Torn Bond (Bonded Duet 1)

“Mr. Garza is waiting for you in his office,” the guard said with his slight accent. He’d obviously been in this country long enough to lose most of it, but you could still detect the twang. I nodded and stepped into the main foyer. It was grand and full of marble and decadent lighting, precisely what you’d expect from a cartel boss. It was almost cliché.

Rory’s heavy footsteps followed me down the right hallway and toward Garza’s office. His door was half-open, but I still knocked on it and waited for him to say, “Come in.” I pushed the door fully opened and let Rory go in first. He deposited the safe near the door.

“It’s done,” I told Garza, my gaze meeting his.

Garza sat behind his desk, a crystal glass in his hand filled halfway with light-brown liquid. “You took the entire safe?” he asked, standing slowly and then walking around his desk. His gaze was focused on the safe, a small quirk of his brows showing his surprise.

“Yeah.” I pushed my hands into the front pockets of my dark-blue jeans and stared at him. “Figured it’d be easier.” I waited a beat to see what he’d say, but when he was silent, I continued, “Left them a note in the hole in the wall too.”

Garza chuckled. “Only you would think to do something like that.” He pointed at me as he stepped toward his drinks cart and poured two thimbles of the light-brown liquid. “Here,” he said, tilting his head at the glasses. I didn’t move an inch as Rory eagerly moved across the room to gather them. He handed me mine, but I didn’t take a sip. I wouldn’t drink on the job, especially when it was Garza serving the drinks. I’d been at this long enough to know some of his men came into his office and never made it out alive.

“You both did good,” Garza praised, walking back behind his desk. “Why don’t you go celebrate? Drinks on me at the club.” Garza’s gaze locked with mine, but I didn’t move an inch as he stared. “Maybe you’ll see that girl again, huh, Ford?”

My shoulders tensed, my nostrils flared, and I knew he’d seen my reaction. Garza had never seen me with a girl before, which meant there was only one person he was talking about. Belle.

Fuck.

“What girl?” Rory asked, oblivious to the tension swirling around the room.

Garza tutted. “Did Ford not tell you about the girl he left the club with Saturday night?” I heaved in a breath, trying my hardest to keep my reactions under control. Why the hell were they so interested in what girls I hooked up with? I never cared who they kissed or fucked—not that I’d fucked Belle. I’d never do that. The only reason I’d kissed her was because I had to, but fuck, even I couldn’t deny how it made me feel. I shouldn’t have liked it. I shouldn’t have wanted to do it again. She was Belle—Baby Belle. The girl I’d known since the moment she was born. It was wrong—on so many levels.

But then, why did it feel so right? Why was it, when my lips pressed against hers, I felt like I was home?

“No,” Rory said, knocking his shoulder with mine. “He didn’t tell me.” I gritted my teeth and tried to push all my thoughts aside. I didn’t have the luxury of being able to let my mind wander, not when Garza was staring at me with something unsaid in his eyes. “Who was it?” Rory asked.

“No one,” I growled out. Rory wouldn’t be able to detect the pitch in my voice, but I had no doubt Garza had. Fuck. I was fuckin’ up beyond words. I’d always been able to keep my composure with anything, but when it came to Belle, I couldn’t stop it. It was instinct to protect her. It always had been.

I placed my untouched drink on a side table next to one of the dark-brown sofas. “I’m heading out.”

“I need a ride,” Rory said, downing his drink.

I didn’t look away from Garza, who leaned back in his seat with a small smile on his face. Had I just fucked up? Had I ju

st put the whole undercover job at risk?

“I’ll call when I need you next,” Garza said.

I nodded, then spun around and headed out of the mansion with what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Chapter Three

BELLE

I wasn’t the kind of student who sat at the front of the class, but I didn’t want to sit at the back either. The do-gooders were at the front, and the students who didn’t care and either messed around or slept the entire hour would be at the back, so I always aimed to get a middle seat. I was far enough from the front not to gain the attention of the lecturer, but not too far back where I’d be distracted.

Sometimes, on rare occasions, I felt the need to sit closer to the front. Like today. I’d hoped it would help me understand the subject more, but I had no idea the train the lecturer had taken with his teachings today. I simply was not on board. I was still on the platform, unsure which carriage to get on.

I made a copious amount of notes, so many that my wrist was starting to cramp, but still, I didn’t understand it. Philosophy wasn’t a requirement, but an elective, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the wrong choice. Maybe if I knew what I wanted to do when I graduated next year, I’d have chosen better classes, but I was still in that “finding myself” phase—a phase I was afraid I’d never come out of.

“That’s it for today,” the lecturer finally said, closing his laptop. “I’ll be uploading a piece of work onto the online system. Please make sure you read it before class next week.”

I blinked several times at his words. Did he upload things for us to read before class often? Maybe I’d missed the online portion of today’s class, and that was why I didn’t understand it? That had to be the reason I had no idea what he was talking about in each class.

The students filed out, but the lecturer beat them all out of the door—it looked like he wanted to get this class over with too. I raised my brows and stared out the row of windows. His hair seemed to fly above his head in his haste to escape the college students milling around.

Shaking my head, I packed my notepad and pen away, and when I looked up, the room was almost empty, save for a few lingering students talking about a study group they were having. Part of me wondered if I should ask them if I could join. Maybe then I’d understand the huge words the lecturer was using and not be lost in a sea of nothingness.

I stood, about to open my mouth and ask them, but they filed out of the room, just like everyone else, and my opportunity was gone. Maybe I needed to re-evaluate my class schedule.