Take No Quarter

by Desiree Holt

  “We’ve been doing this for more than twenty years,” he reminded Cerda. “Something’s got you twisted up about this. Enough that you even went to see Reed Calhoun, a stupid mistake that could have created many problems. Everyone knows that the only one who has contact with Calhoun is me.”

  “Because your ego wants to keep that spot for yourself, so you can always be the one in control.”

  Alex studied the other man through narrowed eyes. Something was off here. Bruno had never wanted to move out of his position as money manager in all the years he’d been part of the organization. The public tended to think of members of a cartel, even the leaders, as uneducated, bloodthirsty killers who sucked up power like babies sucked up candy. And while that described ninety-eight percent of cartel members worldwide, there was that upper echelon who knew how to manage power and wealth and were accepted and welcomed everywhere.

  The Lopez Garcia cartel was different from others in significant ways. For one thing, both he and his brother had bachelor’s and master’s degrees. While the third leader, the face of the cartel, wielded brutality like a sword to keep people in line, Alex and his brother traveled in the top levels of society as wealthy businessmen, building connections for their traffic in drugs, guns and sex.

  Bruno Cerda also boasted a degree in finance from a top university. That was what made him so valuable. He understood more than any of them the fluctuations of international currency and foreign stock exchanges. He was always ready with information on where and how to move money around, clean it, refresh it and reinvest it so their dollars were always making dollars. Many more dollars. But if he persisted in his demand, it might be time to retire him. Permanently.

  He lifted the cover of the handcrafted humidor on the table beside him and removed a Cohiba cigar made specially for the members of the club, snipped the end and with slow, deliberate movement, lit it and drew in its essence. Just as slowly, he exhaled a stream of smoke.

  “Why don’t you just spit out what’s really bothering you, Bruno? Don’t waste my time beating around the bush.”

  “All right. Fine,” Cerda drained the last of his drink, set the glass down and leaned forward. “It’s this damn fucking reporter. She is going to ruin it all. The DEA will identify and target all the key people including you, Antonio and yes, even Hector. We will be dead in the water just like the Medellin cartel. We will lose everything. I want as much as I can get before we all go down the drain.”

  Alex had to exert maximum control to keep from gripping the cigar so hard that he bit off the end. He didn’t know who he was angrier with—Bruno, the fucking reporter or Felix, Hector’s nephew, who’d tried to ransom her instead of killing her as he was ordered to. Since then she’d been guarded like Fort Knox, two bodyguards with her at all times. It was a damn fucking miracle they’d been able to make the switch when they did, but that had been an even greater disaster. And now it seemed she was protected by the very lethal soldiers who had executed so many of Hector’s men in Quintana Roo. He should have told Hector to have the guards kill her and they’d ferret out the snitch themselves.

  Draining the last of his drink, he fixed Bruno with a hard stare.

  “The reporter will be dealt with. You can bank on that. And one of the reasons we are setting up this structure in Europe and the Far East is so if it all goes to hell in Mexico, we will have places to relocate and continue our business. The structure and shares will remain the same. Only the amounts will differ. They will increase.”

  “So you say.”

  “And it is the truth.” He shrugged. “But if you aren’t happy, we will be happy to release you from your obligations. No problem.”

  Beneath his olive skin, Bruno’s complexion paled. Alex did not have to explain to him what that meant. He sat there for a long moment, silent, while Alex smoked his cigar. At last he nodded.

  “You are right, as always. I have not thought it through and jumped to an unreasonable conclusion. Of course you will take care of the reporter, and anyone else who endangers our operation. Forgive me for being precipitous.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I actually let myself be disturbed over it. Please forgive me, jefe.”

  Jefe. All right. He was acknowledging the power structure again.

  “No problem.” Alex drew on the cigar again. “I will be meeting with Antonio next week, at his finca. On Monday, as a matter of fact. All the paperwork is ready, and we need to move forward. It would be good if you joined us. Perhaps he can allay your fears even more.”

  Alex did not miss the flash of panic in the other man’s eyes. He knew Cerda was trying to decide whether he was going to a business meeting or his own execution.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “It would be good to begin implementing the structure. I will gather all the information on foreign exchange to bring with me, as well as companies that we will want to, shall we say, acquire.”

  “Excellent. The meeting will be on Monday. I will have a car pick you up and bring you to my place. As you know, I keep my plane on my own property. Much more convenient. Shall we say nine in the morning?”

  “Yes. That works.” Cerda rose and extended a hand. “I apologize for my moment of panic and look forward to further ventures. We have, after all, been together for many years.”

  Alex shook the proffered hand. “Of course. I expect this to be a productive meeting as we finalize our plans to move forward.”

  He remained standing while Cerda walked out of the lounge toward the elevator that would take him to the street level lobby. When he was sure the man was gone, he sat down and took out his cell, selecting one of the numbers he had on speed dial.

  “You were right,” he said when the call was answered. “He’s getting itchy and greedy. It just goes to prove no matter how rich you make someone, they always want more.”

  “It saddens me to be correct,” his brother said. “Is he coming to the meeting?”

  “Yes. He is.” The answering sigh echoed across the connection.

  “All right, then. We will take care of the problem. I will handle it. I take responsibility for bringing him into the organization.”

  “The responsibility belongs to both of us,” his brother told him. “And we will both correct the problem.”

  He signaled a waiter to bring him a fresh drink and took another draw on his cigar. Why is it some people just have to find a way to fuck up a good situation?

  Alex continued to sit there, smoking his cigar and taking slow sips of his fresh drink. Betrayal was a greater sin than almost anything else, to Alex’s way of thinking. It was the ultimate offense someone could commit. Loyalty was rewarded while traitors never saw the light of day again. He saw Bruno Cerda’s request as another form of betrayal, no better than whoever was planning to tell all their secrets.

  It frustrated him that no matter how he tried, he could not find out who it was. They certainly paid off enough people in the right places to keep them informed of things. If not for the person on their payroll who worked for Dana Roberts’ employer, for example, they might not even have known about her focus on the cartel until it was too late.

  And their well-paid informant at the DEA had given them the head’s-up that put their project into overdrive. Somehow the DEA had gathered information—or stumbled onto it—about their new plans, and their informant had made them aware of how critical the situation had become. Far from having the weeks they needed to put their plan in place effectively, they had days, and he didn’t know how many of those. How had years and months of building and weeks of careful planning gotten so fucked up? Does that attorney in Reed Calhoun’s office play a part in this? To him she was just a nonentity who did the legal grunt work.

  But he didn’t think whoever Dana Roberts was talking to was either of those people. So who in the fucking hell was it? It had to be someone high enough up to have information worth all the trouble the woman was going to. Was it Bruno Cerda? It didn’t seem logical for him to run his mouth before he found out i
f he was getting a bigger slice of the pie. Things were falling apart and he had to plug the cracks pronto.

  Generations had built the organization—he preferred that word to cartel—with great success. This new intricate expansion with diversification would solidify them along with millions of dollars—no, billions—well into the future. Only three things could rock that boat—the fucking reporter, Cerda and the unknown traitor.

  He’d take care of them and things would proceed as planned.

  Resting his cigar in the ash tray at his elbow, he punched in a single number.

  “The reporter is our top priority. Find her—I don’t care how—and follow her to her meeting with the traitor. Eliminate her and dispose of the body. Bring the traitor to me. And do it quickly, amigo. We are at a crisis point.”

  He listened to the response.

  “If it was easy, I wouldn’t need you to take care of it. Keep me updated.”

  Disconnecting, he sat back in his chair. Usually he was a patient person. That was how he and his family had amassed their billions. But the time for patience had passed. Now what he needed was action, and quickly.

  * * * *

  Kenzi closed her eyes and let the water from the rain shower head spray her body. She hoped it would wash away not only the fatigue that had suddenly gripped her but also the tension of the brief encounter with Alex Reyes. Did he suspect that she knew something? Was that why he’d asked to see her? She’d felt his eyes boring right through her, even with that polite smile on his face.

  According to Slade’s source, the DEA had its eye on the cartel and was watching the whole process. She just wished they’d get busy, sweep up the leaders and shut the damn thing down. Then she could draw a full breath, both for herself and Dana.

  She was standing there, eyes closed, enjoying the heat of the water, when she heard the door to the shower open. In a moment she felt Trey’s hands on her shoulders and his wonderful, familiar scent drifting across her nostrils.

  “You doing okay?”

  His husky voice echoed through her, an aphrodisiac to her tense body. The little bite on her earlobe wasn’t bad, either. His strong fingers massaged her shoulders as he slid his mouth along the side of her neck and moved his mouth to nibble on the other ear.

  “Better now,” she murmured, pressing back against him.

  She loved the hard, lean feel of him, the flat abs and corded muscles. He moved his hips and the swollen length of his cock prodded at the cleft of her ass. Dark heat coursed through her at the touch and she couldn’t stop the hum of pleasure that vibrated in her throat.

  “Every time I touch you,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble, “I want to suck your nipples and squeeze your breasts, run my hands over every place on your body. Feel you here…” He slid his hands over the curve of her hips and the swell of her abdomen. “And here…” He eased them together so he was cupping her sex, his thumbs and forefingers squeezing the wet lips. “And especially here.”

  He eased his hand back, away from her pussy, over the curve of her buttocks until he found that cleft again. He drifted his fingers into that hot crevice for a few seconds before easing them back.

  “Oh!” She pushed against him, but he’d moved his hands again by that time. Now he wasn’t touching her at all, and she moaned in protest.

  The rumble of his laugh was low and rough and sexy, and vibrated through every nerve and muscle in her body.

  “You want my cock here, sugar?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, trying to clench the cheeks of her ass around him.

  “Patience. All good things come to those who wait. Just keep your eyes closed.”

  That was no problem. It magnified every sensation and allowed her to linger in a state of anticipation and arousal. Of course, she felt that way whenever they were together. More than any man she’d ever met, Trey McIntyre pushed every erotic button in her body and made her want an abundance of everything. Made her want things she’d never desired with anyone else, things so intimate she blushed when she thought of them, and she was far from a sexual novice.

  She sensed him moving behind her, and in the next moment he lifted her hands and placed them ahead of her on the shower wall. He trailed the tips of his fingers along her arms and down her sides, reaching around to give her nipples a gentle pinch before taking a step back. In the next moment his hands, coated with the scented body wash she used, spread the lather slowly over her body. Shoulders. Arms. Sides. Then gone, and she wanted to protest the loss of his touch.

  But then he was back, this time reaching around to her front to cup her breasts and give them a gentle squeeze. His fingers worked her nipples, lightly pinching them and teasing them with his nails. Every touch sent an arrow of heat straight to her core, setting her inner muscle flexing, seeking something solid to grip and milk.

  With the next application of lather, he slid his fingers down her belly, over her mound and between the lips of her pussy, stroking the slippery flesh. With each movement of his fingers he paused long enough to pinch her now throbbing clit. Then he moved his hands away and began the journey again.

  By the time he’d covered every inch of her front with the scented liquid, she was a quivering mass. Her nerves felt as if someone had set a match to them and the walls of her sex begged for something to fill the greedy space there. The little nip at the base of her neck didn’t help, either, lighting any nerves that might still be sleeping. Then he cast his hand over her again, slowly, from neck to thigh and everything in between, fraying her control.

  She waited, biting her lip to maintain some semblance of control and not start begging him to slide his fingers or his tongue or his cock into her. But rather than turning her around, he began massaging the body wash into her shoulders and down her spine. His big hands smoothed it over the curves of her ass, squeezing gently and kneading them. The feel of his hands sliding between her thighs made her even hotter, and she couldn’t contain the moan that slid from her mouth.

  “Please,” she begged. “Oh, please.”

  That low, rough, sexy laugh vibrated through her again.

  “Please what?”

  “Anything. Everything. Something.”

  She was so aroused by this time that she didn’t care what he did as long as she could fall into her orgasm. She wanted to cry in frustration when he removed his touch from her body. Then his hands were back, and this time he slipped the fingers of one, slick with body wash, into the cleft of her buttocks. The tip of one pressed against the opening there and her entire body clenched.

  “Like that, do you?” He whispered the words into her ear.

  “Yesssss.” She tried to push back against his touch, but with his other arm banded around her waist, he held her in place.

  “Don’t. Move.” He bit her earlobe. “Do not move.”

  She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to remain still as he eased one long finger into her body, moving slowly until he had intruded all the way to the knuckle.

  Oh!

  Sensations chased through her, so intense she found it hard to remain standing. Trey worked his finger slowly in and out, taking his time, getting her used to the feel of him. Then he added a second finger, stretching her inner tissues and scraping back and forth until she was nearly out of her mind with sensation. She wanted to come so badly, but he kept her teetering on the edge. She couldn’t even squeeze her thighs together because he was using his leg to keep them apart.

  “Please,” she begged again. “Please, please, please.”

  “Please what?” he whispered. “Please let you come?”

  “Yes.”

  He kept moving his fingers and she was sobbing with need.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  With his other hand he reached around, found her clit and began stroking it in coordinated rhythm. Kenzi rocked as much as she could, scraping herself along his touch in both places. When she was about to lose her mind, he thrust his fingers into her anus and pinched her
clit, hard.

  And she exploded, her body shivering and shaking and her inner muscles spasming so hard she thought she might shake herself apart. She was still coming when he turned her around and lifted her, thrusting his cock deep into her pussy. She vaguely was aware that his cock was sheathed in a condom and she wondered if he’d had it on all this time.

  Then her brain disconnected as he drove into her over and over, so hard the tip of his cock bumped the mouth of her womb. Her muscles clenched his shaft, milking him, and she wound her legs around him, digging her heels into the small of his back to keep them sealed together.

  She collapsed against him, held in place by her legs, and her arms around his neck. Her heart still pounded with a furious rhythm and her breathing was ragged and uneven.

  Then, at last, it was finished. She leaned into him, weak as a piece of tissue paper, resting her head on his shoulder, and stayed that way for a long time.

  “That take the edge off things?” he murmured.

  She let out a long sigh. “More than. I don’t know how you’re still upright,” she said with a tiny grin. “I’m not sure I can even stand.”

  He chuckled. “Then I think we should get you lying down right away.”

  Somehow, being firm and gentle at the same time, he managed to get them both cleaned up, rinsed off and dried, even helping her blow-dry her hair. Then he carried her into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and slid her into bed. The kiss he placed on her lips was so soft and tender it nearly made her cry.

  “Aren’t you lying down with me?”

  “Not yet. Besides,” he teased, “I think after that I need to feed the inner man. Don’t tell me you’re not hungry. Just a little bit?”

  As if in response, a soft rumble sounded in her stomach. The heat crept up her cheeks.

  “I guess I am.”

  “Close your eyes for a few minutes. I’m going to check in with Slade and order some dinner. Cooking isn’t on the agenda for tonight. And I picked up a bottle of some really fine bourbon today. I don’t think wine will do it after the day you’ve had. Sound good?”