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My blood boiled at the thought of her being scared of Mario. But this didn’t make any sense. They were supposed to be close. Mario found Ryan on the streets at seventeen. From everything I knew, they were like family.

Was she scared for me? Or what I was going to be told?

“Ryan, I have no problem being respectful,” I answered, my thumb drawing circles on her hip.

I needed to let her go, but my hands wouldn’t cooperate. I homed in on her shoulders, watching them lower from up by her ears.

She really was concerned about how this would go. But it was my job to prepare for this meeting, and I wasn’t planning to ruin this opportunity because I couldn’t keep my attitude in check.

With a single nod, she removed her body from my hands and jogged up the last few steps. Seated behind the large wooden desk was the infamous Mario Jimenez. I knew all about the heir to the Los Muertos Cartel. According to my sources, the man was a ruthless asshole.

I could already tell the rumors were true. He was reclined back, feet up on the desk—a smug look on his face. Now I saw where the moron outside got his outfit inspiration from. Mario looked like he wanted to be a mafioso instead of a cartel member, with his slicked-back hair and designer suit. On his wrist, he wore the gaudiest gold watch. Prick didn’t bother changing his position as I took a seat.

“Aww. Mr. Gunner, I’m glad you arrived when asked,” he said, a fake smile plastered on his face.

He was baiting me. Trying to see if he would get a rise out of me by insinuating that I was under his thumb. But I saw through his manipulation. So instead, I gave a quick nod of my head in response, making sure to keep my face blank.

His eyes showed the slightest twitch of irritation before sliding over to where Ryan stood behind me. Whatever he saw behind me made him sit up.

“Muñeca, come stand over here, please,” he demanded.

I bristled at how he watched Ryan. When she was within reaching distance, Mario pulled her down onto his lap and buried his nose in her hair. It took all my willpower to avoid slamming my fists into his face. A look of confusion flashed across her face, mirroring how I felt inside, but I refused to let it show.

What the fuck is their deal?

The man looked unhinged when he finally pulled his face out of the crook of Ryan’s neck.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we? I hear that The Skeletons of Society feel they are worthy of working for Los Muertos,” he commented.

Let the dick-measuring contest begin, I guess.

I relaxed in my chair, pretending to be at ease, making sure to match the arrogance coming from Mario. In this meeting, I would have to tread carefully and walk the line between holding my own and not pissing him off.

“Yes. Your father felt we would be good partners, seemed Ryan here needed some extra support getting her product out to her clients,” I replied.

Yeah, asshole. I know now that you aren’t the one doing any of the work here in Tucson.

His nostril flare was the only tell that my words had hit their mark. Unfortunately, when you deal with slimy bastards, it’s hard to predict what they’ll do next. Mario snaked his hand up Ryan’s ramrod straight back until it was nestled in the space where her neck and shoulders met. The movement was possessive but not in a romantic manner. More like a child with a favorite toy he wasn’t willing to share—a plaything.

And I wasn’t convinced Mario was careful with his playthings.

The scene before me reminded me of a puppeteer with his marionette. Ryan sat there, waiting for her strings to be pulled. This was not the woman who would verbally go to war with me or instantly make me hard with the intensity of her glare.

“Yes, my fiancée has done a wonderful job handling business for me here in Tucson. I’ll have to be sure and reward her,” his slimy voice rang out.

It felt like getting punched in the gut, his words pulling the rug from under me.

Ryan’s head attempted to snap to look at Mario, but I watched as his fingers dug into her neck. A warning that she should behave. Or maybe my interpretations were all wishful thinking. Maybe Ryan had been Mario’s girl this entire time. She figured flirtation would get her what she wanted.

I stiffened at that last thought. Was her reaction because she was shocked that Mario had spilled the secret so soon? My jaw clenched at the thought of her lying to me.

Which was hypocritical since I was lying to her.

This whole partnership was built on deceit. No one could really tell the truth from a lie. We thought Mario was in charge here—lie. We thought Ryan was a man—lie. We told Los Muertos we were entering this partnership to be at their beck and call—lie. Were any of us actually telling the truth?

I dropped the shutter down on my feeling, cutting off the little bit of myself I had allowed to slip through when I met Ryan.

My eyes stayed with Mario, not sparing Ryan another look. But I could only hold out for so long. I glanced her way before continuing the conversation. It was eerie how cold and calculating her face was. Indifferent. Her feelings were effectively turned off. She’d shown more passion and emotion when interrogating Spinner. This version of her looked like her soul was dead.