He expresses what anyone who’s around a syndicate’s leading family knows. The part about the unbreakable ties that bind. The other part is quite profound. It’s not a sentiment shared by all syndicate ruling families. It’s not one expressed aloud by most syndicate men.
People have long said the NYC syndicate leaders are odd. Some scoff at their open displays of affection. But those who are wise and wish to live understand these families are genetically wired differently than the rest of the world. Their devotion is a strand in their DNA. A strand that can’t be extracted without the rest disintegrating.
To hear Alejandro describe it is moving. While plenty have witnessed what he’s describing, hearing him share it with me is a vulnerability I doubt anyone outside his family sees. He told me earlier that he’d shown me the real him, but I’d scoffed at it. He didn’t elaborate, letting me change the subject. Now I know he spoke the truth. The gravity of that keeps me silent.
I don’t fight the urge to sag against him. We’ve been through the same traumatic event, yet his shoulders feel broad enough to carry the weight for both of us. It’s a cop-out on my part after my own show of bravado ever since he climbed into my car. He stiffens for a moment as my head rests on his shoulder, then he moves to wrap his arm around mine like he did in the hallwayand in the elevator. It’s only when he draws me closer to his side that I feel him relax.
My willingness to let go of control and give it to him calms him as much as it does me. I’m exhausted from today’s mental and emotional workout. I want to close my eyes and let someone else—only Alejandro—take over. Releasing the weight of it all leaves me feeling depleted but safe. I realize taking on the burden of protecting both of us—me not fighting him anymore and allowing him to decide—makes him feel…I don’t know. Safe? Needed? Respected? I don’t know him well enough to tell, but he’s calmer.
“Rest,chiquita.”
How the tides have turned. When I close my eyes this time, I allow myself to drift away. My mind clears for the first time in I don’t know how long. No whizzing thoughts. No suffocating worries. I don’t doze, but the drive’s shorter than I expected. Even with his men around us, Alejandro kisses my forehead as he brings me back to reality. I sit up and look around. We’re pulling into the garage of a large yet modest home in one of the wealthiest extended suburbs of NYC.
It’s not until I hear the garage door land against the ground that the driver switches off the engine. It’s not because he wants to give us carbon monoxide poisoning. It’s in case we need to make a hasty retreat as soon as the garage door rises again. Hell, even before the door is up. I know the protocols.
Alejandro releases my belt before undoing his own. The driver and front-seat guard both get out, opening their respective rear door. I look up at Alejandro, and he nods. I’m unaccustomed to asking permission or relying on someone else for my safety. It’s a novelty I haven’t had since I was a teenager.
We enter the house through the kitchen and are soon in the family room. There are books along one wall with games for all ages. A variety of toys are in stacking bins and cubbies. My browfurrows when I look up at Alejandro. He doesn’t have children and neither do any of his cousins.
“This is a family safehouse for any higher-ranked men who need somewhere for their family to go. We keep it stocked not only with necessities but things that will make both the parents’ and the kids’ lives easier while waiting out whatever danger they’re in.”
“Thoughtful.”
“Loyalty’s rewarded.”
I nod as he takes me on a tour. We head upstairs, and I spot two children’s rooms and a nursery. There’re a regular guest room and the main bedroom. We don’t enter them, but I can easily see inside all of them.
“Choose which one you want,chica. We’ll be here tonight and possibly tomorrow night.”
“Is there one you usually prefer?”
“I’ve never stayed here. I’ve never needed to come here before. Mymamáand one of mytíasare in real estate. They handle almost everything to do with the family’s properties, especially when it comes to preparing temporary living arrangements for families with kids.”
Alejandro’s mother, Catalina, and her younger sister, Luciana. Both are among the most successful real estate agents in the country. Luciana handles mostly commercial properties and escrows while Catalina focuses on residential and interior design. I learned about them from the dossier sent to me before I arrived in Chicago.
It warned they’re as deadly as Margherita, but it said nothing about how they demonstrate their loyalty to the Cartel. Caring for those who rely on you is a duty and privilege for the ruling families. How well they do it speaks to their loyalty.
Discovering my stash of insulin, my attempted escape, and being shot at certainly changed the tone. While we wereseducing each other, I would’ve said Alejandro and I would share a room. Now, I have no idea if he’ll have guards posted outside my door.
“I really don’t mind which room, Alejandro.”
“Then we’ll take the main one.”
“We? Will you chain me to the bedframe to make sure I don’t get away?”
“I could do that in any bedroom. No. You and I have some promises for me to fulfill.”
I stare at him agog.
“Little one, I know you’re here to kill me. The insulin wasn’t a surprise. Of course, you were going to attempt an escape. I would’ve suspected you far more if you hadn’t. And we agreed we don’t know who the target was. Just like I could’ve killed you a few dozen times already, you could’ve done the same to me. I doubt your job was just to observe and report back on my comings and goings. I doubt your employer’s patience will last much longer. Yet here I am. Alive and breathing while in arm’s reach of you. I don’t have any shackles or chains at the ready. I could get zip ties within seconds, but I’d never use those on you. Wild as I suspect my parents are—” He shudders. “—I don’t think my mom stocked the house with fuzzy handcuffs. You’ll stay in that bed because there won’t be anywhere else you want to be tonight.”
“You’re egotistically sure of yourself.”
He slides a finger through one of my jeans’ beltloops and tugs. Like he did in the hotel room with just my panties, he slides his fingers beneath the two layers of fabric with his palm facing him. He fists the material and pulls me until my body collides with his. He turns his hand despite the restricted space and inches his fingers closer to my pussy.
“It’s only fair I get to feel how wet you are when you can feel how hard I am.”
“Porca miseria.” Holy shit.
