by K. Webster
“Yes.”
“Kind of random two Americans meet in my city, no?”
“It’s a small world.”
“El Paso, Texas, huh?”
“Born and raised.”
Somehow, I gave him morsels of the truth without giving him much to go on. Michael and I met at Langley in Virginia. Five and a half years ago. We started sleeping together right away. Some truth mixed into lies.
“Jefe insists.” The kid, I learned, is almost twenty. He’s tall and lanky. His cheeks are still hollowed out and his skin pale from his stint in the shed.
I rise from the couch in the living room and start for the kitchen. It’s pouring down rain today. The house feels emptier than usual. Yoet and his family left for home a couple of days ago and the maids are out enjoying their day off. It’s just me and Angel and Marco Antonio. Javier and the others are out.
For a solid week now, Javier has been positively obsessed with locating Michael.
What happens when he finds him?
Will Michael rat me out?
He won’t. I know Michael. He’s lost himself over the years, but his heart was always with the agency. That’s one reason why he couldn’t ever buckle down and commit to me. It was always about the job. Our mark. We were trained in the event we were ever tortured for information. You don’t give up information to save yourself.
But I’m not sure the CIA even had the brainpower to dream up all the ways Javier can torture a man.
I shudder as I hunt down a bottle of tequila in the kitchen. I’m tired of feeling on edge worrying if tonight will be the night Javier finds out about who I am. I’ve pushed him away. We fucked the night Michael raped me, but we haven’t touched since. Each night, I curl up in his bed with my back to him. He doesn’t come home until late and he gets up before dawn. A few times, I’ve found his strong arm wrapped around me in the middle of the night, but it’s a reminder of how he can crush me.
He will crush me.
At some point.
I can feel it buzzing in my veins as though it’s a living, breathing entity. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’ve chewed my once long nails down to tiny, bloody nubs. He says I’m not to clean the house, but I sometimes find myself going behind the other maids and dusting or mopping just to clear my head.
“Javier said no liquor,” Angel says from behind me.
I turn to face him and unscrew the lid. “Are you going to take it from me?”
His jaw clenches. “I don’t know.”
“You won’t because if you touch me, Javier will feed you your own teeth,” I snap.
“Miss Rosa,” he groans. “Please.”
Shrugging, I tilt the bottle and take a long pull of the liquid fire. His fists clench and worry dances in his brown-eyed stare.
“Don’t worry, runt,” Marco Antonio mutters as he enters the kitchen. “He knows how stubborn she is. You’re off the hook. Go follow the leads you texted me about earlier. I’ve got this.”
Angel relaxes, seemingly relieved before he bolts from the kitchen. Marco Antonio prowls closer but stops a few feet away, leaning his hip against the counter.
“Actions like that could get the kid killed,” he muses aloud.
“Trying to take my tequila will get him killed,” I snap back.
Marco Antonio chuckles as he holds his hands up in defense. “Noted.” His eyes are penetrating as he regards me. I hate how he’s always searching for answers. He’s Javier’s most trusted man, so he’s always under the assumption I’m going to betray Javier in some way. His instincts are good. I will betray Javier. The agency is probably pulling together a task force to extract me as we speak. I learned that Javier burned down the hotel, which was our intelligence hub. Everything is falling to shit and they’ll be forced to act soon. Each creak of the house or bang of a shutter from the wind has me jumping out of my skin assuming the CIA is moving in on us.
I need to speak to Stokes.
Problem is, Michael is my contact. I am only to reach out to Stokes via unsecured lines if Michael has been compromised because it’s a risk to the entire operation. But I can’t keep sitting around doing nothing, hoping it will all just go away. Truth be told, I’d much rather just get absorbed into Javier’s world and forget I’m a CIA operative. At least Javier cares about me. It’s evident in his words and actions. Hell, he’s on a murderous hunt for someone who hurt me. His loyalty is fierce and unyielding.
My loyalty is nonexistent.
That’s not true, though. My feelings for Javier have clouded my judgment. And with Michael doing what he did, I’m overwhelmed with confusion. Right and wrong have switched teams, leaving me spinning between them.
“You’re going to get shitfaced,” Marco Antonio warns, his head dipping at me.
I realize I’ve been chugging the bottle. My body feels warm and the edginess is beginning to bleed from me, leaving me languid and relaxed. “So?”
“You need to stop. Javier will not be pleased.”
I arch a challenging brow at him, emboldened by the alcohol. “Touch me and he’ll kill you,” I threaten.
At this, he rolls his eyes. “I don’t want you, Rosa. Javier knows this. My loyalty is with him, and by proxy, you. However, if forced to choose, I’ll always choose him. He’s my brother.”
I know he doesn’t mean his actual brother, but they’re close as though they’re related. Sticking my tongue at him, I make a great show of taking another long pull of the alcohol. He glowers at me.
“I’ll forcibly take that from you,” he warns.
“You can try,” I snap.
With quick movements, he prowls my way. My movements are clumsy and sluggish, but I haven’t forgotten my training. I’ve taken down men bigger than him. I set the bottle down and reach for something to use as a weapon. The closest thing is an apple. I lob it at him and it thunks him in the head. It only serves to anger him. He lunges at me and I dip out of his intended grip. The knife block is close. I reach for it and grab hold of the meat cleaver. I swing it around, aiming for his fat head. His strong hand grips my wrist.
“You’re a fucking psycho, Rosa!”
I kick at him and land a hard hit to the side of his knee that has him faltering in surprise, but he doesn’t let go of my hand holding the knife. When I go to kick him again, he shoves me against the counter, using his weight against me. I’m no match for his two hundred plus pounds.
“Let me go!”
“No,” he growls. “You’re wasted because you haven’t fucking eaten anything in days and you’re losing your damn mind.”
I squirm and scream and spit at him, but he doesn’t move. His massive body crushes mine against the countertop. He gives my wrist a violent shake and the cleaver falls to the floor with a loud clatter. His foot kicks it away. Then, he twists me around. I yell at the top of my lungs when he yanks both hands behind me.
“Hold still,” he barks as he twists something around my wrists.
I panic and thrash, but he’s too strong. Too expert with his movements.
“A zip tie?” I screech. “You just have those handy in your pocket?”
He chuckles. “Of course I fucking do, Rosa. It’s my job.” With that, he twists me around and hoists me over his giant shoulder. I’m wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt. I don’t like that his hands are touching my thighs.
Hot tears form in my eyes as he carries me. “P-Please don’t touch me.”
He stiffens. “I’m not like that sick fuck who hurt you. I’m just keeping you safe until Javier gets back.”
“Bring her to my office,” Javier’s low, seductive voice growls from the shadows.
Terror claws its way up inside of me. I don’t know why he sounds so dark and ominous, but I have a clue. He knows. He has to know. I’m going to die tonight.
I try to look for Javier but from my position, I can barely move. Tears flood down my face as I await my fate. I know when we reach Javier’s office because I get a whiff of his heady scent. Bad
guys smell so good.
“What happened?” Javier demands. “Put her down so I can look at her.”
I’m dropped to my feet, but Marco Antonio’s massive hand grips my bicep to keep me from running away. Javier’s back is to me as he stares out the window, both hands on his hips. Today he’s dressed in his hunt-down-Michael outfit. Dark jeans. Boots. A white tank top. His Desert Eagle sits in his holster at his side. He cracks his neck and if he wasn’t so hot, he’d look positively terrifying. Broad shoulders. Ink crawling along each area of bared flesh. Muscles everywhere. Even his stance is threatening.
“She tried to hit me with a meat cleaver,” Marco Antonio says, amusement in his tone.
Javier snaps to attention and jerks around. His eyes blink in confusion. “What?”
“He stole my tequila,” I argue with a pout. I may be about to die, but I’m feeling quite petulant at the moment. Like a spoiled child who didn’t get a second piece of chocolate cake.
“All this chaos because you were trying to get fucked up, manzanita?” Javier asks, a black brow arched.
God, he’s so hot.
No dimple today. All of his features are sharp and focused. He’s in full-on cartel badass mode. And I’m desperate to fuck him like this. I want to fuck the bad guy who’ll probably kill me. Desperately so. It’s a revelation I’ll mull on later, but right now, I want him. In all of his nefarious glory.
The end is near, I can feel it.
“So let me get this straight,” he mutters as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his switchblade. It flips out and the metal glints under the light. Thunder cracks beyond the window, making my heart race. “You’re in my house being a drama queen over a fucking drink while my men and I are out there busting our asses to find your ex-boyfriend.” He approaches me and pokes the tip of his blade between my breasts. “One would assume you aren’t grateful.”
I don’t know the answer here. Am I supposed to condone his wanting to kill a fellow agent? Agent Daza says fuck that and craves to kick him in the balls. But the raped and abused woman, Javier Estrada’s girlfriend, Rosa Delgado nods. She whispers, “I’m grateful.”
His features soften and the agent inside of me is once again pushed into the shadows. One day soon, I’ll go into town and try to reach Stokes. Today is not that day. I’m playing games with a monster and I’m enjoying them.
He grips a fistful of my shirt and pulls it away from my body. I stare down in fascination as he cuts my shirt in two. Then, with his strong, warm fingers, he pushes the fabric over my shoulders on each side, exposing my front to him. Next, the bra gets cut between my breasts. He shoves the now empty cups to the side, revealing my tits to both him and Marco Antonio.
With a snap of his head, he glowers at Marco Antonio. “She turn you on?”
“No,” Marco Antonio answers without hesitation. “She belongs to you.”
Satisfied, Javier gives him a clipped nod before regarding me. “I want to punish you. For riling up my men and causing strife. Angel almost got his throat cut when I ran into him in the carport. For disobeying me, mami. I told him to not let you drink.”
Guilt rises up inside me. Angel is only trying to do his job. It’s not his fault his choices were either die brutally or work for the king of the Mexican cartel doing shit jobs like babysit his bratty girlfriend. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. And I am. I feel bad that I’m letting my feelings infect everyone around me.
I’m losing touch.
This is supposed to be a job.
Yet, it’s not.
I do everything now based on how it makes me feel. Javier fills a void inside of me I desperately crave. A void that’s been there since the day my mother died. He’s good to me. Treats me like a queen. Sometimes I wish I truly were just a maid. I wish I didn’t have a duty to my country to take him down.
It would be so easy to fall.
To fall for the devil with an angel’s smile.
He leans forward and kisses between my breasts, his hot breath tickling me. “Your heart is racing,” he observes. “How should I punish you?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Marco Antonio remains quiet. A statue with a death grip on me. I wonder if this is awkward for him. One wrong move, one stray look or touch, and he could be as good as dead. Javier is serious when it comes to me. Possessive as can be.
Warmth trickles through me.
The way he wants me so fully is addicting.
“A spanking?”
I blink at him in shock. “You’re not going to kill me?”
Marco Antonio snorts and Javier smirks. “Do you have a death wish? What is it with you and thinking I always want to kill you?” He runs the tip of the blade low along my stomach. Then, he rubs it gently along my shorts over my pussy, careful to focus on where my clit is. With the material protecting me, it kind of feels good. I let out a ragged breath that has Javier grinning.
His dimple.
God, it’s perfect.
“I think you get off on danger,” Javier muses aloud. “The fact I’m using the same knife I cut open hundreds of men should terrify a sweet girl like you, but here you are squirming and moaning. You’re soaking your little panties because you don’t know if I’ll be gentle or rough, but either way you’re desperate for the attention. You want to trust me.”
“I do,” I admit, my voice breathy. “I like it.”
He continues his relentless rubbing with his knife against my clit. “Like what, manzanita? That I can’t fucking go one second without thinking about you?”
“Mmhmm,” I moan. “I love that.”
“You like I’m so fucking obsessed with you I’ve abandoned my duties to find that motherfucker to avenge you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, horrified I’m telling him the truth that’s inside my heart. The agency doesn’t matter right now. Michael sure as hell doesn’t.
“Do you want me to fuck a baby inside you and force you to wear my ring?”
My lashes flutter as I give in to the way he pleasures me. “Javier…”
“Admit it,” he roars, the knife pressing into me almost painfully. “Admit you want to be mine in every sense of the word.”
“I do,” I murmur, tears welling in my eyes. I seek his gaze out, desperate for his heated stare on mine.
“I know you’re not telling me everything about yourself,” he mutters lowly, his words a violent whisper. He doesn’t cease his rubbing with the knife. I’m dizzy with the need to come, but his words rattle me. “I know you have secrets. Secrets I will find out.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as my tears leak out. “Javier,” is all I can say. I won’t lie to him, not right now in this intimate yet terrifying moment, but I also can’t offer the truth.
“I’m going to have to kill you one day,” he snaps angrily, but his motions still dead set on bringing me to orgasm. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Burned by the sun. Hurts so motherfucking much, but goddamn it’s beautiful.”
I cry out as my orgasm steals over me. I’ve barely had time to come down before he’s wrenching down my shorts and panties. He closes his knife and pockets it much to my relief.
“Fear makes her wet,” he tells Marco Antonio. “She can look danger in the eye and come like a bad little girl. I don’t fucking know what to do about her.” He runs his fingers through his gelled hair, messing it up.
Marco Antonio, realizing Javier is a slave to his confused rage, says nothing.
“Hold her legs,” Javier growls. “I need to see just how wet she is.”
Wordlessly, Marco Antonio grabs me beneath the back of my legs just under my ass and lifts me. He pulls my thighs apart so I’m open and for Javier’s viewing pleasure. Instead of looking, Javier turns and walks over to his desk. He reaches into his desk and produces a lighter. My heart skitters in my chest. Will he burn me? Then, he pulls out one of his candy apple little cigars.
I smile.
Javier’s eyes dart to mine and h
e studies my face. His eyes dart all over my features as though there are answers to be found. “Your cunt is practically dripping,” he growls and then stalks my way. I don’t flinch because he’s too beautiful. Unlike Michael, I don’t fear he’ll strike me. With Javier, I feel like he’ll completely obliterate me. And I’m not at all opposed to seeing how that will feel.
With his little cigar, he rubs the tip against my still sensitive clit. A moan escapes me and my breasts jiggle with the movement.
Javier’s dark, evil eyes penetrate mine as he begins pushing the tip of his little cigar inside of me. It’s thin, smaller than his finger, but I like it. The gasps of air coming from me reveal how turned on I am. Slowly, a dimple forming on his face, he fucks me with his cigar.
“Slides in and out so easy, manzanita. Dirty, bad liar. Little girl who likes to start trouble. Look how your cunt loves danger.” He flips the top on his lighter and a flame pops up. I don’t even worry that he’ll burn me with it. I’m more worried about catching fire with the way he touches me with his cigar.
He slides the cigar from my pussy and holds it up, inspecting it. “So wet. You’ve nearly ruined my cigar,” he murmurs. Then he inhales it. “Candy apples. Sweet. So fucking sweet.” With eyes searing into mine, he places the little cigar between his full lips and lights the end. It has trouble lighting and his cheeks suck in hard, trying to help it along. Eventually, the end burns cherry red. Evil delight dances in his eyes as he pockets the lighter. He pulls the cigar away and grins, flashing me his perfect dimple before he curves his mouth into an “O” and blows the smoke out.
I’m intoxicated by him.
Forget the alcohol.
I’m drunk off Javier Estrada.
The bad guy I’m hot over.
He takes another puff of his cigar and then leans into me. I open my mouth, accepting him. With a pleased look on his face, he blows the smoke into my mouth. His finger touches my soaked flesh and he slides a finger inside me. “Danger makes you come. It’s as though we were made for each other. The angel who only gets wet for the devil.” He curls his finger inside of me, seeking out my G-spot. I’m so lost to him. All I can do is surrender to the way he plays my body. “You’re nothing but a good girl who likes to be bad.”
