Entrusted: A Drug of Desire Novel

by Sidney Bristol

  “Thanks for the invitation.”

  “It wasn’t one.” The suit turned toward him, hands clasped behind his back.

  Matías shrugged. It wasn’t as if he’d chosen to come to Panama.

  “How long is this little operation going to last?” he asked.

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Can’t. Has my handler briefed you?”

  “Yeah, I talked to Berlin,” the suit sneered.

  “May I ask what your problem is?”

  The suit stalked slowly toward him. “You. This whole off-the-rails operation. Do you know how much you’re screwing up my plans?”

  Matías had no idea what the man was talking about. Was he even the head of the Panama DEA? Or another field agent?

  “No offense, but who are you?” Matías asked. He wouldn’t comment about his own operation without knowing who it was he was speaking with.

  “I’m Ben North.”

  The head of the Panama DEA.

  “Mr. North, it was never my intention to come to Panama. Decisions in the field brought me here.”

  “Yeah, and you did nothing to change that. We’ve been cleaning Panama up, and now you bring this trash back in here.”

  There was no reasoning with Ben North. He was a man with a sandbox he didn’t want to share, and what was worse, he was under the assumption Panama was getting better. Word on the street was different. Business was good in Panama—and the local DEA was unaware.

  “Is that all?” It had taken Matías three hours to get to this little meet, and all for nothing? What a waste of his goddamned time.

  “No, your team over at the Marriott wanted me to give you this.” He produced an envelope from his inner jacket pocket and extended it toward Matías.

  He took it and glanced at the documents. Visas for two and a passport, plus a Texas driver’s license for Raven under the name of Alice. Seriously? This stuff could have been useful when they were in Mexico but it was useless here in Panama. They were in too deep to leave now, and Raven was pretty dead set on sticking with him.

  “Thanks,” Matías said. He’d find a place to dispose of the documents, since there was no explanation he could produce for as to why he’d have them—or how Raven’s name suddenly changed. What a clusterfuck. “Any chance Eddie is here?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, Berlin got here today.” Ben North rolled his eyes.

  “We good here? Anything else?”

  “Yeah, wrap this op up fast.” He buttoned his coat. “What’s the name of your pilot’s company?”

  “Benally Cargo.” The words felt dragged out of him. He didn’t want to give up Raven’s company or anything to do with her.

  “Huh, that sounds familiar.”

  “Doubtful. They’re a regional cargo company. I just use them for a few jobs here and there. This one is outside their normal routes.”

  Ben North didn’t seem convinced.

  “I’m going to head out, unless there’s anything else?”

  “Eddie wants you to come to the Marriott.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Matías snorted.

  He strode past Ben North, toward the back of the building. What a waste of fucking time.

  His phone rang and he dug it out to see who was texting him.

  Calle Uruguay, 9 PM.

  Matías glanced at his watch. It was seven now. Two hours to get back to the condo, get ready and make it to a meet? All in a day’s work.

  Victor paced the private room of a little cantina he’d strolled to. Señor Jiménez had avoided seeing him since their arrival. Not surprising, since Oscar had come to see him looking like a whipping dog with his tail between his legs. It appeared the golden heir had made a mistake in bringing Victor and his asset to see the family.

  It wasn’t the timing Victor wanted. He needed another week or two to solidify his support, but the facts were that after this chance encounter, the Jiménez family would disappear.

  This wasn’t how business was done, but they seemed determined to run things from afar and reap the rewards of hard work from everyone, while never lifting a finger themselves. Well, Victor, for one, was done.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” Victor said, placing one hand on his pistol.

  His two bodyguards entered, appearing as though they were just another set of tourists. They nodded and sat near the door, without being told to. They waited another couple of minutes, and Victor’s accountant and assistant arrived. These four were his inner circle. They would be the rocks on which he built their operation up, bigger and better than the Jiménez’s ever might have.

  The waitress tapped on the door and thrust a bottle of tequila through the narrow space his bodyguard opened for her. His assistant poured shots for each.

  Victor accepted his and held it out.

  The team knew what would happen tonight, it just needed to be put in motion.

  “Tonight, my brothers, we end one chapter and begin another,” Victor said. He hoisted the little glass and the others mimicked his motion. “To the future.”

  “To the future,” the four men echoed.

  They downed the shots as one.

  Victor slammed the glass onto the nearest table and turned to his assistant.

  “You know what room they’re in?”

  His assistant nodded.

  “Good. That dumb fuck Oscar is trying his hardest to scare away José.” Now, more than before, Victor needed the man in his corner.

  “Boss, you want us to kill all of them? Even the daughter?” his bodyguard asked.

  “All of them. There can’t be a Jiménez left to draw breath. We’ll leave before anyone knows they’re dead.”

  “Where are we going?” his assistant asked.

  “The States, I should think. No one will look for us there.” Victor had a plan, one which would keep José in the dark and suspicion off himself. Now, to stomach one more night—then kill his boss.

  Raven concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, her kitten heels clicking on the polished concrete, but the truth kept chasing her.

  I’m lying to Matías.

  Keeping the truth about Hokee and her uncle from him had seemed like such a small thing in the beginning. And now…she didn’t know what she was doing. Where she was headed. The only thing she felt certain about was that her feelings for Matías’ were much more complicated than a simple attraction.

  The doorman at the swanky restaurant opened the glass doors for them without a word or a name being uttered.

  The building was old, with a bit of a militaristic feel. She almost expected soldiers to jump out at them and charge her with lying. It was true, after all. She fully deserved to be found out. She deserved nothing less for what she was doing to the man who’d shown her nothing but kindness and her own kinky nature. Instead of floating in the clouds, she was dragging dead weight.

  They’d spent most of the day together; hanging out like any two single adults might, with the exception of his flogger lesson. She was itching to feel it again, but she didn’t deserve it. Not really.

  Matías led her arm-in-arm through old, stone and brick archways into a room with a huge, vaulted ceiling. Despite its size, it seemed to weigh down on her, pressing her into the ground.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “Las Bovedas. It used to be a prison, now it’s one of the finest Italian restaurants in the city.”

  A jail. How appropriate.

  “There they are.” He smoothed his free hand over his suit jacket.

  She spotted Victor in a group at the bar with several other men she didn’t recognize.

  “The one wearing the half-unbuttoned, white shirt is Oscar. He’s the son of Victor’s boss,” he whispered hurriedly.

  They’d made something of a plan while tripping over each other to get ready. It mostly consisted of her saying as little as possible and leaving it up to Matías, but there were a few signals she ne
eded to be aware of. Namely ones for alarming situations to come, and to get her ass out of town.

  “José!” The man in the white shirt stood, spreading his arms as if Matías were some long-lost friend.

  She heard Matías groan slightly through his bared teeth that was supposed to be a smile. He let go of her and embraced the man. Oscar’s gaze fell on her, and for a second, she felt like a mouse caught in a trap. Her blood went cold then hot and she stumbled to a stop. Whoever Oscar was—he wasn’t a good man.

  “Let me introduce you to Raven, my pilot.” Matías turned toward her, arm extended. She stepped to his side, glad when he wrapped a protective arm around her. “Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Raven. Raven, this is Oscar Jiménez, he’s trying to talk me out of retiring.”

  “Then he must be offering you a lot of money.” She frowned appropriately.

  “That is for the men to discuss. Pleasure to meet you.” Oscar extended his hand.

  She didn’t want to touch him, lest whatever evil clung to him might jump to her, but she had no choice. This was her role to play. There was no signal for this. She let him take her hand, he pumped it once, and continued to hold onto it.

  “You know, José, it’s always good to know who you’re getting into bed with.” The way Oscar stared at her, she didn’t like it. Her natural fight-or-flight response screamed to get the hell out of here.

  “I agree completely,” Matías replied

  Oh, shit. Did Oscar know something about her? What could it be she’d done wrong?

  Oscar’s gaze narrowed just a hair. He was a snake, about to strike. She could feel her throat constricting, there was no stopping what he was about to do.

  “You understand if we partner, Benally Cargo will have to stop transporting goods over the border for other people.”

  She opened her mouth—but what did she say to that? Denying it would do her no good—it was the truth.

  “Oscar, what do I care what they do? I’m retiring, remember.” Matías laughed, a big, booming sound, and slapped her on the back.

  “Ah, but maybe not, my friend.” Oscar released her hand and turned toward Matías, as if he were dismissing her.

  “Let’s get a drink.” Matías gestured to the bar.

  “We’ve already had a few rounds. You’ll have to catch up.”

  Matías applied pressure to the small of her back, ushering her toward the stone and wood bar at the end of the room. Oscar rejoined his group at the corner, a few feet away.

  She put her back to the group and stared up at Matías—who was ignoring her.

  “I-I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. It’s not me, it’s Hokee. I don’t know how long they’ve been doing it, but it’s why my dad left. I was going to leave, too, then you called to do a job, and I couldn’t just leave them. You’d have realized what they were doing. It’s wrong, but they’re my family and I couldn’t—I didn’t know what else to do.” She spoke in a rush, as softly as she could.

  “Stop. Just—stop.” Matías glanced over her head, surveying the room. He leaned closer and kissed her temple, but there was no sweetness to the gesture. It was calculated, like everything else about José. He wasn’t her Matías now. “Be quiet. Be pretty. Hold it together.”

  She nodded and clasped her clutch with both hands while he ordered drinks for them. She accepted what he gave her, and when he prodded her toward the group, she went. No words, just the awful silence.

  He left her standing on the fringes while he waded into the thick of it, turning on his smile and charisma, and shutting her out. She stirred her drink and tasted the strong mix of alcohol. It wasn’t her drink of choice, not that she was much for alcohol, but perhaps this time it might deaden the ache inside.

  She sipped once more, wincing as it burned going down her throat. Nope, still not her thing, but she took a few more sips before setting it back on the bar.

  Matías had removed his jacket, laying it over the back of a chair, and his sleeves were rolled up, to just below his elbow. He slid into the group so easily, as if he really did belong. It was easy to see how these men thought he was one of them. He dressed in the same style they did, with gold rings on his fingers and a gold chain around his neck, sporting a Catholic saint. He even gelled his hair like theirs. He was, for all intents and purposes on the outside, a model dealer. And she was his problematic girlfriend. Would she find herself disposed of?

  Matías couldn’t look at Raven. She was too beautiful, too sad, and even glancing at her pissed him off. She’d made him appear to be a fool. What he needed most in an undercover situation was honesty, and she’d kept that from him, and fuck the consequences.

  “José, let us take the party downstairs.” Oscar gathered up his drinks. The man had been two-fisting them since they arrived.

  “Downstairs?” He sipped his watered-down white wine spritzer.

  Oscar edged closer.

  “The restaurant is for everyone. Downstairs,” —he lifted his eyebrows and his gaze slid toward Raven— “it’s for people like you. The men told me stories. I want to see it.”

  A dungeon in a dungeon? Really?

  If that was what Oscar was hinting at, then it was the last place Raven needed to be. But he also couldn’t send her out on her own. Who knew what Oscar or Victor’s thugs might be instructed to do? Matías trusted the man not a bit.

  “Lead the way.”

  He turned toward Raven, who had abandoned her drink in favor of staring blankly at the polished wood surface. The remorse was easy to see, but damn her, she’d lied to him by omission. He wanted to ring her neck and pry the rest of the secret out of her all at once, because there was no way Oscar was telling him the full extent of the story.

  “Raven.”

  Her chin snapped up and for a second, he was lost in the depths of her gaze, and the sadness nearly drowned him, but it was only for a moment. In an instant, she’d pulled herself together, erected that calm facade and crossed to his side.

  Oscar led them through a door Matías had assumed was a server’s hallway, but instead they turned away from the kitchens. They descended down a flight of stairs that must have dated back to the original structure. The passageway widened a bit, and they passed through a pair of thick, wooden doors into another hall. Here, it felt as though the very earth was pressing in all around them.

  Sounds echoed down the hall, reverberating through the corridor.

  What atrocities would they find here? The Fetish Ball hadn’t been that bad. Mostly exhibitionists and people out for a thrill. He didn’t hold out much hope for this place to be any better.

  Fuck, why hadn’t he sent Raven away when the op changed? He could have flown commercially. Then he’d never known she’d lied to him, and she’d never have to be here.

  “Have you been here before?” he asked Oscar.

  “What? No. I just found out about it today. I heard this place is owned by a bitch of a woman. She’s American, too. Said we were only welcome to watch.” Oscar glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

  Smart lady.

  A wooden desk barred their passage. Behind it sat a woman wearing a half-mask with holes punched in it on her lower face. They could see her eyes, but nothing more. She glanced over them, taking the measure of their party.

  The attendant shoved a few forms at them, but remained mute. It wasn’t the most helpful, but he wasn’t about to argue with how a dungeon was run outside of the States. Everyone was required to sign the forms. They basically amounted to confidentiality agreements as well as an acknowledgement that what they were about to see was risk aware consensual kink. Nothing remarkable.

  Oscar led the way into what appeared to be the main dungeon. Red and amber lights cast illumination on the play spaces, while leaving deep shadows around the room. They clustered around the entrance, like the lookie-lous they were. Matías glanced right then left and spied a corner with an L-shaped sofa in easy view of several play spaces. He tapped Oscar on the shoulde
r and gestured toward the seating area. The younger man grinned, a lustful gleam in his eye.

  Victor scowled at Oscar, wearing an expression similar to what Matías felt.

  Their group settled on the couches, many putting their heads together and whispering. This club had a lot more flash and polish than the converted warehouse space they’d visited first. Matías peered closer at the people playing and everything clicked into place. By and large, Hispanics were not an ethnic group who embraced deviant sexual behaviors like BDSM, but major places like Panama City liked commerce, and kink was big business. The patrons were tourists, most of them white, not locals at all.

  “It’s nice, no?” Oscar reclined with his two drinks in hand.

  Matías couldn’t quite figure the kid out. He was clearly kept in the company for—reasons—and allowed to play a role. But what? And why would the family allow him to run wild like this? Oscar had no business sense and even less tact. Matías didn’t like dealing with him. He’d prefer Victor, who was an enemy Matías understood, at least.

  “You should play that one.” Oscar gestured to a woman standing quietly near a wall, her blonde hair piled on her hair, wearing only panties. Matías pitied her as Oscar continued to leer. She was pretty, but tiny. Breakable.

  “Nah,” Matías replied. He had no intention of playing at all. He had no desire to perform for these people. Kink was for him. Not for the job.

  “Why not? She’s prettier than your horse-face girlfriend.” Oscar snickered like a child.

  Matías curled his hand into a fist. What he wouldn’t give to deck the guy. He glanced at Raven, but she gave no indication she’d heard.

  “It’s not polite to insult your friends,” Matías replied, staring over Oscar to another woman.

  She wore red leather, from head to toe, and carried herself with an air of confidence and composure. Her posture telegraphed, Dominant, to anyone who glanced her way. The bitch owner? He liked her already.

  “You should show us your moves,” Oscar said, pushing his shoulder.

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “We don’t play in public.” Shit. What if Oscar pressed them? The spoiled ass probably wasn’t used to hearing the word no.