Entrusted: A Drug of Desire Novel

by Sidney Bristol

  He pivoted and stalked toward the plane. His mouth was dry, and his eyes hurt from the sun. Besides, why stand outside baking, when he could be inside, enjoying her company? The inside of the plane was almost pitch black to his sun-weary eyes. He had to pause inside the hatch to let them adjust.

  Raven lay on the floor of the plane, her little dog out of his crate and sprawled on her stomach. Her hair was fanned out around her head and she had a battery-operated fan pointed at them, which was gently rustling her tank top. She was beautiful like that, in her element. He’d always liked a woman who could handle herself and Raven was the kind of woman who could roll with the punches.

  “No Victor?” she asked.

  “Not yet.” He grabbed the edge of one of the folding seats and lowered it so he could sit. “He might be making me wait while he’s watching.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. These guys, they don’t get far in life without being suspicious. Careful.”

  “Sounds exhausting.” She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand while the other held the fan steady.

  “Neetchi. Come here, boy.”

  Níłch’i’s ears perked up and he scampered from his comfortable place on Raven’s stomach to Matías. The dog flopped over on his back, presenting his stomach for a rub.

  Raven chuckled. “He likes you.”

  “Well, aren’t I lucky?” He gently scratched the dog’s head.

  “Put in a good word for me, okay?” he said.

  “Uh-oh, what did you do?” Raven rolled to her stomach, chin propped in her palm.

  “Me?” He glanced at her, resolutely not admiring the way her tank top framed her breasts or the way they were plumped, resting on her arm. “Nothing.”

  He was so going to hell.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m innocent, I swear.”

  “Hmm.” Her gaze narrowed.

  “Honest. Cross my heart, hope to die.” He drew his finger over his chest in the shape of an X, or a St. Andrew’s cross, depending on which take he preferred. Right now? The cross. Where he could buckle Raven’s arms out to either side of her head and have his way with her.

  “Then what will you do?” One brow arched and she smirked.

  He’d strip her first.

  Matías cleared his throat and sat up. “I can’t answer that. It’s classified.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed. “I am never getting into an argument with you. Everything would be classified, or sorry you don’t have clearance for that, or something else.”

  “That’s probably wise. I am right, after all.”

  She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed firmly in place. Damn. Why did it have to be her? He’d had a perfectly willing woman pining for him in Chicago. During those last few weeks, he’d found himself thinking more about this trip, and a few minutes with Raven, than the woman who would do anything for him.

  Matías was a rotten bastard, and he knew it.

  “What are you doing after this?” he asked, despite knowing it wasn’t a good idea. If he knew what she was doing, and he didn’t have rules to keep him away, he might be tempted to join her.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got some decisions to make that I don’t want to, so I’m putting them off.” She glanced away and the brightness dimmed.

  “Like?” What was going on? Problems at home?

  She sighed and sat up, crossing her legs and dusting imaginary dirt from her shirt.

  “Like.” She shrugged and glanced away. “Since my dad left the company, I get the crap jobs.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. This,” she gestured to him and the plane, “is a good gig. Usually, I’m just crop dusting. Dad and I pushed to buy this thing. It was going to be our baby. We were gearing up to do long-distance hauls, cross-country stuff.”

  “Why’d he leave?”

  She hesitated again, stirring up his curiosity. Raven always talked to him. What was stopping her now?

  “He didn’t tell me everything. I can only guess, but I think he and Grandpa got into it over something that was business and personal. As soon as he was gone, they stopped the plans we’d made for the Cessna and that was it. I was back to crop dusting.”

  “Damn. There’s no upward movement, so you have to go somewhere else.” He chuckled. Great choice of words, bro. “I mean, you can’t get promoted.”

  “No, not when it’s just family.” She sighed.

  “What about going somewhere else?” He knew that Raven’s family had stayed close to the reservation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t strike out and have a successful career elsewhere.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, but I don’t have enough formal training to qualify for much. My options are limited.”

  “Maybe you need to get away, clear your head.” Matías couldn’t help but feel invested in whatever Raven did with her future. He understood the difficulties that came from building your life from nothing. In many ways, they had taken similar paths.

  “You free this weekend?”

  “What’s this weekend?”

  She shrugged and smiled, a little of the sunshine coming back. “Getting away. I’ve got a plane.”

  “That’s one hell of an invitation.” Put the brakes on, man.

  One side of her mouth curled up and her smile became sly. “Got a destination in mind?”

  Chicago. House Surrender. Leather. Cuffs. A dragon tail whip. Screaming orgasms, and not the kind you got in a shot glass.

  “There’s a lot of places I’d like to actually get to see.” He shrugged and glanced away from her.

  “Well, if you decide someplace sounds good, let me know. I can get almost anywhere in a couple of hours.”

  Was she serious? His gut said yes. Raven was just the type of woman to pack up and fly herself someplace new. If he extended a weekend invitation to her—she’d be there. Did she know what that meant? Unlikely, but what if he left the kinky stuff behind for a couple of days? Could he do it? Maybe rent a cabin somewhere on a lake or a river, far away from anything, and just—be. Be whoever he wanted to be. Enjoy her company, let things take their natural course. But what if he wanted more? The truth would eventually come out.

  Raven’s smile evaporated and her gaze narrowed. “We’ve got company.”

  Matías stood and turned toward the hatch, gazing out at the tarmac. Three SUVs with tinted windows rolled toward them with speed. If he had to guess, this little convoy was outfitted with bullet-proof glass and tires, plus reinforced doors and protective paneling on the engine block. The cars wouldn’t be fast, but they were about as close to tanks as you could get without raiding a military garage.

  “Stay inside. Don’t let anyone see you,” he said without glancing over his shoulder.

  It was time.

  He buttoned his jacket and ran his hands down the lapels, rooting himself in the persona of José Gonzalez.

  I’ve done millions of dollars in deals. I know the names of all the top Mexican officials, and I have the US border chief in McAllen on speed dial. I haven’t seen my family in years, but I send them money, because a good son takes care of his family. I have a string of girlfriends in many cities. I am José Gonzalez.

  The SUVs came to a stop outside the hanger. Each parked at an angle, one after the other, a tactic used in case a situation got hot and they took fire. Parking at an angle meant none of the vehicles could be boxed in by the others. It was a good move and the drivers did it with practiced ease.

  The last two SUVs opened and two men got out of the back seat of each, carrying automatic rifles commonly referred to as Fire Snakes, or the FX-05 Xiuhcoatl. He’d carried one during his time undercover with the Valdez Cartel. They were the weapon of choice for the Mexican military. Interesting that Victor’s people were carrying them.

  Matías held up his hands and turned in a circle, lifting the back of his jacket to show he wasn’t armed. He also pulled the legs of his trouser
s up to show that he lacked an ankle holster. They wouldn’t care about the knife in his pocket, just that he never showed it. He’d stopped carrying guns to meets with Victor after two years of doing business with him, as a show of good faith. At the time, he’d hoped it would coax the man into coming to The States, where he could be arrested, but the ruse had never worked, and now he couldn’t show up carrying a gun without arousing suspicion. In hindsight, it’d been a poor choice.

  Victor got out of the back seat of the first SUV. He was a suave man in his early forties with a few streaks of gray at his temple, which gave him an aristocratic air.

  “José.” Victor smiled and spread his hands.

  Matías took that as permission to approach and stepped down the stairs at a brisk pace.

  “Victor, it’s been too long.” Matías spoke in Spanish, the words rolling off his tongue as if he really had been born south of the border.

  Victor met him halfway, his armed men at his back and a hand outstretched to shake. At a glance, this was a meeting between friends. Victor even brought him in close, wrapping his left arm around Matías’ shoulders in a gesture that appeared to be an embrace, but wasn’t. Victor hit all the places on his back where straps for a holster might fall. It was almost impressive, if it weren’t so damn annoying.

  “I was expecting you sooner,” Matías said.

  Victor shrugged and glanced at his bodyguards. “My men, they needed a siesta.”

  Translation: We were watching you sweat.

  It was a normal, even expected tactic. Matías was just glad they were getting this thing rolling. There was a slim chance he could sleep in an American bed tonight.

  “So, the merchandise?” He clapped his hands together.

  “Oh no, no, no, not so soon.” Victor’s face creased, as if he were saddened by the idea. “We have other things to discuss.”

  Fuck. Like the fact they were here to arrest Victor? If he set his men on Matías right now, Raven could be caught in the crossfire. He had to get Victor away from the hangar, and find a way to get her out of here.

  “Fine, fine. How about something to eat while we talk?”

  “No time for that. I heard that you’re going out of business.” Victor’s gaze narrowed and he bared his teeth, almost like an animal, and the expression was a little intimidating. Good thing Matías wasn’t easily pushed around.

  “Really?”

  “Your mother, she’s a very nice lady.”

  Matías’ blood went cold. Victor knew. He knew, and this was about to get ugly. He was going to die. Was Mom already dead? Had his profession taken her life as well? He’d always had a feeling he’d die in the field, left to hang, but he’d hoped for one last mission to go according to plan.

  “She showed me your favorite café in Juarez. Very nice.”

  “Did she, now?”

  Which mother was Victor talking about? His real mother in El Paso, or José’s mother, in Juarez? A couple years back, he’d paid a woman to claim him as her son if anyone came calling. Was that purchase still good now?

  “Yes, I can see where you get your manners and your smile from. She sent me home with tamales that were to die for.”

  Matías breathed easy. His mother—his real mother—couldn’t cook to save her life. He and his brothers had taken over, out of a sense of self-preservation. About the only thing she could do was make jam and preserves, and that was with his youngest brother’s supervision.

  “Glad you liked them,” he replied. How had the woman known what to say? Had Eddie briefed her? The man hardly ever left The States, not to mention he loathed field work. Who else was playing in his sand box?

  “Tell me it’s not true, that you aren’t thinking of quitting.” Victor edged closer and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Matías sighed and dropped his head, scraping his shoe on the ground. “It’s true.” He paused and glanced up at Victor, hoping the man saw torment and stress in his eyes. “That business in Chicago last year? It hurt me. Now, the Japanese are moving into Chicago, and everyone is afraid of the DEA.”

  Victor waved his hand. “The DEA are no problem.”

  Was that so? Matías frowned, letting some of his worry seep around the cracks of his persona. There’d been agents on the take before, as much as he hated to admit it.

  “Where we’re going, the DEA is clueless. Show me your plane and what it can carry.” Victor gestured behind him.

  “The same as it always has.” Matías didn’t move.

  “I want to see it.”

  If he pressed Victor, he might begin to suspect Matías. So far, other than the initial sweep for a bug or holster, Victor was being forthright with Matías. Something was afoot, and Victor would only share it on his terms.

  “This way, please.” Matías turned and stomped loudly on the stairs. If there was a compartment, a hidey-hole, hopefully Raven got her ass there and stayed hidden.

  “It’s a nice plane.” Victor followed him up, but the guards remained behind.

  Interesting.

  Matías ducked his head inside. Raven sat sideways in the pilot’s seat, a magazine in hand and her dog at her feet. Their gazes met, and if he didn’t know the full scope of the situation, he’d say she was relaxed. She lifted her brows and shrugged, glancing around as if to say, Where did you expect me to go?

  “Victor, my pilot, Raven.” He turned and gestured toward her.

  Raven stood and held out her hand, muttering a polite hello in Spanish.

  “José, where have you been keeping this lovely creature?” Victor’s gaze narrowed and one side of his mouth kicked up in a sleazy appraisal of her. He accepted her hand and held it.

  “In my bedroom, where she belongs,” Matías popped off.

  Victor’s gaze flicked to him and he released Raven’s hand. “You always get to the beautiful ones first.”

  To spare them the attentions of others, but never to sample them for himself. That was a line he’d never crossed, and wouldn’t.

  “Raven, tell me about your plane,” Victor said.

  “Well, uh, okay.”

  She turned and gestured to the cargo space, and began rattling off the stats of the plane, what it could carry, fuel estimations and more details than he could have kept straight off the cuff like that, and she did it in Spanish, no less. If he had a moment to spare, he’d be proud of her. Right now, he’d just like to keep her live.

  Raven spouted off every detail and factoid she could recall about the Cargomaster from the user manual. Some of the words were tricky to translate into Spanish, but she’d grown up speaking bits of three languages her whole life. If Victor thought there was something odd about her pronunciation, he didn’t give her any indication.

  Her palms grew sweaty and her throat went dry. With a third person, the hold now felt tight and constraining.

  What was going on? Matías had told her they were going to leave. Yet there he stood, nodding and encouraging her with his gaze. Something was wrong, she just didn’t know what.

  “It’s a wonderful plane.” Victor slipped his hands in his pockets and turned in a circle. “Do you work for someone? Or José directly?”

  What did she say? She glanced at Matías, but he wasn’t looking at her now. He stared out of the hatch, appearing as if the whole conversation were a bore.

  “It’s a family business, but I make myself available to José whenever he needs my services.” She added a little inflection on that last word. If Matías was going to paint her as his—whatever—she could, too.

  That got Matías’ attention. He glanced at her and for a moment their gazes locked. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. Was it her imagination, or had she done something right?

  “José has all the luck.” Victor gestured to the folding seats. “Sit. Let us talk business.”

  “Here?” Matías glanced around, as if affronted.

  Was there something wrong with her plane? Or was he trying to get Victor away? She couldn’t tell. So
meone needed to throw her a parachute for this conversation.

  “I know. Forgive me, friend. A lot has changed since the Valdez Cartel was dismantled.” Victor took the seat next to the kennel. Níłch’i sat up and wagged his tail at the newcomer. She held her breath as Victor reached toward Níłch’i and scratched his head. If he did anything to her dog, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. “We have changed up where we do business.”

  Matías took a seat across from Victor and patted the one at his side. Well at least he was giving her one signal. She sank into the chair and he took her hand, as if it were normal. They’d never touched like this, a familiar press of palms and fingers, but the contact anchored her. It was small, casual even, but in this storm of uncertainty, he was warm. Welcoming.

  “What’s going on, Victor? I don’t like these changes you speak of.” Matías’ scowl would have been enough to make her squirm at his displeasure.

  Victor examined his nails, not a shred of urgency about him. “We have found ourselves in a predicament, my brothers and I. The Valdez Cartel moved a lot of our product, and it would seem that the Valdez family has turned against their own in some cases. We need someone we can trust with connections and means to move product.”

  Matías snorted. “You’ve never trusted me.”

  “I trust you as much as I can afford to trust anyone. You have never let me down, which is why I’ve decided to extend you this offer of partnership. We could make a lot of money, you and I.”

  “I’m buying a little place in the Caribbean to enjoy myself. Why should I keep working when I could retire?”

  Victor laughed. It was a grating, scary sound that made her skin crawl.

  “José, we both know you won’t stay retired long. Men like us, we have work to do. You’re a hustler. Even if you retire, as you so claim, you’ll find another means of work to fill your time. Why not work for me and when you are old and can do no more, retire to an even better place in the Caribbean?”

  Something was happening. Something Raven didn’t quite grasp because she only saw a tiny bit of the puzzle. She glanced at Victor, then back to Matías, hoping one of them would clear things up for her. The man next to her was, and wasn’t, her Matías. His posture was more rigid, he lacked the hyper awareness she’d grown used to. But his hands, those were the same.