Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

Diego rubbed my arms through the blanket as his eyes drifted over my face. Resignation crossed his features as he nodded. “Okay. But you couldn’t just go to Cristiano or he’d suspect something. He has to come to you.”

“How?”

He blew out a breath. “Well . . . since I’ve been looking into him, I’ve discovered that he goes to this nightclub a couple towns over on Thursday nights. If you show up, he’ll want to know why you’re there. Then, you get him talking.”

My heart pounded at just the thought of being alone in the dark with Cristiano again.

“I’d be there of course,” Diego said, lowering his voice as he put his forehead to mine. “Watching from afar. Keeping you safe. Believe me when I say—he doesn’t lay a finger on you.”

I nodded slowly. I was walking into the fire. Was it naïve to think I wouldn’t get burned? That I could possibly use the unidentifiable, twisted bond that had solidified Cristiano and me years ago to control a conversation with him now?

“Won’t he be suspicious if I show up at a place out of town?” I asked.

He twisted his lips. “No. Your father has a lot of eyeballs here who will report your whereabouts back to him, and Cristiano knows that. He’ll think you snuck out, because that’s what he wants to see.”

“What does that mean?”

“My brother is a born hunter. He’ll assume he caught you out in the wild. Let him hunt. Let him chase. If you make it easy, he’ll see right through you.” He squeezed my shoulders. “And be careful, Natalia. He’s a master manipulator. He’ll try to twist your memories or your perspective of him, but never forget what he’s capable of or what he did.”

If he did it. I pushed the unbidden thought from my head. How could I doubt what I’d seen with my own eyes? What I knew in my gut? Cristiano had spoken of justice all those years ago, but nobody had ever imposed it on him.

“I won’t forget,” I said.

“He’s hurt too many people, and he will continue if we don’t stop him. Let your fury burn.” Diego clasped my hands and brought them to his mouth. Pressing a kiss to my knuckles, and with fervor in his words, he added, “Let it drive you toward the answers we need to stop him.”

“I will,” I said.

It was a promise. It had to be. Because even if I harbored the slightest doubt about what Cristiano had done, there was no question of what he could do.

I feared I hadn’t even begun to imagine what he was capable of.

And that if he caught me trying to cross him, I would learn.

11

Natalia

In the States, there wasn’t much of a rush in trying to get past a bouncer who studied my tits harder than my fake ID. But here, at La Madrina, while the doorman inspected my license, I could only think about how I was putting my life on the line to get information from one kingpin to save another. And I hated that each time my heart palpitated with trepidation, a tremor of excitement followed.

The bouncer gave Pilar and me a once-over before he unhooked the velvet rope to let us pass. I entered the nightclub with nothing on me but a credit card stuck into the neckline of my black, strapless mini dress and oversized gold hoops that swung each time my platforms hit the ground.

The windowless club had three levels with VIP railed off and overlooking the dancefloor from three sides. A large, rotating disco ball had been hung for the 70s theme, and it reflected white light from a DJ booth against the wall opposite the entrance. The club was dark enough for someone to hide in corners, but lit enough that a person could be seen if she wanted. Somewhere up there, Diego waited in the wings, hidden from everyone, including me. I felt his eyes on me, though—watching, waiting, guarding.

Pilar and I hit the bar first and the dancefloor next. Diego was convinced I didn’t need to do anything to capture Cristiano’s attention except show up and dance, so that’s what I did, dangling myself out in the open like a fresh piece of meat.

When a gut feeling spurred me to look up, I met a dark and burning gaze from the floor above. In a white dress shirt with rolled sleeves and an open collar, Cristiano leaned his elbows on the rail with a drink in hand. A cigarette dangled from his lips. He’d clearly been staring but didn’t flinch or pull away.

I sipped from my straw. Will you come?

He shifted against the rail, narrowing his eyes on me.

I turned slightly, holding his gaze as I moved my hair off my neck.

Oh, yes. He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and turned away.