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

by Logan Fox

  He sat back in a rush, running a hand down his face as he exhaled the last of his smoke. It forced its way through the tiny slits between his fingers and made a gray mask of his face until it cleared.

  “It’s my decision,” Benecio said, glancing aside at her. “Don’t question me again.”

  Her head fell forward before she caught it — less of a nod than her body relaxing after being caught in that spell.

  Kane arrived, trailed by a penguin-suited waiter who set a bottle of wine on the table. None of them said a word as he presented the bottle — Cora flicked her hand in his direction, hoping he’d get it over with — and poured a taster.

  “Leave it,” she said.

  For the first time that afternoon, steel corded her voice. The waiter paused, bobbed his head, and disappeared like a spirit.

  “May I pour, jefe?” Kane asked, still with that heavily accented voice of his. He was so good, she had to stop herself glancing at him to make sure he was still Kane.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Cora held out her glass, still with the first finger of the taster the waiter had poured, and waited until Kane had filled it midway before she continued. “Are we going to do business then, Benny?”

  If Kane was surprised by the nickname, he didn’t show it. Instead, he offered Benecio a glass and poured with as much aplomb as a sommelier.

  Benecio gave him a faint nod and, as Kane turned away, his eyes narrowed.

  “Benny?”

  The man’s black eyes snapped back to her. “I have ten tons to move.” The challenge burned bright in his eyes. Ronan wanted nothing less than two, but ten? Ten tons? Holy fucking shit.

  That wasn’t her problem, was it?

  “I was hoping for fifteen,” she said, raising her glass to her nose. She sniffed the burgundy wine and took a tiny sip.

  Benecio gave her a faint smile. “You can move fifteen?”

  “Too much?” she asked with single-shouldered shrug. “Fine, then let’s start with—”

  “No,” Benny cut in, his smile widening as he took up his glass and downed it in a few long swallows. He set it down with gritted teeth and lit himself another cigarillo while Cora’s heart tried to dig a hole through her breast bone. “I’ll give you your fifteen.”

  “Gracias,” she managed. Shockingly, she didn’t sound even slightly as horrified as she felt.

  Not her problem. Ronan had said make a deal, she was making a fucking deal.

  Under-promise, over-deliver, right?

  “Every month,” Benecio said, holding out his glass for Kane to top up.

  As Kane moved past her, she felt a wave of concern rush over her from him.

  Not my fucking problem.

  And truly, it wasn’t.

  She smiled at Benecio, lifted her glass, and took another sip. “Here’s to a mutually beneficial partnership.”

  Benecio glanced first at her and then at Kane. “Here’s to selling a shit load of heroin,” he said, raising his glass with a sarcastic smile etched over his lips.

  29

  M.U.T.M

  He and Finn had been scoping out King’s city block for close to an hour when he spotted something in an upstairs window. In fact, it might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he’d heard Bailey’s voice moments before spotting it.

  “Is that…” Lars snatched the binoculars from Finn’s hands and pressed them to his face. Crucial seconds slipped by as he tried to focus on the window.

  “Fuck. They have Bailey.”

  “What?” Finn ground out, grabbing the binoculars back and training them on the same window Lars had been staring at. “Shit.”

  Lars sat back on their park bench, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced around at Mallhaven’s park. It probably wasn’t the only one in town — especially since the round-a-bout looked almost brand new, as did the swings — but there was a pack of mothers swarming on the other side. They occasionally looked in their direction as if wondering if they should call the cops in case Lars and Finn planned to snatch a kid to feature in low budget — and very illegal — remake of Home Alone.

  Finn lowered the binoculars, tapping them against his knee as he stared into the distance. “That’s why,” he murmured.

  “… The sky’s blue?” Lars attempted. He was still reeling from seeing Bailey, apparently pissed off as all hell, in Ronan King’s house.

  He’d never seen Bailey that angry before. It was like watching an adorable panda bear turn rabid.

  Just… fuck.

  “She came because of him.” Finn didn’t sound pleased by the revelation — if anything, he sounded absolutely fucked off. “She snuck out because we would never have let her just leave.”

  Lars gave a small nod, but Finn was battling it out with his inner demon — he probably wasn’t even on the same phase of existence as him and the PTA gang across the park; one of whom had a decoupaged cellphone in hand, ready to call the cops.

  “Hey, hows about we regroup down the road? Get something to eat?” It had to be late afternoon already. His stomach had stopped rumbling hours ago, sulky that Lars had been ignoring it and trying to conserve its energy instead of begging for food.

  Finn glanced around as if considering. He must have spotted the Moms Up To Meddling group because he gave a reluctant nod and rose to his feet.

  They made their way into Mallhaven proper, walking instead of bothering with the SUV, and found a table at a local diner. It had red-checked tablecloths and everything.

  Their orders had just arrived when Finn drained the last of his coffee and said, “We’re getting them out tonight.”

  30

  Say the Word

  “I did it,” Cora murmured to herself. They were en-route to the Tijuana air strip where the same plane as before waited to take them back to Mallhaven.

  “You sure did,” Kane said.

  She started, turning to him a little. Heat slammed into her cheeks, and she averted her eyes again. She had to stop looking at him. Every time she did, lurid flashbacks flooded her mind, and her body craved what he’d denied her.

  That… and more.

  Obviously, he’d done it to get her out of her head. To calm her, or piss her off, or something. There wouldn’t be a next time; she couldn’t allow it. As it was, she had a shit load of explaining to do.

  “You should have called them,” Kane said as he guided their SUV into the air strip’s parking bay.

  Cora wrung her hands in her lap for a second. She knew she was putting off the inevitable. They had to know she was gone by now, and she was making them suffer by not letting them know she was all right.

  Unless they thought she’d abandoned them for Kane.

  Her heart squeezed painfully. Would they think that?

  “Is there a phone nearby?” she asked, glancing around. Kane gave an offhand shrug as he parked the SUV in a bay. “If there was, pretty sure they wouldn’t let us use it.”

  Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She should have phoned them from Tijuana, but she’d wanted out of that place as soon as possible. Because if Kane had asked her to go back upstairs… would she have been able to say no? Cora stayed in her seat while Benecio left, waiting for her heart rate to settle to normal before storming out.

  Kane hadn’t asked questions. In fact, he’d been silent the entire drive here.

  Ronan would let her leave when she returned to Mallhaven — of that she was sure. She’d done everything he’d asked. His shipment of heroin would arrive in a few days, and Benecio would keep the shipments coming.

  If Ronan didn’t have the network to sell as much as Benny was providing… well, that wasn’t her fucking problem.

  Kane reached for her, perhaps to take her elbow and lead her to the plane, but she skipped out of reach and headed for the plane with as much courage as she could muster. Admittedly, there wasn’t much left, but at least her hands didn’t shake when she grasped the railing to haul herself up and into the plane’s back seat.

 
Kane didn’t follow. Instead, he stayed back and smoked a cigarette. Which would have been a kindness, letting her have some breathing room before he crowded in beside her… except, he gazed at her the entire time. Eyes narrowed to slits, thumb stroking his bottom lip as cigarette smoke leaked from slightly parted lips.

  Fuck, but he was so damn good looking. And to have that intense stare on her made her core grip like a fist.

  She forced her eyes away seconds before he glanced down to crush his smoke under his heel.

  She couldn’t prevent a flinch when his leg brushed hers. He shifted beside her as he got comfortable and then laid a hand on her leg as if they’d been dating for a month already.

  Cora looked down at that hand. Her gaze flashed to Kane’s face where a lecherous smile touched his mouth. “You ready?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” she snapped, pushing his hand off her leg.

  His smile quirked up a little. Then he slowly bent at the waist, face twisting as he went lower, and lower—

  “What are you doing?” she muttered fiercely through her teeth, making a grab for his shoulders.

  He let out a laugh and lifted his hand. Her underwear dangled from one finger.

  A blush tinted her cheeks, and she snatched it from his fingers as quick as she could, crumpling it into a small ball in her palm. Kane straightened, tugged at his pants, and tipped his head back against the headrest. The plane’s engine started up, and she hurriedly took down her ear muffs where they hung beside her seat.

  A second before she put them on, Kane yelled, “I’m here if you need me, sweetheart. All you gotta do is say the word.”

  31

  Darcy’s Surprise

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  Ronan looked up from his plate where he’d been digging through his salad hunting for the last olive. He’d had a light lunch and a lap dance at the Fox Pit — Stark loved entertaining his guests — but that had been hours ago. His rare steak was finished, which left him with fishing through the leaves on his plate for anything edible.

  The olive had been it.

  “What now?” he asked, sitting back in his chair and taking his whiskey glass with him.

  He’d been expecting them back almost an hour ago. The tracker didn’t show they’d detoured, but they were driving slowly.

  Too slowly.

  Didn’t they realize there was no choice but to return? They could fucking crawl back, but return they would.

  Darcy dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and then set it down with utter precision. She sat up, laced her fingers, and gave him a timid smile.

  “Ronan, I’m—”

  The dining-room door burst open, and Darcy cut off with a squeal of surprise.

  Ronan grimaced at the sound and turned to see who was interrupting.

  Owen stood in the doorway, color spotting in his cheeks as if he’d run up the stairs.

  “They’re here.”

  Ronan got to his feet, downed the rest of his scotch, and smeared a napkin over his lips. “Bring them.”

  When he happened to catch sight of Darcy as he left the table, her mouth opened as if she was about to say something.

  But she never would.

  Once was all it had taken to put her in her place — and that had been a week after they were married in Ireland, while on honeymoon in the Seychelles.

  He was in his office pouring himself another scotch when Owen returned with Cora and Kane in tow. Turning, he allowed himself a few seconds to study them before making his way to his desk.

  The girl looked frazzled, but hopeful. The man studied him as intently in return.

  “Trust it went well?”

  Despite the question being rhetorical, Cora gave him a sharp nod. “It’s all arranged. The shipment will be ready in five days.”

  “Excellent,” Ronan said.

  The girl shifted her weight. Despite the shadows under her eyes, she brimmed with something — urgency, determination… it was impossible to tell. “You got what you wanted. Now give me back Bailey and let us leave.”

  Kane’s eyes flickered at that. Did he think she was being impetuous, barking out orders like that, or was it Bailey he didn’t like?

  “Y’can leave, but Bailey remains my guest till the deal is done,” Ronan said, catching the slightest stiffening from Owen. He knew the girl would never abandon Bailey; Owen should know that by now too. So what if it wasn’t the original deal? This girl had no say in what happened. He would have disposed of her already, but he had to make sure the deal went down so he could get Gaffer off his fucking back.

  If she’d done everything right, they’d be back in each other’s arms in a few days.

  “No,” Cora said, taking a step forward. Her small hands clenched into fists as if she considered battering him.

  He’d been the top of the lightweight division as his local boxing club three years in a row. If she tried anything, it would be the first and the last time.

  “I thought you said you were a man of your word?” Another step forward, fists white-knuckled now. “I did what you asked. Now do your—”

  He backhanded her, moving so fast that her lips were still pursing around the next word when her head snapped to the side. Kane darted forward, but Owen’s pistol was out and trained at his head before he took more than a step.

  Cora touched trembling fingers to her cheek. When her golden eyes focused on him, they boiled with rage.

  “Owen’ll see ya out.” Ronan turned, sipping at his glass as he moved around his table to take his seat behind the computer.

  The girl looked like she still had something to say. Kane grasped a hold of her elbow, drawing her back. She jerked herself out of his grip, stared blue murder at Ronan, and then flounced from the room like a child throwing a tantrum.

  Ronan’s gaze flickered up at the last moment. They caught sight of Kane, turning to stare inside the office as Owen led them down the hall.

  The man lifted a hand, and drew his thumbnail over his throat, giving Ronan a slow smile as he disappeared down the hall.

  Ronan leaned back in his seat as he drained his glass. Then he barked out a laugh and shook his head.

  Commoners always forgot themselves. He took out his cellphone and sent a message to Owen.

  As long as he had Bailey, he could click his fingers and Cora would come running to him, like the little bitch she was. But it was always good to have a backup plan.

  His gaze darted to the wet bar against the wall.

  How long until Owen came back? Ronan stood, working a crick from his neck. There was a knock at his door, and he went to open it — intent on leaving his office for the night, anyway.

  Darcy stood in his way.

  “What do you want?”

  Her expression faltered before she propped up one side of lopsided smile. “You ran off so fast… I didn’t get a chance to tell you about my surprise.”

  He slid his eyes down her bird-like body. If it hadn’t been for her lineage, he’d never even have agreed to meet her. But it turned out she’d been perfect to birth his heir.

  Except she wasn’t, was she? She was as barren as she was pitiful.

  But, until Owen returned, she’d have to do.

  She opened her mouth again, but he grabbed the front of her throat and dragged her into him before she said anything. His lips crushed hers, drawing a surprised squeak from her. She tore away her mouth, gasping for breath as if he’d been trying to drown her.

  It had probably felt like it to her.

  “You’re hurting me,” she murmured, eyes wet and shining with fear.

  “Why are’ya so fucking useless to me, Darce?” he said, stepping forward as he dragged her in front of him. She struggled as pitifully as she mewled at him to release her. “I shoulda gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

  “Ronan! Please! I’m—”

  But he didn’t care what she was. He knew everything there was to know about Darcy… even the fact that she’d been fucking O
wen behind his back.

  It amused him — watching them fawning over each other thinking no one noticed. Honestly, it astonished him that they thought he couldn’t see something so fucking blatant right in front of nose.

  He’d been putting up with it. It seemed to make Owen happy. Fuck, it even made Darcy happy. But he’d been too lax. Others were noticing. People were starting to talk.

  And the last thing Ronan King needed in his fucking life was more drama.

  She cried out when he shoved her into her bedroom, tripping and falling to the carpet like a wounded animal.

  He slammed the door closed behind him, and Darcy screamed.

  Such a pretty sound; it was a pity no one else heard it.

  Owen climbed the stairs to the third level of Rhodium Drive. He took them slow — not because there was no rush, but because he so appreciated the mansion’s immaculate architecture. The designer excelled at creating interesting plays between shadow and light — irrespective of the time of day. At night, down-lights and spotlights were all hidden from view. You only knew they existed because of the geometric shadows they cast. Splinters and fragments against a backdrop of the organic chaos that were vines and orchids.

  This would be his, one day. He knew it like he knew it was air he breathed.

  He walked past the guest bedrooms, only one of which was currently being guarded. He gave a nod to the man, who returned it with a touch of reverence.

  Yes, they would all be his, too. One day. And he was willing to wait. Patience was hard coded into his DNA. He’d waited seventeen years before escaping his mother’s abusive clutch. He would wait just as patiently for her to die from consumption.

  Of course, they didn’t call it that anymore. But he knew she’d drink herself to death, just as he knew he’d encouraged it from the day she first beat him.

  A slow, wretched death for a miserable, evil woman.

  His kind of justice.