by TL Reeve
Santiago stood at the door of Hannah's room. It'd been a month since he'd taken over her training—a fluke for sure since Raul kept the girl under guard and key. However, she'd been a gift to him and damn if he didn't count himself lucky. She'd been his target after all. Hannah Jacob, despite being disabled, was immersed within the Nieto Cartel and had been privy to everything Raul did within the Emporio de Monstruo. If the FBI wanted to take down Raul, they’d need Hannah, especially if the rumor about Raul having a daughter didn’t pan out.
When he started doing undercover work, Santiago had been green, so fucking green. He knew the ins and outs of the gang world, of course, because he came from it. As a member of the La Rasa Gang, he rose through the ranks rather quickly, making a name for himself. He ran most of La Rasa’s negotiation for drugs and weapons, plus he had no compunction when it came to ordering hits or doing the job himself.
However, it came with a cost.
On the night he was arrested, he’d been sent to kill the leader of a rival gang. The bastard poached on La Rasa territory, and they—he—wouldn’t stand for it. Unfortunately, the whole thing was a ruse. He should’ve been spending the rest of his life in jail. Instead, an FBI agent saw some type of raw potential in Santiago and wanted to exploit it. Twist everything Santiago knew and destroy La Rasa from the inside out.
At the time, Santiago’s self-preservation kicked in and he took the agent up on his offer. But, taking it came with risks, and he realized, playing this dangerous game would put a target on his back. Because, when shit went down, La Rasa would know it was him, and he’d have the bullseye on his back.
The simple fact of the matter was, La Rasa had been his life since he'd turned fourteen. However, he hoped, the FBI was his future. His tasks started small. He trained certain agents to know what different tattoos meant within a gang. He also explained the hierarchy of the gangs. He went from field office to field office leading seminars, fuck, it seemed, for the first few years, he'd been more of a teacher than anything. Nevertheless, the more he proved to be an asset for them, the deeper entrenched he became in the agency. Then about three years ago, he started being included in fieldwork. This assignment had been his second real 'mission.' It came with inherent risks, of course, all of them did. If anything happened to him while he was in the field, i.e. death, the FBI would take the plausible deniability approach to the situation.
For all intents and purposes, he was and would always be a gangbanger to everyone who mattered. In the beginning, it pissed him off. Putting his life on the line to take out some of the worst criminals, without credit didn't sit right. Now, he understood it. He was doing the dirty work. The jobs none of them could do without getting some blood on their hands. He didn't have that switch in his brain. The one that told him killing was wrong. FBI agents or any kind of LEO for that matter did it to protect themselves or others.
Santiago knocked on Hannah’s door and waited. For this mission, he was Oscar Gonzales. Before he left the Los Angeles field office, they changed his name on all of his files including his record, because everyone knew Raul would dig deep when it came to Santiago’s work product. The only thing Santiago kept the same was his gang name, Snap, on account of his quick temper.
When she didn’t answer him, Santiago turned the knob on her door and entered the space. He’d steadily made his case for the FBI, learning the ins and outs of the Nieto Cartel, so they could dismantle Raul Iniguez’s businesses one at a time. Then, about three weeks ago, Tex made contact. That crazy fucker hacked Santiago’s laptop and posted the new mission parameters along with a “what’s up, homie,” message. He could laugh about it now, but at the time, the fucker almost got him caught. It appeared, unbeknownst to Santiago, Hannah was the sister of a black ops member and the crazy bastard was coming for her. Over my dead body. She’s mine. Santiago didn’t know when he fell for her. He knew he was no good for someone so innocent as her, but he had to have her. He wanted to sully her. Turn her into one of the baddest bitches around.
She sucked in a breath and Santiago’s gaze snapped to her. What the fuck? Hannah was standing at the window overlooking Juarez. In the year he’d been with Raul, he’d never seen her stand. From what all of Raul’s doctors said, she’d never stand let alone walk, yet there she was. “Oscar? What are you doing here?” Fear tinged her voice and he hated it.
He closed the door behind him and locked it, so no one would interrupt them. “You’re standing.” He tried to keep his voice low, so no one would hear them.
“I’ve been doing it off and on for about a month now.” She trembled as she sat back down in her chair. “Are you going to tell on me?”
Again, the fear in her voice ripped at him. “No, butterfly. I won’t tell anyone. You surprised me is all.”
She rolled toward him. “Surprised me, too. Woke up with a pins and needles sensation in my feet one morning and now...” She shrugged. “Been standing every day for at least five or ten minutes at a time.”
Santiago kneeled in front of her. “Can you walk?”
She shook her head. “I need help.”
He scrubbed his chin. “Well, I got a place.”
“I can’t leave here. Raul won’t allow it.” Her bottom lip trembled. “He only allows me time outside when he’s with me. He still thinks I’ll run away.”
Santiago knew she would. If any of the people held in Raul’s fucking house of horrors got outside, they’d all run, and he’d help them. “I know you would, too.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Damn right, I would. My brother didn’t raise an invalid. I have skills.”
He bet she did. “You shouldn’t be saying any of this to me. You know who I am.”
Hannah frowned. “You’re not like the people here.”
Santiago snorted. “I am in my element here. I enjoyed putting Ignacio down after he beat the shit out of that kid.”
“You only liked it because he hurt Scotty, so you wanted to hurt him,” she said.
Damn her for reading him all too well. “Stop treating me like I’m some fucking hero. I’m not.”
She shrugged again. “Then start acting like an enforcer instead of one of the good guys.”
“Goddammit, butterfly. You have no idea what you’re saying or what could happen to both of us if the wrong person hears you spouting off stupid shit.” He ran his hand over his bald head.
“Sorry.”
“Fuck, don’t be sorry, either.” He expelled a breath. “Look, the reason I came here was to give you an update on Scotty. Saw you took a liking to him, so I thought I’d give you a little head’s up.”
“Oh?” She sat up a little straighter, perking up at his comment. “How is he? Is he being taken care of?”
"We both know this place ain't where he'll be taken care of unless it's through sex."
Her brows furrowed. “Yes, well. I meant his injuries.”
“Best as they can be. He calls his bruises sexy.” Santiago smirked. “Crazy bastard.”
Hannah laughed and the warm sound eased some of the guilt eating away at Santiago. “He’s strong. Defiant, too.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t know how much more of this he’ll be able to endure before he turns the tables on everyone.”
“They’ll kill him,” she said, a wave of fear filled her tone. “We have to convince Scotty to play along for now.”
“Yeah...” For the last few days, Santiago found it increasingly harder to not tell Hannah the truth about who he was or about the plan to take down the club. However, for as much as he trusted her, he didn’t. She could be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, and she might have some kind of twisted loyalty to Raul. It was better to keep her in the dark about it all and let it unfold in front of her when the time was right.
“You’re worried about him,” she said.
“I worry about all of you,” he replied. “Ignacio fucked him up.”
“I know. I saw it happen.”
“Enough of all this bullshit. How
about we go for a little stroll?” Santiago said, changing the subject.
“I’d love to. Where this time?”
“I thought about the pool on Raul’s floor.” He pointed to the floor above them. “I have the keycard after all.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Should I grab my suit?”
“Yeah. You should.” He rubbed his hands together. “Make sure it’s the pink two-piece.”
Chapter 2
Jaqueline rubbed the back of her neck as she walked through her home to the security room below. Things weren’t going according to plan. Or, well, Murray’s plan anyway. It had merit. There was nothing wrong with it, except for her. The idea of purposefully hurting someone, whether or not the other person enjoyed it, confused her. It also didn’t agree with her. Earlier, after they’d had breakfast, Murray grabbed his rook sack from the guest bedroom and brought it out to the living room, placing it on the coffee table.
We’re going to play a game... The way the words rolled off of his tongue, made her wish he’d fulfill his rightful role. He had it all. The streak of dominance lacing all of his words also oozed from his pores. She was weak for him. Would do anything for him when he stared at her with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
The game Murray proposed was simple. Pick an item on the table and use it on him. The rules were easy. Don’t hesitate. Watch him closely for signs she was being too rough and respect his safe word if he used it. When she agreed, he retrieved the items he’d meant for her to try. A solid wood ping pong paddle, a bundle of rope, binder clips or what she thought were binder clips with a bit of padding, and a bundle of parachute cord turned into a flogger—she thought that was the name of the implement.
She chose the paddle. It seemed like the easiest thing to use. Little did she know, at the time, how much she’d like it and hate it simultaneously. Murray stood then and went over to her couch. Without a word, he unbuttoned his pants and exposed his ass for her before bracing himself against the back of the sofa.
The firmness of his ass, the tanned flesh, left her speechless. He had no tan lines. Jaqueline had been struck dumb as she stood there staring at him. When he glanced up, the devilish glint in his eyes signaled how much trouble she was in. Yet, she willfully took those few tentative steps toward him. The weight of the paddle reminded her of the item she’d chosen for the exercise.
“What now?” She hardly believed the words fell from her lips. It was almost as though she’d separated from her body.
Murray turned his intense gaze on her. “Now, you spank me.”
Jaqueline gasped. “What?”
“Spank me.” He pointed to the fleshiest part of his rear. “Preferably here. You’re not ready for the other places and I’m not looking to explain why I can’t sit.”
She blinked. This was crazy. Insane. How did he expect her to just spank him for no reason? She closed the distance between them while biting her bottom lip. “I’m not sure I get the point of this.” Her hand shook so bad she worried she’d drop the paddle.
“The point is to have fun,” Murray said in such a blasé tone, she wondered if he even understood what he asked her to do. “And, to show you what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I could always watch porn.” She furrowed her brows. “We could watch it together.”
“As much as the offer is tempting, and it is tempting, we’re going to try this approach first. So come on, give my ass a good ‘ol smack-a-roo.”
“You’re so weird. Has anyone told you that?” She arched a brow, inching closer to him.
“Many times. Quit stalling.”
“Hey!” She whacked him on the behind with the paddle. The crack of the paddle against his flesh caused her to jump in surprise.
Murray moaned. His features tensed as he gripped the couch tighter. “There you go. Do it again.”
“Why are you telling me what to do?” She slapped his rear again with the paddle. “I thought I’m the one telling you what to do.”
He chuckled. “You’re doing a mighty fine job of it.”
Fire licked over her skin from exertion as she struck again, this time, pinking up his flesh. She sucked in a breath. Didn't it hurt? How did anyone enjoy this? She glanced up at his face, remembering his rules for their little game. She had to pay attention to him. Jaqueline continued to paddle his ass alternating between cheeks as he told her, however when he hissed and let out a low groan, she dropped the instrument and went to his side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I-I wasn't paying attention."
“Jaq...” He winced. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
"No, you're not." She let out an exasperated breath before letting loose with a long string of muttered curses in Spanish. Mutual combat was one thing. Taking down the bad guy, okay. But hurting someone for pleasure—both of their pleasure, no. She didn't have the wherewithal to do so. "I can't do this to you, Murray. I shouldn't have started this. I-I need to go." She hurried from the living room toward the backdoor, unable to stomach what she'd done. Stepping out into the early afternoon warmth, she sucked in a deep breath of desert air and fell to her knees.
Maybe this wasn’t the job for her.
Her assessment of the situation rang out in her mind when she came back into the house almost an hour later. The rug on the floor had been pushed aside, and she went down into her security room. Four stairs from the bottom, she spied a photo blown up on the giant monitor over her station. Murray sat in the chair he’d claimed the first day he arrived, staring at the image. He didn’t appear worse for his wares, but it didn’t mean anything, he could be hiding it. “What the hell is that?” Jaqueline winced at her tone. She hadn’t meant for it to be so gruff or rude.
The tension in her neck and shoulders intensified since she’d stepped outside. The only moments where she’d been relaxed was when she and Murray were practicing. Nope, not going there again. But, it was true. She could breathe much easier and her life hadn't felt as though she'd been living under a microscope, constantly watched and experimented on. Murray made it easier for her to focus. It'd been as if he were grounding her in an overwhelming situation.
Speaking of Murray, he glanced up at her. His blue eyes blazing with lust. How? She’d hurt him and he stared at her like she was his everything. It didn’t make sense to her. Instead of focusing on what she couldn’t interpret she pointed to the screen again. Two images were laid out vertically. Both were dark, almost pitch black, but the one on the left had blotches of red while the one on the right had a murky gray-black coloring and what looked like squiggly lines.
“Images of the Emporium.” Murray chewed on a pen or a case for a pen while flicking through images quicker then Jaqueline could even process.
“Those don’t look like an of the images I’ve ever seen of it.”
Murray smirked. “Asher flew one of our Predator UAV’s over the building last night.” He pointed to the photo on the left. “Those are infrared and those—” his hand moved to the right side “—are GPR.”
“GPR?” She stepped closer, clearing her mind and digging into their work.
“Yeah.” He removed the pen from his mouth and threw it on the messy desk. “GPR or Ground Penetrating Radar uses radar pulses to image the subsurface of an area, or in this case the Emporium and the surrounding buildings. We can detect changes in material properties, voids, and cracks in structures through a variety of media.”
“And you have access to this?”
“More than just access. R.O.O.T is often given the prototypes contractors are hoping to obtain contracts with our military. We run them through their paces and report our findings back to those contractors who qualify so they can perfect it for military use,” he stated.
“But you have it now?”
He nodded. "Sure do. Our military won't see this specific drone for another twenty-four to thirty-six months." He glanced at her. "Helps to have friends in all the right places."
“I’d say.”
He turned his attent
ion back to the monitor. “If we were at the base, I could Tony Stark the hell out of this.”
“I do not know of this Tony Stark. Is he a member of R.O.O.T? Can we get him here to help us?”
Murray laughed. “No, mi cielito, he is not, and I can’t bring him here. He’s part of the MCU.”
Even though she’d been tutored to read and write English as well as anyone Stateside, Murray often confused her with his overuse of slang. “MCU? Are you talking about another American government agency?”
He smiled. "No. It's a franchise centered around a series of superheroes."
“Que?”
“Movies. Tony Stark plays a superhero named Iron Man. Have you never seen a Marvel movie?”
She shook her head. Movies were a frivolous waste of time. Besides she’d been busy looking for her brother and the others who’d been taken. It had been her main focus for many, many years.
“When this is over, I’ll have to educate you on the MCU and we’ll watch all the movies,” he promised.
She doubted it. When this mission was done, Murray would head back to the States, hopefully with his sister. He’d also return to his nice comfy job and never see her again. At some point, she realized, he’d find a sub, and she Jacqueline would just be a distant memory. The tinge of jealousy wriggled through her, surprising her. They weren’t in a relationship, so why did it matter?
“Anyway,” he continued as though she hadn’t been warring with herself or justifying her odd emotional state. “If I was back at base, I’d be able to show you a 3D rendition of the building with the infrared overlay. It’d show us where every warm body was in that place.”
"Must be nice." She'd been unable to hold back her envy at what R.O.O.T had at its disposal. If the Mexican military had even half of what R.O.O.T did, the drug epidemic and the cartels would be nonexistent.
Envy was such a petty emotion.
Murray shrugged. “Sometimes. Nine out of ten times the new equipment we get is more of a pain in the ass than a help. Most contractors roll out shit with known issues, or we find the bugs and send them back to be corrected.”
