Their Cartel Princess: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance Box Set

by Fox, Logan

  Movement caught his eye. He darted a look toward the duplex, and saw a shadow moving in the window. He couldn’t give a fuck if one of Zachary’s men saw him—with his hair up in a tiny knot at the back of his head, and his glasses back on, he looked more like a hipster than a DEA agent. He’d gone all out this morning to solidify the look; his jeans were the just the right amount of ironically torn, his oversized button-up shirt could have belonged to his grandfather, and his designer sandals were gratuitously 100% vegan.

  Which was probably why republican Brenna was squeezing her legs together as if just being this close to him was making her wet.

  She let out a dainty plume of smoke, pursed plump lips, and then laughed again. “So which one’s yours?” she asked, turning to inspect the house they had parked in front of. Kane gave it a quick glance, too.

  It was obviously empty—the houses around here were neat, but too cheap for the luxury of a stay-at-home mom. Both parents would be at work, the kids at school. In a neighborhood like this, it was doubtful more than a handful of the households could afford a maid. And, even then, not a full time housekeeper.

  The house had a porch with a love seat on it. Someone’s coffee mug stood on the small table nearby.

  It would have to do.

  He reached across and caught a hold of Brenna’s wrist. She started, and turned sky-blue eyes to him in surprise. He cocked his head, and led her up the stairs and onto the porch.

  “’Kay if we sit out here until we done smoking?” he asked. “My brother’s allergic to this shit.” He took his cigarette from his mouth, lifting it a little.

  “Oh, sure.” Brenna sat carefully on the love seat, leaning back and lifting her legs so it could swing. Kane watched her for a long moment, taking a drag on his cigarette, and then turned and sat beside her.

  They were sitting directly opposite Zachary’s house. A tree partially obscured the top right window of the duplex, but the movement he’d seen had been on the bottom floor.

  “So you stay with your brother?” Brenna asked.

  “Poor sod. Girlfriend kicked him out about a week ago.” Kane stretched an arm, sliding it around the back of the love seat. “Told him he could shack up with me for a few days until he got his shit sorted out.”

  “That was nice of you,” Brenna said, practically squirming.

  “I love sitting out here,” he said, grinding his cigarette out under his heel. “Especially in the middle of the day.”

  “You don’t work?” Brenna asked, her voice slightly unsteady. She began looking around, as if taking in the wall so badly in need of a new coat of paint, the grass just a little too long, the hole in the wooden fence.

  “I work from home most days,” Kane said. He laid a hand on her leg, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’m an architect.”

  Her eyes widened a little at this, and her attention fixed back on him. “Wow…that must be exciting.”

  “I love it, but it’s not exactly motocross.”

  She let out a delightful little laugh, and relaxed back into the love seat. “So you can look at buildings and know like, what age they’re from and stuff?”

  “Of course,” he lied.

  She glanced across the road. And then she pointed. “What’s that one?”

  Sonofafuckingbitch.

  Ice flashed over his skin. He hurriedly snagged her wrist, tugged her hand down, and settled it over the mound in his jeans.

  She inhaled a sharp breath, again turning those doe-like eyes on him.

  “That wasn’t designed by an architect. Some loser with a Sims fixation shat it out.”

  Brenna’s eyes flickered. She gave him a soft squeeze. His dick throbbed in response, hardening, and she squeezed him again as if testing the difference. “What’s Sims?” she asked quietly.

  He almost laughed. But, instead, he leaned over to her and cupped the back of her hair. Silky hair tangled in his fingers as he closed the distance between them. “If you don’t know, then it’s not important,” he murmured, and then kissed her.

  She went stiff in his hands—almost as stiff as he was—and then leaned into him. The scent of vanilla and cherries wrapped around him as he positioned a section of hair so it framed her face.

  “You want to go inside?” she asked, sounding slightly out of breath. Her eyes sparkled, and when he drew back to study her, those lips were a shade darker than before. Glistening and inviting.

  He glanced across the road as he sat back in the love seat. On cue, the garage door rolled open, and a white sedan reversed out into the street. The driver looked in their direction—no more than a silhouette—before driving off down the road.

  “I’d rather fuck you out here,” Kane said, grabbing Brenna by the waist and hauling her over his lap.

  She cried out in surprise, and then shifted as if she wanted to stand. He tightened his grip on her waist and drew her hard over his dick where it mounded up his jeans.

  Eyes wide in protest fluttered closed. She let out a small moan, her hands catching a hold of his shoulders.

  “Someone…” she began, and then paused to swallow. “Someone might see,” she murmured.

  “Then let them,” he said, pushing her back so he could unzip his fly. He hiked up her skirt, ran a hand down her underwear—as damp as he’d thought they would be—and tugged aside the filmy fabric.

  Her mouth flew open, and she stiffened. “Simon!”

  “Simon says, open side,” he murmured as a small smile stretched his lips.

  There was a flash of confusion, but wide-eyed shock replaced it a second later when he thrust into her.

  16

  Cora’s situation

  Whatever brief advantage she’d had over Javier, it had dissipated by the time they reached his office. Santino shadowed them, and gave Finn and Lars a suggestive smile when they tried to close the door in his face. He pushed it open and went to stand beside the wall, one hand casually gripping his AK47, finger resting on the trigger guard. Ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

  Of course it would be suicide trying to shoot Javier inside the villa. Wherever he went, at least one of his bodyguards followed. And they would always be quicker on the draw than her. She would probably only have her hand on the grip of her Taurus before there was a bullet in her brain.

  Javier had barely gotten around his desk before she blurted out, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m sure as hell not marrying your son.” The words she spat out could have scorched like lava.

  Javier paused, and then slowly lowered himself in his chair. He steepled his fingers, watching her silently over the top for a few seconds.

  Finn and Lars moved deeper into the room. This time, Lars pulled out the chair for her, although Finn’s hand had jutted out as if he’d wanted to do it. Javier glanced at them each in turn, and then smiled slowly. “I must commend you,” he said, as Cora sat in the chair and the two men stood a foot behind her, one to each side. “Sharing a woman’s attention is a special kind of torture.”

  Cora hurriedly shut her mouth. Forcing herself not to glance at Finn or Lars, she sat a little forward in her seat, spine straight, and gave Javier the best stare she had. It obviously wasn’t any good; his smile turned lazy and he leaned his elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his chin on the tip of his index finger. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Of course I do. This isn’t the eighteenth century.”

  “So what will you do, Elle?” Javier opened his hand, palm up, and lay it on the table. “Will you go to the police?”

  Lars shifted beside her, but said nothing.

  “Why is this so important?” she asked. “How could this possibly benefit you?”

  “He wants your inheritance,” Finn spoke up.

  Cora tensed, and cast Finn a quick look from under her lashes. He stared straight ahead, murder in those ice-blue eyes of his. She faced Javier, mouth moving before she could form words. “Is that what this is? You want my fa
ther’s money?”

  “You don’t think I have enough money?” Javier said with a laugh. A sweep of his hand took in the study with its expensive furnishings and computer. “It’s simple, mi reinita. I want our cartel to have a strong foundation. You are of marriageable age, as is Neo. It makes sense. It is a business arrangement.” Javier twitched the fingers around his mouth. “I’m sure my son won’t mind you keeping your lieutenants. He can’t always be here to provide for the needs of his wife.” The insinuation couldn’t have been clearer if he’d written it down and handed it to her.

  Cora’s jaw bunched. A feeling of helplessness crept over her, drowning out the fire that had raged inside her this whole morning. Maybe all she had to do was buy some time. Finn and Lars could figure out a way to get her out of here. Away from this villa.

  Her inheritance.

  “I have to go to the manor.” She could feel both Finn and Lars tense up at this.

  “In Phoenix?” Javier tutted. “That place isn’t safe for you.”

  “There are things I need.”

  “I will replace all your clothing, Elle.”

  As if she gave a shit about clothes.

  “Documents,” she said through her teeth.

  “Documents?” Javier asked. He leaned to the side, and there were the electronic bleeps of a keypad. A drawer opened, and he took out a leather file, zipped closed. “These?”

  Cora’s heart fluttered for a moment. “Where’d you…where’d you get that?”

  “Eleodora...” Javier laced his fingers together and sat forward in his chair, putting his hands on top of the file. “Why do you persist in making me out to be your enemy? Your father entrusted these to me.” He lifted a hand, pressing his fingertips to the leather. They looked like a spider, waiting to pounce. “It’s all here. The bank accounts, everything.”

  He slid the file over the desk. She grabbed the edge and tried to pull it closer, but he kept his hand on it. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do with it.”

  “What?” Cora ripped the file out from under his hand. Her fingers were clumsy when she tore open the zip; a few of the papers fell out as she tried to open it in her lap. Lars bent to retrieve them, straightening slowly as he scanned the paper.

  “You are an illegal immigrant,” Javier said. “You cannot open a bank account here. You have no rights. Someone will have to—”

  “We’ll get a broker,” Lars said, snapping the page straight and handing it to Cora. “Someone who knows how to deal with Cora’s…situation.”

  Javier shrugged. “I am her legal guardian. And she is not yet twenty-one.” He lifted his arms as if he was blameless in all of this.

  “In two weeks,” Cora said, “that all changes.”

  “I know,” Javier said with a wide smile. “Día de los Muertos. It’s a date that’s impossible to forget.”

  “What?” Finn murmured down to her.

  She stared at Javier. Could he see how much she loathed him right then? How hot her anger boiled? “Day of the Dead,” she said. “I share my birthday with Santa Muerte’s holy day.” Then she looked up at him, face slack. “Go figure, right?”

  Javier still wore that damn smug look of his. When she turned back to him, she hoisted the file up. “I’m taking these. In two weeks, I’ll be able to do whatever I want.”

  She rose, giving Javier a glare that had absolutely zero effect. She was almost to the door when he spoke up. “The wedding is in five days, Elle.”

  She spun back to him. “No.”

  “The caterers have already been booked.”

  “Then cancel,” she said.

  “What can I say?” Javier laced his fingers again and gave her a long suffering look. “My son never inherited my patience.”

  17

  Circling

  “Horses,” Finn said.

  The three of them had taken a walk outside the villa. Their path headed toward the stables, and Finn had been staring at the building for the last five minutes.

  “What about them?” Lars asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus, it’s hot out here. Is winter a foreign concept in this part of the country?”

  “We steal three horses, and head to the back of Javier’s compound.” Finn glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. After leaving Javier’s office, Santino had watched them for a few seconds before making a call on his radio. Much further back, two men followed them. He doubted it could be a coincidence; Javier was making sure Cora didn’t get lost.

  “Look, Milo, I can stay in a saddle…but a ride that long?” Lars shielded his eyes as he looked at the stables.

  “I—I don’t think I can get back on a horse,” Cora said slowly.

  “You’d rather stay and choose your wedding dress?” Finn surged ahead and grabbed Cora by the arms. For a moment, it looked as if he’d shake her, but instead he just held her. “We can’t take a car—Javier will be watching for that.”

  “And he won’t be watching the stables?” Lars asked.

  Finn glanced up at him over the top of Cora’s head. “We’ll make a habit of it. Every morning, before breakfast, the three of us ride out. We stay a little longer each day.”

  “Every day?” Cora murmured.

  “You really think he won’t suspect?”

  “We’ll tell him it’s to get Cora back into riding. To get her over the fall.”

  “Finn—” Cora began.

  “Therapy,” Lars said with a nod. “I hear you. Hey, that might even—”

  “No!” Cora yelled, tearing her arms free. “I’m not getting on a horse. We’re not going for a ride every morning.” She tugged at her sweater as if Finn had mishandled her. “He can’t keep me here. I’m not his prisoner.”

  “Tell that to the two goons following us,” Lars said, stabbing a thumb behind him. The two men had decided—simultaneously—to pause for a smoke. “We make a move, and he’ll be down on us like a ton of coke bricks.”

  Cora glared at him, looking fierce and pretty at the same time. “Will he shoot me?”

  “No, but he’ll probably shoot us,” Finn said. “And then lock you in your room and throw away the key.”

  Cora pinched the bridge of her nose and swung around, glaring at the two men following them. Then she pushed past Lars, her boots kicking up dust as she headed straight for Javier’s falcons.

  “What the fuck is she doing?” Lars said under his breath as Finn came to stand beside him.

  “Circling her cage,” Finn said.

  Lars made to go after her, but Milo caught his wrist. “Let her go. Maybe then she’ll understand how fucked she is.”

  “Horses, Milo?” Lars turned to him. “Is that really our only option here?”

  “You heard Javier. He’s not going to let her go. So we have to break her out. Unless you can think of a better—”

  A yell cut him off. They both turned to Cora as she stomped her foot. She swung around and stomped back to them with furious intent, mouth set in a grim line.

  “Best of friends now?” Lars asked. Cora ignored him, and kept going.

  “Fuck,” Finn muttered, hurrying to catch her up.

  Lars was right behind.

  They reached the stables, and as soon as a groom came into sight, Cora rattled off to him in Spanish. Lars snagged Finn’s sleeve. “What’s she saying?”

  “Don’t. Know,” Finn growled at him. “Cora!”

  She glanced at them over her shoulder. “One of you stay here. Let’s see how far we can get before they chase us.”

  “That’s—” Finn began.

  Lars clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Not a bad idea. You ride, don’t you?”

  Finn glared at him. “How is this not a bad idea?”

  “Cora would never leave one of us behind, would she?”

  Finn’s mouth worked for a few seconds before he let out an unsteady, “But…then how…?”

  “She’s going out for a ride.” Lars slid his arm over Milo’s shoulder. “One of
us goes back to the villa. We do it again tomorrow, swapping places or some shit. That way, Javier’s men get used to seeing us apart. When d-day comes, we’ll meet up with her somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

  “And how will we get to the middle of nowhere?”

  “Fuck knows. Maybe we’ll walk.” Lars shrugged. “Circling our cage, Milo.” He made a circuit with his finger. “We’re just circling our cage.”

  18

  Very quick, or very dead

  “You doing okay there?” Finn asked.

  Cora glanced at him over her shoulder. Her knuckles shone white how she gripped the reigns, but at least she’d loosened up in the saddle a little. Her horse had frisked a few steps when she’d mounted, and she’d felt as if she’d pass out from terror. Eventually, the feeling had passed. All her time in the saddle back at her manor flooded into her, and some of her confidence came back. “I’m fine,” she said.

  “How far do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know.” She kept her horse back a few paces until Finn could catch up, and gave him a small smile. “I didn’t know you rode.”

  “Grew up on a farm.”

  “A farm? No way,” Cora said with a laugh. “Did you have to muck out stables and milk cows?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “It wasn’t that kind of a farm. My uncle bred horses.”

  “Holy shit. Those make a lot of money, don’t they?”

  “Not if you’re an alcoholic. He pissed everything away.”

  “Oh.” Cora shifted in her saddle and let up on the reigns a little. “Sorry.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. After he’d passed out, me and my mom would take some of his money and go out. Have dinner somewhere.”

  “You stole from him?”

  “He took us in after my dad died. Said he’d look after us.” Finn shrugged as a shadow crossed his face, darkening his eyes. “Wasn’t much of that going around.”

  “Karma.”

  “You believe in that?” Finn’s voice was light, but when she looked at him, his eyes bore into hers with intent. “Karma and shit?”