“Is that right?” She purred, an actual feline sound in the back of her throat, and rubbed her face against his touch like a contented cat.
He wanted to backhand her, which, even for him, exceeded his tolerance of violence. He adored women and treated them as such.
But not this one.
This one, he ached to kill.
Stifling those urges, he reclined in the chair and sprawled his legs in a blatant invitation for her to join him.
She did instantly, crawling over his lap and straddling his hips. Then she touched him, her hands wandering and exploring his body unfettered. He allowed it, biting back bile and guilt.
He’d told Vera he belonged to her, and he meant every word. But Silvia’s key card was hanging against his chest, so close, right fucking there.
“You’re so goddamn sexy.” She slid her palms over his shoulders. “So big and strong and beautifully formed.”
As she groped his muscles and nuzzled his neck, she went on and on about his physical appearance. He barely attended, his focus on his goal, waiting for the right moment.
When her breaths sped up and her eyes clouded over with lust, he knew she was lost in her aching need, thoroughly distracted by her greedy desires.
Without warning, he yanked her tight, bodies flush. In the span of her startled yelp, he unclipped the card from her dress. Her hands flew to his face, her hips abhorrently grinding as he switched the cards and secured his to the same spot on her bodice. Her card went into his pocket under the guise of his knuckles teasing her inner thigh.
She bent in for a kiss.
He captured a hunk of her hair, stopping her an inch away. “I do the kissing, not the other way around.”
Her ruby lips bowed downward into a moue of frustration.
The easy part was done. Now he needed to untangle her from his body before she put her hands on his cock.
He wasn’t hard, not even a little. The very thought of her touching him stirred nausea in his stomach.
Too late.
Her fingers slipped past his guard and caught him between the legs. He didn’t move, didn’t twitch, for fear he would knock her across the room.
“You’re not into this.” Her grimace deepened as she squeezed his limp dick. “Almost as if you’re not into me.”
“I’ve been very straightforward about what I’m into.” He removed her hand and chose his words carefully. “While you match my physical specifications perfectly, you fail to meet other expectations.”
“You like a fight.”
“Always.”
“You want me to struggle and cry while you dominate me.” Her throat bobbed. “You want to rape me.”
No. He didn’t want anything to do with her. “Yes. Brutally.”
“I see.” Her eyes flared, and the skin on her neck pulled taut. She wasn’t into that. Not at all. “How would that work if you bought me? Would you rape me and her at the same time? Or would you assign us days of the week and alternate between us?”
“I would do whatever the fuck I wanted because I would own you.”
“The day you arrived, you said you would buy my freedom, and when I walked out of here, I would be free.”
“I’m revising my offer.” He cupped her throat and applied pressure. “You require a leash.”
That did it. She shoved off his lap and straightened her dress, her nostrils pulsing with indignation. She brushed a hand over the key card, checking its presence.
Standing taller, a spark of cruelty lit her gaze. “Have you heard from your bodyguard?”
Alarm spiked through him. He started to reach for his phone and changed his mind. Tomas wasn’t supposed to make contact until he put Vera on Restrepo’s plane and began his drive to Texas to deal with the email issue. That would’ve taken hours.
Except it had been hours.
He swallowed down his rising panic. “I’m not expecting a call.”
With a smirk, she curled a lock of hair around her finger and angled her face to the camera in the ceiling. “Turn his service back on.”
What the fuck? They’d cut the signal on his phone?
All the blood in his body drained to his feet. His skin prickled, and his stomach bottomed out as he removed the phone from his pocket. His hand shook as he turned it on and flipped through the screens. No missed calls. No texts. She was fucking with him.
Before he could release a relieved sigh, the phone started buzzing, blowing up with incoming texts as the service came back on line.
The first message had been sent three hours ago, and when he absorbed the words, his heart stopped.
Unknown: Your tie is crooked.
It was a code phrase, designed to convey that something had gone terribly wrong. Only Tomas knew that code.
More texts followed, timed several minutes apart.
Unknown: The escort took her.
Unknown: Kicked me out of the limo on an abandoned road and drove off with her.
Unknown: Hello?
Unknown: Answer the phone.
Unknown: I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop them. I was forced out of the limo at gunpoint.
Unknown: I don’t know where they took her.
Unknown: Are you getting this?
Unknown: Where are you?
Unknown: I’m tossing this phone. Will be in touch.
Pain detonated in his chest, lungs, and throat. The roar of his heartbeat thrashed in his head, and terror paralyzed him, making it impossible to think.
The cartel had Vera.
She wasn’t safe.
They knew. They fucking knew he’d been playing them in an effort to rescue her. They were going to hang them both from meat hooks.
Silvia watched his reaction, studying him too closely, way too hard. He kept his expression in check, and in the next breath, he flipped a switch.
The calculating side of him took control, squashing all fear, wrath, and love. He extinguished every ounce of emotion and let the coldness creep in, numbing his limbs and deadening his heart. He blinked, drew a steady breath, and focused on the facts.
If his cover was blown, they would’ve killed Tomas. And Vera, too. Unless they kept her alive to use her as a hostage to question him.
Why would they question him if they knew he was the rescuer they’d been waiting for? Why had Silvia tried to fuck him just a moment ago?
There was no way the cartel knew he was part of a vigilante group or that their lives were targeted by such a group. The brothers simply wanted to retaliate against Tula Gomez, their father’s killer, and whomever she’d sent to save her sister.
If they truly knew Luke’s identity, he would’ve already been tortured and cut into pieces.
This was another game. A test. Maybe they suspected that he’d been sent for Vera, but they weren’t convinced enough to risk his backlash if they were wrong.
From their viewpoint, holding Vera as a hostage was forgivable. She was just a whore. Killing Luke’s assistant, however, was just plain bad for business.
So they let Tomas go, effectively removing Luke’s bodyguard from the property with no way to return.
The cartel didn’t know that during the hours that Tomas had been texting Luke, he would’ve found another phone—would’ve stolen one from a random stranger if necessary—and contacted their team.
The Freedom Fighters would’ve learned at least an hour or two ago that Luke was in trouble. They just had to find him.