“How is Spice?” I ask.
“Healing.” Jett clenches his fist. He takes looking after the women in the house as a serious task. He dotes over them like prize-winning orchids. They provide an invaluable service of their own free will. They are rare, exquisite creatures, according to him, and seeing one of them hurt nearly sent him on a murderous rampage. Javier seems to have that effect on people.
Jett may look more like a laidback surfer than cold-blooded killer, but he has a dark side just like the rest of us. He wanted to kill Javier. Like, take a rusty kitchen knife and slit his throat. I would have held the spineless worm down while he did it, but we need the Mexican motherfucker alive. “She’s recuperating, but she still wants to go.”
I groan, annoyed. The girls who work for me come from all walks of life. Some are ex-prostitutes from the slums of the streets looking for a safe environment. Some are from upper class communities, looking to fulfill the piece of them that’s missing. Sex fiends with insatiable appetites. No matter where they come from, they’re treated all the same. Trained and educated in all sexual aspects to provide my clientele the erotic experience they pay top dollar for.
I don’t want to see her go, but I won’t force her to stay.
“If she leaves, make sure she’s compensated accordingly,” I tell him, rocking back in my black leather office chair.
Jett nods with a frown. He doesn’t want her to go either.
“I’ll have a word with Javier. See if I can grease the wheels.” I crack my knuckles irked.
“I think that’s smart.” He glances at his watch. “I need to check on Ellie.”
“Dress her. I want to take her for a walk,” I tell him pointedly.
Jett just stares, those fucking aqua eyes probing me.
“What?” I insist.
“You know you can’t keep her,” he reminds me.
I growl at him.She’s mine.
“What’s going to happen when she finds out the truth?” He treads lightly.
My world will end.
“It will be over.” I shrug, trying to play off the inevitable apocalypse.
“Are you going to be able to live with that?” he asks delicately.
“I’ll have no other choice,” I respond indifferently, while my heart secretly granulates in my chest.
If I’m even alive at all.
I FIND JAVIER EATING INthe grand dining room. Its walls are a light yellow, with an extravagant baroque mural on the recessed ceiling overhead.
“Kayne.” He smiles smugly with a mouth full of food.
I sit across the expansive mahogany table from him. I keep my expression cool and my demeanor even colder.
“Javier.” I address him.
“Are you here to share a meal with me?” he asks with his thick accent.
“No.”
“A woman then?”
“Definitely not,” I scowl.
“Then what can I do for you, amigo?”
“You can tell me what the fuck is going on. You have been under my roof for a month. Eaten my food and fucked my women. But made no mention of El Rey.”
