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

by Logan Fox

  Will used the rope to herd Kane behind him like a sheep that had lost its way. At least here, the air was warm. The floor, underfoot, coated with a thick carpet. Judging from the shadows under Will’s eyes and the lack of natural light, it had to be late at night.

  They turned down a hallway and he heard a familiar voice.

  So familiar, in fact, his steps faltered.

  Will yanked on the rope, almost sending him to his knees before he could recover.

  Cora.

  She had come for him; he’d thought Will was just fucking with him.

  Why did she come?

  Kane looked at himself. He wore only his boxers, and they clung to him with sweat, dirt, dried blood. His chest was grimy. His hair hung lank in his face. He was sure Will smelled him, and that was with him walking in front.

  Overwhelming uneasiness crashed over him. He wanted to see her again, but not like this. Not now.

  A door opened, and Owen tugged him into an intimate space that reeked of luxury and station.

  Three shapes waited there — Ronan King, another, and Cora.

  She turned, perhaps hearing the door open. For a moment, she looked past Kane.

  Had she not even recognized him?

  Her eyes darted back, and she gave him a horrified double-take. She surged forward and seemed to catch herself. A lump moved in her throat as she swallowed.

  “See? Safe and sound,” Ronan drawled to one side, extending a hand in Kane’s direction.

  “You call that safe and sound?”

  God, she sounded magnificent in her wrath. Her body trembled as she faced Ronan. “Look what you did to him!”

  “He’s alive. I didn’t guarantee more than—”

  Cora didn’t even let the man finish. “And Bailey? Where’s Bailey?”

  And, just like that, they forgot him. Will moved him into a corner and loosened the rope around his neck.

  He should have used the opportunity to head butt Will. Perhaps disarm him and turn that gun onto Ronan and the man beside him. The guy was packing; that much was obvious from his stance, with his dominant hand ready in case he had to draw, and standing at the perfect angle for a clear shot.

  Those bullets could go anywhere.

  Cora turned away from him, but that just highlighted her profile to him.

  Strange, how she’d dominated his thoughts day in and day out for the past few weeks. And now, here she stood… and he still couldn’t think about anything else.

  She filled his mind, his world, his entire reason for existence.

  And she wasn’t paying him any attention.

  That had to change. As intent as he was on her, he wanted her to be on him.

  “… have them both back, or I won’t be doing any deals for you.” Cora crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ronan King as if he was a valet and she’d found a scratch on her car.

  Deal? What deal?

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Ronan said, moving right up to Cora. “You will meet with Benecio. You will secure a shipment of heroin for me. If you don’t, I’ll kill them both. It’s as simple as that.”

  Cora floundered, her mouth moving soundlessly.

  Kane glanced around. Where were her men?

  “I did everything you asked,” Cora said, but her voice sounded weak and defeated. She held up a finger for each point. “I got here before midnight. I came alone. And I said I’ll do the deal.”

  “I’m not a trusting man,” Ronan said. “I’m keeping them in case ya make a run for it.”

  His mind worked frantically as she pieced together the fragments of the situation. If King wanted Cora to attend a meeting and set up a shipment it could only mean he was using her influence as La Sombra to do so. Even though El Calacas Vivo had been disbanded… or had it? Cora had promised not to start up the cartel again, but maybe she couldn’t resist taking a seat on her throne again.

  Either way, if he didn’t get out from Ronan’s thumb, he wouldn’t be able to get in contact with Fredericks and let him know Ronan’s location.

  Wherever the fuck it was.

  “You can’t send her alone.” Kane’s voice was hoarse from dehydration, but at least it was steady.

  Everyone in the room turned to him as if they’d forgotten he’d been standing there.

  He kept his body straight, showing no pain as he took a step forward. “Whoever she’s meeting with will expect an entourage.”

  His words hung in the air for a moment while everyone watched him. Then Cora nodded. “He’s right. No one’s going to expect La Sombra to arrive without some muscle.”

  “Owen will accompany you.” Ronan’s smile grew, as if he’d moved to a check in whatever invisible chess game him and Cora had going.

  “I’m not Mexican, sir,” Owen said.

  Kane’s gaze darted to the side. Owen hadn’t moved a hair, yet somehow, he radiated concern with a neutral expression. “If I go with, Benecio will know it’s us who really want the product. He won’t make a deal.”

  Ronan’s eyes narrowed, and the smile melted from his mouth for the first time since Kane had set foot inside the den.

  So that’s what this was about. A dealer who refused to speak to gringos. Well, lucky for Kane, he spoke fluent Spanish, and could even affect a local accent if he chose. One of the benefits of working as an immigration officer.

  “Then I’ll hire a Mexican—”

  “No hay, pedo,” Kane said. He ducked his head, baring the pain that brought his bruised ribs with a wince, and smoothed his hair into a side part. When he straightened, he wore a crooked smile and an easygoing expression. “La Sombra is under my protection.” This time, he spoke in English, but with such a heavy Mexican accent it looked as if Ronan had trouble piecing together his words. “I will accompany her.”

  With his dark skin and black hair, he could easily pass as Latino or Hispanic. But the accent turned idle thought into confirmation.

  Cora’s eyes flashed wide, but she hurriedly smoothed the front of her strange outfit — an over-sized button-up? Really? — and turned to Ronan. “You can trust me. Return my men, and I’ll get you your deal. Kane comes with me as my—”

  Ronan let out a low chuckle. “Twice, you’ve broken our agreement. Why the fuck would I trust you again?”

  “Please,” Cora said. The plea lost her what little ground she’d secured.

  Someone in power never begged. They traded.

  “Keep Bailey as collateral,” Kane said, reverting to a generic American accent. “Let me go with La Sombra. If this Benecio is as concerned about her heritage as you claim, she should have a Mexican with her.”

  Cora’s cheeks reddened. “I am Mexican,” she said, sounding shocked that she had to say it out loud.

  “Yeah,” Kane said, glancing in her direction, “But you sure don’t sound it, sweetheart.”

  Her chin darted back. She licked her lips, eyes widening before she controlled her expression. And as easy to read as a picture book. But he’d take care of that.

  “I hope you weren’t planning on setting up the meeting yourselves.” Kane met Ronan’s eyes. “You all sound a clover away from a packet of Lucky Charms.”

  Ronan stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. A second later, Will joined him. Cora remained silent, a small frown between her brows. Obviously, living in a mansion your entire life meant that you didn’t eat something as common as cereal.

  Owen didn’t laugh. Kane glimpsed the man from the corner of his eyes. He studied Kane with an intensity he associated with dim-witted people working a puzzle.

  But he wasn’t an idiot. Far from it. He was the most intelligent person in the room.

  Besides Kane, of course.

  Cora pulled a comb through her shoulder-length hair, staring at herself in the vanity mirror. Ronan’s guest bedrooms were all en-suite and furnished in such exquisite taste she was having a hard time forcing herself not to take notes. Maybe, if this turned out well, she’d ask after his decora
tor.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her palms on the basin and leaned forward, shaking her head.

  She was just tired. Tired, and confused, and scared as hell. But it would all be over in a few hours — one way or the other.

  She brushed her teeth, and tugged at the pale, generic sleeping shirt she wore. Apparently, she’d have clothes ready for her in the morning for her meeting with Benecio. Kane too.

  The guest room was empty. Ronan had given her and Kane different rooms, across the hall from each other. Two grunts were stationed outside, one guarding each door.

  As if they’d hatch an escape plan in the next five hours.

  Cora slid under the sheets and turned off the lamp beside her. She rolled around a few times, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed. She took a few minutes to realize that it wasn’t the mattress, but how vast it seemed. How empty.

  Desperate for sleep, she closed her eyes. But they popped open a second later.

  Why did she keep seeing Kane whenever she closed her eyes? His lean chest, streaked with blood and sweat, lank hair hanging in his eyes…

  Until he swept it away and turned into someone who’d have to have been born south of America’s border. She twisted, sighing as she stared up at the featureless ceiling.

  What would happen tom—later today? Not just at the meeting, but with Kane? From the sounds of things, they were taking a plane past the border and an hour-long car drive through Tijuana to reach their destination.

  And she’d be alone with Kane the entire time.

  Shit.

  Had Finn and Lars realized she was gone yet? Had one of them woken to discover the space between them? That her Taurus was gone?

  Please, let them forgive her. She saw no other way to keep Bailey and Kane safe. This was… there was only… had to keep them safe…

  15

  Decision’s Been Made, Girl

  Ronan stepped inside his room, casting around a quick eye. Everything was precisely where he’d left it. The bed was empty. Darcy needed her sleep if she was ever to conceive a child, and he might be disturbed three to four times a night to deal with mob business.

  He preferred sleeping alone.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, he glanced at the artwork on his forearms.

  Why had Eleodora seemed so shocked at his skull tattoo? Bailey was covered in in. If they were lovers, the girl had to have seen his tattoos.

  Someone knocked quietly on his bedroom door. He closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh, and began buttoning up his shirt again. “Come.”

  The door opened reluctantly, signaling to Ronan that it wasn’t Owen coming inside.

  Shayla stepped into his room, glancing around until she spotted him on the bed. “Oh. Is this… is this a bad—?”

  “What?” he asked, his voice clipped. He didn’t even bother with a smile — this chit of a woman didn’t deserve one, not this late at night.

  “Will has the phone.”

  Ronan got to his feet. Shayla stood taller than most women — in her heels, that made quite a difference. That he had to look up at her, even a fraction of an inch, made him want to grind his teeth.

  “Next time, leave a fucking note.” He carried on undressing, but the woman didn’t make to leave. “There’s more?”

  He had no intention of letting Eleodora leave with that Kane fellow without putting someone on them. Owen didn’t know this yet, but he would track them all the way to Mexico. He’d have to keep out of sight once they crossed the border, in case Benecio’s people were keeping an eye out for La Sombra’s arrival.

  “I brought you Bailey like you asked.”

  “So y’did,” he mused, glancing at her over his shoulder as he slid his shirt off.

  He felt the weight of Shayla’s gaze on him. Was she staring at the snarling tiger that covered most of his back? That tattoo had taken half a year to complete. The pain had been both excruciating and sublime. “And now y’feel I owe you something in return.”

  “I don’t want to work under Will anymore.”

  “Do y’want him to work for you?”

  She shrugged. “As long as I receive my orders straight from you.”

  “Will doesn’t get his orders from me,” he said. A smile found its way back on his mouth. “That’s Owen’s job.”

  “I’ll work next to him.”

  “I only need one of him.”

  “Then I’ll replace Owen.”

  Ronan ran his gaze over Shayla. She wore the same outfit as earlier. Somehow, her hair was neat, her makeup flawless. Too heavy for his taste, just as her clothes were too slutty, her heels too tall, her nails too brightly manicured. But a seductress had only one tool at her disposal — her sex appeal. Flat shoes and frumpy outfits wouldn’t cut it.

  Decorated in deep plum, silver, and cream, the carpet offset the dark furnishings while chrome finishes kept the room from feeling too dour.

  He moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. The satin sheets and pillows on his bed were cream, the coverlet plum with silver stripes.

  “How old are ya?” He had it in a file somewhere, but he’d be fucked if he could remember.

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “And somehow y’think you’ve enough experience to replace Owen?”

  “I have enough determination.”

  “I prefer experience.” Ronan perched on the edge of the high bed. Then he crooked a finger at her.

  She blinked, as if taken aback that it had been so easy to seduce him.

  He let his smile grow the closer she moved to him. His legs were parted wide — it was a force of habit — and when she came close enough, he grabbed her hips and dragged her between his knees.

  Taking his time, he let his gaze linger over her body. A full waist, large breasts, a plump ass. She’d certainly been endowed with enough grace to have most men slathering at her feet; even her hair was lush and thick.

  Ronan slid his fingers down her smooth legs and hooked a finger behind one stiletto. She kicked it off, dropping more than an inch when they were both off.

  They were almost at eye level now, Shayla standing slightly taller than him. Not ideal, but better.

  Knackered as he was, this was turning into a fun game. Would Shayla be as predictable as he suspected, or would she surprise him before she slunk out of here like a whipped dog?

  “I’m married,” Ronan said casually as if they were discussing the weather.

  “I know,” Shayla replied.

  “And that doesn’t concern you?”

  “Should it?”

  “What if someone finds out?”

  She studied him. “Men have needs.” She extended a hand, draping it over his naked shoulder. “It’s understandable if one woman can’t meet them all.”

  Shayla wasn’t special. Any second now, she’d start undressing. Baring her breasts. Her underwear. Waiting for him to make the next move.

  Ronan unbuckled his pants, slid out the strip of leather, and folded it in half. Holding it by the buckle, he ran the loop over his other palm.

  Shayla’s eyes dropped and returned a touch wider than before.

  “You’re right,” he said, his voice so low it sounded like a growl. “For one, Darcy can’t stand pain.”

  Shayla took a step back before stiffening. A bright pink tongue came out to wet her lips. She blinked, looked speechless, and slowly began undressing.

  Certainly ambitious.

  Definitely attractive.

  But how determined was she to succeed?

  When she stood only in her underwear in front of him, he stepped aside and gestured to the bed. She went obediently, but hesitated after she’d slid her knees onto the mattress.

  He cracked his belt over his palm. The sound made Shayla jerk like a physical slap. She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes wide with anticipation.

  “I… I don’t think—” she began, starting to slide off the bed again.

  “Oh no,” Ronan said, grabbing the scruff of her neck and forc
ing her onto the bed. “Decision’s been made, girl.”

  Shayla’s heart hammered a frantic tempo against her breastbone and her pulse flickered in her fingertips where she gripped the Ronan’s dark coverlet. He released her neck and she shoved herself to all fours.

  He moved behind her, but she couldn’t bear to turn her head and watch.

  Something brushed her ass, and she flinched before she realized it was his hand. He tugged her lace thong an inch higher, exposing more of her ass.

  He touched her again, this time running his palm over her flank like he was stroking a horse. Again, and again — first one cheek, then the other.

  Christ, it shouldn’t have, but this was turning her on. The fact that it was Ronan King standing behind her helped. He had a trim body for someone his age. And those tattoos? Some had faded, some as bright as if he’d had them done a few months ago. Almost no part of his exposed flesh had been left untouched, except his neck and wrists.

  And, of course, she had no idea about the lower part of his body.

  Fingers dimpled her flesh, Ronan now massaging her. She licked her lips as she closed her eyes and lost herself to that relaxing sensation.

  The fingers disappeared.

  She let out a soft sigh, her head hanging between her arms.

  A hand gripped the back of her neck and shoved her face first onto the bed again. She struggled and tried to lie flat.

  Ronan tsked at her and used a hand in the curve of her hip to drag her ass up into the air again.

  “Are you comfortable?” It sounded as if his words came through a toothy smile.

  “No,” she replied in a strangled voice.

  “Good.”

  The first blow came from the flat of his hand. It struck her ass right on the fleshiest bit. She let out a surprised gasp. Her skin stung, sure, but it wasn’t as bad as—

  Another blow. This time, to the other side. Somehow, that one stung more.

  Again. She let out a small ‘ah’ that became louder the third time around.

  By the fourth round of slaps, she began struggling in earnest. Her ass burned like Ronan had spilled scalding water on it. The flesh beneath thumped with wave after wave of dry, hot heat.