Disclaim (Deliver 3)

Withholding who he was had haunted him since the day he left her, but numerous safeguards needed to be implemented first, with Nico’s proposal being the last measure. Eventually, she would understand the prudence in his secrecy.

“This is madness.” She raked her hands through her hair and closed her eyes. “I have so many questions I don’t even know where to start.” Her head snapped up, and she scanned the grove with a startled whisper. “Who else knows?”

Nico raised a brow in an expression that somehow made his frown look pleasantly surprised. He’d had his doubts about her ability to keep secrets, but Matias had always known that when Camila Dias gave her loyalty it was fiercely deep-rooted.

“The upper-ranking lieutenants and hitmen know who their real boss is.” Nico watched her, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. “As well as some of the staff and hired whores on-site. But the cartel’s thousands of underlings and countless opponents scattered across North and South American? They have no idea.”

She cut her eyes to Matias, every muscle in her body radiating anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t think she’s ready for this conversation.” Nico pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

She clenched her hands. “How about you let me be the judge—”

“Camila.” Matias infused his tone with steel. “I couldn’t tell you anything about the cartel over the phone. As for why I didn’t tell you the past two weeks…” He pointed a look at Nico.

She followed his gaze and chewed her lip. Then her lip started to curl. “You wanted me to think he was the boss so he could offer me that deal?”

Matias nodded, waiting for the explosion.

Spinning toward Nico, she leaned forward and stabbed a finger in his direction. “Your proposal was complete bullshit.”

Nico approached her, slowly, dispassionately, and put his face in hers. “Respect me.”

His quiet command held a lethal edge that made her breath catch.

As long as Nico didn’t put his hands on her, Matias wouldn’t interfere with how Nico managed his relationship with her going forward. She needed to adhere to the boundaries Nico had already set and treat him like a superior in front of others. The spy might’ve known who the true capo was, but no one outside the inner circle knew who Camila was. Once Matias caught the son of a bitch, she and Nico could battle it out all they wanted.

“You said you wanted me to ride your dick and wear your collar.” She swatted at a fly near her ear, her complexion red-hot and sexy as hell. “You called me a slut.”

“I gave him a script.” Matias braced for a Camila-sized fist in his direction. Even he knew his approach had been slightly depraved.

“You what?” Her voice shook, but she didn’t swing.

“Give me a little credit here.” Nico lit a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke. “I improvised some of that. Very well, I might add.”

“Let me get this straight.” She paced again, which was really distracting because her ass looked damn good flexing in those jeans. “You told Nico to say those things, to humiliate me, all to force me into making a choice? You could’ve just skipped the damn meeting and talked to me like a normal person.”

“Then I would’ve missed your delightful conversation,” Nico said dryly, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

She shot him a glare and returned to Matias. “If I would’ve chosen him and his offer, you would’ve what?” Her voice grew louder, her steps falling harder, faster. “You would’ve told me it was all a game, beat me with a paddle, and sent me to bed without dinner?” She stopped in front of him, her entire body frozen as she seethed. “It’s really fucked up that you engineered this just to know what I would choose. Because guess what? I might’ve chosen you, but I will not stop fighting for those women.”

There was her backbone, and goddamn, it made him hard as hell.

“She really gets wrapped around the axle.” Nico cocked his head, watching her.

“To the point of paralysis.” Matias flattened his lips to hide a grin.

“I don’t…argh!” She flung her arms up. “I’m trying to make a point.”

“She’s still going, spinning round and round.” Nico took a drag on the cigarette. “She’s probably going to rip out her hair.”

Matias couldn’t stop his chuckle from escaping. Nico laughed, too, and it was crazy to see him drop his facade so quickly in front her. The man had spent the last decade perfecting the cold, psychopathic mask he wore every day. It had become so much a part of him he struggled to shed the act. He must’ve truly liked her.

She stared at them as their amusement faded, hands on her hips and tension flaring in her shoulders and neck. “Laugh it up, but the joke’s on you. I passed your little test, and in the end, I will win the game.”

He drew in a deep breath. They were just teasing her, but he needed to cut her a break. She wasn’t emotionally or mentally in the same place he was. She’d chosen him, but she still saw him as the enemy, the man who beat her, raped her mouth, and sold slaves.

There were several crucial things he was keeping from her. He could spill it all right now, prove that she was fighting the wrong opponent, and she would fall to her knees, overwhelmed with wondrous glee. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t get that reaction, but she would certainly look at him through a different lens.

That scenario terrified him.

He didn’t want her to fall in love with his agendas or crusades. He needed her to love him the same way she’d loved him twelve years ago—truly, madly, deeply, without argument or thought, with a passion that stemmed from an instinctual, unquestionable place inside her.

He needed her to love him the same way he loved her.

“This isn’t a game.” He stepped toward her until a sliver of space separated them and lifted her chin with a knuckle. “I didn’t stage the meeting with Nico because I wanted to know what choice you would make. I did it so that you would know.”

She studied his face, her pupils dilating with a thousand seeking thoughts. She could think whatever she wanted as long as she was looking at him, seeing him.

Gripping his wrist, she pulled his hand away from her chin, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers slid over his, absently caressing his knuckles as she stared at him.

“For the record”—Nico flicked ash from his cigarette, eyes narrowed on her—“I meant everything I said in the gazebo, except the part about being in my bed. If I touched you, Matias would rip me from limb to limb.”

“True, but I wouldn’t enjoy it.” Matias smirked.

“Me importa un culo.” Nico glanced behind him. “I’m gonna head back to the house. Guards will be stationed outside of the wall.”

Then he strolled away, puffing on his cigarette. When he vanished from view, Camila ambled in the opposite direction, fingers tucked in the back pockets of her jeans and her steps soft and aimless. Matias trailed behind her, keeping a few feet between them to give her space.

She stopped at a small patch of grass between two lemon trees, kicked off her sandals, and lay down on her back, just as she’d always done as a child, with her gaze on the overhang of leafy limbs.

“Why do you need a decoy?” She glanced at him and looked back at the tree cover.

He sat beside her and removed his boots and socks, his chest tightening with all the things he needed to tell her.

“I’ll start at the beginning.” He lay on the lawn, his shoulder brushing hers, the ground soft and cool against his back.

“I’d really appreciate that.” She reached for his hand and laced their fingers in the swath of grass between them.

“My mother was Hector Restrepo’s mistress.”

She kept her gaze skyward, her brows pulling together. “When did you find out?”

“The day the cartel came for me.” He closed his eyes against the memory—the fear and confusion, the unholy shock of it all. “She fled to the States when she became pregnant with me. Didn’t want me to be raised among criminals. Bu

t Hector knew I was his. And he knew how to find her.”

“I assume her name wasn’t really Maria and she didn’t die in a car accident?”

“It was Natalia.” He opened his eyes and pulled Camila’s hand to rest on his chest, where he hurt the most. “Hector captured her, held her somewhere in Texas until I was born, then had her killed.”

Her breath hitched, and she rolled toward him, aligning her body along the length of his, with her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He wrapped an arm around her back, the other bent beneath his head, and grounded himself in her. She was the honeyed scent of orange blossoms, the light that shone through the trees, the very air he breathed. Hell knew he didn’t fucking deserve her.

“To this day,” he said, “I don’t know if Hector thought I was unworthy to be a capo’s son, if he felt guilty for killing my mother, or if he was trying to protect me, but for whatever reason, he kept my existence a secret and gave me to Andres to raise.”

“Andres was your mother’s brother, right? Or was that a lie, too?”

“He wasn’t my uncle or any blood relation. He was just a guy, trafficking drugs for Hector.” He paused, letting that settle in with the heave of her breaths.