by Jane Henry
Silence fell around the table once again, and Grace lifted one shaking hand to rub her eyes. Donnie pulled her closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head. The bullshit about what kind of man she deserved and the type of life Donnie could provide her seemed pretty fucking distant and stupid in the face of this threat.
“You assumed.” Nora’s voice broke the quiet, and made Diego’s eyes flash in her direction.
“Perdón?” Diego asked, his forehead wrinkled.
“You said… You said you assumed that’s why Hector Montero went missing a few weeks back,” Nora clarified, her brown eyes locked onto Diego’s defiantly. “But what really happened?”
Diego stared at her for a moment as though he’d never seen her before, and his mouth hung open slightly, before he closed it with a snap, blanking his expression and giving her a casual shrug. “Who knows?”
But his hesitation had been obvious and confirmed Donnie’s earlier suspicion.
“If there’s more information that we need to know…” Donnie began, flattening his hand on the table.
Diego hesitated, pursing his lips and glancing at Slay, who simply nodded. Then Diego said, “Slay trusts everyone at this table, so I’m gonna trust you too. But I need you to understand that the information I’m about to give you is not just sensitive, it’s extremely dangerous. Dangerous for me to give you, and dangerous for you to have… but it might also keep you safe.”
Up and down the table, heads nodded uneasily.
“We’ve known for quite some time that Salazar’s not working independently. He simply doesn’t have the manpower or the money to do the shit he does without a backer. Several years ago, after we attempted to take him down on drug charges,” he said, glancing at Allie, who’d been injured as an indirect result of that attempted bust, “we discovered Salazar was affiliated with a larger crime syndicate in Mexico that primarily ran drugs along the East Coast. But once Salazar became front page news, that cartel backed off. Left Salazar twisting in the wind for a bit. Now, though… he’s found himself a new sponsor.”
“Who?” Nora demanded.
Diego met her eyes squarely. “We just don’t know.” He glanced around the table. “All communications from prison are monitored, and it’s unclear how this sponsorship started. All we know is that Chalo refers to this person as El Jefe, the boss. And El Jefe doesn’t deal in drugs, he deals in flesh. The sex trade, like we discussed before.”
“Christ,” Blake said, leaning back in his chair. The glance he shot at Diego was pitying, and once again Donnie wondered what shit Diego had been forced to see and do in order to maintain his cover.
Donnie hugged Grace tighter.
When Diego spoke again, he sounded tired. “Yet another reason why Mikey wants to publicize this thing with Grace, and spread the rumor that it’s an auction. He wants an in with Salazar, yes, but if that doesn’t work, he’ll know he’s built cred with El Jefe.”
“So worst case scenario, he can cut Salazar out completely and take a stab at working directly for the big fish,” Nora concluded, eyes narrowed in thought.
Once again, Diego stared at her in puzzled fascination before nodding. “Si, exactamente. The way your brain works, Norita…”
Tony snorted. “No shit. Sometimes she frightens the crap out of me.”
“Hey!” Nora argued, her cheeks pinkening as she glared at her brother-in-law.
Donnie waved a hand impatiently, cutting off Nora’s outrage. “So in the meantime, what the fuck do we do? How do we keep Grace safe?”
Diego sighed. “We need time. We’re working every avenue we can think of to find El Jefe’s identity. We’re calling in favors across the board, working our informants.”
“What about a forensic accountant?” Heidi asked, as she passed behind Donnie, still walking Elena and Blake’s restless daughter. “Trace the source of any payments to Salazar, and you can find out El Jefe’s identity.”
Diego shook his head. “We don’t know that any money has exchanged hands. Salazar’s in prison, and it’s too early in the partnership.”
Heidi shook her head. “Nonsense. Didn’t you say Salazar had some new high-powered attorney?”
Diego blinked. “I… yeah. He does.”
“Where’d he get the money for a new attorney?” Paul wondered aloud.
Donnie remembered that Heidi and Paul ran some kind of financial analysis company, and that’s how Dom and Heidi had met.
Diego looked taken aback, as though this were an avenue that he hadn’t considered, and Donnie’s heart sped up.
“Fuck. Okay, yeah,” Diego said excitedly. “Let me make some calls.”
“I’m happy to help if you need me,” Paul told him.
Diego nodded distractedly before pushing himself to his feet. He shook his head as if to collect himself, then spoke. “In the meantime, Pedro is as safe as we can make him, and we’re moving Mrs. Diaz to a safe location, as well. Grace should stay with you guys, but be aware. Once Salazar is released from prison and they know Grace is missing, things are going to get dangerous very quickly.”
“Grace and I can go to—” Donnie began, but Slay cut him off.
“Bad idea, Don. You heard Diego. They need time. I get that your instincts tell you to jump on your bike and take your girl far away,” he said, reading Donnie’s mind. “But we have no idea whether activity outside The Clubs is being monitored in preparation for Salazar’s release. They’d notice a huge change in routine like you taking off, and that’d be a major red flag that could tip Mikey off way before we’re ready.”
“Agreed,” Blake said. “I think Grace should continue to stay with you at The Club right now. You’ve got tight security in place, and we can put Grace into lockdown once Salazar is released. No one needs to know she’s there.”
Diego nodded, then walked around the edge of the table and paused next to Grace’s chair. “I promise you, Miss Diaz, we’ll do everything we can to keep you safe, and to get you your life back,” he told her.
Grace simply nodded, her cheek rubbing against Donnie’s shirt as she leaned against him, and Donnie could tell she’d reached the end of what she could handle right then. He was suddenly eager to get her out of here, take her home, tuck her in bed, and watch over her all night.
Diego looked at Donnie, a question in his eyes, and Donnie gave him a nod, as well. If Slay, Matteo, and Blake trusted the man, Donnie would too.
But he wouldn’t let down his guard or relax one iota until he was sure Grace was safe.
Chapter 6
Grace rubbed her hand across her eyes, fingers gently wiping away the haze of sleep and dreams. Had she been dreaming? As her eyes adjusted to the dim morning light, and her subconscious turned to waking, she realized she wasn’t alone. However, the large, shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the bed was welcome.
“Morning, sunshine.” Donnie’s gravelly voice came low in the dimness of early morning, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He was wearing only light blue boxers and a thin white t-shirt, a sight Grace could get used to. He handed her a mug of steaming hot coffee. “Rise and shine.”
She closed her eyes, burrowed deeper under the covers belly down, and grunted. Nope, Not getting up yet. The night before, Donnie had checked on The Club before bed, and paused to check his email. When he’d sent her upstairs, some girl—Grace recognized her as the girl whose ass had been on display while Donnie did his demonstration—had intercepted her on the stairs. She’d been sweet, and asked if Grace had needed anything. So sweet, in fact, that Grace convinced herself she’d likely imagined the look of fury she’d seen on the woman’s face the night of the session. Grace had been tired, though and excused herself, instead choosing to peruse the iPad for something to do while she waited for Donnie to come upstairs.
Having met Hillary, she’d been more curious to read her books. She’d loved his friends, and felt as if she’d known them far longer than the one night, and Hillary felt like a friend already. She
’d chosen one of Hillary’s books, and had been up half the night reading. She was now in no mood to get up. “Hmmmph,” she said to him.
His voice lowered warningly. “Gracie.”
“Mmmph.”
The clink of the coffee mug indicated he’d put it down on the bedside table, and the next thing she knew, the bedcovers were being yanked off unceremoniously, the cool air grazing her bare legs. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, but it was too late. His wide, broad palm slapped her thinly-clad bottom, not once but three times, hard swats that woke her up more effectively than the call of a boot camp bugle.
“Ow! Give me those blankets!” She sat up, reaching for the covers, but he held them out of her reach, his eyes both dancing and heated.
“Keep acting the part of the brat, and I’ll wake you up over my knee,” he said.
She flopped back on the pillows and sighed dramatically. “Okay, Donnie. You win.” Now she wanted the blankets not just because her legs were cold, but because the few sharp spanks and threat of more had made her panties dampen and her nipples tighten against the thin t-shirt she’d worn to bed. His eyes traveled down past hers, to her breasts, and lingered. She watched as he swallowed.
“You always sleep in just a t-shirt?” he asked, tossing her the blanket and tearing his gaze away.
She couldn’t help but tease him. “No, usually I sleep in the nude but I’ve made myself have at least a scrap of decorum, seeing as it’s your bed.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You really are a brat.”
Grace stifled a giggle, sitting up in bed and reaching for the coffee cup. “Ask an honest question, get an honest answer,” she retorted. The coffee was steaming hot, creamy and sweet, just like she liked it. She moaned. “Oh, this is good stuff,” she said.
He grinned, sending a shock wave of arousal straight between her legs. It wasn’t fair how he could do that. She swallowed another scalding sip of coffee, just so she could get her shit together.
“So why the early morning wake-up call?” she said, still feeling the sting of his palm on her skin as she sipped her coffee. It was not unpleasant, sitting here in his bed, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of panties, with the reminder of his dominance throbbing against the sheets.
He inhaled, and sat up straighter. “Gotta get shit done today,” he said. “And there’s no real reason I woke you up,” he said, suddenly looking a little sheepish. He shrugged. “I just wanted to see you before I left, and you were sleeping later than you ever do, so I thought it was time I helped you along.”
She smiled into the coffee mug. He’d wanted to see her?
“What day is today?” she asked, suddenly realizing that while she’d been away, the days and times had bled together, and she no longer had a firm grasp on when it was.
“Thursday,” he said, standing and stretching, as he walked over to the window and opened the shade. She reached for the iPad she’d left next to her, and flicked it on. Thursday, May 2nd.
Oh my God. How had she lost track of the time so much that she hadn’t realized it was her birthday? She stared at the date, overcome with a myriad of emotions. If she were at home, her mama would’ve baked her a cake, and had her presents wrapped and waiting for her on the breakfast table, just like she always had. Grace would’ve taken the day off from work, and done something fun, just for herself, maybe wandered into one of those used bookstores in town, the ones with the fragrant smell of time-worn paper and leather bindings, then bought herself a steaming latte and treated herself to something new.
But not today. No, today, she was stuck in a third-floor apartment with the man of her dreams, who’d just seen her in nothing but a pair of panties and he hadn’t even kissed her.
How had she ever thought she’d be good enough for him?
She slammed the iPad down on the bedside table, unaware of the fact he’d spoken until she realized he’d stopped.
“What’s that all about?” he asked, his brows furrowed as he still stood in front of the windows. “Why are you pissed all of a sudden?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she lied, glad she had the excuse of a cup of coffee to nurse so she could continue brooding in silence.
Donnie’s lips thinned and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Nothing?” he asked, his tone implying that he well knew she was lying.
Don’t lie to me, Grace.
Though her heart thumped, she nodded silently. He finally released her from his glare, as he walked to the door, muttering something about women being a complete mystery to him. “I have to get going,” he said. “There’s food in the kitchen, and more coffee if you need it. I’ll come back at lunchtime to check on you, and if I call you on the cell, you answer. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He turned to fix her with another stern glare, which made her squirm. What was that all about?
But he merely shook his head and left.
Grace resisted the temptation to whip her coffee mug across the room, and suddenly realized she was acting like a total brat. This was not who she was. What had gotten into her?
A while later, she heard the door click, indicating he’d gone downstairs to work. Sighing, she got up out of bed. Because he’d already left, she didn’t bother putting her pants on. Her stomach growled with hunger, as she hadn’t eaten much the night before.
Padding to the kitchen, she screamed out loud when she ran smack dab into Donnie.
“Whoa, girl!” he said, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders and hold her apart from him. “Why are you screaming like you just saw a ghost? You didn’t know I was here?”
“I heard the door shut!” she protested. “I thought you were gone!”
“I was just putting out the recycling,” he said. “I haven’t left yet.”
“Clearly,” she muttered.
He pulled her closer to him, his hand smoothing over her panties. He squeezed her ass hard enough to make her squeal. “That why you didn’t bother putting clothes on?” he asked. “You thought I wasn’t here?”
She swallowed, her cheek pressed up against his t-shirt. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Putting clothes on would be a good idea,” he said in her ear, as his hand traveled from her ass up to her lower back, and he pulled her even closer to him, so close she could feel his erection pressed up against her. God, he was turned on. Her stoic bodyguard was turned on.
“Okay,” she breathed. He released her and she nearly stumbled as he walked away.
“Now I’m going, honey,” he said. “Go eat breakfast and get dressed, and I’ll be back in an hour or so. Yeah?”
She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, watching him go, wondering where exactly she stood with him and how she would ever figure it out.
A short while later, she’d showered and dressed, and was sitting in the living room, reading the book she’d started the night before, determined to distract herself from everything. Whatever. It was just a day, and that guy Diego had made it clear that her mama was safe. That was the most important thing.
Safe.
Grace sighed, grateful for the book she was reading. She needed the distraction to keep her mind off of Donnie, and her mama, safe houses, and drug lords. God. If she didn’t occupy her mind, she’d start right down that road again where she managed to convince herself she was nothing to Donnie. Anyway, things had just started heating up in her book.
The door creaked open, then slammed shut. She jumped. Why was he back so soon? She heard him stalking through the front room, then he was standing in the doorway, looking absolutely pissed off. His hands were on his hips, his eyes blazing.
“Gracia Maria Diaz,” he said.
Oh. Oh, hell. He was pissed all right. She couldn’t ever recall him calling her by her full name. And damn, why was he so hot when he was pissed?
“Um. Yes?” she said, her heart tripping in her chest, and her panties dampening. God.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was May second? You
thought you’d keep it all to yourself? You thought somehow I would forget?” He was stalking over to her now, his heavy boots clomping on the hardwood floor as he marched his way over to her. She pushed her back up against the loveseat, but it was a fruitless endeavor, as he was a mere foot away now, and when he reached her—
“Ahhhh! Donnie! Put me down!” she said, flailing her arms as she found herself soaring up out of the loveseat and dumped over his lap.
No way. Was he going to spank her for not telling him it was her birthday?
Her heart stuttered, her hands grasping the edge of the love seat as she felt him lower her pants. Holy shit!
Oh my God.
“Donnniiiieeee,” she wailed. “What are you doing?”
It was obvious what he was doing. What else would he be doing? She’d been over his knee twice now, and she knew that when he dumped her over his lap belly-down, it was because she was about to get her ass spanked, but she couldn’t help but protest.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” she said. “You told me if I put myself in danger you’d sp—oww!”
His hand had come down and slapped against her panties. Yeowch that hurt.
“Count ‘em,” he growled.
“One!” she shouted out loud. “Donnie, what the hell! Ow!”
Whack.
“Count!”
“Two!”
“Very good. I seem to recall you’re six years younger than me. So that makes you twenty-six. You get twenty-six birthday spanks.”
Holy shit!
He punctuated his statement with another slap of his palm. She counted her way to seven in a blur of confusion and arousal, not fully grasping what was happening until he reached ten, and by then, her pulse had accelerated, and she could feel the dampness of her panties as she squirmed over his lap. It seemed he could, too, for at this point, he spread her legs with his broad, warm palm, and one finger dragged along the thin strip of fabric covering her sex.
