Cristiano gave her a once-over before circling her.
I knew that walk. That stare. That scrutinization. He’d done it to me on our wedding day before he’d ripped off my dress.
As she kept Cristiano in her sights, Max approached her from behind, grabbed her elbows, and yanked her down onto her knees so she crumpled like a ragdoll.
She thrashed, threw her head back, and he released her as he keeled over. Jumping to her feet right from her knees, she turned and kneed him in the face so he fell back onto his back.
She put a foot on his chest in triumph, then backed away.
Cristiano smiled as he helped Max off the ground, then slapped him on the back and nodded at the girl before she got into one of the SUVs. The rest of the men dispersed into other vehicles that left the garage.
Only Cristiano remained, looking in my direction. As he walked over, he signaled for me to lower my window.
“Who was that girl?” I asked when Cristiano neared. “Where are they taking her?”
He stuck an arm on the roof of the car and leaned into the car. “If you want answers, come with me.” He straightened and called over his shoulder as he walked away, “But you might not be ready. If you’re not, Eduardo can take you home.”
When Cristiano had mentioned the Belmonte-Ruiz cartel, all sorts of scenarios had run through my head, most ending with me in the trunk of a car. But we’d come this far without Cristiano hurting me—or letting me get hurt. And I was finding that being in the dark was far worse than anything I’d learned yet. I held fast to the instinct that he’d keep me safe as I popped open the door and exited the car.
My spiked heels stuck in the rubber garage floor, but I wobbled along to one of the Hondas, where he opened the trunk and handed me a bulletproof vest. I’d seen plenty in my lifetime, but I’d never worn one.
“What’s this for?” I asked, holding it with both hands.
“What do you think?” He shot me a grim glance. “Still want to come?”
I put the vest on under the blazer and pulled back my shoulders to keep from slouching beneath the weight.
Moments later, we were pulling out of the garage in the Honda. The first in a line of vehicles took off in the opposite direction of the Badlands, and we followed.
“Why are we in this car?” I asked.
“To remain inconspicuous.”
It wasn’t a long drive, but Cristiano’s silence made it seem that way. With permanently furrowed eyebrows, he focused out the windshield, only breaking his concentration to speak into a two-way radio.
As darkness spread around us, I glimpsed a side of him I’d expected to see more of—the determined security team member I’d known as a girl. It was how I knew we were heading somewhere important, and in this world, that was usually synonymous with dangerous. There was an allure to seeing him in his element. I could picture him wearing the same grave expression in the bedroom as he found ways to exert his domination. Maybe he was this serious, too, each time he’d had to jerk off because he wouldn’t let himself touch me.
He could control my body, but he couldn’t control his own. The thought made me shiver with a heady mix of lust and control.
Cristiano cursed as we took a pothole too fast. He slowed the car as the pavement became uneven and we entered an unfamiliar neighborhood. Dim, yellow streetlamps barely lit the people sitting along a chain-link fence on upside-down crates, smoking and watching us.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Get down in your seat,” he ordered.
I slipped low enough to appease him but continued watching through the window as we turned a corner onto an unlit street. As we passed an alley, a flame lit a ghoulish-looking face and disappeared.
Cristiano parked, turned off the engine, and lowered his phone between his knees to send a text. “The side panels and windows are all bulletproof. The car looks like shit, but it’s secure and runs well,” he said absentmindedly. “Nobody should get close enough to try anything, but you may hear gunshots. Try not to scream.”
“That’s like asking you to look approachable or gentle—it’s just not the natural way of things.”
He stopped typing to look at me sidelong. “You had gentle. How was it?”
My cheeks warmed as I slouched against the car door. How could he possibly know what it’d been like with Diego? But he was right. It was gentle. Satisfying. Pleasant.
Nothing like being told I was going to get my mouth fucked and throat choked.
I bit my lip a little too hard and forced my eyes back out the window, ignoring his question. A woman walked down the street, her blonde hair as impossible to miss as the moon in the sky. “Cristiano, look,” I said. “Isn’t that the girl Max was just fighting?”