by Tess Summers
What the hell was going on? Was this another ruse?
Truth be told, he was too fucking exhausted to analyze it. He stripped down to his boxer briefs, clicked the light off, and drew her body next to his before pulling the covers up around them. She whimpered incoherently as she rolled over and settled into his side, one hand on his chest, the other at his hip, inches from grazing his now-hard cock.
“Goodnight, Bella,” he whispered against her hair.
“I love you, Dante,” she mumbled, not opening her eyes but delicately rubbing her bare pussy against his thigh when she threw her leg over his.
Maybe he wasn’t too exhausted after all.
“I love you, too, little one.”
He ran his hand up her soft curves and palmed her left breast—then he heard her the soft whistle of her snoring.
Well, that settles that, he thought with a chuckle. He kept his hand on her supple mound and quickly followed her example.
****
He was having the most amazing sex dream—Kennedy’s lips were wrapped around his cock with her warm hands tugging on his balls. It was fucking fantastic, and he was fighting against waking up. He didn’t want it to end, but something was pulling him from his erotic slumber.
Dante felt her hair tickling his stomach and realized it wasn’t a dream. Kennedy was slowly slurping up and down his hard-as-steel cock, stroking him from the base up.
He knew he should be suspicious as hell, but the way her tongue pressed against the underside of his prick made him not give a damn about anything else.
When he began to stroke her hair, she looked up at him and smiled with his dick in her mouth.
“Well, good morning,” he smirked.
Pulling his cock out from between her lips, she continued jerking his shaft and cupping his balls, murmuring seductively, “Mmm, good morning. I’m sorry I missed you coming to bed last night,” then dipped her mouth back on his cock and took him deep in her throat, rendering him temporarily speechless.
The wet noises she was making as she gargled with his tip were sexy as fuck, as was the sight of his cock buried between her lips. Dante began to make shallow thrusts further down her throat, and she stilled her movements, letting him fuck her face.
“Fuck, Kennedy!” he cried out, and held her cheeks in his hands while he plunged in and out. She ground her soaked pussy against his thigh and moaned, driving him over the edge to roar his release.
Even though she tried, she couldn’t take everything he gave her, but the sight of his cum dribbling down her chin and onto her tits was pure porn.
“Oh my god, woman,” he panted while she gently cleaned him with his discarded underwear. “What a fucking wake-up call.”
Kennedy continued moving her hips in small circles on his thighs.
“I’m glad you liked that, baby. I wasn’t sure if—”
He took the underwear, threw them on the floor, and pulled on her arm. Kennedy slid her body up to straddle his stomach, but he lifted her ass with both hands and moved her pussy to ride his face.
“Best damn breakfast ever,” he growled, running his flat tongue up and down the length of her slit. Her soft moans and rocking hips soon rewarded his efforts, and he gripped her thighs, pulling her down onto his mouth to fuck her with his tongue, her juices coating his chin.
When he flicked his tongue rapidly over her clit, she cooed, “Oh my god, Dante, yes! Yes!” before falling forward, unable to maintain herself upright. He savored her taste as she moved her hips back and forth on his tongue while he delved deeper inside her. With his arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her still, he continued his assault on her cunt until she began to thrash above him as she reached her climax.
Her pussy now sensitive after her orgasm, Kennedy pushed him away, and he tugged on her waist so she was nestled on top of his chest with his arms wrapped her.
“Ruined,” she sighed. “So ruined.”
“You’re damn right.”
They were silent for a moment, then she quietly asked, “If we’d met in college, do you think things would be different?”
“Yes, I would have knocked you up and married you before you joined the Marines. We’d have four kids by now.”
She lifted her head to look at his face, her brows furrowed. “I’m being serious. Would you… you know… would you still have chosen this life? In the cartel?”
He felt like there was a lot riding on his answer. Like this was a test of his character.
“Honestly, Bella, I don’t know. I was a bit of a playboy in college, so I think if I had met you then, I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate how perfect you are for me.”
Her face fell.
Shit. Backtrack!
“But on the other hand, maybe if I had met you then, it would have woken me up. Maybe I’d have realized you were the one—like I did when I met you at forty—and married you and ended up on Wall Street.”
“I don’t like the cold.”
That made him laugh out loud.
“Well, it’s a good thing I ended up back in Ensenada then.”
“Or we could have just picked somewhere warmer. But still legal.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear.
“I could lie to you and say we’re going completely legit, but I’d rather be honest with you. But I know I can’t exactly do that either, given your current job. I don’t know what the solution is, little one, but we will find it, because I can’t be without you.”
She rested her head back on his chest without responding, and they lay there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts while he gently stroked her hair.
To him, the solution was easy. She needed to quit the CIA, marry him, have his babies, and consult on the organization’s legal businesses. And maybe their not-so-legal activities as well.
But the CIA would never allow it. So maybe the solution wasn’t that easy.
Dante closed his eyes and pulled her closer. There had to be a way.
Chapter Nineteen
Kennedy
Once again, she hung out in Dante’s office all day working on security options for the medical marijuana dispensaries. And, once again, she spent more time sitting on his lap than on the furniture in the room.
She hated how much she loved it.
He really was brilliant—his education was obviously not simply for show, and she might have fallen a little more in love with him as she watched him work. True to his word, they only discussed things that were legal, and when he had to take a phone call from his uncle, she left the room.
When she came back in, he looked up from his beautiful, ornate desk and smiled. “See, Bella? We can make this work. Just imagine our little ones playing in the corner.”
If only.
The truth of the matter was he would be an excellent father. He was patient and never acted in anger, and when he’d explained the workings of Emerald Woods, he’d taken his time and ensured she understood everything she needed to know to help him.
And, yes, it had made her ovaries work overtime the night of her rescue mission when she’d seen him carry three-year-old Lucas to the room the boy shared with his stepmom, Cassie.
Lying in his arms that night, his cock still buried in her pussy after their last round of sex, she felt content, with sadness ebbing on that emotion. Their time together was going to be ending soon; they both knew it, although Dante did a good job of denying it.
“We belong together, little one,” he murmured, breaking into her thoughts as if he’d read them.
He hadn’t used a condom again, although he did ask her permission this time. She’d done the calculations in her head and felt confident she was not ovulating. The same could not be said for the night he’d taken her with the intention of getting her pregnant, and that worried her.
Another reason she needed to leave. Her period should be starting soon, and if it didn’t, she was going to have decisions to make—without Dante’s influence. Although, given her current employm
ent status with the CIA, it wasn’t really much of a decision. She couldn’t exactly do covert ops with a baby growing inside her.
The thought made her sad, as did the idea of ending her time with her sexy Latin lover.
“We may belong together, but we can’t be together.”
“We’ll figure out a way,” he said confidently into her hair as he traced circles on her back, lulling her into a fitful sleep.
****
Dante
He had an ominous feeling when he woke up in the morning, even though Kennedy was still in his arms. He would be flying to San Diego with John, leaving his little assassin at the estate and trusting she’d be there when he returned. But he had a premonition she wouldn’t be, and when he kissed her goodbye, he voiced it.
She looked him in the eye and promised, “I will be here when you return—hopefully with good news. You’re right, we’ll find a way to be together. I won’t leave until we do.”
Nonetheless, he was on edge for the entire plane ride to San Diego, checking the security feed often. It soothed his soul to see her working in his study or laughing with Rosa and Maria in the kitchen.
Walking into Ramon’s office, his gut was still uneasy. Seeing El Rey, Miguel Hernandez, in a wingback chair smoking a cigar with his uncle didn’t help matters.
The new Guzman patrón greeted him with a smile. “Sobrino! I’m glad you made it.” He gestured to one of the chairs in the sitting area next to the men. “Please, sit down.” Dante got situated, raising his hand with a subtle shake of his head at the proffered cigar. Ramon continued, saying with a raised eyebrow, “Miguel was just telling me what a great time Laila had at the opera the other night.”
Dante had already told Ramon he didn’t make it to San Diego the night of the opera, but apparently Laila had not told her father the same. Well, shit. Now what?
He was about to come clean with Miguel about John taking his place when Ramon interjected, “I’m glad you were able to show her such a nice evening, nephew. It meant a lot to Señor Hernandez to know his daughter was safe and in good hands. Safety of a man’s loved ones is always the utmost priority, wouldn’t you agree?”
Point received and taken, tío.
“I’m glad to hear she enjoyed it as much as I did,” Dante said with as genuine a smile as he could muster.
The other man blew a smoke ring, then looked at his cigar and stated, “I understand you’re taking her out again tonight.”
He looked to Ramon for guidance. Dante wasn’t exactly thrilled about lying to El Rey about who was actually dating his daughter. But Ramon only smiled sweetly at him, not offering any assistance out of this mess.
“I’m looking forward to it, sir.”
Just then there was a knock on the office door, and John poked his head in without waiting for permission to enter.
“D, there’s a situation that needs your attention, now.”
He knew something was happening at his estate.
Ramon scowled, clearly offended, and demanded, “Can’t it wait?”
Dante was already striding toward the door, but paused before walking out. “No, I’m sorry, it cannot,” he said, then tipped his chin to the men. “It was nice seeing you, Miguel. Uncle, I’ll be back in touch shortly.”
The door hadn’t even shut behind them before John thrust his phone into Dante’s hands. The two watched the security camera feeds, horrified by the events unfolding in front of their eyes, as they made their way to the airport in record time.
Chapter Twenty
Kennedy
She was in the kitchen with the older housekeepers when she first heard the helicopters in the distance, and her hackles went up. As the sound got closer, Kennedy recognized the whirring of the blades on an Airbus 215.
“Into the pantry,” she demanded and pushed the two frightened women inside. “Do not come out, no matter what,” she said, then closed the door on their terrified faces.
Like a cat, Kennedy moved to the picture window to watch, confusion marring her face. The US government often used the Airbus 215, but the chopper setting down on Dante’s manicured lawn did not look like anything she had ever seen her agency use. The men jumping out were dressed like they were part of the cartel, but she knew their flank formation by heart and identified the weapons they were carrying as being CIA-issued. The commands as they fanned out were given in Spanish, but not the Spanish of native speakers. They were too rehearsed, too proper—as if they had been learned in a classroom.
So just who the fuck was here to extract her?
Her strategy—whether to go peacefully or with a fight—was dependent on the answer.
So far, there hadn’t been a firefight between Dante’s security force and the men in the helicopter, which meant the men on the estate were expecting them.
Fuck. Too bad she didn’t know how to access the panic room, short of climbing the outside wall and breaking the window again. The thought made her laugh, in an I’m so screwed kind of way.
She positioned herself in front of one of the cameras she knew about. If this was the handiwork of Ramon Guzman, hopefully Dante would recognize her abductors and be able to help her. If not, at least he’d know she had kept her promise and not left willingly.
The men breached the front door, and she put her hands up. She looked directly at the camera and mouthed I love you before a bag was thrown over her head, handcuffs placed on her wrists, and she was shoved out the door and into the waiting helicopter.
Her escape plan was already formulating in her head, but her impaired vision was posing a problem. She’d have to wait it out and see exactly whom she was dealing with.
Once they were airborne, she didn’t have to wait long.
****
Dante
He felt as though his heart was being ripped from his body as he watched the men take her. They hadn’t even gotten the jet in the air, and she was already gone.
“Take me back to my uncle’s,” he said calmly. Too calmly for all the pent-up frustration and rage coursing through his veins. Someone was going to die tonight if he didn’t get her back unharmed—and it wasn’t going to be him.
“We’ll find her, D,” John offered, a bravado and surety in his voice that Dante wasn’t feeling. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was scared. It was one thing to lose her because she didn’t want to be with him—it was another thing entirely to lose her because she was dead.
“We have to, John. We have to.”
“So what’s the plan?”
He looked out the tinted car window and said matter-of-factly, “I put a gun to Ramon’s head and pull the trigger if he doesn’t tell me where she is.”
John had been his friend for almost thirty years and knew better than to argue. He just jutted his bottom lip out and nodded. “Good plan.”
“I swear to God, if they harm a hair on her head, I’m going to burn this fucking organization to the ground.”
“Let’s just focus on getting her back so that doesn’t have to happen.”
Dante’s smile was humorless when he replied, “Always the voice of reason.”
“It’s why you pay me the big bucks, my friend.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kennedy
“Yeah, it’s her… No, she was in the front room waiting… I’m fucking positive… Jesus. Hold on.”
The hood was unceremoniously ripped off her head, and Kennedy blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light. A blond-haired man speaking perfect American English—probably from the East Coast, judging by his accent—was talking to someone on a cellphone. She glanced around and quickly confirmed her suspicions: They were on a ship. The man snapped a picture of her with his phone.
“Happy?” he growled into the receiver after sending the photo off.
She’d been able to deduce these were not Ramon’s men, but if they were part of the agency, why was she still in handcuffs and not being given a hero’s welcome home?
Her h
eart sank. This was a cleanup mission, and she was the mess. The CIA must think she was working with the cartel. Dante had a mole; there was no other explanation why they wouldn’t have considered her a hostage.
Kennedy’s mind raced trying to figure out who it could be. Maria? Rosa? She had a hard time buying it. Both women had worked for Dante’s family since before he was born. Still, money was a powerful motivator, although she knew Dante took very good care of them and their families. Maybe it was John? Again, that was hard to imagine—they’d been friends since boyhood, and the American seemed to have free rein in San Diego. Still, anything was possible.
At least her suspicions were confirmed: The agency wouldn’t let her live if they thought she and Dante were together. Yippee, I got it right… what does she win, Johnny? Oh, a bullet to the skull.
Cue sad trombone music.
****
Dante
Miguel Hernandez’s limo was leaving the gates as John and Dante roared up to his uncle’s estate. It was probably just as well. Pulling a gun on El Rey would definitely be signing his own death warrant. He might survive killing his uncle if he couched it as revenge for Enrique’s murder or as another coup, but taking down the head of some other family would mean outright war.
Besides, he seriously doubted Miguel knew anything about Kennedy or her whereabouts. Ramon, on the other hand, had better start talking fast.
He took the cement stairs to the front door two at a time, and didn’t even bother ringing the bell. Instead he barged through the wooden double doors and marched straight to his uncle’s office.
Ramon greeted him with a smile from behind his huge ebony hardwood desk. “Well, that was fast—everything okay? Quick thinking about Laila, by the way. Well done.”
Dante drew his Glock from his waistband and pointed it at his uncle.
