Violent Delights (White Monarch Book 1)

by Jessica Hawkins

  Chills made an icy trail down my spine as I tensed, waiting for some kind of consequence to befall Cristiano. And yet, he didn’t even look back. His eyes remained unwary.

  He turned my head to one side and whispered in my ear, “Understand me. The next time my hands are that close to heaven, they will enter whether Diego is watching or not.”

  Blood rushed to my head as the tender warmth of his breath warred with such an offensive suggestion. I couldn’t respond, my throat suddenly dry, my tongue numb. Gracias a Dios I hadn’t gone anywhere alone with him—I didn’t question his hands would do as they pleased. And to make Diego watch? I shivered. How indecent. How obscene and filthy.

  And yet, heaven throbbed between my legs. That was the devil’s manipulation, making me think I liked the idea.

  “You’re here to do Diego’s bidding,” Cristiano said. “To get answers for questions you don’t even know to ask. But how far would you go to get them?”

  He let me jerk my head away. “I have morals.”

  “You don’t even know the game he plays with you—you never did.”

  “For some of us,” I said, “life is more than a game to play, a prize to hold tight, a lesson to be taught. There’s more to it than money and power.”

  “Such as?”

  “Love. Ethics.” I raised my chin. “Justice. You understood that once.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You remember that?”

  “What you said to me about justice? Sí. That there is none.”

  “There is in my world. I live by my own code, and you may not see it, but it’s both fair and ethical.” He inclined his head. “For those who are deserving, I ask before I take. I feed those who feed me. I can’t control how others interpret things, but I give honesty where I get it. You’ll find me dead before you find me a liar.”

  My chest rose and fell faster as I held his gaze despite the fact that I was stupidly pushing his buttons. “A liar would be an improvement for a murderer like you.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m only deadly to those who’ve taken risks knowing the consequences. They traded a life of safety for money and power. They deserved it, as do I.” He crossed himself in a gross display of blasphemy. What right did a depraved criminal like him have to ask anything of the Holy Trinity? A hint of a smile touched his lips. “If I died tomorrow, I would not say the assassin had no right to do it. Though I’d commend him for accomplishing a nearly impossible task.”

  “You say you’re honest as you lie. You’re not fair or ethical; you’ve executed people who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Deep down, you know I didn’t kill your mother, Natalia.” Any suggestion of humor left his tone, replaced by graveness. “And that there’s more to her death than you’re willing to admit.”

  His acknowledgement of her murder made me step back. I’d heard the denial from my father, but not yet directly from Cristiano. The conviction in his voice angered me. He had no right to dismiss her death. To question what I knew in the depths of my soul. “I saw you,” I said. “The gun, the blood, the duffel bag—I . . .” I didn’t want to believe there could be anything else to it. A hired hitman made her death even more confusing. More senseless. “You were a sicario for a living,” I said. I slammed the rest of my shot, and my throat burned with its spicy aftertaste. “You took as many lives as my father and grandfather commanded you to. Maybe one of their rivals paid you handsomely for this order, or maybe it was retribution for what my dad did to yours, but either way, I caught you red-handed.”

  “You were naïve back then, but you’re old enough to know better now. Nothing is black and white.” He slid my glass toward a bartender, who refilled the vodka and replaced it in front of me.

  I resisted my temptation to drink more. The liquor was dangerously good, and I needed my wits about me. “No, thank you,” I said.

  Cristiano leaned in. “This is a game, Natalia, and you have to play—or you’ll lose. Learn your lesson should someone care enough to teach you. And never doubt that you are a prize to hold tight.” He slipped an arm around my waist like we were going to tango again, and advanced until I was backed up against the lip of the bar. When our bodies were flush, he spoke firmly. “Believe me when I say, if Diego’s and my roles were reversed, I would hold you so tight, you would forget what it was to breathe. And I would not, for neither money nor power, ever send you into the fire just to see my enemy burn as he has done.”

  My breathing sped. He was close, his spicy scent as smooth and dangerous as Russian vodka. And he was talking shit about the man I loved. Diego would never put me at risk. He’d fought me on coming here in the first place. There was no way Cristiano could know I’d walked into the blaze on my own, but let him distract himself into thinking Diego had orchestrated this. “Why do you care how Diego holds me?” I asked.

  “Because I held you as a baby,” he said intently. “I was responsible for your life once.” Cristiano’s hand tensed over my lower back. “My brother’s using you to light the fire, but don’t forget—a match also burns.”

  I resisted the mental image of Cristiano cradling me as an infant. That was what I’d hoped to tap into, but he also knew exactly how to soften me. I wanted to believe he’d cared for my family at some point during the eight years he’d been with us.

  “Now, it’s my turn for questions,” he said, easing back. He fixed the roll of one shirtsleeve so it exposed a little more of his dark, brawny forearm. “That night at the costume party when I found you with my brother in the garden—was he forceful with you?”

  Unprepared for the topic change, I didn’t answer right away. What did Cristiano think he’d seen that night by the fountain? Diego’d had one hand nearly between my legs with his other holding my jaw. From behind, it could’ve looked as if he’d been covering my mouth as he’d made demands.

  “Tell me how much you love me. I won’t ask again.”

  “No,” I said. “Diego’s not like you.”

  “And how am I?”

  “I’ve heard things. I’ve seen things. I know what you do to women.”

  He pressed his lips together, assessing me coolly. “And yet you still tested me by coming here. Some part of you must not believe the rumors.”

  “I believe them,” I said without hesitation so he wouldn’t guess the truth—where Cristiano was concerned, I was beginning to question anything I knew.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” He took his cell from his shirt pocket as it vibrated but kept his eyes on me. “Has he ever so much as laid a finger on you without your permission?”

  “No,” I said. “We were playing a game.” It was the most plausible excuse—and yet it also held truth.

  One of Cristiano’s dark, thick brows lifted. Without removing his eyes from me, he answered his phone. “Sí.” His eyes roamed over the alcohol bottles lining the back wall of the bar. After a pause, he said, “Adelante” and ended the call. While typing out a message, he said to me, “Tell Diego to take you straight home. It’s not safe after dark right now.”

  After dark, when the creatures of the night played. “I suppose you would know.”

  “You’re looking for a monster, and you found one in me.” He tucked his phone back in his pocket. “But I’m not the one you should fear. Just remember—no monster thinks of himself that way. He’s just living by a different code than yours.” He nodded once at me and turned to leave. “Goodnight, Natalia.”

  Goodnight? I hadn’t gotten nearly what I’d wanted from him. If anything, I only had more questions. This was my last shot. I had to demand his attention. “What’s your involvement with the Maldonados?”

  He froze. His large frame expanded with a breath, his muscles pulling gracefully under his white dress shirt. Even from behind, he was beautiful—and menacing.

  Had I gone too far? I slid a couple steps back along the edge of the bar.

  Getting him to talk in hopes that something useful might slip was one thing. But legitimate inform
ation was dangerous. If he thought I actually knew anything, that could make me a liability. Or worse—a threat.

  After a moment, he turned back. “I have no deal with them. You should be asking Diego this.”

  “I have, and I know everything he does.” I was in too deep to turn back, and I realized I didn’t want to, even if I was scared. Finally, I was getting what I came for. “Now I want to know what you know.”

  He returned to standing in front of me. “What I know? My brother’s in serious trouble, and if he minimized the danger he’s in at all, then he lied to you. He’s putting everyone at risk, including you.”

  “He isn’t, but someone is. Someone doesn’t want this deal to happen. Is it you? Are you the one stealing from him?”

  His jaw sharpened as it ticked. “Be careful, Natalia. You’re out of your depth.”

  It was the first crack in his composure I’d gotten tonight, and it sent a thrill through me. I wanted more. “I’ll come upstairs with you,” I said.

  He glanced at the glass wall behind the DJ booth. It wasn’t a wall at all, I realized, but a one-way window that most likely looked from his office onto the dancefloor. I wondered if he’d been watching me before I’d even noticed him.

  “Nyet, Natasha.”

  I turned back to him. “No, in Russian,” I guessed.

  “Correct. I have business now. Maybe another time.”

  I tilted my head. “Is it easier to think of me differently as a Natasha?”

  “Why would I want to think of you differently?”

  “So you don’t have to see me as the little girl you once promised to protect.”

  He tilted his head. The pulse at the base of his neck jumped as he let his eyes wander down my dress. “Believe me, I see you just fine as you are. I happen to like the name. I knew a Natasha once.” His eyes leapt back to mine. “She sucked my dick like it would end with a mouthful of gold.”

  My throat constricted. Nobody had ever said anything like that to me. “That’s not why I wanted to come up. I won’t do that willingly. Not ever. But maybe Natasha said the same thing.”

  He stilled completely. The lights and music seemed to dim along with his demeanor. “You’re accusing me of rape?”

  My mom’s dress was ripped. It was perhaps the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to ask about. The answer might be too painful. “You expect me to believe your men do it, but you don’t?”

  “You insult me. If I want a woman, I can get her without force,” he said sharply. “That includes you.”

  I drew back with an audible swallow. He didn’t treat me the way others did, yet despite his steely expression and cool gaze, my gut told me he didn’t mean it. He only wanted a reaction. Could I trust that instinct, though? In my experience, cartel bosses didn’t tease.

  And they didn’t invite women in skimpy dresses anywhere private to talk.

  The dark cloud that’d just fallen over him seemed to lift. “With me, you always have a choice. You’re not beholden to my wishes, but I hope you’ll still carry them on your wings and deliver them for me.” He brushed hair from my cheek, trailing a fingertip over my skin in a way that I had to fight to keep my eyes from falling shut. “Just know that I don’t rely on anyone, not even the heavens, to grant my wishes. I make them come true on my own.”

  He retreated a few steps, holding my gaze, before he turned and walked away.

  I hung on his words. What were his wishes? What did they have to do with me? I stayed where I was despite my urge to call him back and ask the questions forming in my head.

  Because nothing good could come from chasing after el anticristo.

  Especially if he was saying what I thought he was.

  If you’re what I want, then I’ll find a way to have you.

  12

  Natalia

  Diego’s hand slipped higher up my dress as the glowing red hand of his speedometer rose. He sped away from the club through deserted roads as if he also knew of the after-dark danger Cristiano had warned me of.

  Only the warm lights of the dashboard glowed against its all-black interior. Silence stretched over the smooth hum of his Mercedes once I’d finished relaying most of my conversation with Cristiano. All in all, there wasn’t much to tell.

  “Are you okay?” Diego asked for the second time.

  “I’m fine.” Because you’re a survivor. Like the monarch. Like me. Cristiano’s words echoed in my mind.

  “He kept touching you because he knew I was there.” He released my leg to grip the steering wheel. “I assumed he’d frisk you, but that’s all.”

  I wouldn’t even call what he’d done frisking. Cristiano had tested my boundaries as he’d taunted Diego. He’d had his hands everywhere from my ankles to my thighs, my neck and face. He’d touched me in ways only Diego should.

  And Diego had let him—or had he not seen well enough the liberties Cristiano had taken with my body? “Cristiano said next time he frisks me, he won’t stop his hands at the gates of heaven, even if you’re watching.”

  “Heaven?” Diego’s nostrils flared as he hit the steering wheel. “Let him try. I’ll cut off his devil hands.” He snorted not unlike a Pamplona bull. “Not that you’ll ever be in that position again.”

  I wasn’t sure what aroused me more—Diego’s possessiveness or the idea of Cristiano boldly taking what didn’t belong to him. I only knew that what aroused me, also horrified me. What was wrong with me for getting excited Cristiano might want me when his brother already had me? The same Cristiano who, the last decade, I’d vehemently hated? I shifted in the leather seat. “He only said it to scare me,” I said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

  “I know. Still . . . I should knock his teeth out.” Diego massaged around his nose. “It wasn’t easy to watch. He knows you’re mine and that you’re the quickest way to get under my skin.”

  “He only thinks of me as a weapon against you.” And if anyone knew how to wield a weapon, it was Cristiano. “I’m sorry I didn’t get more information.”

  “You were perfect.” He glanced over at me, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Cristiano didn’t scare you, did he?”

  He’d tried. But had he succeeded? With his comments about Natasha and about how he could have me if he wanted, what unnerved me most was that I wasn’t scared. “No.”

  A dog darted into the street. Diego hit the brakes, and I outstretched my arms to catch myself against the glove compartment.

  “Shit. Sorry,” he said as he decelerated for a yellow light. “You all right?”

  I glanced behind us for the dog, but it was gone. “Yes.”

  Diego stopped the car at an intersection and slid his hand in mine. “You look so beautiful tonight. I can’t say I blame him for being so forward. As angry as it makes me, I feel lucky to be the one who gets to take you home.”

  “Always,” I said.

  “It’s good you didn’t go anywhere with him.” Diego’s phone rang. He released my hand to get it from his pocket as he reiterated, “I would’ve beaten him half to death if he’d tried to get you alone.” He swiped his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. “Bueno.”

  As Diego listened to the line, I turned my head toward the faint strains of buoyant violin and guitarrón coming from a corner market. Mariachi music didn’t always remind me of the moments before I’d skipped down the hall to hurry my mother for the parade, but in that moment, I saw Cristiano standing in the bedroom, dressed in all black, rising from the ashes. Out front of the mercado, a few men smoked, drank, and blared a boombox. Despite opaque, bulletproof windows, I got a chill when one of the men opened his jacket and flashed a gun in our direction. I’d never liked riding around in showy cars when poverty permeated our state.

  “I’m not far, but I have Natalia,” Diego said into the phone. “I’ll drop her off and come.” The stoplight changed to green, but he didn’t move. “No. I want everyone on site.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.
/>   “Some issue at the fucking warehouse,” he whispered to me. He paused, listening. “No, don’t send one of them. I don’t trust them around Natalia. Can you break into it?” He snorted. “Claro que no. I’ll be there in an hour. Just move on to something else until I’m back.” He hung up, dropped the phone into a cup holder, and stepped on the gas.

  “Is that the warehouse with all the Maldonados’ stock?” I asked.

  “Sí. We moved it all to one spot since none of our regular houses are safe right now. Then it’s all going al otro lado—into the U.S.—at once.” He rested an elbow on the door panel and bit his thumbnail, steering with one hand. “Every call I get, I worry something else has gone wrong.”

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “Jojo. We transported everything to the new location in armored vehicles,” he said. “I have the only set of keys to the truck they need to get into right now—and of course, it’s impenetrable, so they can’t break in, puta madre.”

  I glanced through the windshield. “You said we’re close?”

  “We just passed the turnoff.”

  “When does everything need to go?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.” He shook his head out the window. “They’re loading everything tonight.”

  I reached over to knead the back of his neck with one hand. “Go to the warehouse. Drop off the keys.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Isn’t everyone in the cartel there guarding it?” I argued.

  “Not everyone. In case the hits were due to a leak—which I don’t believe—I only have my most trustworthy men there.”

  “Then what’s the danger?”

  “No matter how many precautions we have in place,” he said, slowing for another red light, “with all the product consolidated in one location, all the risk is there too.”

  “We’re still twenty minutes from the house, which means it would take you forty round trip to get back. This is a priority.”