Vee collapsed to the floor with a groan. When he pulled out, she didn’t have the energy to close her legs. His come, her come, would just have to pool on the floor. She wasn’t dealing with it. He crawled over top of her, his knees on either side of her hips, his hands pressing into the floor next to her shoulders, caging her. She felt wonderful, incredible, safe.
He bent to place a kiss between her shoulder blades, trailing his lips across her one shoulder. She shivered in response and moved her face to the side so she could see him hovering over her.
“Isaac…” she whispered.
“Si, mi amor?” he said softly, nipping her earlobe before kissing his way down her cheek toward her lips.
She moaned, both fearing and wanting his kiss. The problem with his kisses is they were like a drug. A drug she had no defense against. She wanted them desperately but wasn’t sure if she could deal with the aftermath of that kind of addiction.
“Do you think we could do this in a bed next time?” she asked, her lips tilting up in a smile. “I’m getting sore from all the floor fucking.”
He laughed out loud, the sound golden to her ears.
Chapter Thirty
Vee stood in the ocean, water rushing over her bare feet and ankles. She wore a simple one-piece bathing suit. Rose coloured with a splash of white flowers and green foliage low on one side. She liked it a lot. Just as she liked the sheer white wrap, tied around her waist, that went with it. And every other item of clothing that’d been chosen for her. Almost as if someone knew her tastes. Whoever was picking her clothes went that little extra mile to get Vee the things she never bothered to get herself. Items that were more expensive, more exclusive, better fabrics and nicer cuts.
She also loved Sotza’s island home. It was private, spacious yet also cozy. The sand was fine and soft, the jungle-like foliage lush. The house was close enough to the beach that Vee had been going down a few times per day to swim or just sit in the sand. Sometimes Sotza joined her and sometimes he stayed up at the house. She suspected he worked when they weren’t together, touched base with Mateo and whoever he set up as liaison in Miami. Regardless, he was more relaxed here on the island. He smiled easier, laughed once in awhile. When they ate together, he talked to her the way he had when she’d been locked in the bedroom, in his low quiet voice. Only Vee responded this time, listening to him and sharing her thoughts and opinions. It helped that he seemed to value the things she said, absorbing her words and turning them over in his brain before responding.
They’d been on the island for almost two days, half of their honeymoon over. Vee regretted that they had so little time, but she was eager to get back to Raina. And she knew Sotza needed to get back to the mainland, back to his empire. He’d left it for months to go sort out Miami. Vee suspected he hadn’t meant to be gone so long, but after meeting her, deciding what their future would be, he stayed longer to woo his reluctant bride. She smiled at the thought. They’d virtually burned down Miami’s underworld in their warring courtship. And while she missed her home, was still unsure of this new relationship, she was beginning to feel hopeful.
Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should still be bitter and angry. The world was changing around them, women had more power, more control over their own futures. Shouldn’t she also get a say in what happens to her? Yet, the mafia world didn’t change, not really. Even Vee’s own bid for power, to sit as queen at the top, had lasted just a little over a year. Lasted about as long as it took for men to challenge her and another man to dethrone her.
Except the man who took her crown was the man setting her up again, at the top of a new regime. Ensuring she would maintain power, just in a different capacity. Similar, she supposed, to the way Reyes had set Casey up at his side. Allowing her control within the Bolivian organization, giving her the authority to make decisions. Vee was still sceptical. Never in her life had she experienced an equal sharing. Every one of her relationships had been an exchange of power, with Vee getting the least amount, grabbing what she could and making the best of each situation.
Frank, her first long-term lover, hadn’t treated her too bad. But he’d made it clear that she was a commodity. Something easily ignored until he was ready to take what he wanted. He was generous in some capacities. Jewels, clothing, money, it had all flowed. He was also generous with his friends, occasionally passing Vee around when he needed a favour or wanted to show off. She hadn’t been sad to see him go when Tony took over.
Tony had been different. Exciting at first. Exotically handsome and dangerous. His thirst for power, his reckless devil-may-care attitude, had been attractive. His pursuit had been breathtaking. He wanted her almost as bad as he wanted Frank’s cut of the action. It hadn’t taken Vee long to realize Tony only wanted her because she belonged to someone else. She was a beautiful, unattainable prize that Tony wanted to own. Once he had her, she became part of the scenery. Again. Just a woman, a thing to be shrugged off, pushed aside, taken out and played with when the mood struck.
Vee thought that Sotza was different, that he wouldn’t do to her the things that Frank and Tony and other men had done. He seemed… different. He was definitely harsh and brutal, a product of the mafia world and the horrific things that life asked of him, but he also had a side to him that was not quite as sinister as she originally thought. He was careful, thoughtful in his actions and fair. For the most part. Vee didn’t think she would ever be okay with the things he did in Miami, but she also understood that he’d had a job to do. It was just her poor luck that she happened to be his job.
Vee was a practical soul. And now that she was here, with Sotza, married and about to embark on a new path, she was ready to face the future with optimism. She would stand at his side, for a while anyway, and see how things played out. She would have to find a way to extract Raina from the organization though. Having her daughter involved in anything mafia-related was unacceptable. But once Raina was out of the picture, Vee would consider settling down and finding a way to live with the new man in her life.
She heard footsteps in the sand, the sound of rustling clothing intrusive against the stillness of the ocean backdrop. She knew whoever was approaching wasn’t Sotza. He stepped lightly, carefully. He didn’t want his victims to hear him coming. She tensed and turned to look, relaxing slightly when she saw John, one of the island guards.
“Señora Sotza,” he said as he walked to the edge of the water and stopped. “The Señor has requested your company at the villa. Please come out of the water and accompany me up to the house.”
Vee squinted at him, shading her eyes from the sun. Something was off. In the few days they’d been on the island, Sotza hadn’t once sent his men to find her. Like he’d done at his mansion home, Sotza always took care of Vee himself. If he wanted her, he would come and find her. Not summon her.
She looked John over from head to foot with sharp observation. He was nervous about something, shifting a little from foot to foot, his flinty eyes restlessly scanning the area. In her time on the island she’d found the two guards to be fairly relaxed. Mindful, but part of the scenery. John was acting different, his shoulders tense, his hands held low at his sides. One of his hands was resting a little behind his thigh, as though he was holding something. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t a gun. She knew they carried weapons, but they’d never openly displayed them. Vee’s own gun was up at the house, packed in her suitcase.
Vee gathered the skirt of her wrap in one hand so it wouldn’t tangle in her legs and walked slowly out of the water toward the guard. He relaxed a little as she approached him. She smiled benignly. About a foot away from him she pretended to stumble, reaching out to grab his arm. The one that was holding something. She used him as leverage, grabbing hold of his arms tightly and then bringing her knee up sharp and fast between his legs.
John went down into the sand with a howl. Vee whirled away from him and sprinted toward the treeline. She wanted to head for the house, but feared it wasn’t safe. If she was righ
t and John had been about to attack her then someone else was likely hitting the house, going after Sotza. The thought was gut-wrenching. She wanted to turn back and run to the house, help him if she could. But she knew better. She was next to defenseless. She had no weapon and she was wearing little more than a bathing suit. She didn’t even have shoes. She would only hinder Sotza if he needed to fight. Perhaps even distract him from doing what he needed to do. No, her best bet was to hide in the trees and then circle back toward the house where she could observe it in stealth.
She didn’t make it to the trees. Something hit her hard in the back, stunning her. She collapsed onto the sand face first and lay for a moment, absorbing the pain in her back. She moaned and glanced over her shoulder, John was standing over top of her, holding what looked like a gun. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t, pretty sure she hadn’t been shot. Before she could defend herself he shot her again and she had less than a second to realize he was using a taser on her. She was out before she could scream for help.
She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. She suspected not long since she had flashes of being carried over John’s shoulder to a vehicle, then driven somewhere. When awareness returned she found herself lying on the dirty floor of a shed. She squinted into the room. There were no lights, but she could tell it was still daytime from the dim, pale light filtering through cracks on the walls. She sat up painfully, shoving hair out of her face. She was certain she was still on the island.
She stood, swaying a little. “I’m going to fucking kill that son-of-a-bitch,” she growled, reaching around to touch the spot on her back where he’d tasered her. The area was tender. She went to the door of the shed and tried it. Of course, it was locked. She threw her weight against it, hoping the wood was frail enough to give way. It didn’t move and all she accomplished was to jar her shoulder.
She pressed her ear against a crack in the wood and listened. She could hear the crashing of waves and birds singing. The shed must be somewhere in the trees, but not far from the beach. She was about to start shouting when she heard a vehicle approach. She glanced frantically around for a weapon, reaching out to feel her way around. Nothing. Teeth and nails would have to do.
When the door swung open, she backed into the far corner and squared her shoulders, facing the threat bravely. She wasn’t going to go down begging for her life. Light flooded the small interior, blinding her for a second. When she blinked she saw a tall, broad male figure standing in the doorway. She thought at first it must be John, come back to finish her. But when she was able to see clearly she discovered someone else entirely, someone she hadn’t given a single thought to since they left Mexico.
“Nico Garza,” she said coolly.
He nodded swiftly and pulled something off his belt. She stiffened thinking it was a weapon, but he brought it up to his face and began speaking in swift, angry Spanish. “Report!” he snapped. “Where is Desi? She should be here by now.”
As he talked on the phone, Vee slid sideways along the wall, thinking to slip past him and run. He reached out, so suddenly, she didn’t have time to duck, and gripped her throat, slamming her into the wall. They stood that way, he towering over her, pinning her against the wall, while she listened to his end of the conversation.
“You fucking find her, Diego,” he snarled. “I want to know where Sotza is too, why he wasn’t up at the house.”
Vee’s head spun with all the possibilities. Sotza wasn’t at the house? That was where she’d left him, sitting on the comfy sofa, his laptop open in front of him, a mere 20 minutes before she’d been attacked. Had he found out about the intruders and gotten out of the house in time? Did he abandon Vee to the Mexicans? As soon as she had the thought she discarded it. No, Sotza wouldn’t do that. He would do whatever it took to get her back and then take out the kidnappers. Knowing that he was loose on the island and not up at the house, injured or dead, was a huge relief. Once Vee extracted herself from Nico she would join her husband.
Nico clipped his phone back on his belt and turned to look at her, his cool gaze slipping over her. She regretted her outfit choice. It wasn’t good for fighting and she felt nearly naked in just a bathing suit and sheer wrap. Though, thankfully, she didn’t feel any lust from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice steady.
His fingers flexed threateningly around her neck before he dropped his hand away. He remained standing too close though, his big body blocking her from moving.
“I would think it’s obvious.”
He would be there for one of two reasons, to take out Sotza or to take out Vee. Maybe both. She didn’t particularly like either option and wondered why she wasn’t dead yet. Even if he was just after Sotza she should be collateral damage. It would be stupid to leave her alive as a witness and a potential enemy. She decided to play dumb. “You came all the way to Venezuela to lock me in a shed?”
He gave her a withering look. “Let’s not pretend you’re Sotza’s bimbo blond wife. I know exactly who you are, Elvira Montana.”
“Sotza,” she correctly coldly. When he lifted an eyebrow she said, “My name is Elvira Sotza, but you may call me Señora Sotza.” She tried for haughty, so he would understand that she thought him an annoying worm.
He laughed, despite his obvious tension. “We were on a first name basis in Mexico, Vee.” His eyes travelled over her body. “I enjoyed our time together in my home.”
Vee badly wanted to cross her arms over her chest, hide her cleavage from view. But she forced herself to keep her arms loose at her side in case she needed to defend herself. “You weren’t such a prick in Mexico, Mr. Garza,” she said tartly. “I don’t think I want to be so familiar with the man trying to take over my husband’s organization.”
She was fishing. Trying to draw him into divulging his reason for attacking them. He continued to look at her, assessing her. Not critically, like his compatriots had when they kept going after her in Miami, trying to take her down. No, he looked at her with respect, though he tried to hide it under the guise of lust. Though he was top of the food chain himself, dominating a large swath of Mexico, she thought perhaps he liked strong, powerful women. And though his gaze was purposefully heated, she still didn’t get any sense that he actually wanted her. Something was worrying him, getting in the way of his ability to play with her properly.
“What do you want?” she finally demanded. Why beat around the bush? He was clearly on the island for a reason. And she wasn’t dead, so he didn’t have what he needed yet.
He continued to stare at her, his dark eyes cold. “I want what should be rightfully mine.”
“And that is?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“United States, East coast. Miami. I want my cut back. It belonged to me for ten years, then it fell to the Bolivians. I have spent the past year trying to get it back. But the idiotas I sent in kept failing,” he said, his voice dropping a little as he searched her face.
Vee frowned as her mind whirled, trying to unravel what he was saying. “You were in partnership with Ignacio Hernandez?” Hernandez had been Casey’s husband before Reyes went in and cleaned out the organization.
He nodded and moved away from her, leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed loosely over his broad chest. “Hernandez and Montana. I was involved in everything crossing borders.” He watched for her reaction. Vee knew better than to give him one. But she was reeling with the information he was giving her.
“I don’t remember ever seeing you at the house,” she said of her time with Tony. “I knew who my late husband was doing business with.”
His lips curled a little. “But I saw you, chica,” he said. “Once only. And you made an impression. You were at your husband’s side, pretending not to hear the conversation as a new drug trail into the US was negotiated. You were very high from the cocaine back then, but still sharp. I was impressed with both your beauty and the thoughts that passed across your face. You thought Montana was an idi
ot and you thought Juan Domingo was just as stupid. You were correct on both points. I believe if you hadn’t been married I would have stolen you away.”
And then she remembered. She hadn’t met him, but she’d seen him. “Four years ago,” she said, nodding slowly. “We were in Stage’s nightclub. You asked me to dance, but I refused.”
“You did,” he agreed.
“But that was the only time you spoke that whole evening, to ask me for a dance,” she pointed out incredulously. “Domingo did all the talking.”
“He usually did. My cousin was the better businessman. I have a tendency to take what I need by force.” He waved his hand between them. “Although he spent the past year fucking things up in Miami. Alienating our contact. Couldn’t stand the idea of a woman in charge.”
“Me,” she breathed. Things began to click into place. Nico’s reasons for coming to Venezuela, the vastness of his organization. “You pretended to be rivals, but you weren’t. Most of us never met the leader of the Garza organization so you were able to attend meetings as one of his hired guns instead of the boss.”
He was about to reply when his phone beeped. He pulled it off his belt and answered. Vee eyed the door, but she didn’t think she would get far. And she wanted to find out what he had planned. He barked angrily into the phone, making her cringe inwardly. He was speaking so fast she had trouble picking out all the words, but she was fairly certain his second-in-command, Desi, the woman from their evening in Mexico, was missing. Along with another of Nico’s men. And they couldn’t seem to find Sotza either. Which meant Sotza probably had Nico’s missing people. Whatever his plan had been, it was backfiring.
Queen’s Move: Book Two of The Queens Page 18
