Maybe.
Maybe that was what scared her the most.
Standing at the vanity in his bathroom, Luke scraped a razor across his jaw and watched his little warrior in the mirror. The view was no less than stunning, and his blood simmered with appreciation.
Beneath the spray of the shower, she rinsed the soap from her hair, smoothing the long coils into a black velvet curtain. Water sluiced down her tawny body, running sensual rivulets around toned curves and muscle.
Her gaze found his in the mirror, and swear to God, that look had a punch, hitting hard enough to make his balls shrivel. Her dark eyes blazed with righteous censure and judgment. But there was desire as well, no matter how hard she fought to hold it at bay.
More than anything, he wanted to see that desire win out.
It was dangerous to hope for such a thing. He only had one week with her, and during that time, his focus needed to be on Vera Gomez.
Dinner with Alejandro was approaching, and he counted on Vera being there. The sexual chemistry between Gina and him was so potent it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Not by Vera nor Alejandro nor anyone else present tonight.
He would flaunt it, not hide it. Let them obsess over his relationship with the fighter. Better that than on the real reason he was here.
Even Tomas detected the energy ricocheting between him and the woman in the shower. His friend leaned against the wall beside the vanity, wearing a scowl full of opinions.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Luke tossed the razor aside and rinsed his face.
“I didn’t say anything, you twat.”
Gina turned off the faucet, snagged a towel, and strode toward the doorway as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Your dress is on the bed,” Luke called after her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
With a middle-finger salute, she disappeared around the corner.
Tomas stared after her with smoldering interest in his unmasked expression. A jolt of aggression shot up Luke’s spine, and he slammed a hand down on the vanity.
“That woman is fucking beautiful.” Tomas blinked and finally dragged his eyes away from the doorway.
“That’s the last time you’ll notice.”
Tomas huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
A sharp inhale stretched Luke’s nostrils, and he pushed away from the sink.
“Oh, shit.” Trailing after him, Tomas whispered harshly, “She’s getting to you.”
“Don’t be a moron. I’ve known her less than a day.”
“It only takes a look, man. You’re fucked.”
Luke whirled and shoved a finger in that smug mug. “Back the fuck off.”
“Save it.” Tomas leaned in, putting their faces an inch apart. “I’m the last person you want to fight.”
That much was true. Tomas would mop the floor with his ass.
“I’ve got your back.” His friend stood taller, using his height to drive home his point. “Even when it means protecting you from your own mistakes.”
“What mistakes are those, Tommy?” He lowered his growl to barely a whisper. “Raping an innocent girl?”
“Next time, it may not be rape. Then what? How will she react when you have to fuck another girl who doesn’t like you?”
“That’s insulting on so many levels.”
“Get the sand out of your vagina.” With a scoff, Tomas raked a hand through the flop of his brown hair. “Focus on your target.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
They glared at each other for a hot minute before Luke blew out a breath.
“I’m not doubting you.” Tomas clapped him on the shoulder. “To be honest, you’re managing this so well I feel useless here.”
“You’ve done plenty.”
In twenty-four hours, Tomas had gathered more intel on La Rocha than in all the years their team had been tracking the cartel. He knew the location of the monitoring room, every camera on the property, as well as the names and positions of every man who came and went through the gates.
“Did you find the girl who was in the limo with us yesterday?” Luke asked quietly at his ear.
She hadn’t been wearing a hood during the drive. If they found her, Luke might be able to coax crucial information from her.
“Yes.” Tomas’ face turned white.
“What? What is it?”
“The girl in the basement… The one on the hook—”
“No.” His stomach turned, and his chest burned with bile. “That wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.”
“I’m one-hundred-percent certain. But we couldn’t have known. Her face was…”
Beaten to a pulp. Unrecognizable. But he should’ve looked closer. Should’ve questioned.
“Fuck!” He spun away and slammed his foot into a trashcan, sending it screeching across the floor.
“Pull your shit together.” Tomas grabbed Luke’s neck and yanked him close, bringing their foreheads together. “Move on. Right now. With me?”
“Yeah.” He drew in a breath and released it. Then another. “I’m with you.”
Footsteps approached, and Gina poked her head in. “Lover’s quarrel?”
Luke shook off the sick feeling in his gut and turned to face her. “Let me see you.”
Her fingers tightened on the door jamb, her body out of view. But he glimpsed the edge of a sexy strap on her shoulder.
Stubbornness hardened her expression, her eyes shifting with indecision. Then she set her jaw, straightened, and stepped into the doorway.
The air rushed from his lungs, parting his lips and caving in his chest.
Tomas gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the room. Terrible idea. Luke couldn’t be trusted with this intoxicating creature.
She stood before him, dripping temptation and sin in a gown of black silk. Fresh face, damp curls, and spiked heels that seemed to extend the length of her bronzy, athletic legs.
He tried to gather his breath, his voice, but all he could do was stare.
Christ almighty, she was an exquisite, heart-stopping, goddamn knockout. The dress hugged her tiny tits, nipped in at the waist, and flared around her toned thighs. Understated yet elegant. Striking. Just like her.
“This is rather tame for dinner with the cartel.” She fingered the hem of the skirt, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “I assumed you’d put me in pleather and chains or something equally distasteful.”
“I told Tomas to find a plain dress. I’m sure he tried, but…” The longer he soaked in her immaculate beauty, the tighter his suit pants became. “Nothing could ever look plain on you.”
“Why? I mean, why do you want me to look plain? They love their whores to dress—”
“You’re not a whore, and while you’re with me, you will not dress like one.”
Her eyes widened.
He snatched his necktie from the chair and moved to the mirror to wrangle the thing into place. After a few lousy attempts to make a knot, he yanked it free, grunting with frustration.
He was a mechanic, not a pompous high roller. How was he supposed to continue this ruse when he couldn’t even knot a tie? Tomas would have to show him again, but not without teasing him excessively for it.