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“The beaches?”
“Area looks deserted. Just a few structures up ahead. She’s slowing down.” After a couple of minutes, he continued, “Okay, I’m sending you the address. She’s gone inside.”
“Good work. I’ll head out there now.”
“Want me to send Killian or Chains with a car?”
“No, not this time. Find out where Tyson Black will be tonight. I’ll be paying him a visit.” Boss hung up.
Was Graciella meeting Viko? Was she hiding something? Whatever it was, he’d find out soon. With the Widow Maker on his mind, he couldn’t focus on his contract just yet. He put the address into his software, zooming in on the dilapidated cabin. Her car was parked out front. For a city girl living in an upscale condo, he doubted she enjoyed slumming it.
It was in the middle of nowhere. No other cars in sight. He waited for his satellite to scan the house for heat signatures. She was alone. His curiosity was piqued, and that was rarely a good thing.
He headed to his weapons room and strapped himself with firepower. He’d had enough of masquerading as the victim last week, and he had no plans on repeating it. Boss drove out to the beaches, rolling down his window as the paved roads turned to dirt. The air smelled different out here, salty and fresh. Seagulls cawed and he could already hear the waves before he saw them. He crested a low dune, and then he saw the old wooden cabin. It looked lonely and weather-beaten. The waves were rough, crashing on the shore, creating a flurry of white wash.
As he slowly rolled toward it, his sensors went off on his dash. Interesting. He’d been picked up on surveillance. This wasn’t the first time she’d come here. What was she up to? He kept driving. The Widow Maker already knew he was there, so there’d be no surprise visit today.
Maybe she’d planned this and wanted to assassinate him. He supposed there were worse ways to go.
He parked his car and walked up to the front door, the old floorboards on the porch creaking with each step. Boss didn’t knock. He turned the handle and pushed open the door. The second after the gun rested against his left temple, he’d twisted her arm and taken it away.
“What the fuck?” she said, holding her wrist.
“Is that how you welcome guests?”
“Guest? As far as I’m concerned, you’re breaking and entering. Don’t you know how to knock?” she asked.
He walked in, tossing her gun on a low dresser. Boss checked out the small, open-concept cabin. It was a lot more presentable inside than out. There was a double bed, nightstand, dresser, and oversized wicker chair with a big floral cushion. It didn’t look like Widow Maker’s style. “What is this place?”
“None of your business.”
He shrugged. Boss never expected a straight answer from her. She was the most difficult female he’d ever dealt with. “This where you fuck your marks?”
“Bastard.” She lunged at him and he grabbed both her wrists. He loved pushing her buttons. There was something deeply satisfying about toying with Graciella.
“You should really learn to control that Latina temper of yours. It’ll be your downfall.”
“Funny how you’re the only one who manages to piss me off.” She struggled to free her arms but she wasn’t going anywhere until he decided so. “What do you want from me now?”
“I want to know why you drove all the way out to this piece-of-shit cabin. You’re hiding something.”
She shook her head. “What you see is what you get. I’m not hiding anything.”
“You met with Viko a few days ago. Don’t forget I’m watching him. And you. What did you talk about?”
Graciella huffed. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I thought I’d ask you. He’s your master, after all. Like he said, you’ll be in debt to him for the rest of your life. That what you like? Being a slave to a man like him?”
Her eyes narrowed, but that was all the emotion he could get out of her. He knew he’d hit a sore spot, but she managed to keep up her iron walls.
“You like being put on show for piece-of-shit assholes like Viko? He said that wasn’t the first time he’s had you stripped naked.”
“So what? I’ve told you before it’s only a body.”
“And I’ve told you you’re better than this.”
Her figure was fucking perfection. Thick thighs, rounded hips, and a killer ass. She filled out everything she wore in an unholy way. And she knew exactly how she affected men. Graciella was the whole package. Only she wasn’t. Her beauty was skin-deep, the rest a dark abyss of pain she lived to keep buried. Boss was convinced he was the only man who could handle a woman like her.
