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My mind is filled with turmoil. I should have never let her leave, but I need her to trust me. I can see now that I have come to need her just as much as she needs me, but I can’t let her know that. Sometimes knowledge isn’t power, and it’s best to be left in the dark. I wish she would understand that.
The cartel will never expect a woman to be my right hand. They’re considered too weak and fragile. Their culture believes that women are too pure for what we do. Little do they know, I’d put her up against their most deadly hitman and I know she’d walk away.
“We need her back!” I shout at the twins.
It’s been three days. Three. Fucking. Days. I’m done waiting.
Lucas, for once, is serious. His usual smirk has been replaced with a worrisome face. He has his doubts, I can tell, yet he tries his best to reassure me. “I know, boss, and we will get her back. What do you want us to do? Storm the place again?”
“No. It will do nothing but piss her off even more.” I pace the length of the kitchen counter, running my hands over the smooth granite. “Any ideas? Have you heard from Carl?” I stop and look at Julius. He’s never been one for conversation, but somewhere in his absence of talking, his mind still turns at full speed and conjures up the best plans.
He looks to me for a second before reaching into his pocket for the phone I gave him months ago. He studies the small screen like he’s reading for a second before going to a blank screen and typing a single emoji. He flashes it in my direction.
“That’s it? A thumbs-up?” Before I can question further, he nudges his head behind him, pointing with his chin toward the hall.
I look at him with a raised brow, then go to the hallway. As my feet stop in the hallway, the front door opens and Charlie walks in followed by Carl. I had him sit at her place to make sure she was okay. I wanted him to be inconspicuous, but it looks like he doesn’t know the definition of the word.
I eye him, and he shrugs. “She saw me as soon as she came out, then insisted on driving that piece-of-shit GTO back here. I wasn’t about to argue with her.” He holds up his hands.
I shake my head and look to Charlie. I study her body for a brief moment. My dick twitches at the sight of her, and my stomach stirs. Her chestnut hair is loose and falling around her face in waves, the tight black leggings on her legs are doing everything I wish I could, and the loose shirt she wears trying to hide herself does just that, almost. I can see her nipples pressed against the thin fabric begging to be touched. I try to bury all the erotic fantasies swirling within my mind for a moment and bring my eyes to meet hers.
There is something different about them. They are swollen and puffy. Small bags appear under the skin, and they are lightly coated by scattered smudges of mascara. The sea of green, which normally outshines an emerald, is clouded by bulging and expanded veins, adding a hint of red to the palette of colors. It’s obvious she’s been crying, and I want to hurt whoever made her sad. Hurt may be too light of a word—I want to kill them and deliver their head to their mother’s front door.
I release a breath and make sure my face is solemn before speaking. “Why are you crying?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead she keeps taking steps, not stopping until she is in front of me. She looks up and I can see her eyes start to water. She immediately looks down in an effort to conceal her tears. I reach for her face and place my thumb and pointer under her chin, tipping it high. “Queens never let their head fall, Monkshood.” Her bottom lip is tucked tightly between her teeth. I tug at it, a motion that’s become so normal to me, before wiping the lone tear that has fallen to her cheek.
She lets out a sad laugh. “I’m no queen.”
I shake my head and turn on my heels, not trusting myself around her a moment longer. “Not yet,” I mumble, walking away.
My whole plan was to get her here and use her. I know the cartel wouldn’t expect it, but seeing her in this new light is making me question myself. I want her to be mine, and I want the world to know it, and I want everyone to know if they hurt her, there will be hell to pay. I don’t think I could hide my attraction for her from myself anymore, let alone anyone else.
I make my feet go through the motions. Right, left, right, left, fighting the urge to turn around with every step I take. When I made the promise to Chief Welsh about bringing down the cartel, I never knew his daughter. I knew of her, sure, but I didn’t know her. The more I looked into her, and the more I learned about her, did nothing but make me want her more.
I’ve had this plan for a while now. Find a woman who is suitable and use her as a pawn to fool the cartel, but who are we fooling here. I never expected myself to actually have these kinds of feelings for the poor soul I chose.
I release a breath and walk into my room, thankful I can be alone for a second.
I go to my bed and plop down. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slip it off my shoulders and throw it to the floor. Charlie is a lot of things. She’s smart, skilled, quick on her feet, but she isn’t cut out for this life. She was raised by a cop on the right side of the law. A good moral code and the right way of justice was instilled into her at a young age. I only offered her the bullshit role of bodyguard to me because I knew she wanted to bring down the fuckers who killed her dad as much as me. Granted, my reasoning is motivated in a different way, but we want the same thing, nonetheless.
I unbutton my shirt and throw it to the floor with my suit jacket before lying back onto my bed. Normally the goose-feather-stuffed mattress relaxes me, but not today. All I can think about is Charlie.
A knock sounds on the door, interrupting my thoughts. “What!” I call out.
When no one answers, I stand from my bed, annoyed. I pull open the door and see Charlie on the other side. This time she isn’t crying, and her head is held high.
“Do you have a minute?”
When I nod, she pushes past me and closes the door with a thud. “I have something I feel is important. I’m still not sure I can trust you, but I’m out of options.” She opens her hand and shoves a key toward my chest.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves that are already furious at the sight of her upset.
I grab the key, letting it drag down my chest, leaving a raised red mark in its wake. “Where did you get this?” I ask through loosely clenched teeth.
“It was with my dad the night he died. I got it along with everything else he had on him. Do you know where it goes?”
I flip the key in my palm and study it. It isn’t a normal key. It’s long and slender with a single jagged line etched into the thumbpiece. It almost seems familiar, but I don’t know from where. “I’ve never seen a key like this, Monkshood.”
