The Pimp (Colombian Cartel Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  “Begin,” I say softly, gesturing with my hand for her to speak. Her expression darkens as she recounts her ordeal.

  “I came back from the drug deal he forced me to do. I was so pissed that he stuck me on a corner where I could have been arrested or killed. I hated myself for the fear I felt standing on that corner in a strange city. I wanted him to feel the same fear I’d felt. He lied to me. He took my vulnerability and used it against me. Not only that but he took the fact that I’m a woman and tried to use it against me. I hate him for that. He assumed I was weak because I don’t have a cock swinging between my legs.”

  “Stop being crude.” I’m certain it won’t be the first time I rub the rough edges of the streets from her personality. It’s been years in the making, I wonder how long it will take for her psychological transition to begin to show outwardly like her makeover does.

  She lowers her eyes and continues, running a hand over her silken hair. The thought of pulling her hair back in my fist while I fuck her pleases me. I like it. I like the way she looks. I like imagining how she’s going to feel now that her skin has been buffed smooth and drenched in the most expensive of lotions and her hair has been taken back to its natural state without all the crap and goo it had in it before. And I like the way she’s looking at me right now, like she knows how badly I want to eat her alive. And yet, I’m not a boy; I’m a man who’s willing to bide my time to make her completely mine.

  She continues telling me her story, valiantly trying not to be distracted by the way I’m running my thumb over my bottom lip as I listen.

  “I didn’t plan on shooting him. I just wanted to get away. I asked the guard if I could use the bathroom. When I came back out he had his back turned to me and his gun was right there tucked in the back of his pants. It was like fate had given me the opportunity to escape.

  “I pulled the gun and held it on the guard. Santiago must have heard the guard’s voice because he came out of nowhere, lunging down the hallway toward me. I warned him and asked him to stop. I begged him. When he just kept coming, I shot him in the leg and took off running.”

  “Where’s the gun now?”

  “I threw it in a sewer grate.”

  I exhale heavily and nod, knowing what must be done. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The first thing you need to learn if you’re going to be cartel is to never leave evidence behind that can get you or anyone else in the organization locked up.”

  “So I’m cartel now?” she asks skeptically.

  “For the rest of your life, my Arroyita…”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brook

  As we go to leave Diego stops me at the door.

  “Demente’ goes first, always.” He nods at Demente’ to proceed. The burly behemoth opens the front door, looking up and down the street before leading us to the SUV.

  “Thank you, Demente.” I smile up at him as he opens the back door for me. Diego slides in next to me, pulling me close to his side.

  As good as he feels against me, I can’t help but check out this plush ride I’m sitting in. It has a pearl white interior, leather seats of course, and comes complete with the latest entertainment features so passengers can entertain themselves with a movie or music. Probably has the kind of high-end GPS and Wi-Fi that you’d expect in a luxury vehicle.

  “Bulletproof windows, too.” Diego chuckles when he notices that I’m impressed with his ride. The man spares no expense when it comes to pampering himself and the people who work for him, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he insisted on top-of-the-line safety features as well.

  “I’m not sure I can find my way back to where that gun is. What am I going to do?” My voice cracks at the thought of my prints being on the grip of that gun.

  “No worries, cara. We’ll find it together.”

  His thumb rubs lightly over the top of my hand as we cruise the streets of downtown Louisville, reassuring me that he won’t allow me to go to prison for shooting that scum bag.

  “Tell me what you remember. Did you talk to anyone?”

  “Just some girls working a street corner. They were working, standing out in front of a peep show.”

  “See? You do remember something. In this line of work every detail matters. Always listen to your gut. Use the street upbringing you have to your advantage.”

  “That’s them,” I say excitedly as Demente’ pulls to the curb. “I talked to the girl in the black skirt.” I watch in disbelief as she sashays over and peers through the window at me.

  “You clean up nice, girl. I see you found him.” She turns her attention and best flirty wink to Diego. “Damn baby, you’re still looking as hot as ever. I need to come work for you.”

  I don’t like the surge of jealousy that shoots through my chest at her words. I wait to see how he’ll answer her. His face holds the same calm demeanor it always does…his eyes, not so much. His face is like granite and his eyes are cold as he replies to her not-quite-joking remark.

  “Get off that shit you’re on and we’ll talk, Tatiana.” Her only reply is an incriminating sniff that announces her addiction. He shakes his head in disgust, then nods at Demente’ to drive on.

  “It’s about a half a mile past this underpass, on the right,” I tell him. I was so cranked on adrenalin that night, but little details are starting to come back to me.

  “You walked a long way.”

  “Hell, I ran. It’s amazing what you can do when you’re in fight or flight mode.” He’s still rubbing his thumb over my hand possessively. I don’t know why he feels the need to protect me but I’m glad he does. I’ve never felt safe like this before. I could get used to it. I’d like to.

  “Pull over here. I think that’s the grate right there,” I say, pointing to a spot along the shoulder of the road.

  Diego stops me when I start to get out the car. “No, let him do his job. Demente,” he calls out to his driver, “it should be in that grate over there.”

  Demente’ walks over and pulls up the thick metal grate like it’s nothing. The tattoo on his bicep flexes as he pulls the slab of metal up and lays it on the ground next to his feet. He crouches down and points a flashlight into the dark pit. After a moment or two, he looks up at Diego and shakes his head.

  “No gun in here, boss.”

  “Are you sure this is where you threw it? Think, it’s important.”

  “I’m positive. I remember seeing that old fence off to the side. This has to be it. Could it have floated up river?”

  “No. If it’s not here, that can mean only one thing: Santiago has it. And your prints on the gun are proof you shot him.” At my gasp, he pulls me to him and kisses my forehead, frowning as he presses my head to his shoulder. “This complicates things but it’s nothing I can’t handle. We’re getting that fucking gun back before he sets you up for a murder charge.”

  “What the fuck? How did I get so deep into the cartel? I left Mexico to get away from all this. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

  “Over my dead body, baby. No, I see this as a good sign. It means he pissed off. Arrogant bastards like Santiago think they’re untouchable, so they make mistakes when they get angry. You’re safe with me. No more running, Arroyita.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Because like the water in a brook you’re always on the move. But no more running. You belong to me now and I take that responsibility to you seriously.”

  His features seem deceptively serene. He may be able to hide it from others but I’m starting to get a sense of this man. I recognize the storm brewing inside him because I’m in the eye of it. Santiago was a yeller, always bristling with anger. Diego’s the complete opposite, his energy is more contained – unless clothes are coming off, of course -- but, strangely, his quiet intensity makes me even more determined not to cross him.

  There’s something else there too; a sort of…sadness. Already he doesn’t like the idea of ever letting me go. I suppose
when you lose someone, you hold on tighter the next time around. Another woman might feel trapped, but me? I just feel wanted.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Diego

  The vibration of my phone pulls me from the simple pleasure of watching her watch me. She’s so attentive, so inquisitive, so willing to learn everything she can about my life. There is so much I plan on teaching her. I don’t want to change her, just give her the attention and guidance to help her shine like the jewel she is.

  “Diga me.”

  “Santiago is here asking for you,” Foxy murmurs softly.

  “I’m surprised he’s up and moving around so quickly.”

  “He’s hopped up on pain pills and tequila shots. I doubt he’s feeling any pain.”

  “I’m right around the corner. I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t mention Brook.”

  “You know I know better than that. If I talk to him about anything it’ll be to talk him out of the money in his wallet. He’s at the table by the bar.”

  “Good girl.”

  “What would it take for you to say that to me?” Brook asks as I end the call.

  Her blue eyes are so innocent and sincere that it makes the caveman in me want to tear her clothes off and fuck her into next week. I’ll have to save it for later though. I lean in close enough for her to hear my hoarse promise, “I’ll take great pleasure in showing you later.”

  My next words are spoken to Demente’ but I’m still looking at her. “Take her to the storage closet by the bar so she can listen in. Take her in from the side entrance behind the bar so she isn’t seen coming in.” I know all about her voyeuristic tendencies. I look forward to unveiling all her dirty secrets.

  I think she’s kinkier than she realizes—her blushing only makes her sexier to me and makes it almost impossible not to tease her about it. I doubt that humor will be in my eyes when I sit down with Santiago in a minute.

  Demente’ lets her in through the back door. When I’m certain she’s safe I adjust my jacket, making sure my holstered gun is visible.

  He’s seated at a corner table next to the bar, looking every bit the Sinaloa cartel boss that he is. I straighten my back as I approach him, not even trying to hide my contempt. If this son of a bitch wants trouble, I’m all in. There’s nothing I hate more than a boss coming into my place of business and posturing. Reputation is everything and, cartel or not, he’s on my turf now.

  “Santiago,” I say coolly as I lean my hip against the table and cross my arms over my chest. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

  “I know that bitch is here, Diego. One of my boys saw her coming in.” He’s not even trying to hide the Glock tucked down the front of his jeans.

  “I don’t refer to my women as bitches and you would do well not to either. You disrespect me by coming in here with accusations when you’re the one in the wrong. That’s your problem, you don’t take responsibility for your fuck-ups.” I pull out a chair and sit down. “You lied to me. You put my woman in jeopardy when you stuck her on a street corner to deal your shit; then you put your own life in danger when you put her in a fucking cage.”

  I reach for my gun as he struggles to get up and that’s when I notice that he’s white-knuckling a cane. His face pales and his lips tighten into a grim line as he braces his weight on the cane, grunting as he straightens to his full height.

  “Have another shot of tequila on the house. You look like you’re in pain.”

  “That cunt shot me, nearly killed me!”

  My woman is a hellcat. Finding her and bringing her to the United States is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life because now I’m the lucky man who gets to tame her feral ass. I doubt she’ll ever be truly tame, which only makes her that much more fascinating to me. Unfortunately, knowing she’s listening in on our conversation just ten feet away presents me with the very real possibility of popping a hard-on in front of Santiago, so I clear my throat and will the surging blood flow away from my hungry dick.

  “Like I said, Santiago, if you can’t control your women that’s your problem—she is my woman; therefore, she’s of no concern to you. Maybe if you treated your women with some respect instead of talking to them like dogs, they wouldn’t be so…well, I guess ‘temperamental’ is a good word to use.”

  “Don’t patronize me. That girl’s trouble. You know as well as I do if I don’t make an example out of her, I’ll be a laughing stock. I’ll never live it down.”

  “Had you delivered my woman the way you were supposed to, Santiago, you wouldn’t be in this position. You did this to yourself. I certainly hope you’re not telling me you plan on killing her. You wouldn’t want to force me to do whatever’s necessary to protect her.”

  The guy’s seething. Red face, bulging eyes, the works. The anger rolls off him in tsunami-sized waves. He has no way of knowing that he should be worried about Brook coming after him and not vice versa, I still can’t resist the opportunity to fuck with his head. It’s hilarious to see this big, badass cartel in such a compromising position.

  “Protect her?” he asks incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’d be doing this city a favor—she’s nuts.”

  “Definitely sounds like the girl’s got balls.”

  “Where is that little hellion? She impaired me for life. I’m lucky I’m not in a wheelchair. I’m shocked she didn’t take off with my kilo and thirty thousand dollars, too. It’s obvious she has no respect for boundaries. Have you forgotten we have a peace treaty? How would your bosses feel about that treaty being broken over a…woman?”

  I resist the urge to laugh. It’s about time somebody stood up to this guy. “Wars have been fought over women, blood has been shed and men’s lives have been lost through the ages because of a woman.”

  “Damn it, Diego. Why have you got to put it like that?” he says with a sly grin, like we’re drinking buddies hanging out.

  “Why are you talking to me like we’re friends?” I remove my gun from its holster and place it on the table, the barrel pointing right at him. “Get the hell out of my club.”

  All amusement and false camaraderie leaves his face. “She’s trouble. You’re playing with fire, Diego. She isn’t like other women, she is the devil in a blue dress. But,” he says with a shrug as he turns toward the exit, “if this is the way you want to play it, fine by me. But this isn’t over.” Then, as if the thought suddenly crossed his mind, he turns and adds, “Hey, when you see her, tell her I’m going to kill her.”

  I’m on my feet with the barrel of my gun pressed to his temple so fast he never sees it coming. “I’m not your messenger boy,” I hiss in his ear. “When she walked through those doors, she became mine. She was never yours, not for a second. I will not tolerate you coming into my place of business and threatening what belongs to me.”

  “Still the pimp, I see.”

  “That I am, asshole. That I am.” After all, who am I to deny my destiny?

  Brook

  I peer through the peephole from my position in the small supply closet. I found the peephole after Demente closed me up in here. I must not be the only woman here with a penchant for being nosey. There’s something empowering about observing people when they don’t know they’re being watched. It’s giving me a perfect view of these two alpha males as they face off…over me. Diego hates Santiago and it shows.

  Watching him confront Santiago has me glued to the peephole. He’s so different from Santiago, who’s dressed in pure Sinaloa fashion: jeans with a huge belt buckle that probably costs more than the average girl here makes in a week. I’ve never understood spending thousands of dollars on an accessory. For some men, the bigger the buckle, the more machismo is on display. On his head is a baseball cap with a Culiacan Tomateros insignia.

  Yeah, I like the GQ look Diego’s sporting much better. His cool demeanor compared to Santiago’s outrageous outbursts is reassuring.

  No matter how safe Diego makes me feel, seeing him get under Santiago’s skin is unnerving a
nd makes me realize that there truly is no way out of this. I’ve got no money, no family, and no way out. The thing about cartel is you can’t outrun them. I could kill Santiago but then his boys would come after me. It’s looking like I may have to go back to Mexico. Guatemala’s an option because there are small mountain pueblos where I could hide out for a while.

  I’m such a hothead. Why didn’t I just run like hell and not shoot Santiago? I can’t undo what I’ve done, and Diego’s already made it clear he’s not letting me go. I wouldn’t put it past him to hunt me down. It wouldn’t matter how far I went; to a man with his power, geography isn’t an obstacle.

  I return my attention to the conversation, making sure to remain absolutely still and not make a sound. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself.

  ‘When she walked through those doors, she became mine. She was never yours.’

  Diego is my way out of this mess. Normally I wouldn't have a problem making it on my own but I’ve never been in a situation where a cartel boss wants to kill me either. Santiago may not be suave like Diego but he has no problem killing somebody. His threats are real and I’m taking them seriously. The only thing I can do is take things one day at a time and right now I’m tired.

  I gasp when Diego presses a gun against Santiago’s temple. I can tell by the look on Santiago’s face that he has no doubt Diego will shoot him. Surprisingly, the confrontation ends peacefully enough, with Santiago storming out and Diego holstering his gun before coming to get me from my hiding place.

  One thing is clear: Diego is marking his territory—me. He’s drawing a line in the sand. He’s clearly letting Santiago know I’m property—his property.

  It’s the kindest thing any man has ever done for me.

  Chapter Nineteen