I’m giving Humberto time to stew in his fear since I let the two-hour window expire without striking. He knows I didn’t forget or back down. He knows I’m plotting.
I need to go north to the second largest city in Colombia tomorrow to deal with the fucker Humberto’s plotting with. The trip means encountering additional risks I’d prefer to avoid. It’s dangerous to travel there, so I’ll fly. It’s dangerous to move around Medellín when you come from the family that dominatesLatin America and has connections to the head family in that city.
I’m not my cousin Alejandro. He’s a fucking ghost, I swear. He slips in and out of spaces that should be far too narrow for someone with shoulders as broad as his. He moves on silent feet, and despite being the most attractive man in our family, he blends into crowds. I’m sly, but I’ve never been like him. It means people will find out I’m there.
I’m distracted from planning my trip when my computer pops up a notification that Humberto’s making a call. Not only do we have cameras all over his property, we also tap his phones. He knows about some cameras and wiretaps. He thinks he’s sly and skirts our surveillance, but we have shit he’ll never find strategically placed all around his house and yards. The men who patrol his property are loyal toTíoEnrique, not thatpedazo de mierda.
I’d call him other things—son of a bitch, motherfucker—but they’d insult mybisabuela—great-grandmother. Apparently, she was a lovely woman. Humberto was just a mistake from the start.
I don’t recognize the number that appears on the notification, so I’m unprepared to hear Florencia’s voice on the line.
“I expect to see you here in two hours.”
Prick.
He called her and didn’t bother to greet her when she said hello.
“I know.” She sounds less than thrilled to have him on the other end of this call.
“Be on time.”
“I always am.”
Her responses are clipped. She doesn’t sound like she’s interested in humoring his bullshit this morning. I don’tknow her, but she sounds tired compared to yesterday at the pharmacy.
“Late night,hermosa? At your club again?” Beautiful.
Not at a club.
Your club.
Is she into…
Does she belong to…
Holy hell.
The idea that she might be into BDSM makes my dick jump to attention.
Florencia doesn’t respond. Silence hangs between them, and I know Humberto will fill the void. He loves the sound of his own voice, and he hates protracted periods of silence. It makes him feel out of control, so he thinks talking makes him dominate the conversation. He usually just makes himself sound like agilipollas. Asshole.
“Bring the sample.”
“No.”
“What the fuck did you just say? You don’t refuse me.”
She remains quiet again.
Once again, she reminds me of a queen. A woman who bows to no one.
Reina.
It just seems to fit.
“You must need more sleep because you’re being difficult this morning. Maybe if you were better rested, you’d understand why that’s not a good idea.”
“I don’t have the sample.”
