Their Cartel Princess: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance Box Set

by Fox, Logan

“I need to speak to you.”

  “’Nother time, maybe.” Will gave a stiff laugh. “I’m kinda busy.”

  “Busy with Kane?”

  It was a long shot. A breadcrumb she didn’t have proof existed. But when the Beretta dipped just a fraction of an inch, she knew the guess had paid off.

  “How d’ya know about him?”

  “Can I come in?” she said, instead of answering.

  Her heart thundered at a hundred miles an hour.

  Coming here without an invitation was dangerous. As was revealing she knew who was inside the warehouse. But if she wanted to climb that slippery ladder to becoming Ronan King’s confidante, she couldn’t be a coward.

  Will signed. Then he flicked the Beretta in her direction. “Come back with food, and I’ll think about it.”

  “Food?” She glanced both ways up the street. “Where am I supposed to—?”

  The crash of the metal door shredded apart her question. She wanted to give the resolute barrier the finger, but as she turned, something caught her eye. She looked up. In the nooks formed by the brick perimeter of the door, sat a security camera. So, instead of flipping him off, she wiggled her fingers in a coy little wave and turned back to the Mustang.

  She found a twenty-four-hour convenience store on Prospect Street. She’d expected nothing better than meat pies and stale donuts, but the smell of fresh coffee and baking bread hit her right in the nose.

  The kid behind the register was friendly too.

  Small towns. Too much of a good thing.

  * * *

  Shayla knocked on the warehouse door a few minutes later, stilling her foot when it began to tap out the seconds. Will opened for her an eternity later, sweeping an arm as grandly as if he was inviting her into his mansion.

  She sneezed the second after she’d taken her first lungful of musty air and followed Will through a cramped hallway and up a pair of steel stairs with her boot’s stiletto heels clacking. He led her to what might have been the foreman’s office; a panel of windows — only two still intact — faced the warehouse floor. A desk with a phone, a laptop, and a small bar fridge took up one wall, a television bolted to the wall, the other. And one rickety looking chair to fill the intermediate space.

  Shayla put the bag on the desk and peered out the window.

  Although the warehouse was as big as a mansion, it definitely wasn’t lux enough. Discarded crap lay piled up in the distant corners, some left haphazardly across the bare concrete floor.

  Near the center of the vast space, she could make out a silhouette tied to a chair.

  “That him?” she asked, pointing through the window to the captive below.

  “You tell me,” Will said.

  Shayla jumped and spun around. He was right behind her, one hand leaning against the desk beside her, the other coming to rest on the window pane next to her head.

  “I… can’t tell from up here.”

  “You sounded pretty sure of yaself earlier,” Will mused. His green eyes flickered over her face as if wondering how much she knew.

  Should she pretend to know a little, or a lot?

  “Let’s eat,” she said, ducking out from under Will’s arm and opening the bag. She’d snagged a fresh bear claw and one of the cups of coffee.

  Will kept his eyes on her as she bit into the pastry, tracking her when she moved around him to stare out the window again.

  Was that Kane — the man Bailey was so interested in? How had he ended up on the Mafia’s radar?

  A hand landed on her shoulder. She tried to disguise her flinch by taking another bite of her pastry. It was fucking delicious, but she had a hard time getting the bite to go down how. She didn’t dare recoil from Will’s touch, of course — insulting him would mean leaving here with nothing.

  “He tell you he’s DEA?” The words were out of her mouth before she knew she was going to speak them.

  Will’s grip tightened as he turned her to face her. “What the fuck do you—?”

  “He’s not, don’t worry. But he goes around telling people he is.” All facts. Facts that registered with Will on some level because his bemused expression melted into concern.

  “Why’d he do that?”

  She shrugged. “What do you want him for, anyways?”

  Will turned away and started on another bear claw. He took a swig of coffee to wash down the massive bite he’d taken and narrowed his eyes at her as he swallowed. “Not me. The boss.”

  Ronan King.

  Shayla’s heart did a little caper in her chest. “And what does Ronan want with him?”

  “What makes you think I’m privy so that kind of info?” Will asked through another mouthful.

  The guy wasn’t an underwear model, but he had a nice enough face despite the scars and crooked nose. And a body hardened through manual labor.

  If he wasn’t such a pig, she’d even have considered dating him back when she’d first met him. It hadn’t taken her long to find out he held almost no power in the mafia. He was a grunt like her. Maybe one step higher, but a still grunt.

  To reach the top, she’d have to go through him first.

  Shayla put her pastry down, disguising the twist of her mouth with a sip of coffee from her paper cup.

  “And ya still haven’t told me how you know ‘bout him.” Will stepped close enough for her to feel his body heat through the thin fabric of her skirt.

  “Tell you what…” Shayla moved the things she’d bought out of the way and slipped onto the desk. She toyed with the top button of her blouse — yellow to match her nails — as she bit the inside of her bottom lip. “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours.”

  Will took another sip of coffee before setting down his cup. He watched her like a predator sizing up its prey — using his peripheral vision as he turned his head to the side.

  “How do I know you’re not bluffing?” he murmured as he laid his hands on her thighs. They were warm too —their heat bled through her skirt.

  “I’ll go first.” She grabbed the front of his pants, disappointed that he wasn’t hard yet. But all it took were two hard squeezes before his cock bulged against the front of his jeans.

  Will slid his hands over her knees, gathering up the end of her skirt and dragging it up to mid-thigh. He dug his fingers into her flesh, wrenched her knees open, and wedged himself between her legs. She slung a hand over his shoulder, the other still massaging his dick through his pants.

  The only change to his expression was the slight narrowing of his eyes. Was he trying to figure out her agenda?

  As if it was that difficult to guess at.

  He slid a hand up her inner thigh and paused less than an inch away from her underwear. His eyes were on hers. Was he waiting for a reaction? For her to chicken out?

  He’d get neither. Not tonight. Not when she was this close to uncovering something that might bring her Ronan King.

  Will grasped roughly at her pussy. A thrill swept up her at the touch — cruel as it was — and that must have shown in her eyes because Will’s lips perked up at the corners.

  She fumbled for his belt, yanking at it as he massaged her through her underwear. But it seemed he wasn’t in the mood for foreplay; Will yanked down his fly, freed his cock, and gave it a hard pump as he glanced down at himself.

  It was a fucking erotic thing to see someone doing. Shayla’s core constricted, and a warm tingle spread through her as her body responded. She’d barely spread her legs before Will tugged her to the edge of the desk.

  He used his thumb to nudge her underwear to the side and drove himself balls deep into her so hard that she let out an involuntary gasp.

  When he thrust into her again, she slipped back on the table. His lips pulled into a snarl as if the fact that he was fucking her so hard she kept moving was her fault. He clutched her knees, hiking up her legs and forcing her to grip his waist.

  “How’d ya know Kane?” Will asked, his words ending in a grunt as he slammed into her.

&nbs
p; Shayla grabbed the back of his neck to steady herself, letting out a whimper when his fingers dug into her thighs. He would bruise her.

  “Friend of mine,” she said, sounding breathless. “Asked me to look him up.”

  “Who, Kane?”

  “Yeah.” Despite how badly they wanted to slip closed, she forced her eyes to stay on Will’s, watching him as he watched her.

  He could have been staring at an infomercial.

  “Who’s this friend?”

  “No one,” she said, hating how her stomach grew cold at the words.

  Fuck, it might have been true if she hadn’t met Bailey today. But when she’d seen him taking off his helmet, confirming the suspicion that the man who’d arrived on the Ducati was her childhood friend and lover, her stomach had done a goddamn somersault.

  “So what good are ya then?” Will whispered, leaning so close she smelled coffee on his breath. For a moment, she thought he’d kiss her. Then she remembered foreplay, or romanticism of any kind, was a foreign concept to Will. He just put his mouth by her ear, lips brushing — probably unintentionally — against her skin as he fell into a hard, rocking rhythm that made her squirm and gasp around his cock as he fucked her.

  “Maybe—” but the word shattered as Will rubbed her clit.

  It shocked her that he even knew where to find it.

  “Maybe what?” came the harsh whisper in her ear. “What good are you to me, Shay? To Ronan King?”

  Just the sound of the man’s name made her pussy clench around Will’s cock as if she wished it was his instead.

  Fuck, she did wish it was his. If Ronan was here, she’d be on her knees in front of him, sucking him off until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Why does Ronan want Kane?” she asked, getting the words out around a moan as Will strummed that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb.

  Will let out a blustery laugh and pulled out. He stroked his cock, staring at her as he urged her off the desk with his other hand.

  “Repayment of a debt,” Will said. “Know anything about that?”

  She deliberated for a breathless second before giving a curt nod. “Yeah. Bailey said there was a mess to clean up.”

  The tiniest flicker in Will’s eyes gave away the fact that she’d struck some vein of gold with her words. But that was the only hint she got before the man grabbed her hips and twisted her around. He bent her over the desk, cool air washing over her ass when he hiked up her dress.

  She was about to protest, but he forced his cock back into her before she could get a word out. The new angle sent a flurry of glorious aches through her, more so when Will grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.

  “Did you say Bailey?” Will murmured into her ear.

  “Yeah,” Shayla managed.

  “So you know Eleodora Rivera?” Will sped up; her hips thumped into the desk at a relentless tempo that shifted the coffee cups over its surface nearly an inch at a time.

  She didn’t know the name. Her brain scrambled for something — anything.

  “Cora.”

  Will paused. When he drew out, her pussy tingled fiercely from that delicious friction.

  He grabbed her, turned her, and took her chin between his fingers. She noticed absently that he was stroking his cock as he studied her, but she didn’t want to move in case she broke whatever spell he was under.

  “Down,” he said, stepping back.

  She blinked at him, her brain taking an eternity to form the word into something comprehensible. Slowly, she sank to her knees on the gritty floor, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell the last few inches.

  “Open.”

  Shayla licked her lips, and then slowly parted them.

  “How small do you think my dick is?” Will asked, putting his head to the side. “Wider.”

  She stretched her jaw as far as it could go. Will dipped his hips, sliding his cock over her bottom lip. He put a hand on the desk behind her and began urging his hips forward. Slow and then faster. Faster.

  So deep, she gagged.

  “I know what you want,” Will murmured, his eyes still fixed on hers. Other men would have been watching their cock slide into her mouth, but not him. He hadn’t broken eye contact with her since he’d turned her.

  She gagged again, and put her hands against his hips, pushing back so he didn’t make her puke.

  Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he wanted. Some men were total fucking freaks.

  “And I’ll tell ya now, doll, you’re not gonna get it.”

  His jaw bunched, and he slowed. She was struggling to breathe now — he no longer drew his cock out entirely, just kept moving it an inch back and an inch forward.

  She spluttered for breath, and he grabbed the back of her head, urging more of his dick down her throat.

  “But it’s cute to watch you try.”

  There was no warning when he came. One moment he was watching her like a puzzle he’d just figured out, the next warm cum jettisoned into the back of her mouth.

  She retched and barely held back from puking.

  Fuck knew why – it would have served him right.

  She moaned, pushed hard against his hips, and dragged in a lungful of air when he finally gave her enough room to do so.

  Shayla fell back from him, coughing hard and shuddering at the bitter taste in her mouth. Will watched her, absently reaching over her head for a napkin. He wiped his cock before putting it away. Then he flicked his fingers at her as if signaling her to stand.

  She managed by holding onto the desk. Her lungs still burned from lack of oxygen, and her body was thoroughly pissed by the abrupt ending to her own pleasure.

  “Tell me what you know and I’ll make sure it gets to King.” Will crumpled the napkin and tossed it into a corner of the small office. Whether there was a trash bin there or not was a mystery.

  Thankfully, she found a morsel of strength somewhere deep inside her, and used it to prop up her chin.

  “I speak only to Ronan.”

  Will closed the distance between them without having seemed to move. He seized the front of her throat, giving her a squeeze that brought a gasp to her lips. She clutched his wrists, realized how cowardly she must look, and straightened her arms at her side instead.

  He peered at her with his dead eyes, giving away nothing, before releasing her. She couldn’t help a cough as her body fought for air the second time tonight, but managed not to break eye contact with him.

  Will turned away, scribbled something on a scrap of paper, and slapped it into her chest as he made his way to the door.

  Her fingers shook when she tilted the note up to catch the light.

  1 Rhodium Drive.

  Was it a Mallhaven address?

  “This is urgent. I have to—” she began, but Will threw open the office door. That thud cut her off.

  “Tomorrow. Eight.” He gestured to the stairs, and she realized she had no choice but to leave.

  “Please, Will. If he knew—”

  “He’s busy fucking his wife right now,” Will interrupted, a strange little leer coming onto his face. “See you at eight.” Then his eyes ran over her body, as if he could very well remember what her naked legs looked like. “And don’t show up dressed like a slut. He won’t take you seriously if you do.”

  Shayla’s cheeks were still glowing when she slid behind the wheel of her Mustang. She turned the engine, pulled into the road, and drove away.

  She keyed the address into her GPS, following its directions until she reached Rhodium Drive.

  The building could have been an apartment block; three stories high, each floor filled with large windows. The only light came from a single street lamp.

  Shayla sat parked in front of it for a few more seconds and then drove away.

  Two hours to get back to Arizona. An hour to shit, shower, and shampoo. Two hours to get back. If she knew of any motels here, and a clothing store that opened before eight, she’d have stayed.


  Arizona it was. She’d make it, but only if she floored it.

  6

  One of Hers

  Cora woke five seconds before she puked. How the hell pregnant woman didn’t die bashing their heads in as they tried to make it to the toilet bowl before they retched over their floors was a mystery to her.

  Cool hands touched her shoulders, but she waved them away.

  When she came back inside the room, Finn and Bailey were both sitting up in bed — Bailey wearing a grumpy expression, and Finn watching her walk across the floor like a predator tracking prey. Lars wasn’t in the room. Had he even come to bed last night?

  “Guess you’re all awake then?” she asked.

  “You get something to eat yesterday?” Bailey asked through a yawn as he slid out of bed.

  “Yes,” she replied. “But I just puked it all up, so I don’t think I’m going to bother today. Where were you yesterday, anyway?”

  Bailey looked away. “Just… I went out to get some air.”

  “The whole day?” She heard the petulance in her voice, but screw it — he hadn’t even bothered to let her know he was leaving.

  “Cora…” Finn said, getting to his feet. He’d taken to wearing long-sleeved shirts even in bed these days, even though they seemed to annoy him no end; he tugged at the sleeves where they’d hiked up.

  “We have to talk,” Cora said.

  The men glanced at each other and reluctantly filed from the room in complete silence.

  She grabbed a pair of jeans and a tank top from their closet and went to the bathroom. Stripping as she stepped into the steamy shower, Cora scrubbed her skin until it stung. Kane had haunted her mind last night. That pale, dusty light glancing off Kane’s sweat-beaded muscles. The animalistic set of his mouth and his steely eyes, daring the person behind the camera to do their worst. That, not only could he handle whatever torture they threw his way, he’d laugh at each of their foolish attempts to break him.

  But they had broken him, hadn’t they? Else how would they know about Lars?

  Unless Neo…

  What if Kane hadn’t taken Neo to the DEA? What if he’d escaped? Neo might know her men’s last names, and he had a bone to pick with her the size of Texas. Maybe Kane was innocent. Merely caught up in a war between her and Neo.