Scarred Queen Page 8

  She jumped when the door to Ignacio’s office slammed open and he stood glowering in the doorway. He stared with open hostility at the tableau in front of him for a moment. Then, completely ignoring the fact that his wife was sprawled on the floor next to his second-in-command, snapped, “Diego, I need you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “He has a sense of humour,” Casey murmured with amusement, eyeing the array of gifts Reyes had sent her.

  Each one had significance and, if she were being honest, chipped away a little more at the armour around her heart. She hadn’t seen him again since their erotic and stormy encounter in his penthouse suite almost a week ago. But each time a new gift arrived, it was a reminder that he hadn’t forgotten her. Nor had he forgotten the things that she’d said to him in each of their conversations.

  None of the gifts were overly expensive, which told her that he’d listened when she told him that the luxuries surrounding her meant little to her. Her fingers drifted over a framed picture of herself. She had no idea when it was taken because it was a close up of her face. In the photo she was leaning forward, her hair covering most of her face, except for a carefree smile curving her lips as she stared off at nothing in particular. The expression on her face surprised her since she so rarely smiled. Casey lifted her fingers and touched her lips, wondering when she’d smiled like that and what she’d been thinking at the time. How had he gotten such an intimate picture of her? The mansion was locked down tight and she so rarely went out.

  She put the picture down and picked up the next item, a book. This one made her laugh out loud and roll her eyes. It was a tourist’s guidebook to Bolivia. She’d actually read the entire thing cover to cover in one evening, eager for knowledge of Reyes’ home country. She wondered which region his home was in since there were several. She tried not to think too hard about the significance of his giving her the book.

  “Kantuta,” she whispered, picking up the gorgeous blooms, yet another gift. They looked so exotic she wondered if he’d had to go to great lengths to find them. They were strange looking, but hauntingly beautiful with a long tube-like bell instead of petals. On a suspicion, she’d looked up the national flower of Bolivia to discover that there were two. This one was native to the cooler, western side of the region that contained the Andes. She wondered if he was telling her, indirectly, where he lived.

  She flipped the guidebook open and pressed the flowers inside, wanting to preserve them for as long as she could. This was the second time in her life she’d received flowers. Both times from the same man in the space of a week. She was beginning to think he liked her.

  The other gifts included a lovely silk wrap that she discovered was a light pink colour by asking her maid. He also gave her several books on the science of migraines written by reputable neurologists from around the world. This particular bundle had filled her eyes with tears and made her think he was doing more than playing terrible games with her. It also broke her heart a little. Because it didn’t matter how thoughtful he was, how much he treated her as though he actually cared. She still belonged to another man.

  And Reyes had made it clear to her that he valued her loyalty, even if it belonged to someone else. That was the tragedy of her blossoming feelings for the Bolivian mafia boss. Though she suspected he could be as much of a monster as her own husband, she also thought maybe he was capable of loving her back. His thoughtful gifts proved that he felt something. But she couldn’t go to him, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Ignacio owned her.

  “We move as planned,” Reyes growled to Alejandro.

  His second nodded sharply, but hesitated. Reyes stiffened and waited. He knew the other man had something to say, but was so used to heeding the boss’s orders without question that he didn’t know if he should verbalize the thought. Smart decision. However, Reyes had appointed Alejandro his second for a reason. The man was uncommonly intelligent and had survived twelve years in Venezuelan intelligence before moving on to the head of a mercenary organization and then to Reyes who had lured him away with the promise of unparalleled riches and a medical treatment for his mother that would have been out of his reach without Reyes’ intervention.

  “Just say it,” Reyes snarled, already knowing where Alejandro’s thoughts were, but knowing they had to have the conversation anyway.

  Alejandro stood a little straighter, his eyes on the window behind Reyes. “What about the woman?”

  “What about her?” Reyes spat.

  Alejandro sighed a little, clearly unable to say exactly what he wanted. They were both ex-military men and thus used to plain speaking, but the big, beat-up head of Reyes security had no idea how to handle this unique situation. Women didn’t usually fall under their jurisdiction. At least not the kind they kept. “We have no extraction plan for her. If we move in as planned, she’ll be at the house when we hit it.”

  Reyes stared coldly at the other man. He could feel fury rising up within, but forced it back and responded in the only way he knew how. “She’s his wife, she chose her loyalties. I asked her to come to me and she refused. Just make fucking sure nothing happens to her when we move in. I have a contact on the inside who’ll help keep her safe.”

  Alejandro looked as though he were chewing on nails. Reyes understood the dilemma. They would be walking into a bloodbath, no matter what happened. And Casey Hernandez would be sitting right in the middle of it. It chilled him to the bone that there was nothing he could do to spare her from the coming war. Except extract her and keep her for himself. Take her from the keeping of one monster and move her into the keeping of another, infinitely worse. He only hoped she was smart enough to keep out of the path of the flying bullets.

  Alejandro grunted. “We’ll do our best, boss.”

  “You better,” Reyes told him, turning his cold gaze on the man he’d trusted with his life for the past several years. “If something happens to my future reina, I can assure you, I will come after you and whoever else was careless enough to allow her harm. I don’t care who puts the bullet in her, everyone will suffer my wrath.”

  Alejandro met his eyes and nodded his understanding. The idea that Casey Hernandez would become the Queen of the Reyes cartel finally crystalizing. It was no longer a vague thought, gossip that he and the men discussed behind the bosses back. No, it seemed that the stunningly beautiful blond woman that their leader had been pursuing with relentless determination would be going home with them. As long as they could ensure her survival.

  “She will live, Reyes,” Alejandro assured him. “You have my word.”

  Reyes grunted as Alejandro pledged his loyalty to the pale, somewhat weak woman that would stand at his side and lead their organization; their people. Fuck, he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. But he couldn’t imagine letting her go now, not after having a brief taste of her. Touching her petal soft skin, tasting her sweetness and learning each fascinating new fact that just made him want her even more. She would become his and she would rule at his side.

  “I’m going to see her one more time before we move,” he told Alejandro.

  It was Tuesday.

  Chapter Twelve

  Casey tried to check out. She honestly did. She hated these women almost as much as she despised the men guarding her gilded cage. These were the birds that happily flew back into their cages and ate from the hands that fed them. But for some reason she couldn’t zone out the way she usually did during these godawful lunches, possibly because she’d started flushing some of her daily pills instead of blindly swallowing them.

  She felt the burning hatred welling up inside her as they talked about the most useless things she could conceive of. She only dined with them because Elvira Montana was among the set. Beautiful, blond and coolly distant, Elvira barely took part in the conversation either. But Ignacio insisted that the two women meet and get to know each other.

  Probably because Elvira was an older version of what Casey was to become. A coked-out mob wife whose husb
and had bought her way into this elite company of women. And her husband could maybe get Ignacio some deals on overseas product Ignacio wouldn’t otherwise be able to get his hands on. The others at the table included politician’s wives and daughters, a Spanish telanovella actress and Dahlia Paxton, a high-priced lawyer to the rich and famous.

  Dahlia was talking about an awkward encounter she had at a gas station when she’d accidentally pulled up to the wrong pump and been expected to fill her own tank. “I mean, what did they think,” she laughed, flicking her wrist over her shoulder and reaching for her wine. “That I would get out of the car or something? Ugh, I would’ve gone to my meeting smelling of noxious gas fumes, or worse, I could’ve gotten cancer or something. I mean, isn’t it dangerous to pump your own gas? I could’ve started a fire or something! So, I just sat there and waited until someone came out and helped me. I out-stubborned those blue-collar assholes.”

  Casey opened her mouth to make a comment about Dahlia’s ability to go to law school and pass the state bar, yet her surprising inability to pump her own gas without dousing herself in the noxious liquid and setting herself on fire, but Elvira put a restraining hand on her wrist. Casey glanced at the other woman with a raised eyebrow, but Elvira just shook her head and sighed.

  “Not worth it,” she whispered for Casey’s ears alone. “Just go back to sleep darling.”

  She patted Casey’s arm with long, manicured fingers and withdrew back into her own seat, settling in to ignore the bulk of the conversation once more. Though Casey was mildly surprised by Elvira’s intervention, she took it to heart. The older woman was right. There was no point in lambasting their entitled company. For several reasons. They wouldn’t thank her for it and in their elite society a snub could go a long way toward social suicide. Not something she could afford with the current state of her marriage. Casey shuddered and withdrew any further comments, instead contemplating Elvira’s cryptic message, ‘go back to sleep.’ Those four words had unwittingly struck right through to the heart of her, cutting deep into her soul.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, placing her napkin on the table and abruptly standing.

  Elvira looked startled and asked, “Do you want me to come with you?” No doubt she was worried that she’d pushed the delicate young woman closer toward some invisible edge with her kindly intended words. Theirs was a small world where gossip travelled freely among the mob wives. Just like Casey knew Elvira was a frequent user of her husband’s product, Elvira knew that Casey had tried to kill herself a few years earlier to escape an unbearable marriage.

  Casey managed a believable smile and said, “No thank you, Elvira, I’ll be fine.”

  She made her way swiftly to the ladies’ room and was about to lock the door when it flew open, shoving her to one side. “What…?” she gasped, stumbling back, reaching out for the counter.

  Reyes strode into the small space, slamming the door and locking it. He swept her with a single look from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head, encompassing each part of her, taking in her slim black high-waisted pencil skirt and bright pink silk blouse. She shook her head and edged along the counter, eyeing him warily.

  “No,” she told him, trying to make her voice as stern as she could.

  He ignored her, stalking closer, devouring every inch of her, his eyes lingering on her bare arms and face. “You got my gifts, cariña?”

  “Yes,” she acknowledged, gripping the granite edge of the vanity behind her until her knuckles strained. She knew it was to stop herself from flinging herself at him. God, he looked so good! He was dressed casual in dark pants and a short-sleeved shirt that strained at his biceps.

  “And?” he prompted.

  She couldn’t help the reluctant grin that spread across her lips. “Thank you, Reyes, they were beautiful. I loved them. The flowers, the books… everything. Truly, I can’t even say how much they meant.”

  He smiled at her, a real smile that softened his dark, scarred face for just a moment. She felt a ripple of gratitude that he would share the rare intimacy of that smile with her. This moment was special. That he was pleased his gifts meant something to her. That she’d appreciated him the way he wanted her to. His obsession for her was becoming mutual and she was tipping her hand.

  They stared at each other for a few long, heartrending moments until she looked away and shook her head, a stray hair from her carefully coiffed updo trailing across her cheek. “Don’t do that, Reyes. Please just stop doing this to me,” she begged.

  To his credit he didn’t pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. His face resumed its usual hard lines as he stared her down, showing her that he didn’t care how much she begged, he could and he would do whatever he liked with her. That she was at his mercy and with every encounter falling further prey to his seduction.

  She held a shaking hand out, palm up and whispered, “I need you to be stronger than me.” She put every ounce of pleading she could into her voice as she begged him to leave her alone. “We both know I’m weak, Reyes. That I’m the pathetic, cracked wife of a powerful man who has spent years climbing his way into the Miami underworld. He won’t let go of his position and he won’t let go of me.”

  She flipped her hand over and showed him the scar on the back then lifted her eyes to see his reaction. Fiery rage lit his gaze as he stared hard at the shiny, raised “H” before meeting her eyes. “Ownership,” she told him in a shaky voice. “He will hunt me to the ends of the Earth.”

  He said nothing for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was filled with such fury that she wished she had more room behind her so she could take a step back. “You think I would let him?”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head again, dropping her hand in despair. “I think it’s my duty to go back to him no matter what, Reyes,” she said in a quivering voice. “We’ve been over this and I just don’t think I can do it with you again.” She turned away from him and reached for the door.

  He grabbed her from behind and shoved her into the door, pushing her until she was flush against the wooden panel with him hard at her back. He leaned in and growled in her ear, “You go when I tell you to go, nena. Never before.”

  He swung her around and pushed her shoulders back against the door. Before she could beg him to leave her alone he crushed her lips with his own, stealing the words from her. She sobbed into his mouth, accepting the hot embrace with despairing enthusiasm. A moan escaped her and she gripped his arms tightly, holding onto him while he shoved himself hard against her, knocking her hips and ass back into the door.

  He didn’t give her a chance to reject him, shoving his tongue into her mouth and sweeping the recesses within, memorizing her, feeling her. He gripped her jaw and held her open for his dark caress, while his other hand swept her body, both holding her to him and testing her softness. Casey tried to still herself beneath the scorching heat of his caress, but her body clamored for attention, seeking the warmth he was providing. She arched into each sweep of his hand and began to enthusiastically meet each sweep of his tongue with tiny caresses of her own.

  He pulled back just enough to mumble, “Fucking caliente, Casey,” against her lips, before devouring her once more. His hand dropped to the edge of her skirt and yanked upward, bunching it to her waist. She cried out against his mouth, but he swallowed the sound in another hard kiss.

  “It’s okay, nena,” he murmured soothingly against her lips.

  She whimpered as he tore her panties aside and pushed long fingers unexpectedly deep into her pussy. She widened her legs to ease the pressure, but he took advantage by pushing further up into her body. The breath shuddered out of her and she gripped his arms so hard she thought she might leave bruises. She knew she was embarrassingly wet for him. He did this to her. He made her body drip just for him. She’d never been this way before. Oh, she’d been turned on before. Usually alone in her room reading erotic romance novels or watching sexy movies, but nothing like this.


  Then he flicked his thumb across her clit and she thought she was going to die. She flung her head back against the door, knocking the back of her head into the wood and closed her eyes tight. “Stop,” she whispered.

  “No fucking way, not until you’re mine,” he snarled, leaning against her to bite into her shoulder. He shoved his fingers impossibly deeper into her. She knew she was going to be sore after this, but… fuck… it felt so good.

  “Please… I don’t want to do this,” she whimpered.

  He snarled something in Spanish so rapid and so vile she didn’t quite catch it. Reyes pulled his fingers from her body with a suddenness that left her gasping, then he shoved his fingers into her mouth and swirled them around her tongue and teeth, forcing her to taste herself. When she would have turned her face away he gripped her jaw hard, leaned in and shoved his fingers in and out of her mouth a few times.

  “Taste what I do to you, Casey,” he growled, his dark eyes so wild she thought he was on the razor’s edge of violence. “We both know he doesn’t fucking do this for you.”

  Then he leaned in to kiss her, shoving his tongue in her mouth, stretching her lips and joining his fingers to taste her. She moaned at the eroticism of the act and wrapped her tongue around his fingers. The kiss went on and on until she finally pulled back blinking rapidly. She turned her head sharply to the side, pushing his hand away. The moment was so intense it brought tears to her eyes. She’d gone years without crying over a man, yet somehow this man brought her to tears over and over in a matter of weeks. It was like he’d broken something inside her. Or maybe he was shaking up the already broken pieces.