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“Do it.” It scares me how cold my voice sounds, devoid of fear. It’s the old Lupita talking. The girl who flirted with death daily and barely lived to tell the tale. “I’ll even save you the trouble of procuring a body bag. Learn one thing about me, Jaguar, if nothing at all—I don’t fear death. Not in the slightest. You know whatdoesfrighten me? Having my time wasted by mind games and useless party tricks.”
I’ve lost so much ground already.
“Have a wonderful morning,” I add while starting for the door. “If I see your harem girls on the way out, I’ll send them back in—”
“Wait. It seems as though we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, Lupe.” His voice dips, but the tone is far warmer than I’m used to. Suddenly, he’s cordial.
And I’m suspicious.
“Let’s reacquaint ourselves over breakfast on me,” he suggests.
“No,” I blurt before I have enough sense to tack on, “I have a flight to catch.”
“And I have a home in California with your name on it should you play your cards right,” he counters. “Claro?”
I bite my lower lip.Damn him.He could be bluffing. But…
Pedro can only do so much. Once I make it to California, I’ll be on my own, forced to hunt for Francisco alone. Forced to contend with Braulio’s security detail alone.
“Ah, it seems you need more convincing,” Jaguar says, audibly disappointed. “I’ll even call my doctor to look at your back and give you something to take the edge off.”
“I have my own doctor,” I lie. Like hell will I allow anyone in his employ to come near me with a mind-altering substance. “And I’m not in the mood for breakfast. We can talk, but I am a busy woman Jaguar as I am sure you are a busy man. We should make it quick.”
“You sure do enjoy testing my patience,” he warns, rising to his feet. “Hand me that robe over there.”
He nods to a bit of black silk slung over a leather chair beside the window. I toss it to him, and he takes his sweet time covering himself with it.
Then he presses a button affixed to the wall near the bed. “My guest will be staying for breakfast,” he says into it. “Prepare the dining room. We aren’t to be disturbed.”
A meek voice comes through an unseen intercom in response, “Yes, Sir.”
Jaguar turns to me. “Be a good girl and wait for me.” He nods to the hallway. “I’m sure you can find the way. Should you get lost, just ask one of the girls in myharemto show you.”
I leave the room and do just that, stopping the first half-naked blond I see. With a skeptically raised eyebrow, she shows me through a labyrinthine set of corridors and into an elegant dining room overlooking the courtyard I’d only gotten glimpses of in the darkness before now. It’s beautiful, and I hate that.
How men like Braulio and Jaguar love to cultivate their own personal collection of beautiful, delicate things. Even Diego had a few rose bushes that he treated with more care and delicacy than he ever showed me. I think that’s the appeal for them—to show that they are capable of appreciating the quieter, lovelier side the world has to offer—and that they merely choose to sow misery and blood most of the time.
I find myself so enthralled watching the delicate blooms that I miss the moment I’m joined by their owner. His hand on my lower back is my only warning, and I jump at the contact. He grazed an open wound—on purpose, I suspect.
“I think I prefer this style to your usual, Tiena,” he murmurs against the nape of my neck while fingering the sloppily cut edge of my makeshift ensemble. “Very sexy. But careful, chica. You might get an infection exposing such fresh wounds.” He runs what feels like a thumb perilously close to the largest of the gruesome assortment. I have yet to inspect them in full, but judging from his low intake of air, the sight pleases him. “Though, you do look beautiful in red.”
Why do I shiver when I hear that?
“I like to show off the various gifts I receive from powerful men,” I tell him, still facing the garden view. “Not hide them.”
“Sexy,” he says with a chuckle, but his inflection dips toward that warning baritone. “I’d watch that angry magic tongue of yours, Lupe. Be careful you don’t cut yourself on it.”
“Why would I be angry?” I ask innocently.
He laughs again and hooks his hand beneath my chin to make me face him. His eyes sparkle with amusement, but they’re narrowed in a way I don’t like. This man is far more intelligent than he appears, missing nothing—not even a carefully concealed insult or a backhanded compliment.
Even Diego wasn’t quite so perceptive.
“Because you don’t like being played with like the little doll you are.” He strokes my cheek as his upper lip quirks into the semblance of a grin. “I think you should ask my harem to give you tips in patience, chica. It is a virtue, after all.”
I do a dangerous thing—I turn away from him and step closer to the window. He issues an ominous sound from the base of his throat, but when his hand fans across my back again, the touch is gentle. Thank God.
“Easy, Lupe. I’ve played nice until now, but let’s be friends,sí? I don’t think you want me as your enemy.”
