Her eyes sparkle, lips curving wickedly.
And then, like a timer, she leaps into my arms, and I catch her.
Legs around my waist as fast as our lips are crashing together.
Instantly ravenous, panting and growling, eating each other alive while I spin and carry her inside my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me.
Lifting my arm, I bring it down with all my strength.
Slapping his face so hard, he’s bleeding from the ear.
Growling, I deliver another, then another, sort of blacking out. I’m barely conscious right now. Everything around me is rippling, and I’m just…unleashing.
The kid sniffles and cries, and I shush him.
“Shh…there there, querido. Callate.” I grab him by the face and he winces. “You lost the right to cry like a puta pequeña when you knowingly came around here… slangin’. Like you don’t knowexactlywhat happens to people who try to sell on my land.”
He’s trying to articulate over the broken jaw and blood justpouringfrom his mouth.
“Basta.” I tap him gently on the cheek, straightening and peeking at Kent. “Let’s drop our friend here off at Miguel’s, si? Right inside the main dining room. The niños will be there for dinner by seven. I want them to see this.”
Kent nods, hustling over to collect the sack of shit.
I bend to look him in the eye one last time. “Tell your boss next time he pulls this shit, I’ll lock them all inside that goddamn restaurant and burn it to the ground.”
Pacing out of the room, I exhale a sigh of mild perturbance, heading for the sink to wash the blood off my hands.
No rest for the wicked.
Especially not when thewickedowns everything, and everyone else always wants a fucking piece.
Cartel business never wavers, but I just cannot wrap my head around these idiotas who continue to test me.
Truth be told, Sinaloa falcons constantly attempting to skirt around treaties that were put into place before they were born isn’t even what has me all bunched up with stress right now. Ishouldbe enjoying my trip into Manhattan, this rare break from being theWarden—a job that’s taken up a majority of my timeover the last couple of years. And yet all I can think about is gettingbackto the island… To keep an eye on things.
It’s extremely vexing. I have a second in command handling business while I’m away…
But who makes surehe’sproperly handled?
And what if the part that’s bunching me up the most isnotbusiness-related…?
My jaw is so tight, it might snap in half.
Beating runners to a pulp to send a message is well beneath me. Mateo or Alejo should be handling this stuff. But Iwantedto do it… I needed some rage therapy, to distract me from what’s been going on in my castle lately.
A…relationship.
Ugh, gag me twice.
For six months, I’ve had to sit back and watch this purest of utter nonsense unfold, while Jonathan andthat girlspend every waking moment flaunting whatever it is they’re doing. And no, it doesn’t affect their work one bit. In fact, it doesn’t leave the mansion.
For a while, it was contained to their bedrooms, and I could deal with that. But then, slowly, they began venturing out. Into their living spaces, and eventually downstairs too. And now, they act like a couple all overmyhome, and it’s just disgusting. I’m physically repulsed by it, every time I scour the video feeds from the various surveillance cameras I have set up across every inch of the mansion, becauseof course, I have that.
Who do I look like?
And sure, I could justnotlook at it. But why would I do that when they should be the ones…not doing it??
Honestly, what does he need with a girlfriend anyway?? It seems completely unnecessary and ridiculous.
