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The irony is that I never cry in pain. If I did that, I wouldn’t have any tears left by now. No, I cry when bitches like Tiena abandon their children with no warning. I cry when cruel men humiliate me in public for the world to see. I cry when I hate so much it spills out of me in liquid form, and there is no stopping the tempest.
But Jaguar doesn’t know that. A swath of light illuminates his features, and from the smirk on his face, I assume he sees my glistening eyes as weakness.
“I want you to go to war because that’s what men like you do,” I counter bitterly. From the back of my mind, I hear a voice suspiciously like Pedro’s warning me of the danger of acting recklessly. Impulsively. Running my mouth around a man like Domingas could get me killed.
His eyes predictably darken, but I do not feel afraid.So be it.I’d rather die giving it my all than curl in a ball and accept defeat.Damn the consequences.Reaching for his hand through the darkness, I squeeze the hard, lethal bits of muscle and bone. Caressing them beneath my thumb, I endure the low, questioning sound that escapes his throat.
“You destroy those weaker,” I tell him. “That is what I want. What I need.”
“And what would be in it for me?” He turns the tables, crushing my fingers in a brutal grasp.Damn it.I cry out, and squeeze my eyes shut. For a second, Jaguar disappears, replaced by a figure I refuse to remember.
Do you think you can challenge me, little butterfly?he would growl.Think again. Unless you think you have the balls to…
No!I shake my head to banish the memory and wrench my eyes open. Not now. He can’t hurt me here.
And the pain inflicted by Jaguar… I can survive it. Pursing my lips, I breathe through it and force myself to face him.
Darkness once again obscures his expression, and I can’t make out a single detail. Only his voice provides a clue as to his thought process. Cold, simmering apathy.
“I don’t need your money, chica. And if you’re on the run from Braulio, I doubt you have a damn thing to your name. Nothing in this world comes without an expectation of repayment.”
The sudden switch to business terms sends me reeling. So, this is the real difference between kings and those who play pretend. Thugs desperate to rise in the ranks rely on violence and fear to pave their path up the pecking order. Braulio excels in it and doesn’t waste his time on pretty words or complex thinking. He’s a mindless dog chasing a bone.
Jaguar is different, and that…unnerves me? Excites me, even. This will be a challenge—far more involved than flashing my tits and relying on seduction. He isn’t a mindless brute who utilizes his fists to get what he wants. It’s chess—not checkers—he’s playing.
My only useful course of action here would be to prove myself more than a worthless pawn. But how?
“I’m not offering you money, Jaguar.”
He laughs. “Oh, I can see that. You think I didn’t notice that the card you entered with wasn’t tied to your name?”
My cheeks flush. When had he even been able to see it? I’d been by his side for most of the match. Unless…
He’d done so well before I even placed a bet. Pedro knows his shit, after all—I’d gotten his notice long before I realized it.
“You pretend well enough, but you aren’t from these parts,” he continues, his voice low. “Your old master kept you on a tight leash. To the point that you jump at any man who looks at you. Lawrence Bailey must be one hell of a man, so confident in his woman to let you go out alone.”
That must be the name of the card’s owner. Misogyny aside, I’m stunned to realize how much he’s learned in such a short time. Bless Pedro’s soul that he prepared me for this instance.
“I belong to no one. My friend procured a way for me to attend tonight’s event. I don’t even know the man whose card I used.”
Does he believe that? Damn this lighting. I still can’t tell. He has his face angled away from me though, and his thumb is steadily caressing my wrist with increasing frequency.
“Ah, but you belong to Braulio, don’t you,” he surmises. “I don’t pick over leftovers. You are sexy in that little nun getup—I will give you that. Strolling around with that hair in a pious little bun. You certainly know how to play your part.”
“I was never Braulio’s,” I insist. “But I can beyours. You asked what I offer. It’s me.”
He scoffs, and my plan derails for the umpteenth time. This man. He’s so damn unpredictable. For a second—just one—I regret ever coming here. My time would be much better spent casing every mansion Braulio owns, praying to find some way to get to Franco before it’s too late.
The thought of him being shoved onto a plane and headed for God knows where breaks my heart to pieces. Nothing this man could inflict on me could ever come close.
“You?” We’re on a well-lit street, and a passing streetlamp provides the illumination necessary to make out his eyes. And that stern mouth, fixated in a frown. “Don’t take this as an insult, but I could have any woman I want. You’ve seen the three I have now. What makes you different?”
“Because I offer you more than just sex or a casual lay,” I say, brandishing my chin toward him. “I offer me. My loyalty. My obedience. My honesty. I could be a bigger asset to you than I think you realize. Let me serve you, and I will never forsake your protection.”
“And you are so special? I don’t think so.” He releases my hand and strokes his chin while leaning back into his seat. “Even if I did agree to extend my help. Would you scamper to the next man the second I threw you aside?”
Pedro warned me this could happen.You can’t back down,he told me. You alone have just not what he wants, but what he needs. Don’t back down without proving that.
