After a moment’s hesitation, she rises to her feet and I close my eyes, allowing myself a single moment of grief at the choice I knew she would make. When I open them, she is perched demurely on the edge of the mattress, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with anger at being found out. She knows I’m on to her and that she’s no closer to getting away from me than she was when I subdued her on her front steps.
She lowers her voice and speaks solemnly, “What you’re doing right now—the whole abduction thing -- you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Diego is going to be concerned when I don’t show up for work and he will not overlook or forgive this when he finds out what you’ve done. You know that, right?
“You’re not being realistic here, Santiago,” she continues, agitated. “I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by pissing him off but… Oh, wait a minute,” she says slowly, her jaw dropping as she narrows her eyes at me. “That’s what you want. You’re doing this to piss him off, to get back at him for something. Am I right?!”
I smile serenely, letting my gaze linger on the curves that I nearly touched a moment ago. “I cannot wait until you let me make love to you. Enough of this talking. Enough teasing.”
“Santiago, you are maddening. But I’ve got your number now. This isn’t about me at all. It’s about you and Diego and your testosterone-driven pissing contest that I don’t want to be a part of.”
I ignore her angry words and choose to focus on what I consider to be truly important. “It’s going to be so good when I finally have you under me. Anyone else, I wouldn’t wait, I would just take what I want. But, no, I want your pussy eager and ready for me.”
“Point taken -- not. You’re just not getting it,” she says impatiently. “I tell you what, Santiago…let’s don’t -- and say we didn’t…”
Chapter Thirty Seven
Brook
Diego’s dressed every inch the pimp as he makes the rounds at The Club, chatting with customers and bewitching the women without even trying. His suit is a cross between gray and silver with a subtle sheen. Burgundy Italian leather shoes pull the colors in his designer tie together with his suit. Diego’s easy elegance is deceptive, guaranteeing him the element of surprise if he should decide to slit your throat as you throw back the shot of tequila he has graciously provided.
He approaches me where I stand in the shadows by the bar. His hand slides up my shirt, petting a breast softly as he whispers in my ear, “I’ve always been drawn to blondes but you have changed everything I thought I knew about myself, cara. The more you wrap your talons around my heart, the deeper I’ll dig mine into you.” He brushes his lips against mine. “I’m keeping you, Arroyita."
This guy’s too fucking intense, which explains why his tender words steal the air from my lungs. I’m taken aback by his bluntness and am relieved when I spot Maria’s blue hair bouncing through the crowd toward us. I can tell by the way she’s smacking on her gum that she’s pissed off about something—again. Always trying to put a rift between Diego and his Club women. It never works but she never stops trying.
Diego turns, following the direction of my gaze. He doesn’t bother to hide his irritation at the interruption. “Maria, I swear, if you put half as much energy into actually making money as you do trying to get my girls in trouble, we’d all be rich.”
“You are rich,” I mutter low enough for only him to hear. He cuts his eyes at me and I decide it’s better to mind my own business. When he’s satisfied that I’m done being a smartass, he resumes his chat with Maria – except that she’s been carrying on a conversation all by herself, oblivious to our little exchange; she’s too busy waving her arms around dramatically as she makes her point.
“I mean, really, this has gone way too far, Diego,” she huffs. “These bitches think they can work when they feel like it. They think they’re too good for the real work that goes on around here. They just strip and keep their knees together and chit chat at the tables – and expect the rest of us to pick up the slack in the back rooms. Don’t get me wrong, you know I love my job. But your customers are frustrated.” She goes in for the big finish, hands on hips, chin tilted at a haughty angle. “And I’m exhausted.”
Diego is unmoved by her whining. “The girls choose to go in the back rooms with their clients or they do not, you know that. You are well compensated for the choices you make. Now, I am in the middle of an important conversation and you’ve interrupted me. I do not like being interrupted.” Diego’s warning is a low rumble from deep in his chest. He’s clearly irked but I doubt Maria has the insight to shut up. She proves me right within seconds.
“Then you need to tell Foxy to get her ass into work to free up a couple of the dancers to get down to business.”
“Foxy didn’t show up for her shift?” he asks a little too nonchalantly.
“No sign of her. Guess she has better things to do. And I’m tired of men asking for her every time I offer them a lap dance or some company in the back.”
“So… what you’re saying is that they want her and not you?” Diego has a way of making you wish you had left well enough alone. Then when you’re in too deep to dig your way out, he toys with you.
“Well…yeah, I guess so. I don’t know what she’s got that I don’t.” She pouts prettily and moves in close to him, running her fingertip down the front of his shirt. “I know how much you like my lap dances…” She cuts her eyes at me before looking up at him coquettishly. “It’s been a while and I know I owe you a couple by now. A girl needs to have a real man every now and then. Why don’t you sit down let me make you feel good, daddy? Or let me take care of you in a back room?”
Diego’s eyes flare with anger for an instant before he takes her by the arms and sets her aside like a piece of furniture. “No,” he says quietly, “no more of that.” His voice is firm as he places his hand on my lower back in a blatant show of ownership. “Go find a customer to entertain, Maria. I’ll find out what’s going on with Foxy.”
She looks confused and probably wishes she hadn’t come over here and started bitching. With a hostile glance my way, she complains, “But it’s not fair.”
“I don’t think it’s fair that I ever since I hired you, you complain about doing your job and making me money. The other girls don’t think it’s fair that I haven’t fired your troublemaking ass. Sometimes life isn’t fair, but it’s up to you whether or not your situation becomes unpleasant.”
A long, awkward silence ensues while she looks back and forth between me and Diego, noting that Diego’s hand is still firmly pressing against my lower back. At that, she finally relents. “Fine,” she huffs. “I guess I should get back to work.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Now, go earn your tips.” He takes her by the shoulders and turns her toward the main floor, giving her a gentle push as he says, “Be a good girl and help a customer rub one out until he can’t remember his own name.”
She can’t seem to resist one last comment over her shoulder, just to get my goat. “Well, you taught me everything I know, daddy. You sure you don’t want me to--”
“Maria…” Diego growls impatiently. “No. More. I’m off the market. Get back to work.”
She sashays back to the main floor, on the prowl for a man with a hard dick and money to burn. Within minutes, she’s saddled up on the lap of a middle-aged, balding guy in a cheap, ill-fitting suit. He and his buddies can’t seem to believe his good fortune as she giggles and rubs her pussy over his crotch – as much of his crotch as she can get to with his beer belly in the way -- and pulls his face in close between her oversized melon-tits.
Diego wastes no time directing his full attention back to me, so he misses the needy, over-the-shoulder glance she sends his way as she repeatedly swats her sweaty client’s hands away from her ass.
“Now back to you.”
So much for getting out of the interrogation session.
“Diego, as much as I hate to admit it we should probably liste
n to her. I know she has a penchant for bitching and tries to get the girls in trouble, but…”
“A penchant, hmm? I have a penchant for something too, and it’s you.”
“Well, why don’t you wrap up this interrogation session while we go to Foxy’s house and check on her? She just broke up with her boyfriend and I’m worried that he might be causing problems for her.”
“Foxy can handle herself, don’t you worry. But this isn’t like her. No one has a tougher work ethic than she does; she never misses a shift. But you’re right, I do love to interrogate you. Maybe one day I’ll give you the pleasure of a full-blown, Colombian interrogation and show you how it’s done.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can hardly wait.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Diego
“We work well together.” The moonlight streams in through the passenger window where we’re parked across from Caden’s house. “I had decided to check on her as soon as Maria mentioned Caden hadn’t shown up for work. You and I think a lot alike.”
“I’ve always wanted to do this kind of work. I never thought I’d find a man who’s the real deal rather than a gangster wanna-be.”
“So you’re using me for your adrenaline rush addiction.”
“Would it matter if I did? After all, I’m your property—or say you say.”
“Or so you are. If you didn’t love me I’d just abduct you, you know, and keep you tied up and at my mercy until you did.”
“And they say romance is dead…Well, right now I’m the least of your problems. There’s your problem right there,” I say as I point toward the driveway. “Santiago’s truck is parked in front of Foxy’s house. I know she spends a lot of time with him at work. Are they…involved or something?”
“Hell, no. She never mixes business with pleasure. Once you’re a client, you stay a client. She didn’t invite him here.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because her purse is on the ground by her car, right next to the flat tire that I’m betting wasn’t an accident. And it’s one of those designer purses she loves so much. She would never let it touch the ground. No, the fucker took her down and I’m willing to bet that he’s got her to himself in there.”
“Why in the hell would he keep her in her own house?”
“If you were a guy, would you want to take your dream woman back to that hell hole of a torture house by the river?”
“Yuck, point taken. We’ve got to get her away from him. Do you think he’s going to kill her?”
“If he’s really got her in there, she will have Santiago wrapped around her finger by the time the night is over.”
“How are we going to do this, Diego? How are we going to get her out of there alive? Should we call for help?”
“As much as I want to storm the place and get her the hell away from him, my hands are tied because there’s a cartel peace treaty at stake. I can’t take him out without getting cartel approval first. The fucker’s unstable, obviously, but my gut tells me that he won’t hurt her. He’s too protective of her at The Club, there’s no way he’ll harm a hair on her head. But that doesn’t mean he won’t do something careless or stupid. I need to call in the big guns.”
“The Ramirez brothers?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I might more muscle than that. I prefer to keep Demente working for me behind the scenes, off the radar. But Ricardo has twin boys that are always looking for an opportunity to prove themselves. The oldest one has always been involved in the business, he’s a lot like his father. But the youngest one, Tony, is a wild card, which may be just what we need. He went into the military, wasn’t interested in the family business. After his last deployment to the Middle East, he came home and told his father he wanted a job. He’s a sniper by trade, so Ricardo put him to work. They say there’s nobody who is any better at tracking down an enemy and putting a long-distance bullet in them. He’s a complete badass, a hitman at heart. One of those quiet, unassuming types. You never know he has a bullet with your name on it until it’s too late.
“Tony’s nickname is ‘The Ghost’ because he’s so elusive. He’s taken his military training and applied it to find his place in his father’s cartel business. If we can’t manage to get close enough to Santiago to take him out ourselves, we might need his skills.”
With one last look at Caden’s house, I put the car in gear and pull back onto the street, heading to the Ramirez compound. This conversation needs to be face to face.
The drive to the Ramirez compound is anything but silent, with Brook asking me for background about Santiago.
“The most important thing for you to know is that he’s wanted to fuck her ever since the first time he laid eyes on her. He’s got it bad for that woman.”
“Well, who wouldn’t? I mean look at her. I can’t believe she’s been your best friend for years and you’ve never fucked her.”
“Why ruin a good thing?”
“Sometimes friends to lovers works out.”
“But then you could lose a friend, and I needed one person I could trust in this business. Until now, that’s been Foxy -- I mean, Caden. She doesn’t use her stage name outside The Club. Again, she doesn’t mix business with her personal life. And when it comes to you, I want chemistry. Love. I want it all. A friend, a partner, a lover; someone who understands my need for control and, more importantly, enjoys it. I never found that until I found you, or you found me, as fate would have it.”
We pull up to the security gates and wait to be buzzed in.
“Yeah, well, if I’ve never said thank you—thanks,” Brook says hesitantly. “You…are the first time I’ve ever felt safe. You’re the first time I’ve ever felt connected to anyone, Diego, even my family. I want to be with you, but I don’t like what happened with Maria back at The Club, the way she touched you. I don’t share.”
“I damn sure don’t either.” I lean over, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her toward me. My mouth covers hers in a passionate kiss that sends a message straight to my cock.
I can’t get enough of this woman. I pull away from her, knowing I’m going to start something I can’t finish right now if I don’t put some distance between us. “Don’t worry about Maria or anyone else. There’s no one else. Trust me, Maria will spread the word; she won’t be able to help herself. She’s probably already told everyone that you’re holding my dick hostage.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
Brook
This time when we meet with the Ramirez brothers, it’s at a farm—a fancy farm. Acres of beautifully green fields, bordered by woods, lead us up a long driveway that conceals the main house from nosey neighbors or prying eyes. The large, plantation-style home has clearly been refurbished to the beauty of its heyday, boasting of wrap-around porches on the top and bottom floors. Immaculate flower gardens surround the front along with a beautiful fountain that empties into a koi pond.
Discreetly positioned throughout the property, armed guards watch our progress up the driveway. Other, smaller homes dot the property off in the distance and I figure Ricardo Ramirez has set up a cartel compound of sorts for his whole family.
One of the guards at the main house speaks into an ear piece as we exit the car. I’m sure not one detail is left unreported when it comes to guests of the Ramirez brothers.
A large, round antique table dominates the foyer and is topped with a crystal vase of fresh flowers. We’re escorted up the front steps into a foyer that features double staircases with filigreed, wrought iron railings. The stairs lead to a mezzanine, from which several hallways branch out, most likely leading to offices and the family’s private wing.
A maid greets us and escorts us off to the right into a large sitting room, announcing us before discreetly departing. A bay window allows light to stream in and show off the sage green walls and the antiques that are positioned elegantly around the room.
Ricardo Ramirez stands from his ornate wing chair and greets us. “Welcome. Please, come in.”
“Your home is beautiful, Mr. Ramirez.”
“Thank you, though I do have to give credit where it’s due; my son helped with many of the building plans before he left for the military. We’re pleased to have him back home with us now.”
He nods at a grim, young man seated in a leather club chair in the corner. His legs stretch out in front of him like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Although he has an easygoing manner about him, he has watchful green eyes. His dark blonde hair could use a trim and his five o’clock shadow gives him a sexy, scruffy look.
Unlike a lot of men in the cartel who wear suits, he’s dressed more like he enjoys working the farm, riding horses, and being out in nature. He’s got on jeans and a simple t-shirt that’s tight enough to showcase his muscled body. His military background is easy to discern as he studies the room with a sniper’s eye for details.
Antonio Wayne’s voice cuts through the air as he lays his newspaper aside and stands, coming forward to shake hands with Diego and give me a curt nod. “This must be important for Ricardo to offer up Tony’s expertise. I’ll be perfectly honest with you; I don’t have children of my own. Tony is my namesake. He’s the closest thing I will probably ever have to a son. I. Love. Him. If anything were to happen to him, my anger would be insatiable. I doubt that one of your Club women is worth this kind of drastic action.”
His gaze is filled with contempt as he cuts his eyes over to me. Great, the guy in charge hates me. Perhaps killing Santiago will earn me a little favor with him.
“Uncle, I want to do this.” Tony leans forward in his chair, speaking earnestly to Antonio. “I’m serving no purpose here if you don’t let me do what I’m trained for. I’ve faced far worse than this in combat.”
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