“This is my club.” Narciso spoke for the first time tonight and I immediately understood his self imposed silence. For a big man, most of it fat, his voice was surprisingly high and whiney. He sounded like a child throwing a perpetual hissy fit. “You can't just come in here and kick me out of it. I don’t even know why we haven’t killed you yet. You’re nothing but a fucking butcher. A mad dog that-”
“Enough.” Carlos rose from his seat, eyes narrowed. At Narciso? “Let the Reaper have her fun. We have nothing to hide.”
We'll see about that.
Narciso scowled at me, eyes watery, but he stood as well. Carlos could've been on a magazine cover the way he wore his suit. The man who was supposed to be his boss? He was an overweight old fool still playing dress up in daddy's clothes.
Honey eyes focused on me and damn if my heart didn't stutter all over again. “Until next time, señorita.”
He didn't give me a chance to respond as he turned away. Which was a damn shame because it meant my raised middle finger only saluted his back. Thought it did come with its own blessing as well.
I was free to admire his backside, eyes sweeping between wide shoulders to the narrow V of his waist and down to the steel cables of his thighs flexing with each step.
Carlos disappeared down the steps, his entourage following in behind him.
For a fraction of a second, something like disappointment skittered across the edges of my soul before I squashed it like a bug, grinding the metaphorical heel.
“Well this was a fucking disaster.” Raze put his hands on the table, weight shifting.
Whether he was making a move to stand or not didn't matter. I tapped on the back of my chair twice and Tone was there, one hand tightly clasping the other man's shoulder and pinning him there.
“What the fuck!?”
I watched Raze’s face go red, his nerves swiftly morphing into anger at the treatment he was receiving. Really, I was surprised it had taken this long.
He jerked in Tone’s hold, unable to get free. “Give me a break here, Sylvia. Carlos is a friend. Whatever you think is going on here, you’re wrong.”
It would’ve been nice if he was telling the truth. Too bad he had already overstepped, making moves under our noses. His words were meaningless.
I looked around the club, taking in the strobing lights. The throbbing pulse of the music. The bodies swaying and going about their lives.
How many girls down there were just like me? Or at least the me from before the ashes and dust? An unchecked Cartel dealt in bodies as surely as they did in drugs. I wouldn’t chance that. There was no limit to the lengths I would go to in order to keep someone else from suffering what I had, or worse.
I made eye contact with Tone. He trapped the Viper in a headlock and pulled him out of his chair, forcing him to his knees on the ground.
Raze’s eyes went wide as I shook my arm and a knife slid down into my waiting palm, sharp edge catching the light.
Slowly, I knelt in front of him, holding the knife up to his eye, perilously close. A tiny slip. The merest tremble. He would be blind in one eye for the rest of his days. I held my strike. This was only a reminder. Creed would decide his fate once I had compiled his list of sins.
I slashed down his cheek instead, straight to his jaw, ignoring his yells. Red spilled in a hot rush against my hand, running down his face and dripping to the ebony floors. The wound wasn’t a deep one. I knew how to cut. But it would hurt like a bitch, and he wasn’t going to be quite as pretty for a good while.
Every time he looked in the mirror while it healed, he would remember what it cost to go against us.
And if it turned out that he was more involved?
Well, he wouldn’t have to worry about his appearance at all.
Not ever again.
I told him none of that, letting the silence speak for me as I stood and sheathed my blade. Tone dropped him to the floor where Raze stared up at me with fury, hand pressed to his cheek. I stared down at him pitilessly and collected my pad.
Then I left him there.
CHAPTER 4 - Carlos
“Are you seeing what she did to my fucking face!?” Raze gestured wildly before pointing out the same thing he had twice already.
I had to admit there was a good chance I had miscalculated. Which was a nicer way of saying I had fucked up. Spectacularly.
Tremendously.
Un-fucking-believably.
Taunting the woman known to the Cartel simply as the Reaper had, admittedly, been a bad idea. Yet, I couldn’t have stopped myself had I wanted to. Provoking her further had been almost second nature, an overwhelming urge like standing at the top of a building, looking over the edge, and wondering what it would be like to jump.
Except I hadn't jumped. I’d stepped away from the precipice and left the void hungering for an offering. So it reached out for one instead.
“Lower your voice, amigo.”
My regular breakfast spot always kept a private booth open for me. Stashed in a far corner of the restaurant with pure, white linen tablecloths and a window seat, it was the best spot in the house. And it came a great view of the bustling sidewalks below. Business men and women hurried in and out of buildings, setting their frantic pace for the day while I enjoyed an omelette stuffed with different cheeses I couldn’t pronounce.
Still, he was drawing attention to us. The opposite of what I wanted when I was trying to steal a little bit of peace from what was sure to be a hectic day.
Each time he opened his mouth, the bored trophy wives sipping from their mimosas peered in our direction over the rims of their glasses. They seemed harmless enough at first glance, but I knew how incorrect that assumption could be. A whisper here, a rumor there, and suddenly half the city would be convinced I was running a secret male brothel and I beat my help.
“Lower my voice? Look at this shit,” Raze hissed as he dropped back down in his seat, complying without really meaning to. Bikers. Not the brightest bulbs in the box. “She nearly killed me.”
I glanced at his exposed cheek. He’d peeled back the white bandage to show the angry cut. More of a scratch, really. “Look on the bright side. She didn’t kill you. What you should be concerned with is why she didn’t.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t get a chance to ask while she was cutting a fucking hole in me.”
I ignored him, slicing another piece of omelette and popping it in my mouth before humming in appreciation. The chef here was a miracle worker. He made eggs so fluffy I had to lean over to take each bite before they had a chance to float right off my fork.
The food was so good I could almost overlook how much I hated these fancy places and their patrons who acted like the money they had in the bank kept their shit from stinking.
Hint: it didn’t.
“You’re not dead because she doesn’t have any concrete evidence. She’s suspicious at the moment, nothing more.”
He shook his head, bandage flapping. “If this is suspicious, I don’t want to see-”
I chewed. Swallowed. “Hold that thought while you cover that shit up. You look like a mental patient.”
Raze sighed. “You're an asshole. You know that?” He smoothed it out until it stuck tight to his skin again.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't look much better.
He was wearing the same shirt and jeans from last night, obvious blood stains dotting both of them. There were dark circles under his eyes, probably from choosing to call me about a hundred times over the course of the night instead of sleeping. Maybe I would’ve avoided this larger meltdown if I’d answered, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. His skin was pale and his eyes darted watchfully, as if he felt Sylvia would show up again at any moment to finish the job.
I wouldn’t admit it to him, not right now at least, but the lasting impression she had left after only one night was impressive.
And hot as fuck.
In spite of the way he was currently acting, Raze wasn’t a pussy by any means.
He’d been at my side for some detestable shit and he kept his areas of the city under tight lock and key. So to see him brought low by this only made me want her more.
She was a queen fit for a king and I would gladly put a crown atop her head the very moment I claimed my own.
“If I wasn’t an asshole,” I said slowly, focusing on him again. “This all would’ve gone to hell a long time ago.”
“And it isn’t doing that right now?” A waitress passed by with a tray full of mimosas and Raze plucked two from the batch, practically tossing the first down his throat.
The girl stiffened momentarily but kept walking. She was used to it. This place was full of rich, entitled bastards and bitches. At the moment, I was one of them.
The difference was, I would leave a tip large enough to make up for it.
“Think of it this way,” I said. “Had she taken a page from Creed’s playbook and left your head somewhere obvious, I would be worried.” He grimaced, apparently not comforted by that news. Go figure. “As things stand, we can expect that she’s going to be hanging around, watching our movements. We no longer have any room for errors, but it’s not like we had a lot of those to spare as it was. Our main concern now is going to be her safety.”
It was possibly the highlight of my morning, watching the realization of my words sink into his brain like a creeping fog. He was mid sip of the second drink when reality hit fully. He paused, eyes narrowing before he set the glass down and spun it in his fingers with a careful kind of precision.
I waited, saying nothing. I understood his cautious consideration. His pride was damaged, far worse than the mark on his skin. At our core, we were criminals. Turning the other cheek was a distant, Sunday school memory.
He would have to get over it. I needed him for this.
There were many members of the Cartel loyal to me over Narciso, seeing as the old, fat prick wasn’t easy to like and my continued rise brought them wealth and power beyond anything they had dreamed of. Despite those things, I knew buying loyalty had its limits.
It would be pushing my luck to trust any of them where she was concerned. Sylvia was public enemy number one in their eyes. I had Isaac and Manuel making moves in the background to keep them off her case, but there was only so much that was going to do.
At best, we would be able to keep a large portion of them from actively going after her. Didn’t mean they could be counted on to take a bullet if the worst came to pass.
I feigned disinterest as Raze’s silence continued, returning to my food. As if an unfavorable response from him wouldn’t change everything.
Threaten. Everything.
Raze was a good friend. One of the very few people I trusted almost as much as I did my own brothers.
But where Sylvia was concerned?
I would choose her each and every time.
Over anything.
Over anyone.
Including myself.
“Let me make sure I’m hearing you right,” he said slowly. “You want me to make her being on your boys’ hit list my problem?”
I pushed my plate away and folded my hands on the table, giving him the calculating look I had started cultivating the same day she let me live. The look that had seen me rising from the ashes of my old life and leaving my weaknesses behind. There was nothing but cold motivation in my gaze, and I let it bite at him like the first hard chill of winter baring its teeth.
“Think of it as protecting our mutual investment in this city and everything we’ve built so far.” His eyes narrowed.
I clenched my jaw. It wasn’t hard to sell the lie. His hesitation was pushing me closer and closer to the edge of my patience.
“Think about it. Anything happens to her and it’ll be like we’ve dropped a fucking nuke on our heads. Creed will call in every favor. Round up every gun. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen first hand. And when he finishes with us, what do you think happens to the chapter that was supposed to be sworn to loyalty?”
“Fuck.” Raze dropped his head into his hands, smoothing his fingers over his brow. “You want people tailing her?”
“No.” Call it a hunch, but I got the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate being followed. “Keep an eye on hot spots. If she wanders into one, let me know immediately and I’ll take it from there.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
I stood, throwing my napkin onto the table along with a wad of bills. “Gracias. Don’t falter now. We’re almost at our goal.”
“We better be, Carlos. This shit is bad for my heart.”
***
“We’ve arrived, sir.”
“I can see that, George.”
The old man was getting back at me for not letting him open the door last night. I knew it. Didn't really mind too much either way. It kept my mind off the fact my girl was somewhere in this city, closer than we’d been in years, and yet she remained out of reach.
We were parked outside of a towering building, glass windows and metal framework stretching into the sky like a giant middle finger. There was a large, oval fountain directly in front of the main entrance, jets of water crossing each other in rhythm, and I sighed when my eyes landed on Manny.
My youngest brother was a fucking barbarian.
There was no other logical conclusion.
He was sprawled horizontally across the ivory stone, looking too damn comfortable. His arms were folded beneath his head and one muddy boot dangled off to the side, swinging lazily. The people entering and exiting the building paid him no mind, but I knew he was intently following everything happening around him.
I grabbed my leather bound briefcase from the seat beside me and hopped out before George got any bright ideas, smoothing a hand down today’s ebony suit. Manny’s lounging posture never shifted but I knew he was as aware of my presence as I was his.
Once I got within a dozen feet or so - close enough to hear the splash from the fountain over the background noise of miscellaneous chatter - he rose to his feet with an easy grace, hands loose at his sides. His face was neutral, eyes hard, muscles plainly obvious beneath his white button-down.
My long strides quickly carried me into his personal space and I met his glare pound for pound. “Go ahead,” I offered. “Get it off your chest so we can move on.”
The stiffness to his stance melted away, replaced by an easy, sneering grin. “I got nothing to unload, hermano. Watching your lady get one over on you and threaten to scoop your fucking brains out was worth the price of admission.”
“Fuck you.” I walked by him towards the front doors and Manny fell into step beside me.
“Oh, come on,” he goaded. “Don’t be like that. You know how satisfying it was to see you get put on your ass? It was about time you had a reminder of how it feels when something doesn’t go your way.”
“She didn’t put me on my ass,” I muttered, cruising through the entryway, tossing nods of acknowledgement to the people who knew me. Or at least thought they did.
“Whatever lets you sleep at night.” He increased his pace, beating me to the rows of elevators and hitting the button. We didn’t have to wait long for an empty one to arrive and we slid inside. The ride was so smooth I barely felt it when we started going up. “Anyway, is that pretty boy still playing ball?”
My lips twitched. The elevator beeped in the background as we ascended, otherwise it was quiet. When we bought this building, I made sure no one would have to suffer through shitty music. “He isn’t looking so pretty at the moment.”
“She had someone kick his ass after we left?”
“Not quite.” I grinned full on, meeting my brother’s eager eyes. “But she left a pretty obvious calling card going down one side of his face.”
“No way. She cut him?”
“Not deep but you can't miss it.”
“Damn. Hardcore.”
You have no idea.
The elevator doors opened and we stepped out onto the top floor, entering the hallway leading to the lobby
of MIC Holdings and Properties. Because I lost a fucking bet, my name came last when we decided on using our initials. Fine, no big deal. Mine was the face editors kept putting on magazines covering the up and coming titans in the investment and real estate industries.
So who was really having the last laugh?
This good looking motherfucker, that was who.
Our steps echoed across the cherrywood floors and I admired the view the floor length windows provided. Although if it were up to me, there wouldn’t be any windows. The whole space would be open air, leaving us one misstep away from a quick, deadly fall. The only thing capable of making me feel more alive was a carefully laid plan coming to fruition.
Too bad the building inspector wouldn’t have approved. There were also the ridiculous winds that came with being up in the sky. Forget the lawsuit from someone falling out the window. I would've lost money on how many important documents flew away with every gust.
Manny hummed to himself. “You’re sure he can be counted on to do his part still?”
We rounded the corner into the lobby proper. “I believe he’ll do his best. Knowing failure means everything crashing down around his ears guarantees-”
A tall, brunette knockout jumped up from her chair fast enough to send it into the wall behind her. “Carlos! You freaking jerk!” She rushed towards us, high heels clicking on the floor, dressed to kill in a royal blue skirt and cream blouse. She slowed considerably when she noticed my brother standing at my shoulder. Her voice dipped, going cold. “Manuel.”
His tone was equally forced, fists clenched at his sides. “Erin.”
“What the fuck is up with you two?” This shit had been going on for the better part of two months now.
“Nothing,” they said in unison, eyes meeting once and skittering away.
“Bullshit.”
Erin was the closest thing the three of us had to a sister.
The daughter of a no nonsense volleyball player that had competed on the Olympic stage, she’d been set to follow in her footsteps up until a car accident and a torn ACL sent her planned future into a tailspin. The so called recovery program her own mother put her on had only managed to get her addicted to some hard shit. Her following downward spiral had happened at a pace no roller coaster could hope to match.
Saved by a Sinner Page 5
