“I’m not going to betray you.” She looked at him with sincerity shining in her eyes. Her expression was so clear, so open and innocent that…he almost believed her.
His hand clamped around her neck just tight enough to spur his need for control of this woman. “You need to find a way to deal with what you saw tonight, because I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Don’t make me kill you, Valentina. Don’t break my heart.”
She tossed her head back defiantly, unable to look in his eyes but needing to finally voice the words that clenched her heart like a vice. “To betray you would be to betray myself. I won’t betray you or the cartel. Just wait, I’ll prove myself to everyone.”
That got his attention. “How do you propose to do that?” he asked, almost too quietly.
“I’ll find a way to show you all that I’m serious…that I can be trusted.”
“Why don’t you show me now?” he asked, rubbing his stiff length against her lower belly, showing her how deep his need for her went. Their lips crashed together in an almost angry display of sexual possession. He knew when he picked her up and carried her over to the bed that she would never betray him. She wasn’t capable of such treachery.
They tore at each other’s clothes, pushing, pulling, and rending fabric until they were at last bare to each other. Victor felt like his life depended on them being as close to each other as possible. As he sank his cock deep into her depths, his last conscious thought was that maybe it did.
Chapter Thirty Six
The rhythmic breathing of her lover was comforting to Valentina. And freeing. With Victor fast asleep, she was free to go for her usual late-night walk. Victor didn’t like this particular habit of hers but what Victor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
She’d learned how to sneak out of the house and avoid the cameras that surveilled the property. Years of thwarting the paparazzi had taught her all she needed to know about avoiding prying eyes. She acknowledged the restrictions that were a fact of life in the cartel – bodyguards, tracking devices. But she wouldn’t be caged.
The night sounds soothed her and gave her a chance to digest the atrocities she’d witnessed at the warehouse. Even though she’d known she was marrying into a family of killers, nothing could have prepared her for the brutality of the night’s events. Even the women had seemed different somehow, as if they had flipped a switch and deadened all signs of emotion. They weren’t the same women she always laughed with.
If nothing else, she had a newfound respect for the family she was marrying into. She was smart enough to know they had deliberately brought her to the warehouse to witness what happened there. It would serve two purposes: it had been a test of sorts to give them the opportunity to gauge her reaction, and it would also imbed her so deeply into the cartel as an accessory to murder she would have no way out. Only time would tell if she passed the test.
The look on Victor’s face and the dark energy that had hovered over them as he threatened her wasn’t something that could be faked. Shit had gotten real so fast that she hadn’t had time to prepare.
As she strolled toward a wrought iron bench she was fond of at the edge of the woods, the rustling of leaves followed by the sound of a twig snapping caused her to whip her head around. Her chest tightened and any fresh air she had been enjoying was knocked out of her lungs, leaving only terror as she looked into the mask of the one thing she was terrified of. It was a fucking clown. The mask was white with a ghastly smile. Fake blood ran from the mouth and from the eyes, which were just pinholes that hid the identity of whoever was behind the mask.
Before she had a chance to change her mind, she stepped in and jabbed his nose with an upward thrust of the palm of her hand. When he howled and reached up to grab his face through the mask, blood gushed from under the mask. She kicked him as hard as she could in the balls and screamed for help. Bright spotlights came on, searching the grounds until they landed on her and her assailant. That could only mean one thing: the cavalry was coming – and that, no doubt, meant Victor was wide awake and gunning for her.
With the spotlights shining down on her, she ran blindly toward the sounds of shouts and gunfire coming from the house. Her lungs burned and her muscles ached as she ran faster than she’d ever run before, fueled by the images of the intruder beating her or worse yet, shooting her.
Victor appeared at the center of her fear-fueled tunnel vision, rage pumping off him as he barreled toward her, stark naked and clutching a gun. At the sight of his primitive display of protectiveness, she stopped short.
Paralyzed with fear, she burst into shuddering sobs, her body quaking so violently that the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Victor stood before her, his chest heaving, unconcerned with his nakedness as he quickly assessed the health of the only thing that mattered in his life.
Recognizing the early signs of shock, he handed his gun off to the nearest guard, whisked Valentina up into his arms like she was feather lite, and carried her to the safety of the house and the warmth of their bed.
He knew the guards would handle the situation. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his thoughts as the guards dispersed onto the grounds with military precision. As Victor ran up the stairs carrying his precious cargo, a door at the end of the long hallway opened and his mother stepped out into the hall, abruptly squealing and covering her eyes. Ricardo appeared and somewhat impatiently guided her back into their suite of rooms, but remained standing by the door.
“You’ve got her then?” Ricardo asked, his frowning eyes on Valentina’s quivering form. Victor paused in the doorway and nodded curtly at his father. Ricardo didn’t bother commenting on his son’s state of undress and he didn’t bother asking how the guards had responded to the situation. He was amused by the former and utterly confident in the latter. But he did want to make a point. “Does she venture outside on her own in the middle of the night often?” he asked, his voice far too quiet for Victor’s liking.
“Not any-fucking-more,” Victor snarled, his dark eyes narrowing in warning as the caveman deep within him stood up and cracked his knuckles. Silence ensued, the unprecedented stand-off between the two men making the air around them crackle with unspoken ultimatums and an unmistakable hint of danger.
“Good,” his father said at last, his deep voice so quiet that Victor almost didn’t hear him. “I trust you’ll address this security breach with her appropriately. Ensure it doesn’t happen again. If it does, it will be handled as a cartel matter, so whatever you plan on doing, make it count. I’ll handle things from here. You just handle her.”
Ricardo’s door slammed shut and Valentina jerked in Victor’s arms. She clawed at his shoulders as she clung to him, her grip not lessening even after he had them settled on the bed.
The prospect of losing her left him feeling unsettled and he wanted blood. But that would have to wait; she needed him. Victor stepped away to the window long enough to confer briefly with his men on his cell, then he slipped back into bed. He held his Valentina until her tears stopped and they both fell drifted off. His last thought before sleep took him was that there would be no more late-night walks alone.
Chapter Thirty Seven
That bitch broke my fucking nose. Luis Manuel Jimenez had barely escaped after having his ass handed to him, by a girl of all people. The only thing that had given him the strength to get the hell out of there after the blinding lights had come on was the fear of knowing what he would suffer at the hands of Victor Ramirez and his men.
He parked his car in front of the Emergency Room and glanced back at the blood-soaked clown mask he’d discarded on the floorboard of the car. He almost felt bad about using the poor girl’s terror of clowns against her, but he had to get her attention and nothing else up to this point had worked. She was probably flattered that he knew her so well.
He was so deep in thought as he got out of the car that he didn’t notice the nurse running up to him until she grabbed him by the arm.
“My word, look
at you! Let’s get you back to see a doctor.”
He was lucky the ER wasn’t busy. At least something was going his way. It was only a couple of minutes before a doctor came in. Luis looked up and saw a man in his fifties looking over his glasses at him. Suddenly, he felt like a kid who’d been sent to the principal’s office.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Clayton. Looks like you got on the wrong side of somebody’s fist. Can you tell me what happened so I know what I’m looking at here?”
“It started out as a joke,” Luis muttered. “I’ve got this friend who’s scared of clowns and I jumped out from around a corner in a scary clown mask. The guy went berserk.” At least it’s a half-truth, something I can remember.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” the doctor said. He gently cleaned the blood from Luis’ face and squinted as he pushed and prodded at Luis’ nose, ignoring his patient’s whimpers as he worked.
“Well, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, it’s broken. That would be easy enough to treat but the internal damage to the septum is extensive. Your friend really did a number on you. I can set it but you’re going to need surgery. You’ll need to be admitted and see the plastic surgeon tomorrow or I can set it and you can have the surgery done later. I wouldn’t wait long, though.”
“I can’t stay here! Are you kidding me? Set it and let me get out of here.”
“This isn’t a beauty contest, sir, and I couldn’t care less what you look like when you walk out of here. But the internal damage is going to impair your respiratory function. It’s quite serious. I don’t consider this surgery elective in the least.”
“Fine,” Luis hissed. “Admit me, then. Fuck! I can’t believe any of this.”
It didn’t faze the doctor at all. After all, the truth was the truth and like any other doctor he dealt in facts, not feelings. The guy needed surgery, preferably by a plastic surgeon. Whoever had punched him in the nose had done a very thorough job. The doctor doubted the man would ever pull a prank like that on someone again.
As a nurse assembled the supplies he would need to set the guy’s broken nose, Dr. Clayton washed his hands and prepared to meet his next patient: a six-year-old boy with a marble jammed up his nose. Yes, it was all fun and games until somebody got hurt.
Harley Davis, R.N., glanced around the momentarily empty nurses’ station and stretched in her chair, pointing her toes out in front of her and reaching up, up, up toward the ceiling as a long, satisfying groan escaped her lips. Working the night shift wasn’t her first choice, but the money was better. Probably because of the misery index, having to stay up all night, and then never feeling fully awake during the day. It had been a boring night other than the man who had come in with a broken nose.
Every time she saw somebody’s face all fucked up, it brought back memories of her old biker days. She’d been raised in the biker culture and she’d worked her ass off making sure she didn’t end up like all the biker women she’d grown up with, watching as they slowly turned into used up barflies. No way was she going to let any man pimp her out so he could afford to ride around on a custom Harley.
She slurped down the last of her Mountain Dew, closing her eyes and moaning quietly at how good and smooth it felt going down. She had tried the diet stuff and it was okay, but nothing compared to the real thing. Her fingers flew over the computer keyboard as she filled in the man’s information in preparation for his cosmetic surgery procedure, scheduled for first thing in the morning.
She didn’t notice the handsome stranger until she heard the thrumming of fingers on the counter in front of her. “Yes, can I help…you…” She looked up to see a man with shaggy brown hair and the most beautiful eyes. Even under the baseball cap perched on his head, she could see that interspersed in his brown locks were blonde highlights that could only be the result of time spent outside in the elements. It was his striking blue eyes and lopsided boyish smile that caused her to take notice. The crooked boyish smile was enough to make any woman swoon, and hell, nothing else was going on so why not flirt with the man.
“Hey, darlin’,” the man said as he leaned an elbow on the counter, his smile growing until a dimple winked at her from deep in his cheek. His twinkling blue eyes crinkled at the corners, promising all manner of mischief. Harley shifted in her seat and licked her lips. As his eyes followed her tongue’s progress, she thought that maybe the night wasn’t going to be a total loss.
“Um, can I help you?” she repeated as she pushed a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, in a belated attempt to be somewhat professional.
“I was wondering if a friend of mine had checked in, Luis Jimenez?” He was guessing it had Luis behind that bloody clown mask because Valentina had been so sure she’d seen him the other day. He was counting on the guy being too stupid to use an assumed name. He hoped he was right or they would have no idea who the stalker was.
“Are you family?” she asked demurely as she slowly typed, drawing the interaction out as long as she could. No need for him to know she was working on loading that particular patient file.
“No. But I’m really worried about my friend. We were out together partying and he just disappeared. I’m concerned he may have gotten in a wreck or something. I’d hate to think he was stupid enough to get behind the wheel of a car. Please…I’m really worried.”
He watched the natural beauty as she slid the end of a pen into her mouth, twirling it pensively as she looked up at him. He knew the deal; she was trying to decide if she should reveal any private information. “Damn, baby,” he muttered under his breath as he watched her work that pen between her pretty pink lips. His mind started entertaining all kinds of dirty thoughts, like what it would be like to have his cock in her mouth instead of that pen. Fuck.
He shifted his weight onto his other foot and discreetly rearranged his cock as he willed away the hard-on that was stirring between his legs. This girl was definitely his type, a natural beauty with a sexy sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He wondered if she had them on her chest too, and thought about how much fun it would be to use his tongue to play connect-the-dots. His cock jumped in agreement and he knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be seeing this woman. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman who interested him enough to pursue. His life was simple, just the way he liked it. Women were complicated. No doubt this one was, too, but something told him she’d be worth it.
“I’m really not supposed to reveal personal medical information to people who aren’t family,” she said softly as she bit down on her lower lip. King just barely managed to stifle a groan.
Giving her his most earnest expression, he did his best to override her years of professional training. “I understand, but if I could just see him and make sure he’s okay, I’d be so grateful.”
“Oh, okay. He’s in room 2506. But if you say I told you, I’ll say you’re a crazy stalker I couldn’t do anything about.”
A flash of something ominous darkened his countenance for an instant before it was replaced by his usual cocky, boyish smile. Surely, she had been imagining the harsh gleam in his eyes.
“Got it,” he said easily, nodding. Then he seemed to second guess himself. “Man, I hope I don’t wake him if he’s sleeping. Bet his tired, isn’t he? Lots of tests today?”
“Um, no, not really. Dr. Clayton didn’t see the need to do an x-ray last night since they have one scheduled for first thing in the morning. I mean, when your nose is broken, it’s pretty obvious, right?”
“Right. Thank you, darlin’.”
Before she could respond, she was struck dumb by the sight of him walking away. Those jeans fit in all the right places, hugging the most perfect ass she had ever seen. Without warning, he turned around and started walking back to her, his shirt straining across his chest as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
Clearing her throat, she forced her eyes up from what appeared to be a mighty impressive bulge behind his zipper. Leaning his elbow on the counter ag
ain, he gave her a slow, knowing smile and held out a business card. She took it from him and nodded as he backed away from the counter with a grin, letting her enjoy the view one more time. “Call me sometime. There’s nothing I’d love more than to get to know you better.”
She gulped and squeezed her thighs together under the desk as he walked away. Damn, he looked good and she did so love a bad boy. Something about this guy told her he was very, very bad indeed.
King pulled the sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them on and pulling the brim of his hat down low so it shadowed his features. He kept his head down, avoiding any cameras monitoring the hospital hallways and elevators, then quietly slipped into the sleeping man’s room.
There he was, Luis Fuckin’ Jimenez, sleeping soundly, breathing through his mouth in deference to the bandages covering his nose. As King approached the bed, he slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the small plastic box that held his pride and joy: a Sydney funnel-web spider, considered by many to be the most lethal spider in the world. Australia really did have the best shit.
“Alright, Matilda, you know what to do,” he breathed as he pressed the box flat against the man’s chest, being careful to move slowly so as not to wake him. After this step was complete, things would happen quickly and by then King wouldn’t care if the guy woke up, but for now he needed him completely still so Matilda didn’t get out of hand. He was counting on her being agitated and aggressive after bouncing around in his pocket while he chatted up the Naughty Nurse. Fuck. He need to get this over with. Luis Jimenez had taken up too much of his time already.
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