Chapter One
Today had turned out to be an absolute shit show.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I asked, although I’d heard his words.
Every single syllable.
In every shade of danger possible.
The man standing in front of me could easily make me drool. Tall, dark, and handsome had nothing on him. Whew, baby. But since he had a gun pointed at me, I’d managed to curtail the drool before it gave away the fact I was hot and bothered. Yes, this day had slipped straight into hell.
My alarm had failed to go off, yet I’d only had two hours of sleep.
I was exhausted and cranky as fuck.
I’d been staring at the bottle of wine with a crazy desire to shoot the blood-red liquid into my veins like some mind-fucked junkie.
I’d been late to work after suffering through a flat tire.
In the middle of a massive thunderstorm.
I’d made forty-nine dollars and twelve cents, yes, including pennies in eight hours of hell.
I’d endured leers, butt pinches, and three twisted proposals from men old enough to be my grandfather.
And I’d had buttercream frosting likely covering every inch of my body.
Every single one of the atrocities I’d suffered paled in comparison to what I’d just heard.
The only good news? The bastard threatening me had done so with a highly sensual yet brusque tone in the most beautiful accent I’d ever heard.
“If you move, I’ll be forced to kill you.”
The mystery intruder repeated the shocking statement word for word. Thankfully, in the same deep baritone.
I’d been right. Today could suck donkey turds as far as I was concerned.
Somehow, I doubted laughing hysterically would make the boogeyman go away.
This was something that even Taylor Swift music couldn’t cure.
On the bright side, the intruder intending on forcing me to meet my maker smelled divine.
Like sweat and the most intense alluring aftershave with a dash of blood mixed in.
Like money, the kind I didn’t have.
Like power, which all men craved.
In the case of my wretched piece-of-shit-with-bad-breath ex, demanded.
I straightened from my hunched-over position, determined that if I was to die tonight, I’d do so looking like a lady.
Oh, who was I kidding? I was a fucking mess.
I had on my oldest yoga pants and a tie-dyed tee shirt in gaudy colors. The fact it had shrunk several times highlighting my bare midriff added to my embarrassment.
I was in bare feet and had promised myself I’d polish my toes.
I’d lied.
My hair was in a haphazard ponytail.
And the worst thing ever?
Since I’d hit the ground running after my alarm had failed to go off, I’d selected mismatched underwear.
Yep. My life sucked.
I slowly tipped my head so he wouldn’t blow it off and so I could bask in what should be his obvious glory before lying in a pool of blood. The icing paddle was still in my hand, likely dripping the way I was certain my pussy was doing.
And holy hell in a handbasket, the man was built for sin, the perfect alpha male.
Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t cut it.
“Put the weapon down,” he commanded, the same husky voice yet laced with more… danger.
“You mean this?” I stuck the small paddle out further. Icing a cake was all about expertise and precision. “I doubt this will do you any harm.”
Seeing him was not to believe, unless I was living in every woman’s fantasy.
Okay, perhaps a nightmare, but he was without a doubt the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. And in Miami, Florida, half the men looked as if they’d just walked off a runway or had climbed off a powerful and very manly Harley.
In my defense, I wasn’t normally the kind of girl to try to antagonize a man holding a gun at me, but my nerves were raw.
He walked closer, his actions predatory.
I sucked in my breath.
He narrowed his eyes while sweeping his gaze back and forth across my cramped apartment.
I finally started to tremble.
He now stood within a few feet, allowing me to bask in his sculpted glory.
I could no longer feel my legs.
“Who are you and what do you want?” I croaked.
His silence was strangely alluring.
“I think it’s fairly obvious by the shabby yet chic look of my living room and kitchen that I don’t have anything to pay you with. Unless you like buttercream frosting, which I do have a ton of. That’s because I suck at baking but was stupid enough to agree to make an engagement cake.”
He didn’t respond or even grunt, instead continuing his cursory look around my apartment.
“No one else is here.” I hated the slight sound of sadness in my voice. Even though the apartment was small, I’d never felt so lonely in my life. When he headed toward the hallway leading to two bedrooms, I almost threw myself at him, coming within a few inches of his massive form. With my icing-covered paddle within inches of his deeply cobalt blue, mesmerizing eyes, I briefly felt like a badass. “My bedroom is off limits, buster. I don’t know who you are, but you can’t just come into my apartment and invade my privacy.”
His upper lip curled, those gorgeous eyes reflecting immediate rage.
Oh, good, Christine. Just taunt the man with the gun.
The man was going to kill me.
And I wouldn’t even die in decent underwear.
Very slowly he dropped his gaze, his nostrils flaring. When he lowered his head and reached out with his free hand, I bit my lip. Not only was he somewhere around six and a half feet tall, his shoulders likely to fill any doorway, but the glint of steel was a good reminder he was holding a dangerous-looking weapon.
Everything suddenly slipped into slow motion as he wrapped his hand around my fingers holding the decorating paddle, somehow maneuvering it from my hand.
A shot of electricity was as shocking to him as it was to me. I think we both sucked in our breaths.
“Wow. You are… strong.” And virile. And lickable.
Christine. He’s a killer.
That remained to be seen.
His complete silence was thoroughly unnerving, but it allowed me to realize my heart had an irregular beat.
He motioned with his head toward the kitchen and who was I to ignore his command?
With deliberate movements, he lowered the paddle to the table, staring down at the cake I’d been in the process of icing. When his thick index finger slipped through a glob of icing, I had a sudden, very strange and disturbing thought of dragging my tongue through the goo across his skin.
The intruder did it for me, pulling his long finger into his mouth. With his eyes half closed, I was able to admit he was even more handsome than I’d originally thought.
My mind wandered to sinful places, including what icing-covered cock would taste like.
I managed to steal another glance at my sliding glass door. I’d forgotten to latch the screen door, not that it had worked properly since I’d moved into the dive. The landlord was shit and I’d give him a piece of my mind when this was over.
Maybe that wouldn’t occur if I was dead, but a girl could hope.
It was entirely possible I was hearing things, but was that gunfire? By the sexy intruder’s sudden sharp interest in the noise and the fact he took thumping, long strides toward the back door, I had a feeling I was spot on.
Ding. Ding. I’d just won the kewpie doll.
I watched him standing off to the side, darting glances into the street below. He’d scaled three stories to break into my home. Who was he, Spiderman? “Um, at the risk of sounding ungrateful for you not killing me right away, who are you and who are you looking for? It’s not me because no hottie such as yourself ever looks for a girl like me. And since it’s been established I don’t have any money, I think it’s fair to say you’re not here to rob me blind. But somehow, I doubt you’re a thief. Right? I’m good with sizing up people and I’d say you’re more like an assassin.”
The evocative mystery man threw me a look that would burn most people into the ground. Given all the shit I’d been through over the past few months, his shush-little-girl-or-I’ll-fuck-you-blind look set fire to my core instead.
He closed the sliding door, locking it then pulling the blinds.
My knees were knocking.
When he was finished, he turned his head ever so slowly toward me. He appeared confused but also amused at hell. Was he making fun of me? If I survived this, my drinking habit was going to get so much worse.
Every step he took toward me stole another few minutes of my life.
At this rate, gray hairs would start sprouting.
“Look, seriously. I have a deadline. I need to finish this cake tonight or I’ll never hear the end of it. You don’t know my friends. The girl throwing the party even mentioned she might be stopping by to check my progress. She’s a bitch, by the way. Someone I need to impress. Do you get it? They are incredible, powerful women with no tolerance for mistakes or second class anything, which is why I often wonder why they’re my friends in the first place. I, on the other hand, don’t swim in their league. They’re like piranhas and I’m a guppy. I know what you’re thinking. Why in the hell am I friends with them in the first place? Right? Trust me. I ask myself that every time we get together.” I raked my hand through my hair, ready to rip out my ponytail. Why, oh, why was his aftershave so exotic?
And why were my thoughts so undeniably and ridiculously filthy?
“Anyway, unless you’re going to kill me, I’ll kindly ask you to leave. If not, I might have to scream and I’m certain that won’t be the best thing to do, but I feel as if I have no other choice and…” My nerves were getting the better of me. I sucked in my breath, the last few words little more than squeaks, like nails being raked down a chalkboard.
He crowded my space, his actions pushing me against the edge of my cheap Formica table. As he peered down at me, I was certain dying this way couldn’t be too bad.
Instead of pressing the barrel of his nasty-looking weapon between my eyes, the dark, dangerous, and delicious intruder surprised me.
Something that rarely happened in my world any longer.
He kissed me.
[divider]Chapter Two
Kruz
Women.
More to the point, American women.
Although I had to admit the one in my arms had been a complete surprise. Not only in the fact she’d remained fairly calm after being faced with an intruder, but also because she’d tried to talk me down, expecting me to willfully follow her demands. I gave her credit for bravery, although if she knew anything about me, she’d realize challenging someone who enjoyed killing for a living wasn’t in her best interest.
I’d reacted without thinking, which was also rare for me. The need to kiss her soft lips had risen from the darkest part of my being. As I held her in my arms, I sensed some of her resolve crumbling, but the way she was clinging to me, arching her back as I swept my tongue inside didn’t indicate terror.
Instead? Desire.
Maybe I was blowing things out of the water, but I’d even gathered a whiff of her hunger.
What a bad little girl to entice a monster like me.
There was something about the beautiful, distressed, and very sassy woman that had aroused me almost instantly.
Her eyes were the light green of clear ocean waters, the darker irises creating images of swimming in them. Her body was perfect in every way, voluptuous in all the right places. Even the ugly fluorescent light of the kitchen hadn’t dulled the brilliant light streaks of gold in her copper hair. What had caught my attention immediately was her face, which had captured me in a chokehold that had stilled everything else around us.
She remained scared, yet her heated gaze trapped me in a vision of sin that could become a problem. Well, fuck. This was the last thing I’d expected would happen.
When I finally pulled away, her lips were still pursed and her eyes remained closed. In my mind, she looked like an innocent angel. Only I knew better than to think she couldn’t be the kind of trouble I didn’t need.
Not right now.
Not with enemy soldiers somehow managing to corner me and my men in a highly populated area of Miami. The goal hadn’t been to start a battle where innocent lives could be lost. It would seem Fassi’s soldiers had other plans. We’d been significantly outnumbered.
Jamal Fassi had almost managed to destroy the powerful empire I worked for, attempting to assassinate the drug lord and myself in the process. The Moroccan piece of shit had also attempted to overthrow two powerful cartels who controlled Barcelona. The ploy had hidden the fact he’d stolen close to a billion dollars’ worth of precious jewels. The asshole had been a poor loser when we’d hijacked his cargo ship.
While Fassi had gone deep into hiding, we’d done the right thing and turned the diamonds over to the international police. We weren’t in the business of importing or exporting diamonds, whether legally or illegally. Too messy. Too… passé.
Now Fassi had an ax to grind. Unless I found him first. Which I would. When I did, I’d use a sharp steel blade for a long time. And I’d enjoy every moment of it.
Sadly, it seemed my night would need to wait. I wasn’t a patient man. Although I had to admit I could think of worse ways to spend my time avoiding disaster than with a beautiful woman who tasted like sweet cherries.
How the fuck had they found us? I couldn’t be certain, but I had to believe they were Jamal Fassi’s men. If the intel received only days before was true, Fassi had slithered his way from the hole where he’d been hiding for months. His first stop after retaking his throne?
Visiting his mistress in Miami.
The tip had called for immediate action. I’d jumped into the private jet with three of my men, hoping for the element of surprise. Instead, I’d underestimated Fassi’s propensity for deception.
Through careful reconnaissance, we’d found the woman, or so I’d thought, but the car we’d tailed had obviously been a trap. That’s how I’d ended up here, forced to find refuge for an undisclosed timeframe.
Fuck. The only saving grace was the number of apartments on the block. After a few hours, the soldiers would back away. But only if my men followed my orders and disappeared.
I backed away and the girl stumbled forward, barely catching herself by clutching the edge of her table. She licked her lips and I found myself watching her, both amused and annoyed.
It was obvious she was alone, which would make the time spent together somewhat easier. Unless she continued with her nervous banter. Then I’d need to fill her mouth with something to keep her quiet.
My cock twitched at the thought, but it wasn’t the first time my body had reacted since slipping in through her back door. Perhaps I’d recommend she be more careful with keeping her doors locked in the future. From what I knew about the city, it was a dangerous place, this part of town certainly not known for its glamor or safety.
She stared up at me with the most iridescent pair of light green eyes I’d ever seen.
“What… now?” she breathed. She was still shaking but pressed her hand across her lips at first. When she burst into laughter, I was taken aback by her brazenness. Did she truly believe my appearance was funny? “Um, don’t look at me that way. It’s just… Well, you have icing on your face. You know, from the kiss.”
When she reached out, I snapped my hand around her wrist by reaction.
“Ouch. You have trust issues,” she whispered, glaring at me with an unyielding look in her eyes.
Exhaling, I released my hold, surprised once again as she rubbed her fingers across my face. Her touch was far too electrifying. A slight and very wry smile curling across her voluptuous lips, she held up her hand, allowing me to see the thick smudge of icing on her fingers.
“See? I wasn’t going to hurt you. At least not like you plan on doing to me.” A slight nervous tic appeared in the corner of her mouth.
I glanced toward her phone on the counter. Whatever music was playing in a continuous loop was as annoying as the situation. “I won’t hurt you. If you behave.” What was the godawful sound?
She snorted and slapped her hand across her mouth. When I glanced at her phone again, she caught my gaze. “That’s Taylor Swift music. I take it you’re not a Swiftie.”
“Name.” Frowning, I immediately headed to her front door. At least she’d been smart enough to lock that one, including sliding the deadbolt into place. I stormed back, immediately cocking my head from the way she was staring at me. “What is your name?”
“Look, buddy. I don’t provide private information to strangers. That’s the clearest way of getting yourself… killed. You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
Was this girl kidding me? I narrowed my eyes.
“Okay. It’s Christine. We aren’t friends yet, so you don’t get my last name.”
I had no idea what the hell to do with her. At this point, I was ready to drag her over my knees and give her a hard spanking just for taunting me. I moved further into her tiny kitchen, checking for a hidden weapon.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, although her tone was much more demanding than it should be.
I opened every cabinet door and searched on top of the refrigerator. If necessary, I’d check the rest of her house later, but it was apparent she had nothing to do with the attack.
After a few seconds of me remaining quiet, she whistled. “O-kay. So, I need a drink. I have a feeling you do too.”
She’d turned around, watching everything I did with her arms folded. She’d smeared the icing she’d rubbed from my face onto her leggings. There was something so naturally attractive about her, even though she was nothing like the women I’d dated. If you could call the few one-night hookups dating. In her casually sloppy clothes and disheveled but adorable hair, she was truly an utter beauty.
Who smelled like sin.
Even her bare feet with the chipped polish ignited something deep and dark within me.
I said nothing, but nodded. The less I said to her, the better off it would be for both of us. If she was innocent, she didn’t need to become mixed up in the shit about ready to hit the fan.
And it would.
Heads would roll.
Blood would tarnish Miami’s already sordid reputation.
And I’d laugh my ass off all the way back to Barcelona.
She pulled a bottle of tequila from under the counter, yanking an already opened bottle of wine forward as well. After tapping her nails onto the counter, she frowned and inched closer to where I was standing. With her being so close, I grasped the first hint of real fear stirring within her.
Good. She should be terrified of me.
“Unless you want to drink straight from the bottle, I need to get a couple glasses from the cabinet behind you.”
The tension was thick, the sexual provocation increasing. I moved a few inches, forcing her to brush against me while opening the door and retrieving the glasses. Another jagged jolt of current flowed from one to the other. She seemed none too happy, cursing under her breath while being unable to look me in the eyes.
“What’s your poison?” she managed.
“Tequila.”
“I figured you for a tequila man. Do you have a big, bad Harley waiting for you or did you fly here with your bat wings?”
If she expected me to laugh or acknowledge her question, she was wrong.
She sighed and poured a hefty shot of tequila for me in a strange-looking glass, wine for herself. The initial rush of adrenaline was finally giving way to heavy anxiety. However, I’d give her credit for maintaining calm, rare for even the most powerful, well-trained soldiers.
Instead of handing me the glass, she smartly slid the drink in my direction.
“Is it okay if I finish icing the cake or will that put me on the naughty list?”
If I allowed her to work, maybe she’d remain silent. At this point, I needed to think about how to handle this. It was obvious having only three soldiers with me didn’t create decent odds. Still, there would likely not be another opportunity to get so close to the Moroccan without starting a war.
“Finish,” I told her.
After taking several gulps of her wine, she snatched the rounded paddle off the table, jabbing the edge into the bowl of icing. Every few seconds, she darted a glance in my direction.
I repeated her name in a dark whisper, allowing the syllables to stimulate my tongue. With my soldiers still on the street, I shouldn’t be enjoying the show, but I couldn’t help myself and it had been a long time since I’d tasted a woman.
The heated kiss had left a faint hint of strawberries lingering in my mouth, her soft lips leaving a burning desire swelling my balls. There was no reason for me to be lamenting my previous choices in women, yet bad things tended to happen when innocent women got involved with a killer like me.
Seconds later, she hissed and lifted her head. “Look. Either kill me or put the gun away. I meant what I said about this goddamn cake. I need to finish it. I know what I said earlier about my friends, but I do care about the bride, who happens to be my bestie. I’m only doing this for her. I really don’t have the money to be doing it again. So please, make your decision which. The buttercream frosting won’t maintain this balance for long. Not that you care about balance. Right? I can only imagine what you care about.”
Her chest rose and fell, which pushed her taut little nipples poking through her thin shirt. My eyes were drawn to them and she glared at me. Even her beautiful nose wrinkled.
“Rude,” she muttered as she jerked the shirt out with one hand.
She was feisty, but no match for me.
I shoved the gun behind my waist under my belt and threw back the tequila. The burn was decent enough. I’d come to enjoy the liquor since arriving to the city. Three fucking days had passed until an opportunity had presented itself to have a long chat with Fassi’s mistress. Some small part of me had hoped the worthless fuck had remained in town, eager to rekindle what I’d been told was an ongoing romance.
The Moroccan Cartel leader had learned even more caution since a billion in precious jewels had been ripped from his coffers. A brutal dictator, he’d almost destroyed the fortune and taken the life of the man I worked for, Jago Torres.
The bad blood hadn’t stopped there. He was out for our territory and that simply wouldn’t be allowed. The search for the mistress would continue.
While Christine worked, I studied aspects of her precious life. You could tell almost everything you needed to know by how a person lived. Shabby chic wasn’t the term I’d use for her apartment. While her furniture matched, the upholstered sofa and chair certainly not threadbare, they’d seen their better years a long time before. There was no appreciation for style including with what little she had for entertainment. Her television was small, with no surround sound or even a set of cheap speakers.
I had a sense she’d been forced to occupy the space quickly.
She’d been through some shit in her life.
What did it matter? I shouldn’t care one way or the other.
But I couldn’t help myself.
For that one precious moment when our lips had been sealed, I’d felt something that hadn’t occurred in a very long time.
I’d felt alive.
So much so, I’d risk much of what I owned to do it again. Christine caught my attention when she tugged strands of hair behind her ears, hunkering over as she stuffed a pastry bag full of the frosting. Everything about her was delicate, including her long fingers.
I chuckled and glanced at the side of the refrigerator. There were magnets everywhere holding various scraps of paper and flyers from various restaurants. Every one of them had been haphazardly placed as if in a hurry except for a single item. The crisp white note card had four perfectly centered small magnets holding it in the center of the panel.
Curious as to what had garnered special attention, I walked closer.
An invitation.
But not just any invitation.
One hosted by Tonya Cordello, Fassi’s mistress.
The date of the party?
Tomorrow night.
The coincidence wasn’t acceptable. I took two long strides and grabbed Christine by the arm, forcing her to drop the pastry bag. As it skittered across the floor, she gasped in true fear and shock.
“What… What? What?”
“Tonya Cordello,” I growled between clenched teeth.
“Yes. She’s a bridesmaid. Like me. She’s throwing the party I need to go to whether I want to or not. Why? Do you know her?”
I towered over the girl by almost a foot. Just drinking in her perfume was fucking with my anger. I jerked her even closer. “You’re working with her. You lured me here.”
“Um, lured? I don’t know what you think, but you broke into my apartment. Remember? I wasn’t standing outside shouting one eight hundred come fuck me.”
My God, the woman was fearless half the time, irresistible the other, and constantly annoying.
But she wasn’t lying to me.
The chirp of my phone startled her. She jumped, wincing as if the slight sound was gunfire.
Or something even worse. The faint look in her eyes faded, but I caught it, the clear sign that a single phone call had or could alter her life in a worse way than had already been done.
Why should I care?
“Stay right here,” I told her as I quickly moved from the kitchen.
“Yes, sir,” she said sarcastically as soon as I’d moved away.
I found myself grinning while I pulled my cellphone into my hand. “Benito. What is the situation?”
“We got away. Not without taking on some gunfire. Andres sustained an injury, but he’ll live. You locked down?”
“I am.” I turned to face her, watching her watch me. “The assholes who followed us?”
“We got two, but there are at least four others, maybe five. When we roared away, they were still casing the buildings.”
“Fuck,” I hissed. The last thing I needed was to be caught like a rat in a trap.
“Yeah. Sorry, boss. They hit us hard.”
“Go back to the jet. Keep it secure. If there’s any issue, head back to Barcelona.”
“Then what about you?”
“I’ll find a way.”
Benito snorted. “What about Fassi’s bitch?”
Christine was acting as if she wasn’t listening, returning to her decorating duties, but she was attempting to pay attention to the conversation. As small a place as it was, she’d likely captured every word. Could I have held the discussion in Spanish? Absolutely, but what fun would that be? Besides, it was entirely possible she was bilingual. Spanish was widely spoken in Florida.
“I may have a new and even better way of getting her attention. Find out if there’s any word on the Moroccan’s whereabouts and keep me informed. If all goes well, we’ll simply change plans for tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ending the call, I shoved the phone into my pocket and moved cautiously toward her. As soon as I was within a couple of feet, she sucked in her breath just as she’d done before. Her lower lip trembled and the beast inside grew hungry.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your night, Christine.”
“Does that mean you’re leaving?”
Hopeful. Yet disappointed. Interesting.
“I’m afraid there’s been another change of plans.”
“What does that mean?”
I moved even closer, swiping my finger through the bowl of icing. “That means you have a guest. For the night.”
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