Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2)

by Victoria Paige

  Migs chuckled. “Now you’re thinking like a woman on the run.”

  She huffed. “It’s too soon to make those kinds of jokes.”

  “I’m sorry.” But his mouth was still pulled into a grin.

  Ariana looked away from him, but not before he saw the flash of her teeth, that smile he’d been dying to see since he’d come back. Too bad she turned away, but he promised himself he’d put that smile back on her face.

  He avoided valet and went straight to the underground parking, still a bit antsy that his cousin hadn’t returned his call.

  They left their things in the vehicle, although Migs tucked his gun in the back of his jeans.

  “Are you supposed to be carrying that?” Ariana raised a brow.

  He didn’t want to tell her that in this hotel, most of the people did. They’d just gotten off the elevators on the first floor when his burner rang.

  Fucking finally.

  “Hector?”

  6

  Ariana’s eyes bugged out when a giant platter of pancakes landed in front of Migs.

  “Do you know how much sugar and gluten are in that?” She couldn’t help pointing out as she dug a spoon into her yogurt and fresh berry parfait.

  Migs rolled his eyes and grumbled. “Haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”

  She arched a brow. “You had beef jerky in the car.”

  “Ariana,” he growled. “Let a man eat.”

  Their server came back with an assortment of bacon, sausage, and eggs. The aroma of the smoked meats tickled her nose and her mouth watered. Ariana was all about balance in her diet and, after indulging in a decadent flourless chocolate cake last night, she needed to make healthier choices today. Still, with the Carillo organization after her, it was silly to think about the width of her butt when this could be her last meal on earth.

  “Woman, just eat the bacon. You need some meat on you.”

  “I look thinner to you?”

  Migs took a healthy gulp of coffee, poured more from the carafe and then lowered his fork. “We’re not doing this. You’re not going to ask me if you look fat.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “There’s a catch there somewhere,” he muttered as he resumed attacking his pancakes. Then she thought she heard him mumble that she was gorgeous.

  She bit back a smile and picked up a slice of bacon, her lids fluttering close as she enjoyed the crunch.

  “Cabrón!”

  Her eyes flew open and her body turned rigid when a tall, fair-skinned Latino with dark eyes and a narrow nose approached their table. Four men flanked him. They were dressed like her brother’s former lieutenants, in slacks and open neck long-sleeved shirts. Some of them sported gold chains.

  Had the cartel found them?

  The newcomer’s face was angry. This couldn’t be Miguel’s cousin who he was talking to on the phone, right?

  “Migs,” she whispered, panicking. Ariana prayed that these men had more sense than to simply spill blood in this hotel. In Mexico, it was not unheard of for them to simply walk up to an enemy in a restaurant and shoot him while he was eating dinner. Such were the ways of these outlaws … they had the law in their pockets, but not here.

  Hopefully.

  “I got this.” His voice was low, but it didn’t reveal his mood. He picked up the napkin on the table, taking his time wiping the corners of his mouth and stood. “Hector.”

  His cousin stopped short of their table. Twin slashes of brows drawn into a scowl. “You have a lot of nerve showing up in my town after shunning the family for four fucking years.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “So you say. And now you want me to help you?”

  “That’s what family is for.”

  Hector took another step closer. This time, Migs rounded the table and blocked Ariana from the other man’s view. But she instinctively leaned sideways, fascinated by the exchange. She should have noticed that they were the only ones in the cafe. Was that on purpose? No one to film this exchange and post it on YouTube?

  No witnesses.

  She gulped.

  “Family?” The man sneered. “You talk about family. When was the last time you saw Abbi Mena?”

  “Last Christmas actually.”

  “Bullshit.” The man moved closer, and Ariana started sweating, her heartbeat skipping at the base of her throat.

  “You know what we do to men who disappoint their abuelas?”

  “No, Hector, why don’t you show me?”

  The two men stood nose to nose, glaring at each other, and then very slowly, Hector’s scowl relaxed, and his mouth split into a smile. “Fuck, cuz! Where the hell have you been?”

  It was as if a balloon of tension was popped by a pin.

  The two men embraced and thumped each other’s backs. “Glad to see you’re still a motherfucker,” Migs chuckled. “I was afraid Joaquín had rubbed off on you.”

  Hector grimaced. “Please, don’t compare me to my stuck-up brother. I’m still your lovable cousin. You forget how we loved Han and Lando?”

  They were referring to Star Wars? Growing up with Raul and Jose, this sounded familiar.

  “Are you going to introduce me to the lovely lady?”

  A slight hesitancy on Migs part had Ariana frowning. “Ari, my cousin Hector Alcantara.” He pointed at her. “Ari Ortega.”

  Hector’s smile faltered, and when it returned, there was a tightness at the corners of his mouth. “Not the Ariana Ortega.”

  “The one and only,” she confirmed, her chin lifting in defiance.

  Miguel’s cousin gestured for him to sit and joined them at the table. He sent his bodyguards away, telling one of them to tell the server to bring more coffee and Irish whiskey.

  “A bit too early for that.” Migs observed.

  “I think I’ll need it.” His cousin laughed. “You come back to the family, you like to do it with a bang.”

  “You make it sound like we’re the mafia.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  “And I never left.”

  “No, you just do a fly-by at the family gatherings. Never stay more than thirty minutes and call it done and dusted.”

  Ariana was putting the pieces together in her head. Michoacán, Alcantara. “Are you the Alcantaras of the Michoacán state?”

  “The one and only.” Hector grinned, tossing her statement back at her. “You mean, my cousin didn’t tell you?”

  “He never tells me anything.” She turned to him. “What are you up to?”

  Migs was saved from answering when their waiter returned with a fresh carafe of coffee and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish cream.

  “I’ll tell you what will happen,” Hector said as if relishing what he was about to say. “Tia Delia and Abbi Mena, not to mention all of your sisters, are going to be heartbroken.”

  This was confusing her. Shaking her head, she turned to Migs. “What is he talking about?”

  Hector glanced between them, while Miguel’s annoyance with his cousin became a palpable beat beside her. If she hadn’t witnessed the warm reunion earlier, she could have sworn Migs was ready to murder the other man.

  Then his cousin burst out laughing. “Dios mio, Miguel. You haven’t told her, have you?”

  “No, you dipshit,” Migs growled. “I was going to ease her into the idea.”

  “Tell me what?” Ariana asked. “Ease me into what?”

  Migs turned in his seat. The determination in his eyes sent anxiety up her spine.

  “Marrying me.”

  Ariana lost the ability to speak. No words would come out of her mouth. Her eyes darted to Hector who was sitting back like a spectator about to witness a train wreck.

  “Look at me, Ari,” Migs ordered, and she did. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  Her mouth opened, and then shut, too stunned to say anything. Why couldn’t she say anything? She was composed when Andrade made the same proposition.

  “Say something, Ari.” Hi
s eyes searched hers.

  “Are you out of your damned mind?” she yelled. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Migs, that’s crazy.”

  “That’s what I told him and that was before I knew who you were,” Hector chortled. “Although I relish breaking the news to Elena.” He glanced at Ariana. “That’s my brother’s wife and she’s more stuck up than he is.”

  “Hector.” Migs speared his cousin with a silencing glare. His cousin must have gotten the message and held his hands up in surrender.

  “We’re not doing this.” She cut her hand in a firm negative sign. She dug a spoon into her yogurt and took a bite, and it immediately backed up her throat. She grabbed her coffee cup, her hand shaking. “This is crazy,” she repeated.

  “There you go,” Hector said, and she could have sworn there was a slight disappointment on his face. As if he was denied entertainment. Well, fuck him. Not at her and Migs’ expense.

  “This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Migs said.

  “There’s no place to talk about this. Period. Is this some sort of competition between you and Antonio?” she asked. She should be flattered, but she couldn’t understand his benefit in all this. Ariana already felt bad that she could have ruined his career. She didn’t know what kind of family Migs had. She vaguely remembered the Alcantaras as rich landowners—hacienderos.

  She wouldn’t feel bad about not wanting to marry into such a family, and if she read the situation right, he was estranged from them. Maybe because they were a snobby lot. She couldn’t imagine him growing up behind the opulent walls of the McMansions in Mexico anyway. Migs was down to earth. His cousin was the exact opposite and epitomized the spoiled scions of these hacienderos.

  Hector couldn’t be more than thirty and he had four bodyguards and God knew who else was at his beck and call.

  Prejudiced much, Ari?

  Instant shame hit her, and she could feel the heat rise up her cheeks. Suddenly aware of the silence in the midst of her mental diatribe, she glanced up and realized Migs had not answered her question. He was waiting for her to give him eye contact.

  “No. This is not me taking a page out of Andrade’s book,” he said coolly. “That’s insulting. Eat. We’ll talk about this later in the privacy of our room.” He turned to his cousin and ignored her, leaving her reeling from his last statement.

  Wait. What?

  Our room?

  After breakfast and after getting his go-bag from the Jeep, Migs led her to the elevators. With the keycard Ariana saw Hector give him, Migs swiped the reader on the panel and then punched a blue button for one of the top floors. There were four, all marked differently. Crowns of different designs and an ace, probably alluding to a card deck.

  “We have the King suite,” he said as the elevators slid open and they stepped out. “We should be secure here. This floor is card-access only and Hector assured me only his trusted staff has access to this level.”

  “When you said room, you meant the entire floor.”

  Migs smiled sheepishly. “Hector insisted. He said I needed the ambience to convince you.”

  “I thought we were done with this nonsense.” She should’ve known better though. If there was one thing she knew about Migs, it was his persistence.

  “You need sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk—”

  “Miguel!”

  “Sleep,” he repeated. “I want to kick Hector for springing this on you.”

  “Shouldn’t you have talked to me about it first?” she asked. “And what’s with this bossiness? First it’s ‘eat’ and now it’s ‘sleep’! You think I can sleep after finding out about your crazy idea?”

  “It’s not crazy.”

  “It’s more than crazy. It’s insane!”

  His jaw flexed. “You want to talk about this now?”

  “The best thing would be to never talk about it again,” she said. When he only regarded her with unwavering intensity, she glanced to her left to the wide expanse of windows that swept around their suites where the glittering lights of Vegas gave her something to look at besides the intimidating presence of Migs in front of her. “You expect me to marry you after you disappeared for eight months?”

  She felt him invade her space.

  “Is this about trusting me?” A pause. “Look at me and tell me you don’t trust me.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath, and slowly exhaled before bringing her face forward to stare up at him. It was a mistake. His eyes were dark pools that could easily suck her in and make her do anything. “I trust you with my life.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Their faces were too close, and when his eyes fell on her mouth, she involuntarily bit on her lower lip. One of them gave an audible hitch of breath. Probably her. “The problem is marriage. It’s not something I take lightly.”

  “You considered one with Andrade.”

  “And I turned him down.” She backed up a step because she couldn’t think straight when he was this close to her. “And I am turning you down, too.”

  “Without hearing me out?”

  “How would marrying me add more protection than what you are providing now? You are only going to put your family in danger. Why can’t you see this?”

  Migs sighed. “If you’re not willing to hear me out now, I’m only going to ask you again later.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Take it any way you please. So, you can forget sleeping peacefully, because I’m not abandoning the idea. I’ve already crossed so many lines, I’m not about to go about this half-cocked.”

  “You are talking about defying Garrison.”

  “Among other things.” He squared his stance and crossed his arms. A sure sign he wasn’t budging from his harebrained idea. “Okay. I’ll hear you out.”

  “Then take a seat.”

  She sat, figuring the sooner she complied, the sooner she could hammer some sense into this man. The man who was currently pacing in front of her, running his finger under his chin as if he was choosing the words to say to her with care.

  Seconds passed.

  “You haven’t thought this through, have you?” she asked dryly. Ariana had the oddest urge to laugh. Maybe it was nerves.

  “I have.” Migs scowled at her. “But I don’t know where to start and explain why marrying me is the best solution.” He stopped burning a hole in the carpet. “My family name will protect you. The Alcantara name, but it’s not that simple right now.”

  “Because you’re not on good terms with your family?”

  “Because I haven’t been fully honest with them with what I do.”

  “That you work for the CIA?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do they think you do?”

  “Freelance mechanic.”

  “And they have no clue?”

  “My dad suspects, but he never outright asks.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m taking you to my family’s ranch in San Diego.”

  “What?” Ariana didn’t need more people’s lives on her conscience. What the hell was wrong with him? “You’re going to put your family in danger!”

  “The cartel wouldn’t dare cause any trouble while you’re there.” There was a satisfied smile on Miguel’s face.

  “Does your family have an army protecting it?”

  His face transformed, softened into an expression that could only be described as fondness. It made her heart jump.

  “No. It’s because my grandmother lives there,” he said. “My abuelo, Amado Alcantara, was well-respected in all of Mexico. He was generous to everyone—the farmers who worked the land. Some of them have ended up becoming narcos, but they never forgot his kindness. As his widow, Abbi Mena—that’s what everyone calls my abuelita—is off limits to any cartel. No one will dare go against the matriarch of the Alcantaras.”

  “Then why do you need Hector?”

  “If you want news to spread from Sonora to Oaxaca, you tell my cou
sin.”

  Ariana chewed on her bottom lip. “So, as your wife …”

  “They would think twice about coming after you. But Benito Carillo is a wild card. Our marriage would make him take a pause and figure out what he wants from you. Will make him reconsider if hurting you is worth the wrath of those who respect the Alcantara name.”

  Her mind suddenly remembered the contents of the tray on the coffee table. “I’m not sure what he really wanted. That wasn’t Benito in that house, right?”

  “No. Garrison said he’d identified one of his sicarios, the hitman they called Mamba.” His face hardened. “The one who held a knife to your face.”

  “I don’t think he was planning to cut me, but I remember syringes on the table.”

  “They were planning to drug you?” Migs eyes turned scarily dark.

  “You think they plan to get me hooked on drugs as their way of revenge?” She shook her head trying to make sense of it. “There were other things like … do you know what DNA sampling kits look like?”

  Miguel’s body froze. “Yes.”

  Ariana thought back to what she remembered. “There were three of those. That didn’t make sense.”

  “I’ll get this info to Garrison. See what he can find out.”

  “But you’re off the grid, right?”

  “Until we marry.”

  “Why? Because he’ll think it’s a bad idea?”

  “Yes, but not for the reasons you think. It’ll mess with his plans.”

  “Migs …” she sighed. “I haven’t agreed to marry you yet.”

  “It’s the best solution to your problem right now,” he insisted with increased urgency. “We can keep moving you to different safe houses, but they have connections everywhere. And is that really the life you want to lead? They need to know you’re untouchable.”

  “But you’re hinging my protection on their honoring the Alcantara name.”

  “Right now, you’re only as safe as how well we can hide you. It’ll also give us an idea of how badly they want you. How much they’re willing to sacrifice to get to you. We need to get you to San Diego.”

  “San Diego?”

  “Yes, my father’s business is imports. One of them is green gold.”

  Ariana smiled. “Avocado.” Of course. Michoacán was famous for it.