To Julie Kuykendall and Bryan Burgmaier for connecting me with a local jeweler. Although it never quite worked out, I thank you for your assistance and as promised, I wanted to acknowledge you for your efforts. Thanks for your continued support of my writing endeavors, my friends!
Lastly, to my readers. This book was a new venture for me. A little darker, a bit suspenseful and definitely different from my normal writing style. I hope you enjoyed it and I appreciate you giving it a read. Sometimes we have to step out of your normal routine and try something new – which is exactly what I did with the Precious Gems story. It challenged me to think in a different way and to write outside my comfort zone. Thanks for reading!
About Sierra Hill
Sierra writes new adult and sizzling hot contemporary romance. She’s written and published 24 novels, including the award-winning college sports series, Courting Love and the twice award-finalist erotic ménage serial, Reckless – The Smoky Mountain Trio.
Her latest new adult/college romance, Game Changer (Change of Hearts Book 1) is available NOW and will be available in audiobook in February 2020.
Sierra lives with her husband and dog in the Seattle area. She is a sucker for cheap accessories, loves anything dark chocolate, and enjoys rocking out at live concerts.
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MIA
A Novel by Sin Silverfall
MIA
by Sin Silverfall
Two worlds collide, tangling with passion... and danger.
Dantes:
As a lieutenant for the Venezuelan cartel, Los Desalmados, I’m used to getting what I want, when I want. Running drugs and weapons might be a dangerous business, but both the risk and the reward are high. This time the prize is out of my league and off-limits.
As a perk of owning the strip club, The Pink Pistol, I have plenty of women at my disposal. But she’s different. I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. Mia Bernard. Gorgeous. Vulnerable. I know I should stay away.
But when did I ever play it safe?
Mia:
Being from an affluent family, I’m not exactly starving, but an artist all the same. Having a father who’s the elected Sheriff of our city doesn’t exactly help my dating game. Then again, my taste in men has always been crappy.
Just because I haven’t met the right one yet, doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. Point proven when I meet Dantes Belisario. He’s got bad boy written all over him... just my type. It doesN’t take me long to figure out he’s not just another gorgeous body with a brooding stare. He’s a dangerous man. Maybe even the enemy.
Why does this only make me want him more?
Prologue
Mendoza’s head snapped to the side as I crushed my fist against his jaw. Turning back to me, he spat a mouthful of blood at my feet. I had to hand it to him, here he was at the end of his life, yet he remained defiant as though it didn’t matter to him whether he lived or died.
“You can kill me, Belisario, but you can’t kill Los Soldados de La Muerte. They will come for you,” he said, lingering drops of blood spraying from his swollen lips. A handful of sicarios and I had been taking turns torturing him, but I was through messing around.
“Cut the head off the snake, and the body dies, Mendoza. Your tenientes don’t know their asses from their cojones. Your cartel is as good as dead,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
“You never should have tried to infiltrate our territory. Stolen shipments are the least of your worries. When the Soldados find out what you’ve done to me, it’s going to be an all-out war.”
“It’s already a war. Why do you think you’re here? El Tuerto doesn’t fuck around killing halcones and sicarios as warnings. You fuck with his business, he goes straight to the root of the problem. And that, amigo, is you,” I replied, then turned to Oscar. “I’m tired of listening to him. Shut him up.”
Oscar’s grin looked more like the grimace on a skull. He pulled out a switchblade I knew was sharper than fuck because if he wasn’t using it to dice someone up or slit their throats, he was sharpening it with the same meticulous detail he probably fucked his women, maybe more so. He stalked toward Mendoza gleefully, ready to cut his tongue right out of his mouth when Mendoza piped up again.
“You can do whatever you want to me. El Tuerto is already going to pay dearly.”
“El Tuerto is untouchable, unlike you,” I said, flicking my eyes to Oscar and nodding.
“There’s a hitman coming for Corina,” he said hastily, referring to our capo’s daughter. “I don’t have to kill him to make him suffer.”
“Is that so? When and where?”
“You’ll find out when her violated corpse is delivered to his very doorstep.”
I stood back and pulled my Taurus nine-millimeter out of my shoulder holster, cracking it against his temple, feeling his left eye socket crumble beneath the force. Blood poured from where his skin split above his cheekbone. Leaning forward, I shoved my fingertip between the ragged edges of the skin. Mendoza screamed as I dug deeper and deeper until I felt bone.
“When. And where?” I asked again slowly.
“You’ll see. I’ll have the last word. I always do,” he croaked out, his chest heaving as he tried to push past the pain.
I turned to Oscar one more time, not quite ready to end Mendoza’s suffering.
“Take his teeth, one at a time, instead. Perhaps he’ll be more forthcoming once he’s missing a few.”
Oscar chuckled as he folded his blade and put it back in his pocket. Grabbing a pair of pliers from the table next to him, he advanced on the poor son-of-a-bitch. Santiago, another one of my men, came up behind Mendoza’s chair, wrapping one hand around his forehead and pulling down his jaw with the other. Mendoza’s screams as Oscar yanked out his two front teeth made me smile. One by one, Oscar removed every one of his incisors, yet the man never talked. Not that I’d expected him to. Corina was well-guarded, his men would never get close. If anyone so much as looked at her funny, they’d be a grease stain on the floor. Drawing out his punishment was just for my own sadistic pleasure.
“Puto,” Mendoza lisped as more blood poured from his mouth.
“There’s only one thing left to do. Something that will leave no doubt in the minds of your minions who took you out.” I turned back to Oscar. “His right eye.”
Oscar barked a vicious laugh before pulling his blade out again. Mendoza had gone quiet, the click of Oscar’s blade as he opened it practically echoing through the warehouse. Santiago continued to hold the man’s head steady as Mendoza’s eye was slowly carved out of his face. This time, his cries became high-pitched shrieks that were music to my ears. Finally, I’d had enough.
“You’re out of time. Any last words, cabrón?” I said, leveling my gun at his forehead.
“Chinga tu puta madre,” the dead man slurred through the blood that continued to ooze from his lips.
“I’ll give my regards to your mother, as well,” I replied, inclining my head before squeezing the trigger twice.
1
Mia
I stared, unblinking, at the man in front of me, his cocky smirk making me want to pour the last of my drink over his head. He was the third guy to approach me in an hour, and like the others before him, was hopelessly lacking in social skills. This one took the prize, however, by asking me if I preferred to spit or swallow directly after asking for my name. After giving him my bitch face, I turned on my heel, leaving him to stand there uncomfortably.
Moving through the milling bodies, I tried to spot my best friend, Carmen Cisneros, in the crowd. It wasn’t uncommon for me to lose sight of her, she had a way of flitting around the room, never staying in one place, or with one person, for too long. Being the children of the two “top cops” in our city, we should have had a greater appreciation for stranger danger, especially with the holiday season coming up. My father always complained about the increase in crime statistics this time of year.
Giving up for the moment, I downed the last of my martini and headed toward the bar for another. As I moved across the room, I felt a large, strong hand yank roughly on my elbow. I spun around, ready to give a tart retort to yet another socially inept cretin, only to find a tall, dark-haired man looking down at me intently. He was striking, with short, neat, coal-black hair and piercing dark eyes that stared at me as though he knew me. His fierce gaze was penetrating, I felt it scorch every nerve ending I had while igniting other parts of me I never knew existed. I may have been a loser magnet, who bounced from one unhappy relationship to another in my short life, but not once had any man ever made me feel like this one did with just a look.
He was the epitome of a Latin heartthrob, but I could practically feel the danger dancing on his skin. I knew instinctively he wasn’t someone to be toyed with, nothing at all like the coked-out, newly graduated college students who frequented The Underground. Though I was caught in his scrutiny, the distant thought he wasn’t meant for me hovered in the back of my mind.
My thudding heart began to calm as he dropped his hand from my arm, severing the electric connection between us. If he felt out of place in his impeccably tailored, black suit and stiff white dress shirt, complete with shining onyx and platinum cufflinks and sharp blue tie, it didn’t show. I imagined he dominated every room he entered, setting the standard for all else to follow.
“Forgive me for invading your personal space,” he said roughly with a distinct Spanish accent. “I just noticed you were about to take off, and I wasn’t about to let the chance to meet the most beautiful woman in the club slip by.”
The harsh grate of his voice contrasted with the smooth compliment he gave me. Still rattled, I smiled nervously and held up my empty glass.
“I was just headed to the bar for another. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”
“First, you have to do me a favor.” The look he gave me was filled with purpose.
“I do?”
“Yes. Dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand, brooking no argument.
I stared at his hand, unaccustomed to his blunt approach. Feeling intimidated but not wanting to seem rude to such a self-possessed man, I succumbed to his demand, gently placing my hand in his so he could lead me to the dancefloor. The music shifted to something slow and sensual, almost as if by design. We fell into a rhythmic sway easily, our bodies moving as though we’d danced together a thousand times. We were well-matched in height, my five-foot, six-inch frame placing the top of my head at his jawline. When I dared to lift my chin to look up at him, I found myself the object of that stare again. I was unsettled yet intoxicated by it.
“What’s your name, preciosa?” the man asked, his voice softening as he held me tightly to his chest, tighter than I should let a man I didn’t know hold me.
“I’m Mia, but you can call me Mee. Everyone else does,” I replied, feeling silly, offering my nickname to a man whose masculinity and intensity were so intimidating.
“Mee? It doesn’t suit you. Mia is a beautiful name. Mee is for a little girl, which you clearly are not,” he said, his smile revealing his white, even teeth. “I’m Dantes Belisario.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I murmured, feeling myself sink into his dark eyes unbidden. I knew I should be afraid—or at least wary—but everything about him sang to me, even his name. A quiet alarm was still sounding in the back of my head but true to habit, I ignored the clamoring and embraced the peril. My curiosity was always piqued by the men who weren’t good for me, but I was hard-pressed to recognize it until it was too late.
I moved with him quietly, letting the music tighten the spell weaving its way around me, my heart accelerating as I inhaled the light scent of his expensive cologne. There was something about Dantes that had immediately ensnared me, and now I was caught fast in its grip.
“You know,” he said, his accent making me shiver. “I’ve seen you here
before.”
I scanned his eyes, wondering how I’d ever missed such an imposing man. He wasn’t
the kind of guy you could overlook.
“W-why are you just introducing yourself now?”
“The other times I saw you, I was preoccupied with business. I don’t come here to party or pick up women like these pendejos,” he said, lifting his chin to acknowledge the other men in the room. “The owner is a business associate of mine.”
“You know Mr. Kosareva?” I asked, snapping to attention. Sergei Kosareva was a major contributor to my father’s re-election campaign, and the main reason Carmen and I came to The Underground. He promised our fathers he’d watch out for us while we got the red-carpet treatment whenever we were here. I wondered if Dantes knew my father, too, though I couldn’t imagine him associating with the local sheriff.
“Very well, in fact. We’ve been doing business for years,” he said as he smoothly guided me into a turn. Despite the abruptness of his approach, his dancing was all finesse.
“What sort of business?” I asked curiously.
“I also own a nightclub, of fashion. We belong to an association of small business owners, mainly a network of food and entertainment establishments.”
“What’s your place called? Maybe I’ve been there.”
“I assure you, you’ve never been to my club. If you had, I’d know,”
“How could you possibly know? I’m sure hundreds of people come through your doors every week.”
“Because I own The Pink Pistol.”
I gasped. The gentlemen's club was infamous in our city. Due to strict zoning ordinances, it was the only sort of adult entertainment around. No one knew how the owners had managed to get around the laws, and initially, there had been loud protests from the citizens. Then, seemingly overnight, the whole outcry mysteriously went away.
“No, you’re right. I’ve definitely never been there.”
“You never will. It’s not the sort of place for a woman like you.”
I looked at him, trying to appear nonplussed.
“You never know, I might show up one night now,” I said, attempting to tease him.
“And you will find yourself promptly escorted right back out, or better yet, to my office so I can see you home safely. After giving you a much-deserved spanking, of course,” Dantes said with a wicked smile, again turning me under his arm expertly.
“That doesn’t sound like much of a deterrent. In fact, I feel even more tempted to make a spontaneous visit,” I said, daring a wink, the proverbial lamb tempting a lion.
“You are sassy, aren’t you? Are you bratty as well, muñeca?”
“Oh, no. At least, I don’t think so,” I replied, biting my lip uncertainly and dropping my attempt at bravado. “I’ve never been one to throw a fit just to have my way. My pride wouldn’t allow it.”
“There’s nothing more unattractive than a spoiled woman. In my world, they don’t meet with good endings,” he said cryptically. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but that little voice in my head told me I didn’t want to know.
The DJ changed the track to something livelier, louder. Dantes gripped my hand and gently tugged me off the dancefloor, back toward the bar.
“Thank you for the dance, Mia. Now you can have your drink,” he said, his intense look resurfacing. I wanted to fan myself as I felt my body heat under the weight of his stare. I’d never been particularly bold or even confident, but I was sorely tempted to throw myself at him and beg him to take me to his place. He made me feel wild inside; I wanted to be impulsive—throw caution to the wind and live for the moment. All I wanted was to be back in Dantes’ arms.
“I believe you were drinking a martini?”
“A very dirty one, as a matter of fact,” I replied with a wide smile.
Dantes smirked as he signaled the bartender, who hustled right over, bypassing several disgruntled customers who’d been waiting for his attention.
“Another martini for the lady, please,” he snapped.
Vladimir, the bartender
, knew me well, thanks to Mr. Kosareva. He nodded sharply at Dantes, then began mixing my usual drink.
“Aren’t you having something?” I asked, my eyes wide as Dantes pulled out a thick silver clip full of bills. He peeled off a hundred, placing it on the bar in front of Vladimir.
“I’m going out of town on business early tomorrow morning,” he said, glancing at the shiny Rolex watch on his wrist. “I didn’t realize how short my time was when I stopped you.”
Disappointed the pull I felt toward him must be one-sided, my heart sank to my stomach. I tried to put on a cheerful face and thrust my hand out to him to shake.
“In that case, I thoroughly enjoyed meeting you, Dantes. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.”
“They will. You can count on it, Mia,” he said, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze before kissing my forehead. “Stay safe until I see you again.”
I took a sip of my drink as I watched him walk away, people automatically parting for him as he moved confidently toward the exit. The liquor was bitter on my tongue, but I was only aware of the heady sensation I knew had nothing to do with the alcohol.
2
Dantes
My phone rang as soon as I slid behind the wheel of my Mercedes Maybach. Looking at the screen on the dashboard, I tapped the button to answer Oscar’s call. Oscar Portillo was my right-hand man. He was not only the acting manager of The Pink Pistol but also my top sicario, the hitman who got his hands dirty when delicate business needed to be handled.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 117
