by K. Webster
The man smirks and it boils my blood. “I don’t fucking share,” I growl out before I pistol-whip him upside the head. “And I’m not your brother.”
Brie sits perched on the arm of the couch with her dark eyebrows furrowed together. She glares at Rafe tied to a kitchen chair I dragged in here. Blood drips from his brow, where I’ve hit him. He still hasn’t come to. The fierceness rippling from her is so thick in the air, you could cut it.
“Did you have to knock him out, Daddy?” Her brown eyes cut to mine and irritation flickers in them. She may have her mother’s features, but the look in her eyes is all mine. I’ve seen it a thousand times in the mirror.
“I don’t trust him,” I grumble. Walking over to him, I grab a handful of his black hair and yank his head back. “Wake up, asshole.”
His eyes slowly blink open, confusion twisting his features. When his eyes lock onto my daughter’s, he smiles. If I didn’t think she’d beat my ass, I’d knock him out again. “Hey, Brie. Remember me?”
She stiffens and tears her gaze from his. Her fingers twist together. I can tell he makes her anxious and that makes me really fucking anxious.
“You have exactly three minutes to make that look on her face disappear, punk,” I snap. “Get to talking real fast.” I release his hair and sit down in the chair beside him, my gun casually pointed at his head.
He side-eyes the gun before looking at her with a less confident expression. “Brie. You may not remember me, but I came here once when you two were first married. Remember, you went and fetched us the blow?”
She squints her eyes at him. “I remember there being several men there but I’m not sure.”
He frowns. “Do you remember getting high out of your mind on Ex at the restaurant? I drove you two home that night.”
My blood boils that her asshole husband gave her drugs. I’m glad the prick is dead.
“I thought you looked familiar. The name is familiar, though. Duvan did speak highly of you,” she murmurs. “My dad says Oscar sent you? Why isn’t he answering my calls?”
Rafe lets out a sigh. “Duvan and Heath left a mess for little Ozzy and Camilo. With Esteban hiding who the fuck knows where, they’ve got their hands full trying to keep control of their operation. Oscar has made it known, though, that I am to protect you and to get you out of Bogotá as soon as possible.”
Brie’s eyes flit over to mine, questions dancing in her eyes. She’s eighteen goddamned years old, for crying out loud. This isn’t something a woman her age should be dealing with. I’m keen on the idea of getting her the hell out of this country. I can protect her better on my own soil.
“My dad,” she tells him, “and you, for that matter, can keep me safe from Esteban. I’m not leaving until I’ve settled my husband’s assets. I owe it to him.” She bites down on her bottom lip and her eyes become watery. “Did Oscar mention anything about Duvan’s body? Did they bury him or cremate him?” Her shaking hand finds her necklace and she fingers his ring that sits on it.
He shrugs. “He just said that he had his men take care of things in Venezuela. I didn’t ask much else. But, Brie, I was serious. We need to get you out of here. You’re a target now that Duvan’s gone. Diego wants that factory and—”
Holding her hand up, she nods her head. “Good. Set up a meeting with him.”
Both Rafe and I growl at the same time. “What?”
Her eyes dart between us. She straightens her back and presses her lips together in a firm line. Then, she speaks in a calm tone. “If he wants it, I’ll sell it to him. All the product, the building, the territory.”
“He wants to take it,” Rafe snarls. “Not buy it.”
She stands and crosses her arms over her chest before leveling him with a glare. “You worked for Duvan, did you not?”
He nods.
“So now you work for me. Set it up. He’ll buy it or he won’t get it all. I’ll sell it to Camilo if he’s not interested.”
Rafe shakes his head in vehemence. “Little girl, you don’t understand. That operation is Camilo’s. Duvan just ran things. You can’t fucking sell a territory out from under a cartel king pin. You just don’t understand!”
His tone is pissing me right the fuck off. I’m about to shut his ass up when Brie snaps.
“I understand things clearly. That building,” she bites out, “legally belongs to my husband. I have the paperwork to prove it. I also have the paperwork he had me sign that puts me as a co-owner. Same goes for his house. His land. His money. It’s mine. And, as a result, so is this territory. Duvan and I spent many late nights discussing his business. He always wanted me to rule with him. I wasn’t just some trophy wife. Camilo receives a cut. That’s it. When I sell it, Camilo will get his cut as pre-negotiated. Now, you can either help me, and honor your friend and employer’s wishes or you can disobey a direct order.” She stands directly in front of him with her hands on her hips. The anger emanating from her is hot like a flash fire. If he’s not careful, he’s going to get burned. “I have no qualms about having my father take you out back and punish you for insubordination. Do you remember how Duvan dealt with those who were against him?”
Rafe’s shoulders hunch in defeat. “You don’t have to kill me, little princess. But just remember this discussion when Diego has his knife at your throat. When he steals everything you once owned. Including your life.”
Brie doesn’t flinch. I’m about three seconds from disemboweling him in her living room but I hold back, just barely.
“My life was stolen last week when I tried to hold my dying husband’s throat closed. It drained away along with his blood. Diego can’t take anything from me that hasn’t already been taken.” She darts her gaze over to the clock. “Set up a meeting for tomorrow. Tell him I’m not here to play games. I’m here to do business.”
OF COURSE THE FIRST time I see Duvan’s building would be after he’s dead. He won’t be there to show me around. It’ll just be the three of us. Me, Daddy, and Rafe. Once we realized Rafe wasn’t there to hurt me, we untied him. He’s much like Duvan was in the fact that he worries over everything. These guys are full of heart. They may be hardened coke kings but they’re soft inside.
Diego actually agreed to meet with me. Rafe suspects a trap. Daddy wants to murder everyone. And I just want to do what Duvan would have wanted. He would have wanted me to sell his assets and get the hell back to California. My safety was always his primary concern.
We pull up to a gigantic metal building, probably forty thousand square feet in size, located on the outskirts of town not far from the house. Several employees’ cars are lined up in the grass outside. Rafe assured me business continued on as usual in Duvan’s absence despite him being in Venezuela with me. They will have learned of his death by now but won’t try anything stupid. The punishment for stealing or trying to con your boss is death. End of story. Most of the people working in the coke warehouse are fathers and mothers. People simply doing their job to provide for their family. At first, I’d wanted to judge them. Being a spoiled girl from the US, I secretly scoffed and thought they were terrible people.
Until I realized it was how Duvan provided for his family. With Duvan, it didn’t seem as bad. Just like the many times I’d partaken in his drugs. It simply didn’t seem like the dirty drug world I’d learned about. It was different.
“Who’s the guy with the assault rifle strapped to his chest?” my dad questions from the back seat.
“There are seven more guys like him surrounding the property. Duvan always had proper security, but after what happened with Esteban, he upped it. They’re here for our safety,” Rafe assures me before climbing out of the car.
Dad and I follow after him. I’d not bothered to dress fancy for this guy. I’m wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a fitted white tank with a pair of tennis shoes. My hair, which has gotten a little longer, is pulled into a messy bun. I’ve gone without makeup too. This Diego character will have to get over it.
Rafe sp
eaks in Spanish to the scary looking guy with the big gun. But after a long gaze at my father and I, the man motions for us to go inside. Once in the door, we pass by a room lined with glass windows. Inside, more men with guns stand guard as people undress until they’re naked. They hand them uniforms to wear. After they’re dressed, they disappear through a door which must lead somewhere else in the factory.
I pick up my pace to keep up with Rafe. He strides along the hallway at a breakneck speed. Dad takes up the rear. When we come to an office door at the end of the hallway, Rafe uses a key to unlock it. He ushers us inside.
As soon as I enter, my heart drops to the floor. The room smells of Duvan’s lingering cologne which causes a pang in my chest. I inhale his familiar scent with deep gulps of air. I’m desperate to lock his scent up inside of me and never exhale.
“Have a seat,” Rafe says and motions to Duvan’s chair.
I walk over to the expensive leather desk chair and plop down. There aren’t any pictures, which I’m sure is for my protection, but when I wiggle his mouse, there is a picture of us saved to his desktop.
It was from one of the times when we first got together and I was high as a kite on blow. His tatted up arm is draped across my tits. I can almost recall exactly how he felt at that moment. Soft yet so strong. In the picture, his lips are to my ears, telling me naughty secrets. My eyes are almost black with dilation and my lips are parted with desire.
“How much time do we have?” I question, swallowing down my emotion.
Rafe flicks his gaze to his watch. “Forty-five minutes or so. Knowing Diego, he’ll show up late to make a statement.”
I give him a clipped nod. “Can you show my dad the place? I’m going to look through Duvan’s computer a bit. I want to make sure I’m ready for Diego.”
Rafe lets out an annoyed sigh but nods. “Sure. But here,” he says and pulls out a handgun, slapping it on the desk in front of me. “It’s loaded and ready to go. Just point and pull the trigger if anyone so much as looks at you wrong.”
My eyes dart over to Daddy’s. He merely nods in agreement. I’m still staring at the gun long after they’ve gone. If Duvan were here, he’d probably take me out back and show me how to shoot it.
Thinking about the could have beens is depressing. Focusing on the task at hand, I type in Duvan’s password and begin rummaging through his files. I make sure to email myself any and all pictures of the two of us he has saved before I do anything else.
Soon, I become engrossed in his notes, his documents, and his calendar. I send myself anything of importance and delete everything. Before I leave, I’ll have Rafe destroy the hard drive, though, just to be safe.
A rap on the door startles me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I chirp, a little too cheerful for a cartel queen. I do manage to pull the gun into my lap to hide it away in case it is anyone besides Rafe or Dad.
The door swings open and in strides a man. A scary yet handsome man. Black suit. Near black hair slicked back. Silvery scars crisscrossing all over his cheeks and forehead. His cheeks are smooth shaven and he wears a distinguished goatee that’s been groomed neatly. When his pale brown eyes meet mine, a black eyebrow arches up in surprise.
“You must be Duvan’s little play thing,” he says smoothly.
I don’t see any weapons in his possession, but I’m not stupid. I clutch the gun under my desk and expel a ragged breath. Three men file into the room behind him. All intimidating. Dangerous looking. All scowling.
“He preferred the term wife. You must be Dora’s cousin,” I grit out.
He regards me in confusion. “Who the hell is Dora?”
“Forget it,” I utter. “Diego Gomez?”
He straightens his tie and saunters over to the desk. I motion for him to sit. His eyes are all over my body, sizing me up. Once he decides I’m not a threat, he waves at his men. “Outside.”
They don’t argue. They step out and leave me alone with this slimeball.
“I must say, cariño,” he utters as he drops down into the chair across from me, “you’re not at all what I expected. You’re nothing but a little girl.”
My hackles rise and I straighten my back. “I’m little, I’ll give you that.” My voice drops to a whisper. “But you have no idea who I am or what I’m made of.”
The threat hangs in the air as Diego scrutinizes me. After a long moment, he lets out a boisterous laugh that echoes off the walls. “Fucking adorable is what you are.” He stands and begins nosily walking around the office. Touching artwork on the wall. Running his fingertip along the mahogany of the desk. Tipping over a binder on the back credenza behind me. I remain frozen in my spot. My hand sweats from holding the gun and I fear I’m going to have to use it. When he swivels the chair around, I let out a squeak of surprise. His strong hand finds my throat and he lifts me easily to my feet.
“You don’t threaten me, bitch,” he spits out, his eyes flickering with rage. “I’ll fuck you over this desk like the useless whore you are. I take what I want, cariño.”
With a growl, I shove the loaded gun against his hard dick. “Back it up before I make you my bitch.”
His eyes widen in shock and he releases me. Slowly, he steps backward. As soon as he’s stepped out of my reach, I glare at him. “I’m here to do business, asshole. Not let you take what belongs to me. Are you interested or am I selling to Camilo?”
He swallows and his body ripples with anger. “You’re fucking feisty, bitch.”
“Call me bitch again and I’m going to unload every bullet I’ve got into your cock and sorry ass balls,” I snap. “Are we doing business or what?”
“I came here expecting to slap a whore around and instead, I meet you. No wonder Duvan gave his nuts to you. You probably fuck like a wild beast.” His light brown eyes fall to my chest and he smirks. “I’d certainly like to have a go to see if I’m right.” Despite having a loaded gun pointed at his junk, he’s sporting a very large hard-on.
“Dream on, dick,” I mutter. “How much are you offering?”
He rolls his eyes, as if I’m the annoying one here. He’s the one who thinks he can stroll in, slap me around, fuck me, and then take what he wants. Over my dead body. “Three million pesos.”
I almost laugh at him. I may be young and way out of my league and totally American, but I am not fucking stupid. “Nice try. We’re talking good ‘ol US dollars here. Not pesos. You and I both know this is worth a helluva lot more than a measly hundred grand.”
His eyes widen in surprise once again. For a drug king, he sure does a piss poor job of hiding his thoughts. “I see. What did you have in mind?”
I know he wants me to throw out some over-the-top number as if I have no idea what I’m talking about. But I do. I’ve spent days learning of his properties, the value of the coke based on the amount we have in production, and all of his other assets.
“Twelve million.”
His laugh is so loud that one of his men peeks in briefly to check on us. Once he closes the door and Diego sees I’m not kidding, his laughter dies. “No fucking lie. You are as smart as you are sexy. You sure you don’t want to let Daddy Diego fuck your tight cunt. I’ll put a ring on your finger if that makes you happy. What’s one more wife?”
Bile rises in my throat, and I wish I’d have eaten more this morning than the two pieces of buttered toast. As soon as I get to California, I’m going to need to see a doctor to make sure I’m taking care of this baby properly.
“I don’t want your dick,” I tell him softly. “I just want your money.”
He smirks. “You sure you don’t want to be one of my wives? You sure as hell act like them.”
I cringe wondering what it must be like married to this man. At least Duvan was good to me. He loved me and tried desperately to keep the dark parts of his business out of my sight.
“Twelve million. I want it wired to this account.” I slide a handwritten piece of paper toward him. When he grabs my wrist, I have the ur
ge to shoot him in the head, but I don’t have to. He’s simply inspecting my tattoo.
“Ten,” he counters and lets go of my hand. Respect flickers in his eyes. I’m not some whore. I loved Duvan. He was my husband, and I won’t let his hard work be stolen from us.
“Twelve, Diego.”
His eyes flit to my chest. “Twelve and a blow job.”
I roll my eyes. “No.”
“Eleven and I see your tits.”
“Jesus, you’re a pig.”
“You make me hard as fuck, cariño. I’m not leaving without seeing those pretty nipples.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You can forget it. Do we have a deal?”
He stands and reaches his hand across the desk. “Let me smell your cunt and the money is yours.”
I gape at him for one long moment of hesitation, and it’s a terrible mistake. He grabs me by the elbow in a brutal grip. His other hand is fast as he wrenches the weapon from my hand. With a growl, he drags me over the desk and papers hit the floor. I attempt to claw at him but before I know it, he has me twisted and pushed over the desk with both wrists in his grip. The mahogany is cold against my cheek.
“Help!” I cry out.
His laughter is cold. “My men have your men. Cariño, it’s just us now.”
Tears roll out when he presses his hardened cock against my ass. My wrists are locked in his strong hand and he uses the other one to stroke my hair. He fucking pets me like I’m a cat.
“So soft,” he says with a growl.
“Please don’t rape me,” I beg. “I’m pregnant.”
His grip on my hands loosens. “With Duvan’s child?”
“Of course,” I snarl.
He fingers a strand of my hair and gives it a gentle tug. “You’d be such a pleasure to tame.”
“Please don’t.”
I’m so sure he’s going to rape me that I start to mentally check out. I remain completely still for what feels like forever, praying to God he doesn’t fuck me. But he doesn’t fuck me. He just keeps me trapped as if I’m the pet he never was allowed to have as a child. I shiver when he presses a kiss to the back of my skull.