“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
Seriously? Zy had run more than one double-cross disinformation mission in the past.
Trees snorted. “Stop playing games with yourself, man. I know you love her—”
“I fucking bought her an engagement ring today.”
Ouch. “Wouldn’t you rather know now if you should give it to her?”
After a long pause, Zy answered. “When do you think you’ll make it here?”
“I’m going to head in so I can get out of this rolling torture chamber by tomorrow night.”
“I’ll see you at your place then. And I’ll try to have some answers.”
“Before you go, did you talk to your dad yet?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Was he as warm as ever?” Trees drawled.
If he had stopped speaking to his family to be less of a burden, Zy had cut his from his life out of pure contempt.
“You know it. We exchanged insults for a few minutes. I’m the hotheaded, rebellious prick who blows up everything—figuratively and literally—wherever I go. I told him that was way better than being a sniveling shit who licked globalist ass for cash.”
“So the usual?”
“Pretty much. But I did tell him about Tierra Caliente using Abuzz to coordinate their crimes. He said he’d ‘investigate and take appropriate action.’”
“Why do I feel like that means he won’t lift a fucking finger to stop it?” Trees cursed.
“You know my father so well.”
“He’s not hard to figure out… What else can we do?”
“I gave all the screenshots to Joaquin when I saw him earlier. Maybe something in them will help pinpoint where the cartel has Kimber stashed.”
“Good call. Let me know if I can do anything.”
“There is one more thing…” And Zy sounded reluctant to bring it up.
“Shoot. You know I’ll do whatever you need.”
“I…um, had a chat with Valeria when I stopped by earlier to drop off supplies to her at the new safe house.”
“Is Jorge really sick? Laila is worried.”
“Tell her not to be. We’ll take care of it. But when I saw Valeria, she also had something else on her mind.”
That tone told Trees he wasn’t going to like it. “What?”
“She doesn’t like the way you look at her sister.”
She’d seen that in the alley? Trees winced. “Damn.”
“Yep. And she wasn’t shy about expressing her concern.”
That he would touch her? Violate her? “I would never hurt Laila.”
Even the thought made him sick.
“I know that because I know you,” Zy pointed out. “But—”
“She doesn’t know me.” Trees sighed. “It’s the same problem I have with Laila. She’s really fucking wary.” Except tonight. Which still didn’t make sense to him.
“Valeria says her sister is fragile and desperate for safety. She claims that if you give it to Laila, she’ll ‘cling’ to you.”
Trees had to laugh. “Fragile? No. And she’s the least clingy woman I’ve met. Like ever.”
“I don’t know, man.” He heard the shrug in Zy’s voice. “That’s just what she said. So…be aware and be careful.”
Laila grasping on to him wasn’t even a possibility, much less a concern, so Trees didn’t argue. “Sure.”
After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, he hung up and headed inside. Hopefully, she would be asleep, so he could grab a quick shower and hit the bed. Maybe he would even be tired enough to sleep without erotic dreams of her plaguing him.
Through the door, he found the space silent. A few scattered lights around the campground peeked in, blending with the bathroom light Laila always left on, revealing the fact that she lay on the far side of the bed, cuddled beneath the quilts, her dark hair spilling over the white sheets and onto his pillow.
And just like that, he was hard again.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he stripped by the shower, knowing he’d find no relief in the tiny enclosure. At least he’d be clean.
After a quick rinse, he tossed on a fresh pair of basketball shorts, sans boxers, and made his way to the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge door, more to stall before lying next to Laila for another torturous night than because he was hungry.
On the top shelf in the middle was the half of Laila’s dinner she hadn’t finished, along with a small square of cheese and a banana, all wrapped up neat and tight. A bottle of water sat right beside it. Did she intend to eat that hodgepodge for breakfast?
Shaking his head, he shut the door and resolved to stop avoiding the inevitable.
The walk to the bed took all of five steps. Thankfully, when he eased onto the mattress, she didn’t stir. Maybe she was getting more comfortable with him. Or at least beginning to believe he would never violate her against her will. Hell, maybe she really was starting to trust him.
He rolled to his side, away from her, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. That was the last thing he remembered.
Until he woke sometime later with Laila’s mouth around his stiff, hungry cock.
Once Trees finished his long, low-voiced conversation outside the RV, Laila dashed to the bed, huddled under the blankets, and pretended to sleep. The door to the motorhome shut with a quiet click. His footsteps approached the little bedroom. Moments later, his gaze traveled over her. She repressed a shiver, but not because he scared her…at least not the way he used to.
What she felt tonight wasn’t fear.
Understanding this unfamiliar feeling wasn’t important. Reaching Valeria and Jorge was.
Finally, Trees turned away. When he started the shower and climbed inside, Laila scampered from the bed and stepped into her nearby shoes. As she crept through the vehicle, she found the bathroom door ajar and froze. Risking her escape was stupid. So was poking the bear. But before she could tell herself that, she was already staring.
The top of Trees’s dark head, along with his elbows and his hair-roughened knees, stuck out from behind the shower curtain. What did the rest of him look like inside that steamy cubicle, all wet and naked? Was he as muscled and masculine everywhere as his shoulders and chest suggested?
Laila flashed hot at the questions and jerked away. What he looked like didn’t matter, except when measuring the superior size and strength he would undoubtedly use to bend her to his will.
Quickly, she rifled through his duffel, but the cuffs she sought to bind him with, the ones with the dangling padlocks, were nowhere to be found. Ditto for the rest of the drawers and compartments in the motor home. That meant she had to scrap her easy Plan A. Plan B—running out the door now—it was.
But before she could grab her things and make a mad dash for freedom, the shower cut off.
Carajo! She wouldn’t get far before Trees gave chase. In less than two minutes, he would realize she was gone. What were her odds of finding helpful strangers or a ride to Louisiana that quickly?
Zero.
That left only dreaded Plan C: seducing him into a good night’s sleep.
Laila pressed a hand to her tightening belly, dragged in a shaky breath, and sneaked back to the bedroom. As she approached the bed, she trembled and prayed and told herself everything would be all right. She could handle what came next. It wasn’t as if she’d never experienced sex or exchanged favors before. She simply had to gather her courage.