Entrusted: A Drug of Desire Novel

by Sidney Bristol

  A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts.

  He frowned, having told the goons to leave him alone until the breakfast appointment. It was time to invite José home. To let him see the factory and commit to their team. Soon, he would be able to build a network the likes of which no one had seen before. No more of this piecemeal shit. Fifteen years ago, the whole production—from the farms to the factories, and even distribution—had been one, well-run company. Then, people got scared. They divided things up and costs rose. Well, he was done with that business model. It was time to go back to making money.

  Someone pounded on his door, rattling its hinges.

  Victor stalked through the suite and jerked it open, a curse on his lips. Except it died there, while he stared at the sleek, obnoxious face of a mere boy.

  “Victor, having all the fun without me?” Oscar Jiménez waltzed through the doors, leaving behind Victor’s two guards.

  The two men stared helplessly at Victor. They were loyal, which meant he wouldn’t kill them. This time. The situation with Oscar had to be handled carefully. The child couldn’t go squealing back to his parents before Victor had a chance to kill the whole family. He was sick of taking orders from a man who wouldn’t even bother to show his face anymore. Señor Jiménez lived off the hard work of people like Victor, reaping the rewards and doing none of the work or taking any of the risk. Well, Victor was done with them.

  “Not at all. I’m afraid it’s business and no pleasure.” Victor closed the doors and turned toward Oscar. What he wouldn’t give to be able to wring the prick’s neck right now. But that was for later.

  “I hear you’re interviewing a new asset.” Oscar paused at the windows, wrinkling his nose. This wasn’t the young man’s typical venue. It wasn’t flashy or luxurious enough. Then again, it wasn’t like Oscar did any real work. That was left to people like Victor who knew the business.

  “I am.” Though Victor’s intentions toward bringing José on weren’t exactly a secret, he hadn’t talked widely about the move. “I’m about to meet him for breakfast and extend an offer for him to visit us.”

  Oscar turned toward him, gaze narrowed. “I don’t even know this man. Why would we do that?”

  Victor gritted his teeth. Soon, he’d cut the kid’s throat himself.

  “I’ve worked with José for at least ten years. You were too young, then off to university, I believe.”

  “I don’t like this. Does my father know?”

  Victor had to choose his words carefully to keep all of his secrets. “He knows I’m looking into new avenues for transporting product.” He shrugged. “It’s business. You’ll get the hang of it, soon.”

  “Father is in Panama. We should join him, introduce our new friend. Is he here?”

  Victor imagined sinking a knife into the boy’s throat, slicing deep into the tissue while arterial spray pumped out his last moments.

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to meet him.” Oscar glanced at his watch. “Tell him to dress for breakfast. I’m hungry. I’m in the suite down the hall. You may join us later, if you like.”

  The young man turned on his heel and strode from the room. Victor watched him, all the while staring daggers at his back.

  The family was in Panama? It had been years since the Jiménez family had met face to face with anyone, even Victor. Maybe a trip to Panama was exactly what he needed. It would, after all, save him money. He wouldn’t have to pay someone to rat them out.

  Raven rose slowly to consciousness. Her body ached, but in a not altogether bad way. Though her shoulder twinged, she knew it was for a good reason, though she couldn’t remember why. As she became more aware of her body and surroundings, she grew aware of a heavy weight over her waist and across her ankle. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither was it Níłch’i. The little dog would lay parallel to her legs, sometimes burrowing under one of them.

  She pried one eye open and stared at the dingy, blue-green paint chipping from the cinderblock wall. It was not her hangar apartment, with its cheerful yellow-and-white stripes.

  She was still in Mexico, and that weight holding her down was Matías. The memories from last night came rushing back to her. The biting and spanking, all of it sprang to the forefront of her mind in sharp detail. She dared not move, lest he wake up before she’d had a chance to process everything.

  What had gotten into her?

  Matías groaned in his sleep and rolled away from her. She turned, twisting until she could see him in the light coming through the broken shutters.

  The sheet had been kicked off at some point during the night, and his shirt had ridden up under his arms, giving her the first glimpse of the body she’d felt so intimately. She had vague memories from last night of his chest pressed against her back, the embrace of his arms.

  His abdominals, even relaxed, were like rungs on a ladder. Thin, pale lines bisected the natural rise and dip of muscle. Scars. Knife wounds? She hated the son of a bitch who’d hurt him.

  Raven sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She needed to think about her future—today and everything that came after—and she couldn’t do that staring at him.

  A hand wrapped around her wrist and she jumped.

  “Something wrong?” Matías mumbled, still half asleep.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “No, I just need a shower.” And some space.

  “Okay, let the water run for a minute, make sure it’s okay to use.” He dropped his hand and lay back down without further explanation. Well, they were in Mexico, and lord only knew what would come out of the faucet.

  Raven stood slowly, her abused muscles protesting.

  Níłch’i whined in his crate, beating the bottom with his little whip-like tail.

  She paused to let him out and give the dog a quick scratch before retreating to the bathroom. It was still early out, but her internal clock said it was time to get up. She turned on the shower and leaned against the vanity.

  What now?

  She gripped the edge of the vanity and lifted her gaze to her reflection. There was no discernible difference except…

  “Holy shit.” She pulled the strap off her left shoulder and gaped at the dark, crescent-shaped bruises forming under the skin. She poked at it and winced. Yup, it was a bruise and it hurt.

  What about the other marks?

  She whisked off her tank top and turned around. The welt on her shoulder was just below the black raven, little more than a red mark that was hard to see against the hue of her skin. She pushed her panties off and stared in horror at the long, purple marks and matching crescents decorating her bottom. She poked at the mark that cut diagonally across her right cheek and hissed.

  It had really happened.

  She traced the marks, her horror turning to fascination as she prodded each one. Some didn’t hurt as badly as others, but the bruise just below her tailbone was by far the worst. It reminded her of its presence each time she shifted from foot to foot. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel when she sat.

  What had she been thinking?

  Raven prodded the bit of unmarred skin between the crescent bite marks on her ass. It still hurt. Deep tissue bruises, if she had to guess. A salt bath might make it feel better, but all she had was the questionable shower.

  The mirror began to fog, which was probably for the best. It wasn’t like the marks were going to go away. It would be days—weeks—before the evidence of last night was gone. Unlike a one night stand, she couldn’t wash the encounter away.

  She stepped into the tub and under the spray of water, careful to hold her hair out of the way. The water came out in three irregular jets, probably from shoddy plumbing or blocked holes in the shower head. She didn’t want to think too much about that as she grabbed the soap they’d purchased the night before and lathered up. The pounding water did cause her muscles to ache, but it was a good sensation, almost like a massage in the way it warmed her body and worked her over. Except
every now and then, it hit the bruises on her shoulder and back and she winced.

  Who thought being bruised like this was a good idea? How was she supposed to get everything done for the flight if she couldn’t lift her left arm above her shoulder?

  She tested the theory, and though the muscles protested, she could get her left arm to go straight up. So that was a little over-exaggerating. She’d be able to do the pre-flight exterior check just fine. It might not be comfortable. But still, why had she thought this was a good idea?

  The image of the woman twisting in her cuffs, her smile and laugh echoed in Raven’s memory. Because she’d wanted to be that woman, and when Matías had issued his order, she’d been excited and curious and…determined.

  She had a small set of expectations for what this BDSM thing would be like. It wasn’t as if she had a lot of knowledge to draw on, but Matías had taught her, explained it all, and damn if she hadn’t wanted to do it. To have his hands on her, driving her to feel, and doing naughty things to her body.

  Though she’d begun her suggestion of continuing the charade out of a sense of obligation, it wasn’t that weighty duty that had pushed her to offer her body to him. That was all on her—and she didn’t regret it.

  He’d been right when he’d pinched her nipple and told her she’d think about him each time she felt the slight uncomfortable sensation of her marks. She pressed her hand to her breast and jerked it away. The little nub was swollen and no doubt bruised. Was no part of her body her own anymore?

  Not when she’d given it to him.

  The way he’d gotten into her head, made her react to him, was shocking. And liberating.

  She’d stopped thinking and just felt. He’d told her what to do, how to do it, and all she had to worry about was staying on her feet. There was no denying it had turned her on a great deal. Brief dreams of sweaty bodies twined together had left her restless for most of the night. Even now, the more she thought about him and her response, her sex began to throb with arousal.

  Raven splashed water on her face and rubbed her eyes.

  What had he created in her? This wasn’t an experience she could stick in a mental box and stash away in the deep recesses of her brain. He’d changed something in her. It was almost as if she felt—free.

  A knock shook the bathroom door.

  “Raven?”

  “Yeah?” What were the chances she could coax him into the shower? Or was that moving too fast? After last night though, there was more between them than just a job.

  “Victor called. I have to go meet him. Can I open the door?”

  “Yeah, come in.” She peered around the curtain as the door opened and Matías stepped in.

  He was completely dressed. Somehow his clothes were unwrinkled and still managed to look fresh, despite being on their second wear. His hair was a little tousled, but she liked it better than the slicked-back ‘do he’d sported the day before. There was nothing of the playful, yet hard-as-stone man from last night. He was all business.

  “Victor wants me to have breakfast with him. As soon as we’re done, I want to swing by here and pick you up so we can get out of here. Okay?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “You’ve got your phone on?”

  “Yeah. It’s on the nightstand.”

  “Good. If anything happens, call for help, and tell them your name.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. What was going on that he wasn’t telling her?

  “Shit. Food. I’ll bring you back something. Think you can wait?”

  “I can, but I’ll have to take Níłch’i for a walk.”

  He sighed. “It can’t wait?”

  “No, I put the last puppy pad in his crate last night. I wasn’t expecting to be gone this long.”

  “Okay, okay. Carry the phone with you, don’t go far, and if anything looks fishy, get back to the hotel, got me?”

  “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Good. Something’s happening, and I don’t know what. I need you to be on your toes.”

  “Well, you got your wish.”

  “It’s probably going to be fine, but I’d rather be prepared.” He grimaced, the first crack in his exterior she’d seen.

  “I get it. You’ll do amazing. I’ll stay hidden. We’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Here’s hoping.” He smiled for the briefest moment. His gaze centered on her face, boring into her skull. His voice softened, and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of desire in his eyes. “How are you?”

  It was the kind of question that cut through everything else. She wouldn’t pretend that he was asking how she was dealing with the situation or if she thought they’d really be home for dinner. No, he wanted to know about last night. She had questions and concerns, but those could wait.

  “I’m fine,” she replied.

  “Fine? Fine from a woman means something is wrong.”

  She laughed. “No, really. For now—I’m fine. Do I want to talk about it later? Yeah, but you need to get to breakfast, and I should get Níłch’i out for a walk soon. Is the bodega off limits?”

  “I’d rather you not go that far on your own. I have no idea about the area, if Victor might be encroaching on someone’s turf or who the local power players are. If you go in there and it steps on someone’s toes, it might cause hell.”

  “Okay, we’ll stay put.”

  “And later we can talk.”

  “There’s a whole flight ahead of us.”

  “Great. I look forward to it.”

  He crossed the distance to the tub in one stride and brushed his lips across her forehead, and then he was gone. Matías was a man made from shadows, coming and going with ease and secrecy, except he’d given her a key. Now, to find the lock.

  Matías strode through the hotel restaurant. It was a good thing he’d packed the tiny bottle of wrinkle spray, or he’d not only feel like he slept in a cheap hotel, he’d look like it, too.

  The host led him to a small room off the main dining area. The same thugs in suits glanced up, hands going to jacket pockets or their hips. It was a telling sign. All was not well in Victor’s world. Either he was preparing for a fight, or these were not men accustomed to the field.

  “Gentlemen, good morning.” Matías named each person in his mind, checking them off. Victor was notably missing and there was someone new at the head of the table.

  “You must be José.” The man at the head of the table rose, and the rest of the men followed. There was a decidedly uneasy air to the group.

  Whoever he was, he was important.

  Matías met the man halfway and shook his hand. It was a weak shake, almost like he gripped a wet fish. It was not the handshake of a man who did business with people who carried guns. It wasn’t him they were scared of, so who was behind him?

  “I’m Oscar Jiménez.”

  The Jiménez family.

  Fuck me sideways.

  “I’m sorry I was unable to join you before today. I only just found out you were in town. Has Victor been a good host?” Oscar gestured to the seat on the right side of the table.

  The men around them shifted in their seats. They’d been present the evening before. Was Oscar aware of where they’d gone? Did he know Matías’ secrets?

  “It was an enjoyable evening.” Matías circled to the seat and placed his briefcase on the floor. Maybe he should have left the cash with Raven, but he was paranoid about letting it out of his sight.

  “Are you traveling alone?”

  “No, my pilot is with me.” There was something going on. If Oscar was a Jiménez, shouldn’t he know their plans? What Victor was doing?

  “Your own pilot? That’s good, very good.”

  “Ah, there is Victor.”

  Victor entered the dining room, his gaze razor sharp. The other men avoided looking at either of them, and the stress levels rose. Was Oscar the reason for the change? Whatever it was, Matías didn’t like it.

  A waitress entered with
a coffee cart and took their breakfast orders. The conversation was limited to dining options and the weather. Matías hadn’t been part of a more uncomfortable group of people since his last face to face meeting with a room of suits following his surgeries.

  “Did you get everything arranged?” Oscar asked Victor.

  “Yes, Mr. Jiménez.” Victor stared at Matías, his demeanor calm. Too calm.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  There was always the chance an alias could be found out. To date, Matías had been unmasked as DEA twice. In each instance, there’d been shoddy handling on the agency’s side and his identities hadn’t gone far enough. José, however, was an alias he’d used for years. Almost a decade.

  “What have you two been up to?” Oscar asked, directing his command at no one.

  The men at the table shifted in their seats, not a one offering up any commentary on the previous night’s exploits.

  “We had dinner. It was nice.” Matías spoke to fill the silence, but also because he didn’t want to allow Oscar Jiménez to single-handedly derail this operation.

  The waitress returned, interrupting the growing unease.

  They were each served a generous portion and left with several carafes of coffee and juice. By Matías’ estimation, the hotel knew exactly who they were dealing with.

  “So, José, Victor thinks you are the next piece to our puzzle. The partner we need to increase our business.” Oscar began cutting his food into pieces. At least they were getting to the heart of the matter.

  “Did Victor also tell you I am retiring?”

  Oscar waved his hand, flicking a bit of egg over his shoulder. “After you work for us, you’ll retire more comfortably.”

  Clearly José’s wishes were moot. He kept his mouth shut and listened.

  “Unfortunately, we cannot talk business here.” Oscar sighed and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him.

  “Then why did Victor bring me here?” Matías’ irritation was both parts feigned and real. All of the drug-types were the same. They jerked you around, made you jump through hoops. It was damn annoying.