Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set

by Logan Fox

  Her shoulder struck the side of the door, and she twisted away. Lady was behind her, staring up at her with godlike patience. She ran headlong into the creature, tripping over the pitbull’s stout body. Lady yelped, jumping to the side as if wondering what she’d done to deserve a knee to her ribs.

  Cora scrambled up, a scream bubbling in her throat, but she was so terrified in that moment that she couldn’t let out anything but a low whine.

  She struck the wall, caught off balance by her collision with the dog, and pushed away again.

  No footsteps came after her. No yell for her to stop.

  She ran all the way out of the beach house. Down the steps. Over the soft sand that sucked at her feet like wet concrete.

  The ocean splashed up around her ankles. Her calves. Her thighs.

  A wave tugged at her clothes, and then dragged at her, toppling her. Spluttering, she fought her way free from the water. She spun back, staring at the white beach house. From here, she could see the circumference of Zachary’s tiny island. It was long and thin, perhaps a mile by three.

  A shadow moved in the beach house’s front entrance. Then a spark of light.

  Zachary, lighting a cigarette. Leaning against the door jamb and staring out at her.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Because there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  She’d have to kill him if she wanted to survive. And, even if she did, it would mean she’d be all alone on this scrap of land.

  No—not alone.

  She’d have Lady.

  44

  A real DEA agent

  The boat’s engine cut out. Kane glanced back at Cora’s three bodyguards, giving them a curt nod. He guided the boat into a lagoon—in reality, a small sand bank beyond which the ocean’s waves couldn’t really penetrate—and hopped up onto the sandy beach. He lashed the boat to the closest palm tree and beckoned the men to follow.

  Milo had seemed happy to let him lead their sortie ever since they’d left the airport.

  That briefcase full of money they’d found? The pilot had developed a stutter how eager he’d been to tell them exactly where he’d taken Zachary and his ‘passenger.’

  Finn had looked ready to smash his face in when he heard the pilot say the ‘pretty young thing’ had been unconscious at the time.

  Kane moved forward through the trees, picking his way using what moonlight made it past the overgrown canopy above.

  Cora’s men were silent behind him, except where they stirred foliage and rustled brush underfoot.

  Their trip here hadn’t been this idyllic. Bailey—the fucker—had accused him of lying. Said that Kane had mentioned something about working for the FBI.

  Kane gave his head a shake, and snorted quietly to himself.

  As if. He was a DEA man at heart.

  The others hadn’t seemed too interested in Bailey’s accusations; they’d been more concerned with how they were going to reach the island without attracting attention.

  William — Willy, for short — had been so grateful for the payout, he’d lent them his four-seater yacht. It had taken close to five hours to reach the island and midnight was mere minutes away.

  He should have been exhausted, given that he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in several weeks, but instead he buzzed with adrenaline.

  What was better than an upstart of a girl pretending to be capo?

  Why, the infamous El Lobo, of course.

  He would get a medal of honor for this; bringing in Zachary West.

  Fredericks would have no choice but to give him back his badge. His real badge.

  A real badge, for a real DEA agent.

  Kane smiled to himself, and stroked a finger down the barrel of his gun.

  45

  Not Enough Glasses

  Zachary wasn’t in the doorway anymore when she trudged back up the beach. Twilight had already settled on the island; the sky was a dark purple, a handful of streaky gray clouds the only decoration in an otherwise pristine sky.

  She left wet, sandy footprints on the hall floor when she went inside.

  Cora followed the smell of cigarettes to the living area. Zachary crouched at the heart of a large stone fireplace, building a fire. She watched him for a few seconds.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked quietly. Her voice shuddered, but that was from the coldness seeping into her bones.

  The ocean had been ice cold. The breeze that had picked up on her way from the shore to the beach house, even colder.

  “You don’t have to ask.” Zachary didn’t look up. “But leave it in the condition you found it.”

  She clenched her jaw, and trudged down to the bedroom.

  There was a strange smell inside the room, like the stuff they used to clean hospital floors with. It made her nose wrinkle. The room looked the same as it had all day. Neat. Bed made. Window open a slit so the cool breeze could toy with the lace curtain.

  She opened one of the closets. It was full of Zachary’s clothes. The next one had women’s clothes inside.

  Not hers.

  Not the right size, either.

  A shiver trickled down her spine, along with a drip of icy water.

  Whose were they?

  Cora pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. She glanced at the underwear, but the thought that they might belong to someone else freaked her out too much for her to be able to wear them.

  She had to get dry. Then she could formulate some kind of plan to kill Zachary. The shower took long to warm up. As she waited, she stared at herself in the mirror and rubbed at a streak of face paint in her hairline.

  Zachary had washed her face sometime in the past day. Judging from the lack of sweat she smelled on herself, he might have washed her too.

  Goosebumps broke out over her skin, and she had to force bile down her throat.

  She was about to strip and step into the shower when she heard Zachary’s voice. Immediately freezing, Cora strained to make out what he was saying. Slowly turning off the faucet, she crept closer to the living area, wincing every time her deliberately slow steps creaked a floor board.

  “…another day or…leaving anytime…make…that…dropping off supplies.”

  Cora’s breath hitched in her throat. She stopped moving, stopped breathing, tried to flatten herself against the hallway. Icy water trickled down her neck, making her shiver violently.

  Zachary was moving closer.

  “No, that’s not what I said. No more supplies.”

  He walked past her, less than a yard away, a bulky phone with an aerial pressed to his ear.

  A satellite phone.

  Her pulse raced.

  Zachary turned and headed into the kitchen.

  “I will call you in two days. Until then, no one is to come through under any circumstances. Understood?”

  Two days? No supplies?

  Her fingertips trembled, and she hurriedly squeezed her hands into fists. Then she crept over the boards, trying her best to get closer in case his voice dipped again.

  “No one will be hearing from them.” A long pause. “Because they’re all dead.”

  What? Who?

  Cora’s mind fled to Finn, Lars, Bailey. Had he…had Zachary somehow—

  “Because I made sure of it,” Zachary’s voice dipped low. “Did you hear from Duncan yet?”

  Cora backed up again, turning to head for the living room. A fire smoked in the hearth, still messy in its infancy.

  “Keep looking.”

  Zachary spoke with a finality, and she turned when she heard how close his voice was.

  He stood right behind her. How he’d moved so silently amazed her—perhaps he knew exactly which floorboards in the house creaked and which didn’t. The phone dangled from one hand.

  “You’re still wet,” he said, his eyes moving over her face as if he was assessing her mental health as much as her physical.

  She managed a nod. He moved around her and
sank into one of the armchairs. He set the phone down on the side table and let out a long sigh as he took up his box of cigarettes.

  As she came around the sofa, the box gaped in her direction.

  Only two cigarettes left.

  Zachary lit one, and then offered the box to her. She shook her head. The fire popped, and she jerked in fright. Zachary’s lips curled into a smile around the filter of his cigarette.

  “Terrible habit,” he said, turning the cigarette so he could look at it. “But life is so short. Why deny yourself its pleasures?”

  This had to end. Now. She would go crazy if she had to spend one more minute with Zachary. She couldn’t stand the way he messed with her mind; despite everything, in this moment, there seemed nothing wrong with the fact that she was on a deserted island with a rival cartel leader who’d been instrumental in her kidnapping and torture when she was six years old.

  “Can I have some more wine?” Cora asked, voice shaking.

  “Of course.” Zachary gave her a pleasant smile. “Help yourself.”

  She blinked at him, incredulous that it had been that easy. Her feet slapped wetly on the wooden boards as she walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

  Cream. Butter. Two bottles of white wine.

  She slid a bottle out, her eyes moving over the empty fridge for a moment before closing it.

  Had she heard wrong? Had Zachary said he’d needed supplies, or they didn’t?

  She opened a drawer.

  Cutlery. A corkscrew. A few steak knives.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she stuck one of the knives behind the waistband of her soggy pants. The tip grazed against the top of her thigh when she moved.

  The skin between her shoulder blades itched, and she spun around. No one stood in the doorway. She glanced around the kitchen, peeked out the window.

  Why the hell did she feel eyes on her?

  Movement. She narrowed her eyes, staring through the window to the darkness of the jungle. Was something moving there, or was it just her imagination? Maybe those were the eyes she—

  Her gaze travelled up.

  A camera sat in one corner of the kitchen, its red eye blinking at her.

  “Where are the glasses?” she asked slowly.

  “They’re in the cupboard right in front of you,” Zachary called out. “You can leave the knife in the kitchen.”

  Were there cameras throughout the house? The whole island? Was that why he couldn’t have cared less if she ran, because he’d always know where she was?

  When she got back into the living room, she saw a small tablet computer beside the satellite phone. Its screen was dark.

  Zachary smiled up at her. “You didn’t bring enough glasses,” he said, quiet reproach in his voice.

  She frowned at the two glasses in her hand, and then up at him. “What?”

  His eyes glittered, orange firelight trapped deep in those muddy depths. “I’m sure your friends would like some too.”

  46

  Rescue the Princess

  “You ever get that feeling you’re being watched?” Lars whispered in Finn’s ear. “Like, when you’re in the middle of a jungle late at night or something?”

  Finn gave Lars a stare that the man completely ignored.

  “Quiet,” Kane murmured, putting his binoculars back on his eyes.

  They’d made a stop at the man’s motel in Marfa—just a few minutes’ drive from Duncan’s house—before coming through to the island. The man had a whole array of gadgets that had seemed to intrigue Lars to no end.

  Bailey had kept muttering something about, ‘ordering them off eBay’, but he’d been muttering stuff like that all night, so Finn hadn’t paid him much mind.

  Twilight had well and truly left the world; early night hung thick and heavy in the island’s thickly knit jungle. The air was moist, and smelled like the promise of rain, but only a thin veil of clouds had drawn over the moon as yet.

  Finn’s beast wasn’t happy, either with this remote location or their present company. There was a constant click-click-click of pacing claws. A low growl. The flapping of ears as his beast shook itself in irritation.

  Or perhaps it felt drawn to that beach house as much as he did. Perhaps it wanted to breach the jungle’s cover and charge inside to rescue Cora.

  He could sense her there. It made no sense, but he knew she was close.

  But Kane had advised caution.

  Had insisted they worked out a plan of attack.

  And Finn let him take lead, because he knew the fact that he was willing to charge blindly into the line of fire made him a terrible leader right then.

  “No movement,” Kane murmured to the three of them. “Only one light, and it looks like a fireplace.”

  “Can you see inside?”

  “Nothing of interest.” Kane put down the binoculars and looked at them over his shoulder. “We should split up. Each cover a room. See if we can make multiple entries.” He pointed. “Bedroom window, kitchen window, front door.”

  “That’s three,” Bailey said grumpily.

  “Well noted.” Kane’s eyes gleamed a little too brightly, especially in the hazy moonlight from above. “You’ll be look out.”

  “For what?” Bailey snapped. “There’s no one else here.”

  “And you’ll be sure to alert us if that changes,” Kane said.

  Did Finn sound like that when he was trying to reason with Bailey? Finn laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, and Bailey flinched before turning to him.

  “We’re counting on you,” Finn said, his voice a low grumble. “Don’t let anyone sneak up on us.”

  Whether his comment helped or hindered was impossible to tell, but at least Bailey didn’t argue when they moved forward. Kane hesitated, and then pointed out the beach house. “We need to decide positions.”

  “I’ll take the kitchen,” Lars said.

  “You want to take the front?” Kane asked of Finn.

  Finn stared at the man. “No, you take it,” he said.

  Better someone with a level head right now than him; he wanted to tear Zachary limb from limb, and he knew that would influence everything he did once he got close to her. He couldn’t be responsible for more harm coming to Cora.

  Kane nodded. “Go ahead, I’m right behind you. Just want to make sure Bailey’s got us covered.”

  “I’m sure he’s—” Lars began, with a frown at Kane.

  “Quiet.” Finn pointed at the beach house. “Let’s go.”

  Finn could feel Lars glaring at him as they crept over the glowing sand that stretched between them and the beach house, but he didn’t make eye contact. Lars stopped walking, but just as Finn came to a stop outside the beach house’s bedroom window, he heard the man’s footsteps start up again.

  Lars of all people should know he couldn’t be trusted right now. Not with so much at stake. He’d fuck it up. Cora would get hurt, maybe killed.

  And he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened.

  Bailey had no reason to be so pissed off, but that didn’t make his indignation vanish. Made to keep look out like the fat kid in gym class who never made the team; what the fuck was Finn thinking?

  Then again, Finn had never liked him to begin with. It had probably been easy for him to agree with Kane.

  Bailey glared after the three men, stiffening his neck when he saw Kane head back his way.

  The fuck did he want?

  “What are you doing?” Bailey murmured when Kane was in earshot.

  “Making sure you don’t go anywhere.”

  Bailey snorted through his nose. “Fuck off. Just because—”

  Kane pistol whipped him.

  The jungle’s shadows lunged at him, all claws and teeth and hissed promises of eternal sleep.

  The kitchen window opened without a sound. Lars lifted his head and peeked through, studying the dimly lit appliances and counters. There was no light inside the kitchen itself, but an ambient amber glow from the
living room painted the room with just enough light to pick out the edges of furniture.

  Lars hoisted himself up and slid through the window on his belly. It opened above a countertop, and luckily nothing lay on it that could rattle or clatter.

  He twisted around, silently setting his feet on the floor. A quick glance showed the room to be empty. He could see a sliver of the living room’s one wall; the light in there was much brighter, but failed to illuminate anything of importance.

  On his second step, the floorboard creaked under him. He winced, halted, and waited for the fall out.

  Nothing.

  Another step, another low creak.

  Jesus Christ, whoever’d built this house should be drawn and quartered.

  Creak. Creak.

  His heart was pounding so hard, he wouldn’t be surprised if that drumming was louder than the dodgy floorboards.

  If he hadn’t been straining so hard to hear, he would have missed the shuffling sound coming from the hallway.

  Finn or Kane?

  His arms prickled as he drew nearer to the hallway. Another creak, this time not his, down the hall to the left.

  The bedroom.

  Goddamn, Finn would give them all away if he tried to walk down the hall. But perhaps he’d realized it, because Lars couldn’t hear any more sounds coming from that side of the hall.

  Kane sounded as if he was drawing closer; a gentle brushing, like fabric against a wall. As if the man had his back pressed to it.

  Maybe that’s why his floorboards didn’t creak.

  Finn attempted another step.

  The board creaked loud enough that Lars stopped breathing.

  “Why don’t you three gentlemen come join us?” came a voice from the living room.

  Christ, he almost screamed like a little girl. Lars reeled back, a hand on his heart as if he could somehow stop it tearing through his chest and landing in a wet, bloody pile on the floor.

  Finn growled from down the hallway. Floorboards didn’t creak anymore—they shrieked in agony.