch to muss up his ash brown hair just to get a rise out of him.
I’m distracted when the limo comes to a stop, and when the driver opens the limo door, Tomàs fluidly exits the vehicle and adjusts the blue blazer he’s wearing, giving me a glimpse of the gun holster beneath. Then, he politely leans in and holds a hand out to me.
I am dreading this evening, but I paste a courteous expression on my face and accept his hand as I ease out of the limo. We’d been brought to the back entrance, and two of the club’s security flank us on either side until we enter the building and step into a corridor. The walls are painted a pale gray, the flooring a black lacquer. Track lights are embedded into the ceiling above, shining softly down upon us. Muffled bass can be heard from further inside the building.
I glance at Tomàs, whose expression has remained impassive since we’d left the hotel. “I would like to stop at the bar before I meet with Mr. Del Toro,” I tell him as the two security men lead us down the hall.
“There’s a private bar upstairs,” Tomàs informs without looking at me.
I look at him steadily, “Am I not allowed to enjoy the club, or am I being treated like a prisoner? Because if that’s the case, I’m quite certain this goes against the arrangement that was made.”
His lips tighten just a smidgen, indicating that I’d hit a nerve. “We’ll detour briefly,” he agrees.
We break away from the security as he escorts me down a different hall, and my jaw clenches with annoyance. Is every move I make going to be such a struggle? I miss the days when I could go where I wanted on a whim, and it saddens me that those days are long over.
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