This Isn't Fair, Baby (War & Peace Book #6) Page 8

  When I make my way through the door, I freeze.

  Diego is no longer wearing a suit, looking dapper and distinguished as he usually does. No, right now he’s looking kind of thuggish, dressed in a loose pair of holey jeans and a tight white wife beater. He’s lean but muscular, like a fighter. Where Esteban is all bulk and strength, Diego seems more lithe and possesses a powerful grace.

  I stare at him for longer than I should while his attention is on a gigantic television as he mashes buttons on the remote. Tattoos color his arms, and I can see more on his back through his shirt. Who knew all this was hiding under those suits.

  “What are we doing?” I murmur, my gaze stalling at his beautifully curved shoulders. “I thought we were having sex.”

  He looks over his shoulder and his messy, now wet hair hangs in his eyes. I don’t miss the smug grin on his face, though. “Patience, mi diablita. I’ll sex you up when I am good and ready. It’s all about the build up.” When he turns back to the television, I let out a growl of annoyance.

  “Patience isn’t a quality I possess, mi motherfucker.” I huff and storm over to him. “I’m not doing whatever this is.” I motion around the media room. “Dates aren’t part of the deal.”

  He slams the remote onto the entertainment table and snaps his gaze to me. It’s in this moment, as his eyes flicker with fury, I remember I’m in the lion’s den. I’ve negotiated with a monster to do monstrous deeds all in exchange for my monstrous goddamned pussy. A vein in his neck pulsates and his jaw ticks as he regards me. And then, much like the snake he can be, he strikes.

  His palm curls around my throat and he pushes me until my back hits the wall. He doesn’t squeeze my neck, but his eyes convey to me that he could choke me dead in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. I need to make sure he doesn’t want to.

  I press a palm to his solid chest over his heart and clutch his wrist with the other. He loosens his grip, letting me peel him away from me. But he doesn’t back off. His body crowds mine until I’m sandwiched uncomfortably between him and the wall.

  “This is why I don’t have wives anymore,” he grumbles, his hot breath inches from my face.

  I stiffen, no longer concerned about being trapped by a cartel bad boy. “Wives? As in plural?”

  “Yes, wives,” he says simply. “Plural. Past tense.”

  Tilting my head up at him, I frown. “Pig.”

  His lips curl into a grin. “So you think I’m disgusting and gross. I’m still waiting to show you how nasty I can be, mi diablita.”

  My nostrils flare and I open my mouth to tell him where he can stick that statement when he leans forward. His scent envelops me just a moment before his lips press against mine. The kiss is so sudden. So surprising. So…sweet. I’m stunned frozen. That is, until his palm curls around the side of my neck and he coaxes my mouth open with his tongue.

  We both taste of toothpaste. I’m consumed by the way his tongue expertly dances with mine. Unrushed but deliberate. Soft but experienced. His thumb caresses my jaw and a whimper escapes me. I hate the vulnerable whine it carries. A sound that says I need his gentle touch more than I need air.

  My fingers begin tugging at the bottom of his shirt, but he stops me with a growl. His hands find my wrists and he presses them against the wall above my head. This action makes my tits squeeze together.

  “Sex,” I whisper. “You…naked…”

  He nips at my lip. “Not yet.”

  I want to argue, but his tongue is back in my mouth, owning me. He dizzies me with his kiss to the point that my knees buckle. My hands are released, and the next thing I know, I’m scooped into his arms. His lips are on mine again as he walks across the room. I’m tossed onto a comfy sectional sofa, but he doesn’t join me.

  “Want something to drink?” he questions as he saunters back over to the television.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I grumble. My body is trembling with desire over here, and I’m practically dripping with need. And he’s playing hospitable host?

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says with a chuckle.

  I cross my arms over my chest and watch with irritation as he starts a movie and then begins digging around in a mini fridge. He grabs a couple of beers and pops the tabs. I accept one and down half of it as he flips off all the lights. Once it’s dark, besides the glow from the television, he sits down beside me.

  “What are you doing?” I question, annoyance in my tone.

  He stretches his arm across the back of the sofa behind me and takes a pull from his beer. “I’m chilling the fuck out. What are you doing?”

  I blink at him several times. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

  He chuckles, and his gaze darkens. “Likewise. You’re a pretty little puzzle I don’t quite understand.”

  “But you’re a big, badass cartel king who likes to fuck and kill,” I snap.

  He seems to consider this. “And you’re a little girl with a big mouth who needs protection,” he growls back.

  I glare at him and grit my teeth. “So we’re just going to pretend we aren’t those people and have a sleepover?”

  Amusement glitters in his eyes. “When was the last time you weren’t stressed out about shit? When was the last time you just sat down, enjoyed a beer, and watched a movie?”

  Forever. It’s been forever. I think the last movie I watched was with Ren and Oscar at my apartment. That seems like ages ago. Back when life was simple and fun and hopeful.

  Now life is dark and ugly.

  “I’m not old enough to drink,” I pout as I drain the rest of my bottle.

  He regards me with a devilish grin. “And you’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Here, under my roof, you can do whatever the fuck you want. Here, we live like kings.” He winks. “Mi reina.”

  I set the bottle down and let his words simmer. I’m so wound up, violence and vengeance running through my veins, that I don’t know if I can fully relax. But soon, we’re both chuckling at the stupid movie with Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill who are cops and go undercover at a high school.

  When the air conditioner kicks on, I shiver and burrow against Diego’s warm body. He smells good. Clean and manly. Maybe for a night, I can pretend I’m just me. Vee.

  His fingertips stroke the outside of my arm, and I am comforted by his soothing touches. It makes no sense. According to Esteban and Oscar, he’s a violent man who killed Camilo.

  Maybe he’s a hero.

  Camilo was certainly the bigger villain of the two.

  I’m sure Mr. Rojas deserved it.

  Soon, I fully relax and fall asleep in the arms of a supposed monster. I’ve slept in the arms of a real life monster. This supposed one doesn’t feel so scary at all.

  “PLEASE, SIT.”

  Jorge’s features are hard as he folds his bulky frame into the chair across from my desk. Despite his impassive features, I can tell he’s nervous. A slight dart of his nearly black eyes. A tick of his jaw. An impatient glance at his watch.

  “I’ve made a deal,” I tell him, my voice low. “With the devil it would seem.”

  Jorge relaxes his shoulders. “You make deals with devils all the time.”

  But this devil is far more dangerous than anyone I’ve encountered before.

  “How is Olga?”

  Once again, he stiffens. “I’m sure Olga is fine.”

  I lift an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep with her while she lived under my roof?”

  He grits his teeth and nods. “I did.”

  Most men would lie to a cartel king to spare their life. Jorge is not a liar. He’s extremely loyal—even if he did fuck one of my wives. She was weak—a habitual crier—and didn’t even like anal. My loss is his gain. Good luck with that one, man.

  “I should slit your throat for that,” I growl. “Blatant disrespect.”

  His eyes narrow. “I would deserve it. Love makes you do unimaginable things, though. Stupid things.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I bi
te out. “I’m not going to kill you, but we do need to get men out there hunting the remaining Rojas brothers. I want them brought to me alive.”

  “Do I need to know with whom you made this deal?” he questions.

  I let out a sigh. “The girl. She’s connected with the family. They wronged her, and she wants vengeance. And I…” I trail off and scrub at the scruff that’s trying to grow in on my cheeks. “I want her.”

  “Another wife perhaps?”

  I shrug and pick up a cigar. “I believe I’m done with wives for now.”

  He cracks a rare smile. “I’ll believe that when pigs fly.”

  “Men. Rojas brothers. This week. Those are my orders,” I grit out, ignoring his jab. “I also want Ricardo on the shipments going through Panama to get to Mexico. Tell him we—”

  “I want to sit in on this meeting,” Vienna interrupts from my office doorway. My gaze darts over to her like a heat-seeking missile. Last night, when she’d fallen asleep, I’d left her there despite my desire to strip and then fuck her. This morning, she’s already showered and dressed. She’s a picture of innocence in a knee-length white summer dress. Her silky red hair has been loosely braided to one side and her makeup is minimal. To an outsider, she resembles an angel.

  I’m no outsider.

  “Good morning, mi diabliata,” I greet with a wolfish grin as I visually feast on her cleavage.

  “Morning, mi motherfucker,” she chirps back. “What’s on the villain agenda for the day? Are we skinning anyone alive?”

  Jorge raises his eyebrows in surprise at how she speaks to me so disrespectfully. I smirk at him before gesturing for Vienna to come closer. She shows no hesitation, despite whom she’s approaching, and bounces over to me.

  “Sit,” I instruct.

  She eyes Jorge with apprehension but eventually sits on the edge of my desk, facing me. Our eyes meet and her green eyes flicker with curiosity when I pat the side of her leg. When she lifts it, I grab her ankle and place her bare foot on top of my thigh. Once she has both feet on my thighs, I lean back in my chair and admire her beauty. Unlike the Colombian women I’m used to, this one stands out with her pale, slightly freckled flesh, brilliant red hair, and the plumpest dick sucking lips I have ever seen. Her glittering green eyes dance between good and evil, just barely hugging the line.

  “Now what? When do we kill them?”

  Jorge snorts, and I can’t help but smile at her. “So eager. And we haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

  She shrugs and picks up my steaming mug of coffee. I regard her with lifted eyebrows as she drinks from my cup as though it’s hers. I’m not sure why that gets my dick hard, but it does. Goddamn this vixen.

  I grip the inside of her thigh just above her knee and caress the flesh. She sets the coffee down and attempts to draw her knees together. I grip her by the ankles and spread my thighs apart, which in turn spreads her open to me. With my eyes back on hers, I lift the hem of her dress and peek underneath.

  “Red. I like it.” My voice has dropped several octaves.

  “Should I go?” Jorge asks.

  “Stay. We have business to conduct. My partner here wants in on the details. So, Jorge, fill her in on your plans,” I instruct as I let my palm roam up her thigh again. When my longest finger brushes against her panties, she lets out a sharp gasp.

  “Jorge…”

  “Uh, right. So, ma’am, we—”

  “Call me Vee,” she interrupts.

  My hands rub against her in a teasing manner. I’m dying to take a look at her cunt. This little girl wants to play big games with big bad men. I’ll let her play. I wonder how long it’ll be until she throws in the towel.

  While Jorge drones on about shipments and territory changes, I attempt to distract her. I can tell she’s trying to listen, but it must be difficult for her when I keep rubbing my thumbs along the sensitive flesh of her thighs near her panties. She doesn’t protest when I kiss the inside of her thigh near her knee. A soft little peck is all she gets at first. But then I catch whiff of her arousal. And now I’m hungry. I nip at her pale flesh and grin when it starts turning pink immediately.

  “Why not go through Buenaventura?” she questions, looking over her shoulder at Jorge.

  I perk up. “What about Buenaventura?”

  “It was where Camilo sent shipments to my father’s shipyard,” she says, turning back to look at me. Her red brows are crushed together as she thinks. “If you took over his territories, why aren’t you utilizing his shipyard? Are the U.S. monies not that much?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. Brie had detailed out everything she knew, but she played dumb when it came to the specifics about where the Berkleys were concerned. I’d assumed we were at their shipyard when I gutted Camilo like a fucking fish, but I had to get my ass back to Colombia. I knew shipping product to the U.S. was a huge part of Camilo’s profits, but I simply didn’t have the connections he had. Berkley was dead and his daughter was missing. But now?

  “How much do you know about your father’s business?” I question.

  Her green eyes sparkle. “I’ve followed him around since I was little girl. I used to sit in his office and play with my toys or color while he discussed business and made deals. For as long as I can remember, I tagged along with my dad. When I got older, he tried to keep me out of the limelight because he considered me to be a vulnerability that someone could use against him, but I was still curious. I knew how things worked. And I know that when I turned eighteen, Daddy made sure to add me to his accounts and properties. He didn’t fully trust my mother and he wanted me to hurt for nothing if anything ever happened to him.” Her eyes become glassy with unshed tears but she quickly blinks them away. “Something did happen to him. He was murdered. While I was locked away in that metal container at my father’s shipyard, Esteban brought me paperwork. He wanted everything to run as seamless as before.” She bites on her bottom lip for a moment to keep it from quivering. “I signed checks in exchange for food. I paid bills for water. I did whatever Esteban asked of me so that I could survive.”

  I’ve hated Esteban Rojas since I was a teenager. We’d been two fucked-up kids on opposite sides of the line that had been drawn in the sand. He was a cartel prince. I was a thief who was slowly stealing bits and pieces that would build my empire. The privileged son against the son born of poverty. Two sides of a coin. A lifetime of war.

  Nothing compares to the hate I have festering for him inside my chest. The fact that he could hurt women disgusts me. Esteban acquired quite the reputation for being a monster. He’d cut out the tongue of a friend of his younger brother’s. I’d seen him nearly get killed by a small-time cartel leader when he’d fucked around with his sister. The only reason Bolo spared Esteban’s life was because everyone in Colombia answered to Camilo.

  But Camilo is dead.

  Nobody can protect Esteban anymore.

  The sins of his past are going to hang him in the end.

  And I’ll be holding the motherfucking noose.

  “You’re willing to give it all to me?” I ask, my brow lifted in question.

  This gorgeous little devil before me grins. “Oh, mi motherfucker, of course not. I’m simply telling you that you have to partner with me if you want your shit in the U.S. Exporting to Mexico isn’t nearly as profitable of a way to get the cocaine over the border because you have to pay a middle man. You need to go straight to the source if you want to keep most of your profit.” Her fingers toy with the hem of her dress and she slides it farther up her thighs distracting me for a moment. I flash her a warning glare until she stops fucking with her dress and continues talking. “Killing Esteban and Oscar is what we’ve made a deal for. Them for sex. Easy peasy. But Buenaventura to San Diego is a new deal. You need me to push the coke into the U.S. My father had contacts within the feds and local authorities. At one time, they’d been on to my father and Camilo, but then they married my adopted sister Brie off to Duvan. It was a legitimate marriage that bound our t
wo countries in a way that had them off their backs.”

  “So what are you saying?” I demand, irritation bubbling inside me. I knew this bitch had ulterior motives.

  “I’m saying,” she purrs as her foot slides to where my cock is still hard in my slacks. She rubs against it with the bottom of her foot. “You need me. This partnership, if you will, can be bigger than just one transaction. It can be a union. A deal bound by law—”

  “And God,” I finish with a growl. “A wife.”

  Jorge snorts. “Would you look at that? I think there’s a pig outside flying.”

  I clench my jaw and glare at her, but it’s hard to stay pissed when she rubs at my cock with her foot.

  “It’s just business, Daddy Diego,” she says in her most seductive voice.

  The bitch is playing me. I’m staring right into her calculating green eyes and I can see right through her bullshit. Yet…I am weak.

  Goddamn women.

  “Why would you subject yourself to this world? Drugs. Mayhem. Murder. A little girl like you belongs on the other side of a white picket fence in suburbia. Not in the middle of Colombia making deals with evil men. Why, Vienna?”

  She leans forward and clutches my tie, pulling me closer to her. “Because I have nothing left. My legacy is all I have. It was my father’s business and now it belongs to me. I won’t hand it over to Esteban Rojas. And I certainly won’t hand it off to you.” Her voice becomes a whisper. “This is what I want, and you’re going to give it to me.”

  I grab her hips and drag her into my lap. She lets out a yelp but settles herself against my throbbing cock. My palms slide under her dress so I can grab her ass that’s covered by the silky panties I saw earlier.

  “What if I just want to take it instead?” I demand as I yank the front of her dress down far enough to expose her nipple. “What if I just want to use you until I get what I want?” My mouth covers her pale pink nipple. I suck on the soft flesh until her nipple peaks and hardens. Then, I nibble on it. Her fingers thread into my hair and she whimpers.

  Goddamn those whimpers.

  “I’m going to go,” Jorge states.