Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
He wants to go there? Fine. We’ll go there.
I reach up and fist my good hand in Not-Wolf’s hair. The man’s startled gaze flies to mine.
“Take off your clothes.” I release him, roughly.
He jumps into action, loosening the ties on his corset and peeling off his fishnet stockings. With a seductive curl of his body, he positions himself in the space between my knees, standing before me in just the thong.
“Did I tell you to stop?” I direct my gaze at the remaining fabric.
Biting down on a grin, he shimmies off the thong and angles his impressive erection toward my face.
I recline into a sprawl and rest my chin on my loosely curled fist. “Are you a good kisser, handsome?”
“Yes.” He runs a hand along his twitching dick. “Very good.”
“Show me.”
He bends, bringing his mouth toward mine.
I stop him with a finger against his lips.
“Not me.” I nod to the silver-eyed monster on the couch. “Him.”
Naked Wolf freezes, and genuine fear crosses his pretty features.
“Go on. Both of you.” I pat his hip and wave the decoys toward Van.
“What are you doing?” Van straightens. “They’re yours.”
“To do with whatever I want.” My eyes lock onto his. “This is what I want. I want you to fuck them while I watch.”
I give the lookalikes a nod, wordlessly ordering them to do my bidding.
Slowly, stiffly, they walk to the couch and kneel on the cushions, bracketing Van. The woman doesn’t appear to be breathing as she reaches for his shirt.
“Stop.” He catches her wrist and pushes her away.
That was fast.
“Attachment is a problem. Emotion will get you killed.” I lean forward, shooting Van a knowing look. “That advice from the man who keeps his wife locked in a cartel fortress she’s too afraid to leave.”
The toothpick stops moving.
I keep going. “Amber, right? The pageant queen. Agoraphobic. Is she still counting the tiles on her bathroom floor to keep the panic away?”
Van’s jaw works, a muscle feathering near the scar.
“How far will you go to protect her from this life?” I ask quietly. “Same as me, I bet. Far enough to vanquish anything that threatens her.”
The toothpick hangs limply on his lip, forgotten. For the first time since I walked in, he looks human. Not weaker. Just real.
The room holds its breath, the tension suffocating.
Then it shatters when she walks in.
No jewelry or designer gown. No entourage of bodyguards. Nothing to signal she’s the queen of the cartel. Just her fuck-all presence and warrior prowess. That’s all she needs.
Camila Dias is a legend, on and off the battlefield. She strides toward me with precise shoulders and a cat-stepped gait, the kind of posture that makes people sit straighter without realizing why.
Her matte-black combat suit fits like it was made for motion, not show, the buckles and straps stashed with countless weapons.
No unnecessary accessories. No flourishes. Not for a badass Latina who shares a bed with the bloodthirsty kingpin of the Colombian cartel.
At her nod, the lookalikes fade into the shadows and exit the room, suddenly irrelevant.
Camila lowers onto the couch beside Van as if the seat is hers by right.
“You have a little something…” She plucks the fallen toothpick off Van’s chest and drops it in an ashtray.
Scowling, he pulls a fresh one from his pocket.
She turns her attention to me, stares for two beats, then tilts her head like she’s taken a taste.
“El Vigilante in the flesh.” The soft vowels of Mexican-Spanish curl around her accent. “I’m—”
“Camila Dias. Wife of Matias Restrepo. Queen of the cartel and founder of The Shadow Collection.”
Her eyes glitter. No need for theatrics. She’s not here to prove anything. She’s here to collect.
“I told you he was good,” she says to Van.
“Too good.” His scowl deepens.
Great. He’s still pissed I said all those things about his wife. All true, but that won’t stop him from separating my head from my body.
“He knows our secrets.” Camila stares at me full-on.
I know everything about every man and woman in their inner circle. I know their lovers, their spouses, their children, all the weaknesses they keep safely hidden.
The light catches the braid at her nape, drawing my gaze to the teeth marks on her throat. A fresh bite.
I bet her capo husband is here, probably standing on the other side of that door, ready to rip out my throat if I look at her wrong.
The chances of me walking out of here alive? Slim to none.
“Thank you.” She crosses her legs, adjusting the blades on her thighs. “For showing up. And for saving my life.”
Her gratitude strikes off my bones. I saved her life once, and she may be the reason I lose mine. What a turn.
“I’ve been watching you,” she says. “Studying what jobs you choose, what you won’t sell, and who you protect. I like what I see. Loyalty is rarer than talent. Most men sell it fast.”