by S Williams
Hard to break.
The Jefe doesn’t cry.
He doesn’t show weakness.
He doesn’t…he can’t…
“I want to hate you,” he grumbles, grabbing my face, holding it much tighter than I expect. One of his hands wraps around the back of my neck, the other clutching my ponytail. I gasp when he yanks on it, exposing my neck, forcing me to look at the sky. The tip of his nose starts at my collarbone and trails up to my earlobe. “I want to fucking kill you just as much as I want to love you.”
My heartbeat goes unsteady, my breaths a tattered mess when his lips touch my chin. On his breath, I smell the liquor even more now. It’s strong, like he drowned himself in it before finally coming to face me.
He eases up on my ponytail, and I lower my head, eyes dropping to his. Our lips are close. So close.
His warm, familiar scent is way too comforting to me. His lips touch mine, just a soft, feathery-light touch.
“I want to fuck you. Kill you. Hate you…love you.” He frowns, looking me deep in the eyes. “Do you see what you do to me? You confuse the fuck out of me.” He releases my hair and pushes me away.
My breath comes out winded, chest working hard as I focus on him.
He stares right at me.
“Well, hate me first,” I say, breathless. “Hate me for as long as you need to, just promise to love me just as much as I love you later.”
His chest works harder, his breathing uneven.
I take a step, and so does he.
And before I know it, I’m rushing to him, my body slamming into his. I’m wrapped up in his strong arms, my legs hooking around his waist.
His groan is heavy and solid, humming through my body, sparking the illicit flame inside me again. He spins around, marching away from the pool.
My back slams onto a cold glass table, and he shoves my skirt up. I sit up, clawing at his belt buckle, unzipping his pants in the process.
He shoves my hands away, reaching down and gripping my blouse, ripping it apart at the collar. The buttons fly, scattering on the ground.
He forces my back down on the table, drags my hips to the edge, and maneuvers between my legs, bringing a hand up to my throat and gripping it. His hot, thick cock presses on my thigh, eyes fierce—blazing with hunger.
Ah, there it is.
The fire.
The power.
That sweet, sweet domination.
The Jefe I know and crave.
No words are spoken as he uses his other hand to lift me up, getting a better hold around my throat—just enough for me to breathe, but not too much. It’s like he wants to strangle me, but by the way his thumb caresses the crook of my neck, it’s like he wants to keep me forever.
He holds the back of my neck tight, and then he’s inside me, filling me up.
His strokes don’t start light and easy. No, they are hard, quick, almost frightening. The hand around my throat moves up to lock my face between his fingers, eyes still trained on mine. His nostrils flare as he thrusts powerfully, hips propelling, pounding so hard the legs of the table rattle.
Soft, sweet moans escape me.
I shouldn’t be so pleased.
He’s not fucking me with love.
He’s fucking me with pure, violent hatred.
He hates me right now, but if this is how he wants to own and handle what he hates, then so be it.
He can own it. He can own me. He can hate me as long as he stays buried inside me.
He picks me up off the table and starts to bounce me up and down on his thick cock. Not once does he pull his eyes away. I don’t bother looking away. His face is solid, serious. Other than his flared nostrils and the tight grip he has on my ass, I wouldn’t be able to tell he’s enjoying it. He’s holding on tight, breathing heavily.
“Fuck your hate out,” I tell him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, but I hear the strain in his voice.
I hold him tighter around the neck, bringing my face down, pressing my lips to his.
He tries to resist, but the groan that rips through his body is proof enough that he’s obsessed with the idea of this.
He can hate me all he wants right now, but by the end of this, he will love me again.
He will trust me.
He will be my king, and I will be his reina.
He snatches his mouth away, lifting me up high enough to remove his cock from my pussy.
He places me on my feet, twisting me around and forcing my face down on the table. He grips my hip with one hand, using his other to clutch and wrap my ponytail in his hand.
Each thrust fills me up.
Every plunge is powerful, and met with a swirl of my hips and a tight, hungry clench below.
“I want you to hate me,” he growls, slamming his cock deep.
“No,” I pant.
“You should be afraid of me, Gianna,” he says through clenched teeth. “You have no idea how bad I want to choke the life out of you right now.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” After I say that, he pulls the band out of my hair and my ponytail falls, my hair curtaining my face.
“You are heaven and hell,” he rasps. “Peace and chaos.”
He holds my hips tight, and another hard groan rips through his chest. He’s coming. Knowing that pleases every fiber in my body.
He stills inside me, his forehead dropping down on my spine.
He picks his head up and pulls out rapidly, as if realizing his body’s betrayal. He zips himself up as I sit up. My shirt is a shredded mess, revealing my lacy nude bra. He looks me up and down, like he knows I’m a beautiful, dangerous mess and can’t help being addicted to me. Like he hates me so much, but loves me all the same.
“You are not helping me. I have this handled.” He gives me his back. “You came back for nothing. Waste of time.”
I walk up to him, but don’t touch him. “I’m helping you, Draco. Fuck Yessica. She doesn’t scare me. We can take her down.”
He walks away, shoulders hunched. I chase after him, clutching his wrist and spinning him around. “Draco!”
“Fuck off, Gianna! Just go back to where you were!”
“No!” I grip his arm tighter. “I’m not going back, Draco, and you can’t make me! If you want me there, you’ll have to drag me back yourself, but trust me, I will put up a fight this time.”
His jaw pulses, brown eyes sweeping my body, trying to make me feel puny. Insignificant.
Screw that. It won’t work. Maybe it did before, but not anymore.
“What the hell can you do that I can’t?” he challenges, getting closer to my face.
“I can be myself,” I answer. “Be what she’s always wanted to be—La Patrona.”
He tips his chin, studying my eyes. “She will kill you as soon as she sees you. All of Mexico is on the hunt for you.”
“Then let them look. That doesn’t scare me.” I step, pressing a hand on his cheek, the pad of my forefinger running over his cheekbone. “Let me fight with you, Draco. You aren’t alone anymore. Let someone you care about be there for you.” I narrow my eyes as he does his. “I know you’re thinking you have to get to her immediately, but you don’t. Sit. Plan. Think things through. She will not make a fool out of you again, do you hear me? Not while I’m alive and breathing. You will get your revenge. She will pay for what she’s done and so will Henry. You just have to be patient.”
He pulls his eyes away, removing my hand and adjusting the collar of his shirt. He rakes rough fingers through his hair, sighing hard. He’s agitated. I get it.
With stitched brows, he says, “If you die, it will not be on my conscious. You wanted this, not me, so fight all you fucking want, but you won’t be doing me any favors. I don’t need your goddamn help.” He turns sideways, giving me one last look before storming away, right to the wide open entrance.
This time I don’t chase after him.
He needs space.
He’ll have it tonight, but tomorrow, I refuse to be ignor
ed.
29
DRACO
I can’t remember the last time I slept.
It’s never been for longer than an hour or two. Tonight, I am completely restless. I can’t even get comfortable in my bed knowing she’s here, under the same roof.
I was weak out there.
So fucking weak for her.
But how the fuck was I supposed to resist her after all this time? It was only a few days that she was away, but it felt like an eternity.
Her skin on mine, after what felt like fucking years, was euphoric as hell.
This is why I didn’t want her to come back. I’m only weak for her. I only buckle beneath her touch. Only she can do this to me—make me lose control of myself.
She owns way too much of my body, has claimed my fucking soul, and she knows it. She fucking knows it.
The night shifts into day, the sun creeping over the horizon. The house is mostly quiet, giving me time to think.
I spark a joint, standing on the balcony, inhaling deeply and letting it cloud my lungs.
I hear a door slide open and look up. From where I am, I can see Gianna stepping onto her balcony, looking at the ocean. She inhales deeply, and then exhales, opening her eyes.
Her fingers push through her thick, wild curls. Those fucking highlights. I don’t know why she did that to her hair. She was fine without them. Natural looks best on her, not that she isn’t fucking sexy right now, wearing only a white robe, her hair damp like she’s just gotten out of the shower.
Her eyes drop and she looks to her left, down at me. Our eyes latch, only for a brief moment. Her lips part like she wants to say something, but I frown and pull away, putting out my joint and walking back into my room.
I spend most of my time in the office, looking over maps, making calls, trying to get any fucking lead that I can. All of it is a fucking dead end. No one has seen or heard from Hernandez in days.
Just when I feel like giving the fuck up, Guillermo comes rushing into the office.
“Jefe,” he pants, stopping on the opposite side of my desk.
“Yeah, Guillermo?”
“Nito said he saw a man in a wheelchair being pushed around in Lantía. No arms or legs. He thinks it’s Henry Ricci.” Just as he says that, Gianna steps into the office.
My jaw clenches when she asks, “When did you hear that?”
“Just got off the phone with him,” Guillermo answers.
Gianna looks over at me. “We should go. It takes about an hour and a half to fly there, right? We might be able to catch him.”
“You don’t know why he’s there. It could be a brief visit—a waste of time,” I tell her, waving a dismissive hand.
“That doesn’t matter. He’s around. He can lead us to her. Tell the guy who saw him to keep an eye on Henry.”
I look at Guillermo who is silently agreeing, his head doing a simple nod, like she’s right. Of course she’s fucking right. It’s a quick flight, but I don’t trust it.
It makes me skeptical. Why would Henry return to a city he was captured in? What game are he and Hernandez playing at?
“Load up. Get ready,” I command, and my men take off in a flash.
Gianna comes closer and Patanza waits at the door, watching her. “I’m coming to help,” Gianna insists.
“I told you I don’t need your help.”
“I don’t care. I’m going anyway, and Clark is coming with us. He’s resourceful.”
I cock a brow, opening the top drawer of my desk and taking out a pistol and a carton of bullets to load it. “You trust Clark?”
She swallows hard. “I didn’t at first, but now I do. He’s had my back ever since we left, hasn’t made me doubt him since.”
“Emilio spoke to the security guard who had the DEA agents taken care of. Gonna tell me about that?”
“Yessica sent them after me.”
I stop what I’m doing, frowning up at her.
“They came on her behalf. Ordered me to get off the jet when we were about to leave Colorado. I got off, and I just…blacked out. I shot them.”
I don’t give a fuck about any of that. “Wait—she knew where you were…
I feel my blood running cold now, my pulse picking up in speed. How the fuck is that even possible? I covered my tracks. I made sure she would never even find out I sent Gianna out of the country…unless the DEA was keeping tabs when she landed in Colorado. Found out about Big Jack. Found out where he lived and how close he and Lion were as siblings…
“Emilio has already let Clark call to tell Big Jack to pack up and move to the safe house until this is over,” Gianna announces, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
I blow a breath, placing a hand on my hip. “Goddamn it, Gianna.”
“What, Draco?”
“She could have found you there.”
“Good thing I didn’t stay then, right? She won’t find me here.”
“No one can be trusted. Don’t you get that?”
She looks at the open window. “I’m here. You’re here. If she tries to come for me, you and your men will be around. That’s all that matters, right?”
I stare her down. She thinks she’s so fucking smart. I can’t stand it sometimes. “Patanza, get Gianna ready.”
Patanza nods and turns, marching down the hallway, bobbing her head at Gianna before disappearing. Gianna gives me her back and walks to the door. Before she gets away, I call her name and she pauses, looking over her shoulder.
“You and your cousin will fly there with us, but only so I can keep an eye on you both. Try any shit, and I won’t have a problem slicing your throats.”
“Won’t you?” she responds, and I swear I see a smirk tug at the corner of her lips before she walks away, her full hips swaying in the process.
When it’s time to go, she walks downstairs in black cargo pants and a sleeveless, dark gray shirt. Her hair is pulled back into one single braid, her face clear of all makeup.
Even without it, she’s still so goddamn flawless. I can’t fucking stand it. Her bold green eyes are set on mine, sparkling from the sunlight streaming in through the skylight windows.
She walks down the stairs in calf-high black boots, and strapped around both her thighs are leather holsters, guns tucked away inside them. Around her waist is a leather belt, a smaller pistol inside the holster.
It takes everything in me to look away, not gawk like some fucking love-struck idiot.
I can’t stare at her, no matter how badly I want to. I can’t let her know I still want her. What happened last night was a fucking mistake. I shouldn’t have fucked her. It made me look stupid and weak, and I can’t afford to be that around her.
Not anymore.
When she’s down the steps, I give a hard look at Patanza, whom I’m sure told Gianna what to wear and how to strap herself up. Patanza is just as loaded, if not more, with holsters, knives, and guns.
Clark trails behind them, pleased, I’m sure, to have his guns in his possession again.
It’s only for now. I need all the men I can get. I don’t know what I’m walking into going back to Lantía. If he’s willing to sacrifice his own life by helping me, then fine, but just in case he pulls some bullshit, Patanza has her eye on him. She’s my best shooter.
“We’re ready,” Gianna declares, and I lower my gaze to hers.
Turning my back and marching for the door, I tell them, “Let’s go.”
Guillermo pulls up to the curb with the van, and Sebastien hops out, pulling the back door open. I step aside, letting Patanza and Gianna in first.
Clark follows behind them, peering up at me on his way. Before he can get inside, I press a firm hand to his chest and grip his shoulder, stopping him. “Only reason you’re alive right now is because your cousin wants you to be, but if I see you do anything shifty, I will end you.”
His mouth twitches, eyes hardening as they hold mine. “Trust me, if I was stupid enough to stand against El Jefe with no backup, I might as wel
l kill my fucking self. Fret not, kingpin.” He claps my shoulder. “I’ve got your fucking back. You’ll see.” He jumps into the third row, right beside Patanza. Gia is on the second row, where I have to sit, and an exasperated sigh falls through my lips.
I climb in anyway, avoiding her eyes just as much as she avoids mine.
Sebastien is back in the driver’s seat, and Guillermo puts pressure on the pedal, taking off.
The ride to the runway is quiet.
Everyone, I’m sure, is thinking, mentally preparing themselves to take action. Everyone is strapped with guns, loaded, prepared for the worst.
I feel Gianna look over at me, but I don’t look her way. I keep my focus ahead, watching the road. In an hour and a half, Henry might be gone. But he won’t get far. We’ll track him.
“Make sure Nito sticks around the mansion. Tell him not to get too close,” I tell Sebastien. He pulls out his phone and dials him, speaking in his native tongue when the line is answered.
“How long are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Gianna asks.
I look at her sideways before peering ahead again.
“It’s getting old, Draco,” she murmurs lowly, but I’m sure everyone in the car can hear her.
“No one asked you to come back.”
“I wanted to,” she says with venom in her tone.
“Shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t want me back. I know you did. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You spend less than two months with me and think you know everything about me.” A dry laugh escapes me. “You are sadly mistaken. Now shut up before I send you back to the house.”
Through the corner of my eye, I spot her fist clenching in her lap, edging to the strap on her leg where her knife is.
Her hand stops, and she groans, annoyed.
She knows better than to try me right now, but I’m a little amused that she considered it, however briefly.
We board the already running jet with haste, buckle in, and take flight in less than ten minutes. Gianna doesn’t bother sitting next to me. Instead, she sits beside her cousin, and Patanza is seated across from him, keeping watch like the hawk she is.
