Disclaim (Deliver 3)

Her stomach bottomed out. “No, you’re—”

“Those dark desires you try so desperately to hide beneath your quivering victim act? I see the hungry, dirty slut.” His accent thickened into a rolling drawl. “Hell, every man here sees it. And wants it.”

Ice filled her veins. This motherfucker was either blowing smoke up her ass or he paid attention a hell of a lot more than he let on.

“I’m not a slut.” She jutted her chin, hands fisting on her lap, and eyes burning with angry tears.

“You’re a slut in the most desirable way possible. How many men have you fucked, chiquita? How many dicks have left your pussy clenching for something harder, crueler, and more powerful? All those sloppy, monotonous hookups with strangers, while searching for the one who will pound you into submission, searching for anyone who will fuck your convictions into broken meaningless pieces. A search that took you all the way to Colombia, shackled as a slave in a slave trader’s bed.”

Fuck him to hell! She shook with unholy rage, her gaze skipping across the grove to Matias. He tipped his head in her direction, elbows propped on his knees, but he was too far away to make eye contact. Too far away to hear this fucked-up conversation or to stop Nico. Not that he would. A twinge of hurt stabbed through her.

“You don’t know me,” she said to Nico while keeping her gaze trained on Matias.

“No, I don’t. But Matias does, and he tells me everything.”

Her hackles went up. Matias told him all of this? Why would a cartel boss even entertain a conversation about her?

This discussion had taken a turn into Insanityville. She should’ve brought a pillow so she could bury her face in it and scream. Everything about this felt off. Yet she couldn’t stop Nico’s comments from sinking in, itching beneath her skin, and sparking a pang in her chest.

She sucked in a serrated breath. Matias should’ve been sitting beside her, not on the other side of the grove like a goddamn coward. It was as if Nico had waited until he had her alone to unleash his crazy. But why wait? He was the fucking capo. He made the rules, could do whatever he wanted, and didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. None of this made sense.

Throwing Matias a frigid stare, she returned to Nico. “Would you have said all of this in front of him? I thought you two were friends.”

“I prefer your genuine reactions, not the ones influenced by him as he breathes down your neck.” His tight grimace strained the tension in the air. “I want to talk to Camila Dias, not the woman who’s Matias’ slave.”

“No one influences my…anything.” Her voice came out small, weak. She strengthened it with a deep inhale. “No one owns me.”

“No one owns your soul. Yet. But a voluntary captive lives deep inside you, craving to be claimed, used, and fucked in every way imaginable.”

“That’s slavery, Nico.” She seethed with indignation. “A violation of basic human rights. It was a monstrosity two-hundred years ago in the south, and it still is, here, now, no matter how sexy you try to paint it. But clearly, you and Matias and your damn profit margins—”

“Now you’ve ruined it.” His scathing stare made her wilt. He didn’t even need to raise his voice.

“Ruined what?” Her throat closed up.

“Your proposal.”

“Were you actually considering it?”

He continued to glare, but now that she looked closer, there was something missing in it. The hard lines of his jaw, dark furrow of his brow, flat line of his lips—it was all there to appropriately communicate his displeasure. Deep behind his inky eyes, though, she didn’t see the heat or the passion she’d expect in an outraged man.

Maybe she was just imagining it. “Tell me what you want, what to say. If you’ll reconsider, I’ll take back whatever I said and—”

“See, you were doing so good there. You were respectful of our business and made suggestions for improvement. You initiated trust by sharing your weakest moments with Van Quiso. Then you blew it with your self-righteous, preachy judgment. If I wanted a homily on moral values, I’d visit my mother.”

Shit. Fuck. Okay, she could recover from this. “What do you want?”

He leaned in, and the potency of his cologne chased away the perfume of orange blossoms. “I want you.”

“YOU WANT ME?” Camila widened her eyes, her insides shriveling from throat to gut.

“You,” Nico mouthed, his face a breath away. “In my bed, riding my dick, and wearing my collar.” He flicked the lock at her throat.

A vise gripped her chest, squeezing her air. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the words burning through her heart.

“In return, we’ll pull out of the slave trade.” He sniffed. “We’ll stop capturing women in your hometown. We’ll stop enslaving humans altogether.”

Her muscles were so locked up she couldn’t move, but her head shifted, seeking out Matias on the other side of the lemon grove. His attention was on her, his ass still seated on that bench.

“Eyes on me.” Nico’s bark jerked her focus back.

His straight nose, even breaths, and dark gaze betrayed nothing. His features were so empty, in fact, she decided he was probably a very good liar. That sucked considering every answer she needed was concealed behind those eyes.

She lowered her head, trying to reason through his offer. “I become your willing slave and you end the slavery of all others. That’s what you’re proposing?”

“Yes.”

“If you wanted me, you could just take me, with or without a deal.”

“That’s not how this works.”

Because of Matias? Or something else? The proposal was irrational. He knew Matias had claimed her. Why would he destroy their friendship or risk Matias’ loyalty? Her mind whirled to decrypt the undercurrents. There was more to this. Something he wasn’t saying.

“I want Matias in this conversation.” She met his eyes.

“No.” He bent closer, hands dangling between his spread knees and lips inches away. “This is between you and me.”

“Does he know you’re making this offer?”

His head turned, and she followed his line of sight across the grove. Matias stared back at her for an endless moment and looked away.

Her heart sank. He knew. He knew, and he was letting this play out.

Because he chose his job over her.

“Decide, Camila.” Nico’s rhythmic accent grated across her skin. “The offer’s about to expire.”

She wanted to kill him. Strip his golden skin right off his face and smother him with it. But she couldn’t.

After two weeks of residence in the cartel’s headquarters, she’d watched and learned and come to a glaring realization that attempting to murder the capo would result in an epic failure for two reasons. One, he was never without guards. Even now, she knew Matias was armed and would protect his boss with his life. Two, Nico would be replaced, likely with Matias or someone else in the inner circle. Someone who would continue the slave trade.

Nico’s offer was her best choice. Not that she could trust him to follow through on his end of the deal, but it would put her in his bed and potentially in his heart. It would give her an advantage, the ability to persuade him, an in, that she didn’t have with Matias.

But there was one very muscular, dark, and deadly problem.

Fire trickled behind her eyes and burned through her sinuses. “What about Matias?”

“Disclaim him. Choose your crusade over the man who has caused you so much torment. Is the decision really that hard?”

The lump that was lodged in her throat burned hotter. “He’ll kill you.”

“Do you honestly believe he cares more about you than he does about me?” He arched a brow.

Logic and reasoning said no. Matias sat his fucking ass on the other side of the grove knowing what Nico would offer.

She’d put herself here with the very real possibility of death. To end slavery. Now she had what she’d come for—the carte

l capo, the top fucking guy, telling her she could stop their human trafficking with her surrender. How could she not do this?

Something didn’t feel right. Deep in her gut was a discomfiting suspicion that she was being set up. And crowding that suspicion was her stupid sentimentality. Did she care more about saving slaves than she did about Matias? Than the boy she grew up with? Than the man who rebuilt her citrus grove?

Could she willingly have sex with another man?

“Time’s up.” Nico tilted his head, his fingers playing with the short black hair on his jaw. “I need an answer.”

“No.” The strength of her voice rose from a place of besotted resolve, but it was resolve nonetheless.

With her heart in her throat, she pushed away from the table, strode out of the gazebo, and took the path through the lemon grove, heading toward Matias. There would be a shitload of introspection in her near future, like was that decision ever really hers to make? But she knew with certainty, no matter what happened, she would never regret choosing Matias.

He lifted his head at the sound of her steady footfalls, and when he stood, the relief etching his expression sent her heart racing. And her feet.

Hands behind his back and stance wide, he stared at her without moving, forcing her to take every last step toward him, sealing her future with him. Her choice solidified as she ran, and when she reached him beneath the canopy of leaves, she looped her arms around his neck.