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Chapter 7

"When do we make our move?" Alejandro asked, leaning against the doorframe of Reyes' Plaza condominium. He'd rented an entire suite for himself and two more for his right hand and the rest of the guys.

"Soon," Reyes grunted, flicking him a look, daring him to keep talking.

Alejandro was as good as a brother, but some lines were not to be crossed. This one question was the only one that would be allowed. Reyes would set the date and time when he was ready. He knew the guys were talking about his hesitation. So far, the talk had not crossed any lines into dangerous territory or Reyes would have had to deal with his own men. But he knew he would have to act soon, before his hesitation to act swiftly and brutally on the Miami front was perceived as weakness.

He just wasn't certain yet what to do about the woman. He needed more information and so far, getting that information was harder than getting into a bank vault. His private meeting with her had not gone down as he'd hoped. He thought maybe he would look into her beautiful, vapid face and feel nothing. Expose that feeling of six months ago for the fleeting fraud that it was. Instead, the woman… Casey, had shaken him to the core of his very being with her bald admittances.

"Go," he said without looking up.

Moments later he heard the door open and close, indicating Alejandro's exit. He ran a hand over the thick spikes of his hair and then stood to pour himself a drink. His hand hovered over the bourbon as he remembered her pathetic story and he glanced at the clock, 3:00pm. Then he closed his fist over the bottle and strode to the window overlooking the city. A city that would soon belong to him.

He needed to make a decision about the woman. Did he go with his original plan and clean house or did he take the scarred woman for himself? With a growl, he twisted the lid off the bottle and drank deeply, allowing the smooth alcohol to slide down his throat, soothing the questions that burned him with unfamiliar doubt. Unfortunately, it was the uncertainty that burned so heavily in his gut that made her fate become more and more likely.

He was Reyes. He was a king. He couldn't take a scarred queen from a despotic man and set her up at his side. She was weak and pathetic, a drunken shell of a woman. She wasn't strong enough. She would fail and she would collapse. He would eventually be forced to put her down if she didn't find a way to do it herself. He'd found the iron will to clean out his own house. He'd harden his heart and do another man's house.

Yet, despite this resolve, he found himself tipping the bottle once more, then turning to put on a shirt so he could intercept the woman he had every intention of letting go of with brutal finality. It was Friday.

Shopping day.


"What colour, Alonzo?" she asked absently, handing her silently suffering bodyguard another dress.

Perhaps if she cared enough to examine her motivations she'd question why she tortured Alonzo this way. He never actually hurt her or touched her in any way, unless called upon by the boss to touch. Which was extremely rare. Alonzo didn't allow so much as a flicker of malevolence to cross his expression when he looked toward her. He was nothing but coldly solicitous of her every want and need unless it conflicted with something Ignacio wanted. Then, Ignacio's desires came first.

And then it struck her; this was why she needled Alonzo. Because he looked through her instead of at her. Because he'd stood at her side for nearly a decade. Stood at her side during her surgeries after her accident, watched over her during horrific migraines and tried to wake her in the mornings when she'd taken too many pills or too much alcohol. He'd made the panicked call for an ambulance when she'd tried to kill herself three years ago and he'd stood next to her hospital bed, pity finally lighting his expression as Ignacio had ranted at her for daring to try to leave him while she was strapped to a bed, forced to listen to every word.

And still she knew deep in her gut that her "loyal" bodyguard would put a bullet in her if the boss ordered it. Because he was the one that had held her down while Ignacio had burned her hand after her single escape attempt, though she'd screamed and pleaded for mercy, finally passing out in his arms. This was why she played with him, but never crossed the line toward true friendliness. That and she couldn't bear to get closer to another human, feel that affection and then watch as Ignacio took away something else she cared about.

"Blue, Mrs. Hernandez," he grunted, doing an excellent job of disguising the annoyance he must be feeling at their weekly sojourn, which included some variation of the same conversation every time.

"Now, would you say it was more of a royal blue or a sky blue?" she asked softly as though she actually cared. She really, really didn't.

He shifted next to her, barely glancing down at the fabric she was holding before sweeping their surroundings with a thorough check. "Royal."

"Excellent," she said brightly, tossing the dress into his arms without looking at the tag.

They both knew she didn't care about the size, fit or price. That it was hit or miss whether she would ever wear it or whether it would end up in a bag headed for a charity clothing drive. She shopped because it was expected and because it forced her to leave the house. And because if she didn't dress well, then she was even less useful to Ignacio. They all knew there was only one way out of the life she was in and it wasn't through a divorce lawyer.

She held another item up and looked it over. "What colour, Alonzo?" she asked.

Before he could answer, a deep voice startled her from behind. "It's red, nena."

Casey whirled around, the blouse she was holding up slipping from her grip. Long, dark fingers reached out and snatched it before it could hit the floor. His quick movement brought him a step closer to her. Casey instinctively tried to move back, used to having an entire large bubble of personal space, but the clothing rack to her back stopped her.

Reyes' eyes never left her as he spoke. "I do not think red is your colour, cari?o."

Another endearment from a man that was almost a stranger.

"I wouldn't know," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from his rough, scarred face, but knowing she should. They were in public and Alonzo was a few feet from her watching her every move, listening to every word. Ready and waiting to report back to Ignacio.

"Why wouldn't you know?" Reyes asked, replacing the blouse on the rack.

Casey forced her brain to follow the conversation and catch up to his meaning, then shrugged. "I'm colour-blind. Red, blue, green… they mean nothing to me," she told him.

He looked startled for a moment, his face changing from his usual hard, difficult-to-read expression to a sudden softening. She was used to the men in her world never giving anything away in their looks. She'd adopted the same look, emulated it for self-preservation. She knew it saved lives. But she… liked the way he looked at her now when she revealed her latest little quirk. His eyes squinted a little, narrowing in laughter, his lips lifting a little as he huffed out a small chuckle.

"What?" she asked, a small, breathless laugh escaping her throat as well. She couldn't help herself. He looked different when he laughed and she wanted to join.

He studied her face, the way her bowed lips curved upward in amusement and her pale, pink cheeks flushed as he watched her. "So damn defective, woman."

Her amusement fled with his words as a slice of pain streaked through her. She touched her chest, pressing her fingertips against her breastbone for a second. She ignored the way he watched her, like a hawk or something. She didn't need his razor-sharp eyes or his razor-sharp wit taking her down every time she saw him. How had she let this man, a stranger, get close enough to cause pain? Where had her frozen, sleepy life gone? Why was she even telling him these things? Making herself vulnerable to men like him, men used to exploiting weaknesses in others. She dropped her eyes and turned away from him.

"If you'll excuse me," she murmured. "Alonzo and I are just finishing up here."

Reyes stepped around her, blocking her path. She felt Alonzo's tension thrumming from several feet away, but the bodyguard didn't step in. She was positive he'd had the same conversation with Ignacio that she'd had. Don't piss off the Bolivian boss.

"I came to see you, Casey," Reyes said.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. I didn't think it was a coincidence that you just ran into me in a city this size."

She felt him stiffen next to her, saw his fingers twitch and realized he had to stop himself from grabbing her. She backed a step away from him. He followed her, his eyes capturing hers and hardening. "Do not roll your eyes at me again, nena. You understand?"

Her heart stopped in her chest and she couldn't breathe for a second. How could she forget how dangerous these men were? She hadn't made a mistake like that in many years. She would never have dared to roll her eyes anywhere near Ignacio. She brought a hand up to her mouth and nodded quickly. Fuck, she was going to have to be more careful.

He watched her every reaction, his hard, dark eyes narrowing with understanding. Of course, he knew. She'd been married to the mafia for nearly a decade. She knew what was expected of her. Mob wives didn't make stupid mistakes that could cause pain, or worse, cost them their lives.

"Come, I'm taking you somewhere else," he told her.

Casey glanced at Alonzo who jerked his head in a quick nod, giving his permission. Of course. Keep Bolivia happy. Before she could utter a response, Reyes took her arm, touching her for the second time. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steel herself from feeling the warmth of his hand seeping into her skin, the tingle of another body against hers, the rush of blood through her veins clambering to wake up. Her lashes lifted and she met his dark, satisfied gaze. His fingers wrapped more firmly around her and he pulled her tighter against the side of his heavily muscled body as he led her from the shop.

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