by Pam Godwin
She flipped quickly through the ones she’d seen before. The Beatles, The Who, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones…
Wait.
She jumped back to the previous record and slid it from the pile.
On the sleeve, a blond lady with bouffant hair smiled beneath the title, Petula Clark’s Greatest Hits.
Who was Petula Clark?
“The new arrivals are Martin Lockwood and Ricardo Saldivar.” Hector’s soft melodious Spanish drew her gaze over her shoulder. “They were booked on drug trafficking charges.”
“Are they cartel?” Garra rested his forearms on the table. “Did González plant them?”
She abandoned the records and drifted toward the conversation, her attention piqued.
“I don’t know.” Hector met her eyes and gave her a gentle smile before shifting his gaze back to the group. “We don’t have anything on them.”
That was always the case. The moment a convict was booked into Jaulaso, the prison guards notified Hector. He was given a name and little else.
Funny how La Rocha Cartel knew their shit when it came to drug peddling and illegal firearms, but when they needed to investigate a guy, they were at a loss.
So they did what they did best. They resorted to violence.
“I don’t care who they are.” Simone ran a finger along his thick mustache. “We need to get rid of them.”
He wasn’t talking about eviction. They rarely kicked a man out of Area Three. The rejection wouldn’t just send a prisoner away mad. It would incite him to join sides with the enemy.
La Rocha needed to grow its numbers, not send potential members to the other side.
“Remember what happened the last time we killed a new arrival?” Garra arched a black eyebrow. “We can’t risk another riot.”
Her thoughts exactly. When they made inmates disappear without justification, it caused unrest in Area Three. The inmates started questioning their own longevity within the structure, wondering if and when they were next. That kind of uncertainty bred low morale and weakened loyalties, which often led to an uprising.
After narrowly surviving three riots in two years, she shuddered at the thought of another one.
She paced behind Hector until he pulled out the chair beside him and motioned for her to sit.
“Thank you.” She lowered into the seat.
“We need to take them out without anyone knowing it’s us.” Simone drummed his chubby fingers against his thigh.
“Check this out.” Luis leaned in, eyes glimmering. “We’ll have a big party. Once the two gabachos are drunk out of their minds and everyone else is passed out, I’ll go in there and beat them to death.”
Everyone laughed but her.
These guys loved to party. A lot of women, cocaine, and alcohol. More than that, they loved to spill blood.
“I’ll make it look like one of the inmates did it.” Luis smiled proudly. “It’s a good idea, yeah?”
More laughter. Several head nods. Everyone seemed on board.
Brawls between inmates were accepted as the norm. Broken bones and knife wounds determined pecking orders and gave the caged animals an outlet to burn off steam. While infighting didn’t usually result in death, sometimes it happened.
Luis’ ham-handed plan would probably work, but it should be a last resort.
“You don’t even know these guys are with the rivals,” she heard herself say.
The room fell quiet, and glares hit her from every direction.
Except Hector. He studied her in that fond way he did, with admiration and respect. “You have a better idea?”
She blew out a breath. “You need to be recruiting potential members, not killing them.”
“True, but we don’t know if the enemy planted them here. We can’t rule out the possibility of espionage.”
“Then find out who they are and where they’re from.”
“What do you suggest?” His dark eyes glinted with amusement. “Shall we ask them?”
The room exploded in another round of laughter.
Of course they couldn’t ask a spy if he was a spy. She wasn’t stupid.
Her teeth clenched. “Tell one of your guys in the city to investigate them.”
The ability to access the Internet in Jaulaso was nonexistent, but Hector had endless resources on the outside. Anyone with a web browser could perform an identity search for him.
“I already had a background check done.” His lips thinned. “There is no background. No arrest records. No traffic tickets. No history. Nothing on the dark web. Their identities have been wiped.”
Oh.
Her stomach sank. “If they’re big-time traffickers, they probably paid off people to wipe their identities and make them untraceable. Doesn’t mean they work for an enemy cartel.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t.”
“They know Spanish.” Simone tightened his fists on the table. “But they whisper in English, so we can’t understand what they’re saying. They’re hiding something.”
“Maybe they’re just being cautious.” She turned back to Hector and asked quietly, “So you’re just going to kill them?”
“Yes.” He cocked his head, studying her. “Unless you think you can coax them to talk.”
“Me?” She jerked back.
“Yes! I like this.” Simone heaved forward on his chair, physically interjecting himself. “Put her in a short little dress that shows off her ass and legs with her titties out to here.” He cupped the air in front of him. “Send her to the common area, and call up the gabachos. When they see her… Boom! They’ll want it. They’ll want all up inside it.”
“No! Absolutely not!” Garra jumped to his feet, his eyes wide and pleading with Hector. “This is not an option.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms, her breath stuck in her throat, as she waited for Hector’s reaction.
He lit a cigarette, his thoughts hidden behind a blank expression.
“When she gives it to them, she’ll pull them in real deep, if you know what I mean.” Simone gripped an imaginary body on his lap and thrust his hips.
She clutched her midsection with cold fingers, willing Hector to put an end to this humiliating conversation.
“It’s brilliant.” Luis slapped Simone on the shoulder and laughed. “A man will do and say anything in a beautiful woman’s bed. We’ll get them drunk on the pussy and make them talk.”
“Stop.” A rush of anger swept through her, burning up her cheeks. “I won’t—”
“She’s not doing it.” Garra shot them a harsh squint, his chest thrust-out and jaw tight. “It’s too dangerous.”
Simone and Luis talked over him, their postures perking up and voices rising as they described the manipulative powers of the vagina.
Luis pulled on Simone’s sleeve, dragging him closer. “She can tell them she plans to desert the cartel and needs two strong men to protect her.”
What the fuck? She tried to capture Hector’s gaze, but his attention remained fixed on his men.
Simone nodded, his eyes flickering. “She’ll earn their trust in bed, and they’ll be desperate to help her. If they have connections, they’ll bring her into their fold and share their confidences.”
“What if they’re nobodies?” She inhaled through her nose to calm the tremble in her voice.
What if they were innocent? Victims of the wrong place and wrong time? Just like her.
Every inmate in Jaulaso claimed to be innocent. Every. Single. One. The Americans would probably say the same thing, and there would be no way to prove it.
“If we confirm they’re not working against us,” Simone said, “we’ll tell them they passed the test and keep them. That’ll add to our numbers, just like you said.”
She wanted no part of this half-cocked misogynistic plan. Forget the fantasies she had about the new guys. Appreciating their good looks from afar wasn’t the same as manipulating them with sex.
They were locked up in the most viole
nt prison in Mexico. Because they were criminals. Not the type of men she invited into her bed. Even if it was for the common good of the cartel. Even if they were innocent. Especially if they were innocent. It was too deceitful, and she wasn’t a deceitful person.
But she didn’t need to vocalize her objections. Garra did it for her, vehemently rejecting every point with a No, Fuck No, and Over my dead body.
His duty was to protect her, but his loyalty lay with Hector. Because of that undying allegiance, he was an overachiever in his job as her guard.
The three men continued to debate the advantages and dangers of the proposed plan. Through it all, Hector remained quiet and still, pensively puffing on his cigarette.
Surely, he wasn’t considering this? She felt safe with him and trusted he would never force her into doing something as heinous as fucking a man for information.
Within minutes, the conversation shifted from casual to heated. Simone and Luis leaped from their chairs and faced off with Garra, who refused to hear anything they had to say. Volumes rose. Words sharpened, and faces turned red hot.
“What’s your problem, Garra?” Simone sneered. “Afraid you’ll lose your spot in her bed? She can still fuck you on the side.”
The tingling heat of embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck and across her face. As much as she hated Garra’s rumors, she never denied them. The pretense of belonging to a powerful man like him discouraged sexual advances.
But, for whatever reason, Simone’s accusation sent Garra into a seething rage.
His lips pulled back, and the cords in his neck strained against his gold chains. “Say one more word about that, and I’ll kill—”
“Silence.” Hector’s chillingly calm tone snapped the room into stillness. “Get out. All of you.”
She started to rise, but he put a hand on her arm, staying her.
The others left without hesitating, speaking, or glancing back.
The primary rule of Jaulaso was that Hector La Rocha made the rules. His word was law, and disobedience was a capital crime. Anyone who rebelled—like the González Cartel—was considered a sworn enemy and killed if caught.
The Americans… What were their names? Ricardo and Martin? If she slept with them and learned they worked for an enemy, they wouldn’t just be executed. Their deaths would be theatrically and gruesomely staged to serve several purposes.
One, it would reassure the residents of Area Three that they were under the protection of the cartel. Two, it would give pause to any rival considering a raid. And most importantly, it would send a message to everyone.
Obey, or you’ll end up like this.
She didn’t know if Ricardo and Martin had wives, children, or legit lives at home in the States. She didn’t know if they were heartless, murdering drug smugglers or clueless tourists framed for a crime they didn’t commit. Whomever they were, she didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths.
But that wasn’t the only reason this plan made her sick to her stomach.
She turned toward Hector and sat taller. “I’m not a whore.”
“No.” A slow smile built as he switched to perfect English. “These old eyes see an intelligent, respectable woman, who is a pleasure to talk to and easy to trust.”
His compliment slipped beneath her guard and softened her voice. “You want me to do this.”
“Yes, but I won’t demand it.” He touched a firm finger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “It’s your choice.”
“If I don’t do it, you’ll have them killed.”
“Yes.” He lowered his hand.
Either way, their blood would be on her hands.
Unless they were innocent. If they weren’t here with nefarious agendas, they would be allowed to stay. She had the opportunity to save their lives.
“You’ve never concerned yourself with the business.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why do you care if the gringos die? Because they’re handsome? Mysterious? From your United States?”
“As far as we know, they’ve done nothing wrong.” She lifted a shoulder and looked away. “I don’t want to cause the deaths of innocent men.”
“So sensitive and delicate. I would protect you from all the ugliness in the world if I could.”
He had a way of saying that without sounding condescending. Her ethics were considered a weakness here, but he never patronized or belittled her for it.
She melted in the glow of his warm gaze. “You make it hard to say no to you.”
“That’s what I hear.” He leaned back with a content smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah.” Her pulse quickened. “But I don’t have a clue how to do this. What if I can’t get them to talk?”
“Then we’ll go with Luis’ idea.”
Throw a party, wait until they’re drunk, and beat them to death.
“Super.” She gave him a deadpan smile.
“I want updates on your progress.”
“Yes, of course.” She stood on shaky legs and wiped her palms on her jeans. “Have you heard… Are there any updates on Vera?”
“No. I’m sorry.” His eyebrows pulled down, darkening his expression. “My men won’t stop searching until they find her.”
When she’d told him about her missing sister’s possible connection to his cartel, he vowed to look into her disappearance.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
As she trudged toward the door, his quiet timbre whispered over her shoulder. “Petula.”
She glanced back. “Yeah?”
“You’re stronger than you think. You have the courage to do this job, just like when you saved my life. I have faith in you.”
Each word loosened the cement around her heart, chipping away jagged pieces until she felt the slow leak of an unfamiliar emotion.
She’d always been grateful for his friendship but hadn’t realized how much she needed his approval.
Her mother had kept her at a distance, and she’d never had a mentor or elder to look up to and ask for advice. She needed that. Needed someone to offer guidance on her choices and praise her accomplishments.
Who would’ve thought Hector La Rocha would fill that role? She should’ve been terrified of him, but their relationship wasn’t like that.
He wasn’t a crime boss with her. He was her friend.
The sincerity in his eyes steeled her with determination. She refused to fail. Couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him.
“Thank you.” She gave him her fiercest smile. “I won’t let you down.”
Back in the hallway, Tula found Garra waiting for her with his arms crossed. She didn’t need to tell him what had been decided in Hector’s quarters. One look at her and concern sank into the grooves around his eyes and swallowed his glare.
“Don’t say anything.” She strode down the hall, past her cell, and headed toward the yard for some fresh air. “I get it.”
“You get what?” He chased after her, huffing passive-aggressive breaths down her back.
“If something happens to me, you fail your job, and you can’t stand the thought of that.”
“It’s just a job.”
“Not to you.” She paused at the door to the yard and peered through the grimy window. “See those guys over there covered in tattoos, with the three dots around their eyes and the faceless clocks on their necks? They’ll be running in the opposite direction of the trouble you’ll be running straight toward. That’s why Hector respects you. Because you fear God more than man. You run into battles, outnumbered and undaunted by the outcome, with only loyalty in your heart to your leader.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“It’s the truth.” Her gaze jumped to the gunshot wound on his shoulder, the scarred welt partially covered by his black tank top. “I haven’t forgotten, Garra.”
He’d taken that bullet for her. During a riot that broke out a year after her arrest, he leaped between her and
the shooter.
Before that happened… God, how she’d hated him. She’d made sure he knew it, too, barely speaking to him and forcing him to live that first year like a castrated servant.
When he saved her life, she decided to let go of the past. No more grudges. No more revengeful punishments. She let it all go and gave him a free pass to have sex with whomever was willing.
Maybe that made her a softie. Compared to everyone in here, she was. But when she thought about the compassionate, naive schoolteacher who was arrested two years ago, she knew that woman was gone. None of those soft, sentimental parts remained inside her.
Not even when it came to the man who had taken a bullet for her.
Garra had only been doing his job, and now, she needed him to step back and let her do her job. A job that would put her in the arms of a criminal.
Two criminals.
Ricardo and Martin could’ve been rapists, pedophiles, serial killers, or rival cartel members on a mission to take out anyone close to Hector. She’d agreed to learn who they were by spending an indefinite amount of time with them. Intimate time. Alone.
It would be hard enough to manipulate them into trusting her. If Garra were with her, hovering and watching and listening to every word, they would never open up.
She had to do this on her own, through a series of private moments, away from the watchful eye of her guard.
Garra had already come to this conclusion, given the worry lines etched on his face. He knew the gun on her hip would come off during sex, and she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.
Not while she was naked.
Spread beneath a hard body.
With a dick thrusting inside her.
Her breath caught. Her pulse sprinted, and a sudden rush of heat throbbed between her legs.
She clenched her thighs together.
Christ, where did that come from? She hadn’t experienced arousal since before her arrest. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Two years without sex, and now she was supposed to be some kind of femme fatale? It felt impossible.
“I hate this as much as you do.” She opened the door and stepped into the sunlight, grateful for the cool breeze. “You don’t want to disappoint Hector by failing at your job, and neither do I.”
