“Where the fuck, do you think you’re going?”
“Why so intense, Tony? Do you still think I’m going to run away?”
“God help you if you do because no one else will be able to. I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth. I can’t live without you. Breaking my heart would be a very stupid thing for you to do.”
“I have no intention of breaking your heart.”
“Mentirosa,” he gently stroked the skin of her bare arm lightly with the tips of his fingers. “My little liar,” he breathed huskily, sending a chill over her skin where his breath blew over it like light feathers touching her skin. It was a pet name he’d given her for all the trouble she’d caused him. She was a challenge that kept him on his toes, and he loved her for it.
“Your little liar—I do belong to you, Tony. Now, are you going to let me go talk to the ladies you told me to have drinks with or are going to mark me with your scent first?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Roxanne. I’m watching you. You better hope like hell that dress you’re wearing doesn’t get you in trouble. I’m in the mood for a fistfight tonight.”
A chill ran through her. The last time he’d gotten in a fight, he’d almost killed a man in the back alley. Antonio Wayne could fight, and he liked it. “Antonio, please…”
He looked up at her through hooded eyes and grinned. “Be a good girl. I’m watching …always watching.”
Like a predator watching prey, she knew he was. He was obsessed with his wife, and they both knew for her to flirt with another man would be very dangerous. She walked a tightrope of being pleasant to the customers but not being too friendly. She saw the way men sneaked looks at her. Nobody had the nerve to openly gawk. Antonio Wayne Ramirez owned her, and the city of Louisville knew it.
“Ladies,” she smiled with ease as she approached the booth where Page and Judy were seated. “I see you already have drinks,” she raised a finger, and a waitress nodded in her direction. Within moments she brought Roxanne a Peach martini.
“A woman after my own heart. I love the peach martinis here,” Judy said.
“They’re addictive, and they sneak up on you too. This atmosphere calls for taking the edge off.” It was the first sign the girls had seen of Roxanne being affected by the life she was forced into.
“Boy, that’s what I call service,” Page laughed. The waitress had moved so quickly to get Roxanne’s order that it seemed like she was waiting to serve the woman.
“It’s one of the perks of being married to the owner.”
“It’s one of the perks of being married to a man in the Colombian cartel. Everybody’s scared to death of him.”
Roxanne’s eyes pierced through Page, “I hear you’ve attracted the attention of a very dangerous man yourself. Mano is nobody to be playing with. If you have any love interests, you need to get rid of them now. These boys don’t play.”
“Yeah. I kind of got that impression. I’ve always heard once a woman piques their interest, they’ll do anything to get her. I’m witnessing it firsthand now.”
A slight shake of Roxanne’s head showed her disagreement. “No…I witnessed it firsthand. I saw Mano smash a man’s ankle and shatter his knee with a sledgehammer for running from the cartel when they paid to have him brought to the states. That was money he was supposed to pay back. When he tried to run so he wouldn’t have to pay, Mano said he’d never run again. Mano likes to make the punishment fit the crime. It’s a cartel trait because they are sending an underlying message. Everyone gets loud and clear. He’s ruthless. Don’t fuck him over, Page. It’s your job to have his back now.”
“I’m surprised Antonio Wayne allows you to go to interrogations.” Hearing a firsthand testimony of what Mano could and possibly would do scared Page. She had no intention of pissing the man off. Thoughts of getting her face cut up because she was with another man were not something she wanted to think about. She’d heard stories about cartel men who made their women watch the death of their lover before their own lives were taken. Recompense was swift, but it was delivered painstakingly slow to draw out the suffering. These men were sadistic, and they took pride in their work because it ensured they would have a reputation that would make potential enemies think twice about crossing them. To survive in this world, you had to be ruthless. Mano and Tad both had that personality trait.
“Antonio Wayne includes me in the business. Mano and Tad will do the same, so I hope you ladies are up for the challenge of being a cartel woman. It takes a certain kind of woman to handle the severity of this lifestyle. The mentality of the men is once you witness a crime, you’re less likely to snitch—if you do, you’re going to jail too. If they don’t kill you first.”
When Roxanne saw their eyes widen, she just laughed, “Like I said: it’s a severe business we’re in. Take it seriously, ladies, because like it or not, you are part of it now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Antonio Wayne pulled a chair up to the table Mano and Tadias were seated at. They were hidden in the shadows watching the girls who were totally clueless to them being there. Stalking was a trait that came naturally to men who lived the life of a criminal. Each man had their own specialty of expertise, but stalking was an attribute that always came in handy—plus, it was fun when a woman was involved.
“If I was a betting man, I’d say you two were here stalking your women.”
“You know how we Colombians roll,” Tadias laughed.
Antonio nodded at a waitress, and she brought over a bottle of Patron for the men.
“No aguardiente, huh?” Mano smirked.
“We will save that for when we take a trip to Colombia,” Antonio spoke with an air of longing. Though the land had been brutal to him as a child, she was a mistress the Colombian soul could never resist.
“Ah, the motherland,” Tad raised his shot glass for a toast after the waitress poured all of them shots.
“To the Motherland. ¡Salud!” they all said in unison. They downed the shots and poured two more downing them. It was time to loosen up and talk about what had been at the back of Antonio Wayne’s mind. He was rare because he always saw things coming long before they happened. As if he had a sixth sense, very little got past the man.
Antonio Wayne shifted in his seat and unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket, revealing a gold-handled Glock he never went anywhere without. He had a reputation for being able to shoot a fly off a horse’s ass, but his weapon of choice was a whip, and no one could wield one like Antonio Wayne.
“I’ve been thinking about the death of that fixer your woman hired, Mano. I think it’s somebody on the inside. The news hasn’t gotten out yet, but there was another fixer who was killed. This time a whole family was taken out; kids included. This isn’t somebody with a vendetta, this is somebody who is hunting fixers and taking them out. I don’t know why but I’m thinking this guy is a serial killer, and there are going to be more deaths. We need to get ahead of this before it spirals out of control. If the authorities get involved, it’ll bring down heat on the cartel, and we don’t need that. The sonofabitch is making it look like we’re involved. Whoever he is…he’s not stupid.”