Tug (27 page)

“Yes, sir, I do. He approached my firm about investing some money, and the amounts are from large overseas accounts. I had my team look into who he was and discovered a connection to you. The amounts are staggered in a way that suggests he’s skimming from you.”

The ice cubes clank against the edge of the glass as he sips his drink. The condensation beading on the outside of the glass is thick and as it trickles down the side, I realize my hands are sweating profusely, and I wipe them on my slacks. He sets the glass down and rubs his chin. “Mr. Montez has always paid me.”

I inhale slowly, preparing the bluff of a lifetime. My ability to negotiate with people and blur reality has made me and Gibson a success, but this isn’t a typical meeting, or a mainstream client, and I feel sweat wetting my collar, dripping down my spine.

“That is what he’s led you to believe, but I think he distributes slightly higher than what he’s reporting to you. Not enough to be noticeable, but because of the quantity, a nice amount that’s grown over the years.”

His expression gives nothing away as he snaps his fingers toward a giant of a man, dressed in army fatigues who I hadn’t noticed was filling the doorway. The man approaches him and he says, “Check this out.”

The man leaves, and Mr. Torrente takes another swig off his drink. He dries his lips on the back of his free hand. I can tell by his slightly squinted eyes, he’s processing my words carefully, but that he doubts Eduardo and is worried what I said might be accurate.

“I met Eduardo when he was just a small boy. He is the son of my best friend here in Mexico, a poor man who refused to work with me even though he knew I could make him a wealthy man. When Eduardo was seventeen, his father died, and he begged me to give him a job, to make him a man. One of my top guys in America was stealing from me. I told Eduardo if he went to the States and found this man, I would put him in charge of his own territory. Three days later, the thief’s head showed up in a box at my house. Now you want me to believe that this same boy who would murder for me, my best friend’s son, would steal from me?”

I fear I’ve read this man wrong, but I remain focused. “Yes, sir. People change.”

His expression taunts me. He regards me as though I’m prey, like a mouse he’s luring to its death with tiny scraps of cheese.

“What’s in it for you, Mr. Hunter? I would think the commission you stand to make from a deal with Montez would be substantial.”

I could lie and kiss his ass, tell him I was looking out for his interests, but I don’t. “It’s personal for me.”

His lips curl slightly, but I wouldn’t say he smiles. He holds his glass up in mock toast. “Ah. Let me guess. A woman, Mr. Hunter?”

“A young girl at the time he raped and abused her.”

The right side of his top lip lifts, and he shakes his head.

“Young men in the cartel these days don’t know how to behave. The power’s gone to their heads, but I cannot control this. I need them to be ruthless and stonehearted. It benefits me a great deal when my staff doesn’t possess empathy.”

I stand from the couch, feeling brave and take a step toward him.

“I understand, but Maria is with me now. She had to leave the Bay Area to escape him, and I want him out of her life.”

“Maria?” His question is asked with sincere curiosity.

“Yes, my girlfriend. He claims she — ”

“What is her last name?”

“Santiago.”

His eyes flash with surprise or anger, I can’t tell.

“How old is she?” His demand comes out in a ferocious roar, and there’s no mistaking his emotions. He’s frantic. I open my mouth, and then close it, not sure if I should answer. “How, old, Mr. Hunter?”

“Twenty-two.”

The vein in his neck bulges, and he slams the glass down on the marble bar. I try to remain calm, but I’m nervous that Eduardo did tell him about the money Maria stole all those years ago, and now I’ve been the one to rat her out. My mind races, coming up with a way to defuse his anger, when the man from earlier returns to the room and whispers in Mr. Torrente’s ear. He leaves, and Mr. Torrente glares at me.

“My people claim Eduardo is selling to them at a reasonable price. It was a good bluff, Mr. Hunter, but unsuccessful. What should we do about you coming into my home and making accusations about my people?”

Sweat soaks my shirt under my jacket. My heart hammers behind my ribs. I have to stay composed or he’ll see right through me. “The money is in his accounts. I have his bank statements to prove it. It had to come from somewhere. Perhaps he’s working another cartel.”

“Perhaps.” His expression softens. “Come with me outside, Mr. Hunter. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

I
t’s after midnight when I walk through the door at Tori’s house. Maria charges into me and pounds her fist into my chest repeatedly. I grab her arms and hold them at her sides.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” she yells. “I’ve been freaking out. I thought I’d never see you again.”

I grab her face and kiss her lips, her cheeks, her nose, planting dozens of kisses on her face and head. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk you talking me out of going to see Mr. Torrente, but it’s over. Eduardo won’t hurt you.”

A look of relief seeps over her face. “Torrente believed you?”

“No, he called my bluff within the first ten minutes of my arrival, but Torrente has another reason to forgive the debt and deal with Eduardo. We have to go see him in a couple of days, but he assures me Eduardo will not bother you. I’ve taken care of the arrangements for your grandfather, too. He’ll be buried with your grandmother. You’ll have to go with me to the funeral home to sign some paperwork before they can transport him up north.”

She stumbles backward, shaking her head. “No. I can’t leave Mexico. Eduardo will find me.”

“Did you not hear me? He won’t touch you.”

Her fist covers her mouth, and she turns away. “He called. He said he was coming for me.”

“When?

She spins back around, her expression defeated. “A little after noon.”

I close the distance she put between us, yanking her into my arms. “Calm down. That was before I met with Torrente.”

A smile begins to form on her beautiful face, but it quickly turns to a frown. “You said we have to go see Torrente, and you trust him?”

“Yes.”

She pushes me away. “Then you’re very foolish,” she says her voice scolding.

I laugh, her feistiness ever amusing to me. “Remember when you agreed to trust me?” She nods faintly. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You’re not in any danger.”

I know she’s skeptical, but she thanks me. Her arms wind around my waist, squeezing hard. I hold her in my arms most of the night, reassuring her that I’ve taken care of everything and we’re all safe.

T
hough I was terrified to return to the Bay Area, I wanted Papa to be reunited with my grandmother, the woman he loved most of his life, so he could truly rest in peace. Javier reluctantly stayed behind with Tori. I’m incredibly grateful to have someone in my life to help me with Javier who is stable and treats him like her own. She’s become an amazing friend to me, a trusted sister that I never expected to have in my life. Knowing Javier will be well taken care of makes the separation from him easier. I couldn’t bring him here, feeling like there was a miniscule chance Eduardo would be lurking somewhere, ready to ignore Torrente’s orders to stay away from me.

Tug and I check into the Monterey Plaza Hotel on Cannery Row. The funeral is in Watsonville tomorrow, and it’s a quick drive to get there. I would have been fine with a cheap motel, but Tug informed me my days of cheap motels are long gone. When we walk into the presidential suite, I stop in my tracks.

“This is too much,” I say, turning to leave.

He catches me by the arm. “What’s too much?”

“This,” I say, glancing at the dining table. “There are twelve chairs at that table. What do we need twelve chairs for?”

“We don’t.” He takes my hand and walks me out to a private sun deck and patio overlooking the ocean, with a large Jacuzzi in the corner. “We need this.” He waggles his eyebrows, his grin the boyish and playful one I adore. I have to admit the view is pretty spectacular. He cups my cheek in his hand, his grin too hard to resist. “Eventually, you’re going to have to get used to this lifestyle. It’s part of the package.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this lifestyle.” My palm strokes his cock through his jeans, feeling it harden under my touch. “But I do like your package.” My teeth saw my bottom lip, waiting for him to respond.

“Is that so?”

“It’s big.” I flutter my lashes, the bashful look I send him intentional. “I love big packages.”

“And where exactly do you like my ‘big’ package?” he asks, his eyebrow lifting in a dare. His expression is challenging, like he thinks I won’t answer. He should know me well enough to know he can’t embarrass me. Tug may be a dirty birdy, but he’s met his match.

My fingers quickly dive into his jeans. His breath hitches when my hand plunges under the waistband of his boxers and quickly springs him free. “I like your ‘big’ package in my mouth,” I say teasingly and glance up into his hooded eyes. He loves when I talk dirty and things have been so tense that we haven’t had sex. I’m horny and in desperate need of a little Tug-time. “And in my pussy.” His eyes darken, but I’m not finished. I’m going for shock factor, like he usually does with me. “In my ass.”

I can hardly believe I said the words, and I mentally pat myself on the back when I see the look of astonishment on his face. Then my eyes widen when I see the lust in his eyes.

He yanks on my arm, slamming me against his chest, a hungry growl in his throat vibrating against my skin. His hands squeeze my waist. He spins me around and pushes me forward toward the patio table. My skirt is shoved up over my hips as his fingers slide under the thin strap of my panties. The satin falls to the floor a second later, and he shoves my thighs apart.

It’s the one thing I wouldn’t allow when I worked at the club because it made me feel too vulnerable. Is it good to follow through with this, to allow myself to be so open and bare to him? I said the words, gave my permission, but I’m nervous. This is an act of trust, and he has so much power over me, the ability to hurt me more than anyone ever has. I can’t bring myself to believe he’ll hurt me, though. After everything he’s done for me, this is my chance to show him the faith I have in him, that I feel safe with him and that I have complete trust in him.

His pants drop to his ankles. I inhale a ragged breath and curl my fingers over both sides of the table. My teeth hurt from clamping my jaw closed. His fingers glide from my pussy to the opening of my ass, lubricating the tight skin. This is it. This is actually going to happen.

Cool air from the ocean rushes across my face, calming my nerves. His thumb nears the only virginal, untouched part of my body and presses into me. I’m not sure if it’s my body or my mind protesting the intrusion, but he pushes past the resistance, testing my readiness. His fingers work my sex over my clit, his thumb easing in and out of my ass, causing a strange and unfamiliar sensation. I groan painfully, but I feel pleasure and the conflict is strangely arousing. Wet lips kiss between my shoulder blades. “Are you sure?” he whispers.