Enemy Sworn (3 page)

An overwhelming sense of hysteria swept through her. Her life was not hers. What little control she once had was now gone. The urge to run had never been so strong. Sophia swallowed hard and nodded, then exited the study. As she hurried to her room, she fought back the rush of tears welling in her eyes. Pulling out her cell phone, she called Arabella.

When her friend answered, Sophia said, “I don't have anything to wear to a nightclub, but I—”

Squealing, Arabella said, “Oh, don't you worry about any of that,
chica
! I have plenty of clothes and shoes to share. I'm coming right now to pick you up before you change your mind. I can't wait to doll you up!”

“I'll be outside of the north gate waiting.”

“We're going to have
so
much fun, you're never going to want to go back to your old life.” In a twinkling Bella hung up, but her words lingered.

If there was a way she could walk through the compound gates without fear of being hunted down, then what? Punished for defying her father? Sophia's resolve stiffened. If she defied her father, he might punish her but he would not kill her, because with her went his bloodline. And that he would never jeopardize—at least not until she popped out a few grandsons.

Sophia slowly exhaled. Nervous excitement buzzed through her. She could do this. She
would
do this. Tonight she would live like she was dying and do all of the things a normal twenty-four-year-old woman should be doing.

Dancing. Having fun, and maybe finding a man who
she
chose, even if it was for only one night.

For one night she would shed the bulky clothes and fearful stance, and make her mark on the world. She wondered what the repercussions would be for her midnight rebellion, should her father discover her whereabouts.

Sophia straightened her shoulders, dug through her closet until she found clothes that would pass for something one of the maids would wear, wrapped a scarf around her head and, carrying a pillowcase stuffed with towels so she wouldn't draw any undue attention on the cameras that she knew watched every move of every being who stirred within the sprawling mansion, she moved quickly down the staircase. She decided whatever the penalty for her disobedience, it would be worth it.

chapter two

M
ateo stood in the deep shadows of the 550 Club and started when his partner, Johnny Ray, nudged him.

He frowned but turned as Johnny inclined his head toward the dance floor.

“Blonde squeezed into that minidress, recognize her?”

Mateo scanned the floor, and when his eyes zeroed in on the long drink of water undulating like Delilah on the dance floor, blood shot straight to his groin.

She was dressed in a skintight pink number that if it were any shorter would show God and country that she was all woman. Mateo groaned. The way she shook that sweet ass across the dance floor stirred up all kinds of visions of how he'd like to grab a handful and spank it.

He wasn't the only male affected. Guys were slithering off their barstools as she gyrated in mile-high heels, flashing a come-fuck-me smile.

His jaw dropped as realization set in. “Holy mother of god. That's Sophia Dumas.”

“Now
that's
a merry widow,” Johnny said, grinning in appreciation.

Mateo whistled in admiration.

The pictures he'd seen of Sophia Dumas didn't come close to doing her justice. He'd seen the quiet kindergarten teacher ones, where all of those curves were safely tucked away beneath oversized sweaters and full skirts. He'd seen the college student ones too; they were as unassuming as the teacher ones. Gone was the unreadable face framed by heavy glasses, long, unstyled hair and baggy clothes. In their place was a smiling, hot as hell angel.

Fuck.

“Our informant, Arabella Rios, said she'd be dressed to kill, but who knew she meant it,” Johnny said, shaking his head. He slapped Mateo on the back. “Here I was feeling bad for you, man, having to get all up on the frumpy schoolmarm, when all along she was a
Playboy
centerfold in disguise.”

“That's got Trouble stamped all over it,” Mateo grumbled, despite his being intrigued. He knew enough about Alexander Dumas from Bertram to know that he had no clue his daughter was here, simply by the fact that she
was
here. Never would the rotten old bastard have permitted his last surviving child to walk through the door of a notorious nightclub. Not even with an army as escort. Bertram had equated Sophia Dumas to a modern-day Rapunzel. Locked away from the world to keep her pure. Mateo actually cringed as he imagined her punishment for stepping out into the real world her father was so hell-bent on keeping her from. Surely she knew too.

Why would she defy her father, knowing how he would retaliate? Unexpected emotion for the daughter of the legendary drug kingpin rose in him. The urge to protect her inexplicably infused him. Not just from her father but from every man salivating around her.

“It's a damn shame,” Johnny said. “And a waste.”

Mateo elbowed Johnny as he moved past him. “Not if we do our job right,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don't get her in any more trouble than she's already in!”

Mateo grinned as he stalked the fringes of the dance floor. Johnny had forgotten that Trouble was Mateo's middle name.

•   •   •

Sophia had drunk a little too much tequila and was feeling a little too carefree. It was wonderful and amazing. She tipped her head back and smiled up at the flashing colored ceiling lights. Stretching her arms out, she laughed and began to twirl. She was free.
Free!

A hand grabbed her butt, abruptly ending her revelry. Sophia's eyes flew open as the fingers dug into her tender skin. Whirling around, she saw a tall, handsome man leering down at her. Slapping his hand away she turned from him, intending to move out of his reach. It was going to take more than his drunken gropes to make her run. She was having too much fun. Her minutes of freedom were numbered, and she was going to take advantage of each and every one of them. As she moved past her suitor, he yanked her arm. “C'mon, baby, keep shaking that ass.”

He pulled her into his sweaty embrace. “It's so fine.”

Sophia pushed out of his arms. “Please don't touch me.”

This time, she didn't move past him, she turned to move in the opposite direction so that he couldn't reach out and grope her again.

As she turned her gaze caught a pair of blazing topaz-colored eyes lasered on her. In that moment, her lungs froze as the music stopped, the lights dimmed and the bodies gyrating around her slowed, then disappeared. It was one of those “lightning striking you where you stand” moments.

Suddenly dry-mouthed, she licked her lips. His eyes sparked with gold fire. Her heart thudded like thunder against her rib cage. And her eyes widened when her nipples tightened painfully. She wasn't wearing a bra and she knew their reaction to him was visible. How could they
not
react?
Ay, caramba
, the magnetism of the tall, dark-haired man standing a dozen feet from her was as palpable as if live electric wires connected them.

The guy was trouble on so many levels. Her breath rushed from her lungs. And tonight she was all about finding trouble. Lots of it.

He wasn't handsome in the classic sense, though he was at least six foot three and muscled, his jet black hair cut stylishly close. His aquiline nose had been broken and reset almost perfectly, but not quite. The stubborn line of his jaw was marred by the slash of a scar that she knew was old because it blended in with his tanned skin. His cheekbones were as defined as his chin, darkened by a hint of rough stubble. In a lightning flash she wondered how the stubble of his chin would feel along her belly. The reaction that thought elicited shot straight to her sex.

Good god, and his lips. They were full with a dangerous edge to them. How would they feel locked around her straining nipples? She shivered violently as she imagined them, hot and wet, tugging hard, hungry for other parts of her.

But it was his eyes, deep molten gold, that caught and held her breath. How would they look when he sank into her? Oh,
dios mío
, she was a wanton girl.

If she had to describe him in one word she'd use “hazardous.” Blood washed hot through her veins as alarm bells clanged for her to run the other way. But she didn't. She stood rooted to the floor, not seeing anything but him.

He stared at her with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and would take it. She swallowed hard and glanced behind her, thinking there surely must be another woman he had his sights on. When there was no one but the drunk Romeo behind her, she swallowed harder and turned back to him.

Every fiber in her body screamed a warning. This man was a predator. Her eyes dropped to his big hands. They were the hands of a fighter. Big, rough. The kind that damaged. His attire added to the edge. He was dressed in black jeans, a white V-neck tee that was just shy of tight and that exposed the tan cords of his thick neck and the hollow at the base of his throat, topped off with a black leather bomber-style jacket.

When the hand that had grabbed her butt a few minutes ago wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her back into a sweaty body, Sophia shouted her frustration, her voice diluted beneath the deep bass of the music. Dark and Dangerous strode forward, reached past her, grabbed Romeo with both of those big hands and effortlessly tossed him across the floor.

When those golden eyes turned back to rest on her, and he held out his hand palm-up to her, she shook like a leaf in a windstorm.

“I won't hurt you,” he said, his voice so deep and primal that parts of her body that had lain dormant all her life suddenly sprang to life. He grinned, showing a row of white teeth, and she nearly jumped into his arms. The gesture completely changed his face. “Unless you want me to.”

Sophia's jaw dropped. Was he talking about—spanking? She might physically be a virgin, but she read. A lot. It was the only thing that got her through those hopeless nights when she realized she would never experience the sweeping love affairs that she read about.

He wiggled his fingers, indicating that she should take his hand. Breathless, she took a step back. If she took it, she'd want all of him. And with that realization she knew she'd never go home. She knew it as sure as she was standing there. Not that that would be a bad thing, but it would end up bad for them if she ran. Her father would find her, destroy this man and confine her for life.

Yet she hesitated. Wanting to explore what it was that this dangerous stranger did to her.

Her reaction to him was fierce. Animal. Dear Lord, her knees were shaking. And she'd never felt more alive than she did at that moment.

God help her, she so wanted to take his hand. She wanted what he was offering so badly it hurt. He was almost worth the eternal damnation she'd be subjected to.

She smiled a brazen smile only because she knew, as much as she wanted him to be her one night of living, she would pick someone else. One who would not jeopardize her freedom as she knew it.

But to take that step, she needed another shot of tequila. Maybe two. Turning from the sexy stranger, Sophia worked her way through the congested dance floor to the equally crowded mirrored bar. Yet dressed as she was, and smiling her secret smile, men moved aside, still hoping to be the one to go home with her tonight.

Sophia's smile widened as the realization hit her just how much power a woman had over a man who wanted her. The promise of sex was a powerful lure. The promise of primal, back-scratching, sweaty, uninhibited sex with a healthy, attractive woman could drive a man to drop the world at his woman's feet. That knowledge was its own kind of aphrodisiac. Sophia's lips parted in breathless anticipation. Tonight, a man, a man she chose, was going to drop the world at her feet because he wanted her that bad. Heat spread to her core. If only that man could be Mr. Dangerous.

As she slowed her approach to the bar, Sophia boldly cast her gaze from side to side, deciding which male appealed to her the most.

She picked a seat between two handsome men, who returned her smile with wide ones of their own.

“Sophia!” Arabella called over the music.

She turned to see her friend, complete with skintight neon green sheath mini dress, tiara and white and gold Bride-to-Be sash, drink in hand, sashaying toward her.

“Oh, my gawd, who was that guy you were talking to on the dance floor?” she said, looking over her shoulder as if he would materialize. “He looked like he was going to eat you up right then and there!”

Sophia giggled and walked over to her friend.

Bella slid an arm around Sophia's waist and hugged her. “I don't think I've ever heard you giggle before, Soph. I wish you never had to go home.”

Sophia's carefree mood slipped a few notches just thinking about what tomorrow would bring. But when she looked up and caught the bartender's eyes she called out to him, “Two shots of Don Julio anejo.”

As she wedged herself against the bar, she pulled Arabella with her, moving over the two guys, who looked at them both with hopeful lust in their eyes.

When the shots were poured, Sophia handed one to her friend, clinked her glass and said, “To freedom.” Then tossed it back. “One more, please,” she said to the bartender, who quickly filled her shot glass again.

As she raised the glass to her lips, Arabella was pulled away by one of her other girlfriends, and Sophia was left sitting at the bar, but not alone.

The nice-looking blond guy to her left leaned in and said, “Next one's on me, Pretty in Pink.”

Sophia smiled and tossed back the tequila, enjoying the smooth burn. For a girl who didn't get out much, she loved her tequila. It was the one vice she shared with her father. She had become quite the aficionada.

When the man handed her another shot, she smiled and was about to take it when he was abruptly removed from his barstool.

In his place stood the dark-haired man from the dance floor. He slid the full shot across the bar to the bartender and said, “She's done for the night.”

Despite his magnetism and her body's immediate yearning to be touched by him, Sophia was having none of this stranger controlling her evening. Controlling men were banned from her life for the duration of her stay of execution.

“Don't listen to him, bartender, he's not the boss of me. I'd like that shot, please,” she said, turning her back on the domineering man.

“Give it to her and you'll be picking yourself up off the floor,” the stranger said dangerously.

Sophia turned so fast her breasts rubbed across his hard chest. A shock as if she had touched a live wire shot straight to her vagina. “I—” she gasped, trying to tamp down the fiesta happening in her panties while remaining indignant. “I don't know who you think you are,” Sophia sputtered, “but you were not invited to my party tonight. Please mind your own business.”

He smiled that thousand-watt smile and leaned into her. She gasped, backing away. If he touched her she'd do something stupid like jump in his lap. “You're my business tonight, hot stuff.”

When the guy sitting on the other side of her stood and his buddy came back around, they moved in on the stranger. “Hit the road, asshole,” the one who bought her the drink said.

“Or we're going to mop the floor with your face,” his friend added.

“Um, guys, please,” Sophia said as she stood and put her hands against the stranger's hard chest. The strong, even beat of his heart thumped against her palm. Not the fast thump of a nervous man, but one of a man who was not afraid.

Conversely, when she put her hand against the blond's chest, his rapid-fire heartbeat matched her own.

“I just want to have a little fun, you guys are ruining it for me.”

The stranger took her hand into his big warm ones and smiled, not giving the other two the time of day. By ignoring them he was telling them with his body language that they were no threat to him, which of course made them look like wusses, and so of course to prove that they weren't they—