A broad muscled back swallowed her view. Freckles she hadn’t noticed before on the bulging ridges of shoulders. Corded neck, red hair, and a fist that reached back and captured her wrist in an unbending grip.
“You must be John Smith.” A sneer edged Alejandro’s broken English.
“And you must be Miguel.” John’s head dipped down and back up, taking in the man’s massive size. “Or are you the youngest brother?”
“I’m Alejandro, vato, and she belongs to me.”
“I see. Well, then…” John ruthlessly dragged her forward, making her trip. “Take her. Since you’re not interested in my business, I’ll leave this morning. You can speak to my assistant about refunding my down payment, as well as the obscene amount of money he wired last night for the time I won’t be spending with my purchase.”
He pushed her toward Alejandro, washing his hands of her. She didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or punch his balls into his throat.
“You paid for her?” Alejandro jerked his head back. “For a used-up whore?”
“I paid six digits for a week with her.”
Her stomach sank. She knew the buyers dropped serious cash on the virgin girls fresh off the truck. But six digits in exchange for her? It was preposterous. Why would he do that? He didn’t even fuck her last night.
Alejandro glanced at the workout shorts that John had shoved on. Then his gaze traveled over the stolen shirt she wore. He was a possessive son of a bitch, and it showed in the hard brackets around his scowl. His nostrils widened, and he gripped his nape. Then a decision settled on his face.
The cartel valued money far and above their women. Her fate was sealed.
“I misunderstood.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and backed away. “We honor our deals, esé.” His Adam’s apple bounced, the flat line of his lips barely concealing his displeasure. “Stay. She’s yours for the week.”
“You hear that, darling?” John grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back against him. “Unless, of course, you’d rather go with Alejandro? Your choice.”
What the ever-loving fuck? After all that posturing with Marco last night, he was changing his tune? Talk about whiplash.
Maybe it was a test, but she wouldn’t fall for it. Whomever she chose, the other man would find a way to make her pay for his embarrassment.
“What’s behind door three?” She jerked at the hair in his fist, unable to free herself.
“I’ll show you.” John hauled her back into the room. Then he faced the doorway, blocking her view. “Will there be anything else?”
“There’s a private dinner in my quarters tonight.” Alejandro cleared his voice, his English thick with resentment. “I expect you to be there. Bring the whore.”
Fuck no! She didn’t want anything to do with that.
With a nod, John shut the door in the cartel jefe’s face. Then he slowly turned toward her and lobbed a glare so frightening it sent prickles from her nape to her toes.
“You’re feeling better.” His voice was cold. Terribly so.
She shook her head and retreated around the couch.
“You’re recovered enough to run.” He prowled after her, eyes locked.
“I wasn’t running, idiota. I needed clothes and coffee and—”
“Shut the fuck up.” His words didn’t match the oh-so calm delivery, which made him even more fearsome. He paused at the side table and removed something from the drawer, concealing it in the palm of his huge hand. “Your disobedience will not go unpunished.”
“El burro sabe más que tú. Do you hear yourself?” She shook violently, and that just made her madder. And louder. “I bet you were the school bully. The guy who shoved around the smaller kids because your dad took his fists to you? You were hiding your own bruises, weren’t you? And the only control you had in your life was beating the shit out of those who weighed less than you.”
She was angry and scared and talking out of her ass, but the instant his face paled, she knew she’d touched a tender nerve.
“I warned you.” He followed her through the sitting area, his gait too casual for the fists flexing at his sides. “Every foolish action will result in another girl taking your punishment.”
“No! This is between you and me, goddammit!”
He paused, tipped his head. “Then you better run.”
Her pulse exploded as she spun and bolted toward the door. His footsteps pounded after her, flooding her system with adrenaline. She passed a chair and yanked it behind her. Same with a small table. A glass lamp crashed to the floor, followed by a masculine curse.
She made it halfway to the door when it opened. Tomas stepped in, holding a tray of food and a bag of clothes.
Fucking hell. She swerved, aiming for the bedrooms, but John was too close, breathing down her neck. He swiped at her, his fingers snagging the back of the shirt. She whirled, stomped a heel on his foot, and drove a fist into his gut.
He grunted, and she dropped to the floor, scrambling around his legs to evade the long reach of his arms. All those muscles made him strong, but they also slowed him down.
She could’ve outrun him if she had somewhere to go. Tomas blocked the exit, and there was no other way out. Not that leaving this room was an option beneath the gravity of John’s threat. He’d told her to run because he clearly enjoyed the chase. She was playing right into his games, but what else could she do? Just stand there and let him punish her? Not a chance.
So she sprinted around furniture and tossed vases and decorative knickknacks at him, recklessly trashing the place. He caught her several times, but she hit, kicked, and bit her way out of his clutches.
Part of her suspected he was giving her those little victories. The other part just didn’t care. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
And down was exactly how it went as he tackled her to the floor. The full force of his weight crashed onto her back and knocked the air from her lungs. They landed in a sweaty pile—his bare chest, her kicking legs, their arms slick and wrestling.
She panted uncontrollably and attacked with elbows to his ribs. He chased her hands, trying to restrain them. She threw back her head, aiming to break his face. He dodged, grabbed her throat, and sank his teeth into her neck.
Her screams rang out loud enough to reach far beyond the walls, but no one would come to her aid. She was on her own, crushed beneath two-hundred-pounds of roguish male hunger. Her pleas and objections weren’t just ignored. They were laughed at.
Yeah, he was laughing and groaning through labored breaths. And fully aroused. His erection jabbed her naked backside, with the shirt tangled around her waist.
“You’re a sinful goddamn turn on, Gina. Can’t remember the last time I needed to be inside a woman this badly.” He lifted a hand to his mouth and tore open a square packet with his teeth.
A condom. That was what he’d removed from the drawer.
“No, no, no! Fuck you, cocksucker! Fuck you!” She bucked beneath him, breaths wheezing and heart rate in overdrive. “Wait! Just wait. Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t run again. Don’t do this!”
“Too late for repentance, baby.” Lust thickened his voice as he raised his hips and rolled on the rubber. “Time for that punishment.”