“He’s obsessed with her. He’d do anything to keep her happy. Speaking of obsessed, I’m obsessed too. It’s how I’m wired—it’s how all the Ramirez men are wired. I can’t help it. I have abandonment issues.” He gave her his most endearing pout, as if it would make her feel sorry for him.
“You have mental issues, is what you have.”
“That, too. Good thing I have you to keep me from going crazy.”
“I can’t keep you from going crazy. You went there a long time ago.”
“You’re right. I’m too far gone.” He took the camera from her hands and set it on the wingchair by the window, then pulled her toward the bed as he covered her lips with his. After all the years she’d been with him, every time still felt like the first time. He laid her on the bed and slipped his hand beneath her skirt. “Good girl, no underwear, just like I told you.”
“Yes, sir.” Her body bucked when he slipped a finger inside her.
“Such a dirty girl, getting off on watching them across the street. I think you’re kinkier than you’ve let on. Looks like I have a voyeur on my hands. Should I be jealous?” His voice was the growl of a possessive man not willing to give up any part of his woman. His thumb moved on her clit in small circles as he kept talking. “You’re mine, don’t ever forget that. It could cost someone their life if you do.”
The danger he exuded only added to the illicit excitement of the moment. She of all people knew Antonio Wayne was a force to be reckoned with.
“Come for me, baby.”
Her body obeyed his command like it always did. When it came to her husband, her pussy had a mind of its own. Moments later, her head fell back against the pillows as she struggled to catch her breath after a powerful orgasm. She smiled up at him, sated and happy.
“C’mon,” he said as he smacked the side of her ass. “Time to pack up and get the pictures prepped.”
Roxanne moved over to the window and picked up the camera, then started reaching down for her camera bag. With a frown, she straightened, her eyes narrowing as she looked in the window across the street. “Hmm, now that’s interesting,” she mused. “Did you tell her to empty his pockets and go through his wallet?”
“No, I sure as hell did not,” Antonio Wayne bit out, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Get pictures of that shit.”
Click, click, click.
“What will you do with the information?”
“Give it to Victor, of course.”
“Oh, God…”
“They’ll come in handy someday when he needs to tighten the noose around his woman’s neck. Figuratively, of course. It’s all about leverage, baby.”
Chapter Twenty
Maria was fuming as she stood in front of Diego’s desk with her fists clenched. “It’s not fair! I’m not her!” she snapped, pointing at Brook accusingly. “You can’t tell me what to do like I’m your woman. I’m nobody’s woman.”
Brook felt the need to intervene before these two got into a full-blown fight. “Maria, he’s just trying to protect you.”
“And that’s another thing,” Diego snapped as he rose to his feet. “How the hell did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Oh, I guess that bitch, Caden, ratted me out?”
“No. Her man, Tony, did. You can’t keep secrets around here. You put yourself and every woman here in danger by not telling me you thought you were being followed.”
“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure. It was just a hunch.”
“Doesn’t matter. You still should have told me. We’ve already had one girl killed. Alicia’s murder changed everything. I don’t care if you’re in line at the coffee shop and think the barista’s looking at you funny – I want to know about it.”
“But all I hear is how ‘Maria’s causing trouble again’ or ‘Maria’s stirring shit up’. I didn’t think anyone would believe me anyway.”
Diego closed his eyes and took a deep, long-suffering breath. “Honestly. It’s like having a teenager,” he muttered to himself. He regarded her for a long moment before trying again. “Maria. You do stir shit up, don’t act like you don’t. Alicia may have been new, but she was a member of the Club family and she mattered. Now, you, on the other hand, drive me fucking nuts with the shit you pull, but you matter too. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on. Now you’re on lockdown with everyone else, whether you like it or not. You’ll sleep here at The Club. There are plenty of rooms. Pick one.”
“But I don’t--”
“Do not argue with me!” he bellowed, his face heating as his neck muscles clenched. He was sick of trying to convince her to have some common-damn-sense.
Maria stomped her foot and stormed out of the room. As mad as she was, she knew Diego meant what he said. She would be on lockdown at The Club until they found crazy ass Santiago. She turned around and yelled at the top of her lungs, “You should have killed Santiago when you had the chance, Brook. Thanks a lot!”
Brook winced as she looked at Diego. “She’s right, you know. I should have taken him out while I could. Then we wouldn’t be going through all this unnecessary bullshit.”
“Maybe, but you’d either be in prison or in the ground by now, compliments of the Sinaloans. And what fun would that be?”
“Not much different than being here on lockdown—boring.” Brook slumped down in a chair with her arms crossed, glaring at Diego.
It wouldn’t be the first time all the women in The Club were pissed off at him – probably not the last, either. But they’d get over it, they always did. At least they would be alive to be angry with him in the first place. Their safety came first, always. Non-negotiable. That was just how it had to be, whether they liked it or not.
Santiago had made it clear he was out to make a point to Diego, through any means necessary. Diego agreed with the Ramirez brothers: Santiago was escalating and no one would be safe as long as he was alive.
Chapter Twenty One
“Did you fuck him?” Victor bellowed as he advanced on Valentina, backing her into a corner and jabbing an accusing finger in her face.
“No, I did not fuck him.”
“You sure about that? Because those pictures sure as hell look like it.” He pointed to the 8x10 glossies strewn across the bed as proof of her betrayal.
“They’re pictures of me in lingerie--” she said tentatively, stumbling over her words when his nostrils flared and his neck reddened. “Um, lingerie, yeah…I was just straddling him.” She winced when his jaw clenched, and the words tumbled out of her mouth, “And he was drugged so he probably didn’t even know I was there. Trust me, he wasn’t going to get hard after all the drugs I fed him.” She closed her eyes against the sight of the snarl on his face, knowing that last bit hadn’t helped.
She straightened her back and forced her voice to remain steady as she met his stormy gaze unflinchingly. “I did this for the cartel, Victor. Cartel comes first, always. I did this so your father could buy that television station. This is my job too and there was no way I was going to let the likes of William Briggs ruin my career. You. Are. Not. My. Man. You don’t own me. This obsession you have with me has to end.”
“It will never fucking end. One way or another, I’ll have you. You seem to think you have a fucking choice, but you don’t.”
She was right; Ricardo Victor Ramirez—Ricardo Ramirez’s firstborn—was enthralled with the woman he’d forced to come from Colombia. She was one of the most famous Telenovela stars in the business. Colombia’s celebrity princess. From the moment he’d seen her on television, he’d known he had to have her. Her family had a long history with the Colombian cartel, so when his father had promised Valentina to him in marriage, Victor had made it his mission to make good on that promise. Ricardo had just shrugged and said that he had made the deal, but it was Victor’s job to get her down the aisle and in his bed, in whatever order worked. He was making progress, but she was still resisting the idea of marriage. Come hell or high water,
he was going to get her down the aisle.
He had lured her to the States with promises of making her more famous than she already was or could ever dream of being. He’d paid for her lessons in English, put her up in the guest wing of his house, and, ultimately, taken over her life. He was his father’s son—brutal, methodical, and an over-the-top Alpha male.
“You. Belong. To. Me.” He wrapped a hand around her neck. “The quicker you understand that, the better off you’ll be. You wanted to be a star in America? Well, I’m part of the package. You’ve known that from the start. You, Valentina, are going to be my wife and the mother of my children. If I have to drag your ass down the aisle, I will.”
“I don’t doubt you will, you fucking Neanderthal.”
He slid his hand around to grip her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her head back. He grazed his teeth up and down the length of her neck, biting down when he landed on the sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. She shuddered and leaned into him, and hated herself for it.
“Fight the attraction all you want, but by the time I’m done with you you’ll be begging me to give you this cock,” he said as he pressed his erection against her. “I don’t care what your head is telling you, your body is what I hear talking to me. It always betrays you to my touch. It must be maddening to be the slave of a man you hate. But there’s nothing like a good, angry, hate fuck to take the edge off, you’ll see. Oh, and one more thing,” he said with a smug smile. “You’re a little thief. We caught you on camera stealing Brigg’s money from his wallet.”
“Oh, please, don’t be so sanctimonious, we both know you’ve done far worse than that. I had to let that asshole believe he actually had a shot at fucking me. I had to get something out of it for myself. It’s not like he’s going to miss that money anyway.”
“You won’t do a job like that on your own again. I will know about it and I will be there.”
“Victor, please. Like I’ve been telling you, this is my career. I wasn’t going to let that bastard take that away from me. I mean, moral, my ass -- that guy followed me up to that room like a horny puppy.”
“Shut up, Valentina! I don’t want to hear another word about your efforts to seduce another man, even if he was too drunk to stand up on his own.” He grabbed her, and half-dragged her across the room to his king-size bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and put her over his knee so hard that he knocked her breath out of her. She was so stunned, she didn’t catch on to what he was going to do until the first stinging smack on her ass, followed by three more. Kicking and screaming did no good with his other leg clamped over her thighs, holding her firmly in place. Six rapid-fire strikes later and she was sobbing in pain.
He rubbed his hand over her heated skin and slipped his fingers along the crack of her ass until he slid two of them into her soaked pussy. “Such a lady, but so filthy dirty when it comes to your man.” Her hips lifted of their own volition, meeting his fingers and confirming what he already knew: no matter how much she hated him, her body craved him.
“That’s it, baby, fuck my fingers. That tight pussy of yours is mine to use however I want. Don’t you ever go anywhere alone with any man but me again! I ought to kill that son of a bitch.” He pinched at her clit, squeezing hard enough to have her squirming with painful pleasure.
Her hips began bucking wildly as his fingers worked their magic, triggering an orgasm that started as a flutter in her lower belly and electrified her all the way down to her toes.
Despite her protestations, he knew perfectly well that she had deliberately gone to meet Briggs. Even if it wasn’t something she had exactly wanted to do, she had pursued the idea and, at the very least, she had enjoyed knowing she was rebelling against the man who ruled her life.
He yanked her head up by a handful of hair as he hissed, “Do something like that again, I’ll use a horsewhip on your ass while you swing from a chain in my dungeon.” He tossed her over onto the side of the bed and got up to leave.
“I hate you. You bastard!” she screamed at his departing back.
“I hate you, too, beautiful vixen.” She could hear his cruel laughter as he ambled down the hallway like he didn’t have a care in the world.
She was as defiant as she was beautiful and she wasn’t about to turn her life over to Victor without a fight. But, ultimately, she knew the truth: he was a Ramirez, so there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable.
She’d never been with another man. Victor was all she knew…and, if she was honest with herself, all she wanted. She’d never admit it to him, but defiance is what made the chase so much fun. Victor Ramirez had beautiful women fawning all over him, but he only had eyes for her. She didn’t know why he was so taken with her, but it was profoundly satisfying to keep him off balance and put him through hell. As far as she was concerned, that was exactly what Victor needed—a challenge.
Chapter Twenty Two
Santiago stood in front of the mirror and admired himself. He slid his finger along the strap of his bra. He’d taken it off his last kill, that Alicia girl. It fit better than he’d hoped. The deep red color reminded him of the blood that had gushed from her neck when he had sliced it open like a piece of meat. He thought the blood stains looked nice on the lace.
He leaned into the mirror, applying her lipstick with a heavy hand. Muah. Now, blot. There. Yes. Now his lips matched, too—matched Alicia’s red push-up bra and Caden’s fire engine red boy shorts. He’d taken them just before he set her free.
Santiago slid his hand over the base of his cock where it pressed against the front of Caden’s lacy panties. He stroked his erection and used his thumb to spread a decadent drop of pre-cum over the tip where his shaft jutted out beyond the fabric.
Fuuuck…He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his chest heaving. His cock was nestled up against fabric that he knew for a fact still smelled like her pussy… It was almost too much for him to take. God, he wanted to cum so bad, wanted to cum in the panties that had touched Caden’s pussy, wanted to cum and pretend he had cum inside her pussy so hard that she had leaked his cum all over her panties, he wanted… But he couldn’t because then they would be ruined. He couldn’t bear to ruin them. They were perfect. They smelled like Caden’s pussy.
He wondered how she was doing. Was she well? Had she adjusted to life with that fucker, Ramirez? Did she miss him at all?
His cross-dressing was one secret he’d take to the grave. He had only trusted only one person with that knowledge. No one else would understand. He knew he could trust her and she would never share his secret with a soul. That was how special their connection was.
Really, it would be far worse for it to get out to the cartel that he was a cross-dresser than for them to find out he was a serial killer. They’d kill him for sure, but not before they tortured him for being gay – even though he wasn’t. What did they know, anyway? Nothing, that’s what, because if they did then they would understand that just because a man was a cross-dresser didn’t mean he was gay. He had lived long enough to know that shit like that didn’t matter anyway. But he did love women—loved to kill them.
He liked to wear their lingerie and remember the time he’d had with them. He could relive it like they were here with him again. It was all he had to hold on to now that Caden was gone. Not to mention, Diego had locked his women up over there in that club like they had platinum pussies or something. He’d figured that out when he went to stalk that blue-haired bitch again and she didn’t go back home. Sure, he could go find a whore on the street to kill, but that wouldn’t be nearly as gratifying as hitting Diego where it hurt.
The plan had been to terrorize the women who worked for him until they knew that Diego couldn’t save them, that he wasn’t perfect. Doing that would take Diego from being a high and mighty hero to a big, fat zero. Those girls acted like he was their knight in shining armor. Why hadn’t a woman ever looked at him like that? Caden would have if he’d just had more time.
Caden saw him�
�saw him for who he truly was. She was the only woman who ever had. Not just that, but she wasn’t disgusted by what she saw. She saw a man who needed help, a man who yearned to be understood. She didn’t see a sick serial killer; no, she saw him, really saw him, and she didn’t turn away when she did.
That was what made her so special: she never judged him for being the way he was. She believed in him. She believed he could change, that he could not only do better, but truly be better. She was so pure of heart that she hadn’t judged him when she had figured out that he sometimes wore women’s lingerie under his clothes during his visits with her at The Club.
She had accepted, without question, the secret he had worked so hard to keep. Yes, Caden understood who he truly was, and the knowledge tormented his soul. Because that bastard, Tony, had taken away the only woman who had ever understood him, the only woman he had ever loved…
Ricardo regarded his son pensively, noting the harshly drawn features and dark coloring that were so like his own. Victor and his brother had been born only minutes apart and yet were so different that, at a glance, it was hard to believe they were related. Physically, Victor was dark whereas Tony was light. Victor was ruthless and sometimes too impulsive, often wearing his passionate nature and his hot temper on his sleeve. Tony was more methodical in his approach; his fire was more contained but, ultimately, burned just as hot.
The two men moved through the world on their own terms, driven by their fierce loyalty to the cartel and their family, which they considered to be one and the same, as it should be.
Ricardo hid a smile as he observed Victor and Valentina together. It was always the same…when Valentina was in the room, no one else existed for his son. Victor glared at Valentina while she focused serenely on her boss. At times like this, she was all business. She would be a tremendous asset to not only the cartel but, someday soon, their legitimate media business interests as well. And, when the time was right, their family.
Inevitable (Colombian Cartel Book 3) Page 10