Damian was frowning, looking down at me from head to toe. “Why aren’t you dressed in something more appealing than your commando getup?” I guess he meant something like his. He was in a pair of Bermuda shorts, loafers, and a light white shirt.
“You can tell them I’m your bodyguard.”
“Speaking of guard dogs, where is yours?” Damian fell into step with me, his sunglasses blocking the sun’s glare. I didn’t wear them, especially not on a day like today. I didn’t need my eyesight hindered.
“I’m right next to you, which you would have noticed if it weren’t for the glasses,” Bas said, coming from out of the shadows. A small smile passed between us.
“Good thing I have the Sekt’s top two dogs,” Damian spat. There was no point in answering him. One day he would get what was coming. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and mine had been freezing for years. If I closed my eyes, I could still see droplets of blood in the snow.
“Mis amigos.” Damian opened his arms in greeting at the men seated at the table. Casting my eyes over them, first I saw Sergio, the man who’d made this meeting possible, and standing behind him was Robinson or Lenguas as they called him, his right-hand man.
Sitting next to Sergio was a man who’d recently taken over for the old Chihuahua cartel, Julian Rivera, and next to him was his son. Standing behind them was his son’s best friend, Chacal.
And next to them was a man I hadn’t seen in a year. He wasn’t Hispanic like the rest of them, nor Russian like me; he was English. There was a cruel smile on his face, making those amber eyes light up with wicked delight. I didn’t have to turn to Bastian to know he was smirking at me. My eyes left Gideon’s as quickly as they landed on him, effectively dismissing him.
“Hello, Petal. You can’t deign yourself to say hello?” he quipped with that smooth accent of his. “Or, can you only do that if I’m tied up?”
The men at the table all looked at me, some with more interest than others. Sergio always looked at me like I was his next meal. Rivera was a piece of shit that thought women were better left in the kitchen, and his son looked like he wanted to give me a wild ride. With one quick look at Bas, he pulled out the chair in between Damian and Gideon.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with me otherwise.” I threw a carefree smile, crossed my legs, and didn’t say a word as these men planned on how to take over the world. I caught sight of the intricate S tattooed on Damian’s forearm. The Sekten: an alliance, a shield, and a warning. A mockery of what it once was.
“Por que tan calladita?” Why so quiet, Julian Jr. teased. I couldn’t let them know that while they discussed their biggest rivals, all I saw were potential allies. So, I smiled and gave them what they wanted.
“With the Sekt at your back, no one will be able to touch you. Daran mas miedo que ni el mismo Diablo.” You’ll be feared more than the devil himself. All the men nodded in agreement; Damian didn’t even bother to look at me while I felt a slight touch on my knee. The reaction caused me to sit up straighter. I turned my head to glare at the man responsible, and he was already grinning at me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, turning to the man who made my blood boil—Gideon. Rivera and Sergio—I knew they wanted to expand their cocaine empire, and we had the resources to bypass any government. Feared by all, bowed to none. But Gideon was a mercenary, a lethal one. One who was crazy enough to do the contracts no one else dared touch. They called him the lone wolf because he had no alliance. No mob, cartel, governments were watching his back. It was rare to survive in this world on your own.
“I did a little job for Sergio; he asked me to stay.” Alas, Sergio wanted more manpower in this meeting. “Petal,” he murmured, and my skin broke out in hives. Gideon’s eyes went molten, and a seductive smile flashed from that pretty male mouth of his. “Why won’t you look at me? Is it because the last time we saw each other, those lovely thighs were wrapped— Fuck,” Gideon cursed.
My little scalpel was lodged between his middle and index finger, the small clean-cut staining the white tablecloth red. Everyone was looking at us, a smile on most of their faces, probably thinking I was cute. Leaning into Gideon, I ignored the smell of his cologne. “Yes, handsome, it was just a fuck.”
Bastian pulled out my chair for me so that I could get up. My hand was resting on the table for support…and then I heard the loud thud of sharp metal between my index and middle finger. I looked at the black dagger—my black dagger—that was now lodged between my fingers. Unlike me, Gideon didn’t pierce skin.
“Did you not like my message?” Gideon mocked.
“Los veo manana para irnos a la selva.” I’ll see you tomorrow so that we can go to the jungle. I ignored Gideon and walked away. Bastian kept a distance from me, appearing aloof like he was just my guard dog and I his master, when in reality, he was my crutch—he just didn’t know it.
And he never would.
That dagger was from early Imperial Russian, worth millions, and now it was missing the fucking rubies. I’d just left it behind because I couldn’t stand the English prick. I’d seen him from afar from an Estacado fight. I’d kept a reasonable distance as I watched Ren Falcon and tried to gauge what kind of man he was. As soon as he lost his job and went off the grid, I was sent to kill him. Damian was not happy with me, but what use could we have with the Ember diamond? Other than having another thing, no one else could. It was nothing for us. So I was punished by doing all the shit work, but I liked it better that way.
“I need a favor,” I said as soon as we walked into a room and checked it for bugs.
“You know my offer to give you a good dicking still stands.”
I rolled my eyes at Bas. That was his thing—humor and sarcasm to cover up the fact that we were knee-deep in shit.
“Come on, Gideon couldn’t have been that big…he’s not bigger than me, right?”
“I need a meeting with Franco,” I told him.
Bastian started coughing.
“Estacado?” He gaped. “The man who they were just discussing was that Franco?”
“Yes.” I opened the balcony doors that looked out at the ocean. “So beautiful yet deadly.” Gideon’s words rang louder than before.
“Why?” Bas glared at me. What I was doing was reckless. To set foot in Italy to the king of the Estacados was suicide.
I’d made a vow covered in snow and dripping in blood—that I would burn down the pillars in which our kingdom stood. Watch the ashes blow as I laid the foundation for something new—something better. I vowed I was going to make them all pay.
The time had come.
“It has begun,” I told him, knowing he would have no idea of what exactly I implied.
“Yeah, I’m going to need you to explain it to me like I’m five.” Bas jumped on the bed and put his hands behind his head.
He had no idea what I was talking about, but he was used to it and had learned to roll with my vagueness.
“Because I need the Estacados and to get their support, I will need Franco. He’s the oldest of the three brothers; they have to follow his lead. Without them, I am nothing,” I said. “He controls Europe and half the US from Italy, and Ignacio has control over Canada, the Caribbean, all from New York. Giovanny controls the rest of the US, and Mexico, and Central America from Chicago. Having them as allies would give me a foot in this war.”