Disclaim (Deliver 3)

“Like what?” She liked this, him sharing, her listening, even if the subject matter fucked with her blood pressure.

“The kind no one talks about.” He looked her firmly in the eye. “In time, you’ll see things as they really are, and when you do, I want you to come to me and no one else.”

Warning bells sounded in her head, raising the hairs on her nape.

Maybe he was working against the cartel? Except he seemed to be genuinely hurt by Gerardo’s betrayal. What the hell was he hiding? And who was he hiding it from?

They need to know you’re just the slave of the month. A fresh hole to fuck. You mean nothing to me.

She’d assumed he was just being a dick last night, but now… “Is your paranoia because of the spy or are there others here you don’t trust?”

“Trust is earned, and we have a process that vets members and residents. Backgrounds, ranks, and positions are factors in granting access to certain information, but a lot of it is based purely on gut.”

“Is that your job? To vet cartel members?”

“One of them.” His blank expression lacked all the clues she was attempting to draw from him.

“And your gut steered you wrong with Gerardo.”

He nodded, and somehow that tiny admission to making a mistake made him seem more human, more Matias.

His attention lowered to the raised bumps on her thighs. “Now I’m erring on the side of caution, even if it means risking more of your hatred.” He gingerly trailed a finger over the worst cut. “I can repair the pain I cause you, but I can’t bring you back to life.”

“Someone wants to kill me?” A chill coursed, wild and panicky, through her limbs.

“To get to me, they might try.”

Did that mean last night, with the cane…? She stared down at the welts.

I know what he did to you, and that’s not what this is.

Her throat thickened. “You beat me and scared me so I would look like an abused slave instead of your…your…whatever I am?”

“Yes. But don’t misunderstand me.” His expression morphed into cast iron and sexual heat. “I get off on bringing you pleasure while you’re trembling with fear.”

“What am I to you?” She glanced at the rope near the headboard and returned to him. “Am I a slave or something else?”

He cocked his head, his hands absently stroking her legs. “You’re my life, mi vida.”

She swallowed. “Do you beat other slaves like that?”

“You’re not asking the right questions.”

Jesus, fuck. What questions? Like who did he beat? How? When? Where?

She looked up. “Why do you do it? Why do you capture and torture women? Is it a kinky fetish? Or is this really just a business to you?”

“Right question.” His eyes hardened. “Wrong answer.”

“Qué mierda! Yesterday, you said this is business, supply and demand, and you don’t make the rules.”

“It is a business and so much more than that.”

“Then tell me!”

“The answer is right in front of you.” He dumped her onto the mattress and stood, his voice rising to a shout. “All you have to do is fucking look!”

“I am looking, but you’re a goddamn black hole.” She leapt off the bed, snatched the sheet, and wrapped it around her.

He growled and stormed toward the closet.

She chased after him. “How about you give me a straight answer instead of this mind-fuck game you’re playing?”

“Game?” He whirled on her and put his face in hers. “This is real. You and me. No games. No mindfuck. If you put aside all the other shit, you’d know with absolute certainty that every breath I take, that my fucking purpose in all of this is for you.”

His choked words, stiff neck, and pained, over-bright eyes stopped her heart. He stared at her as if he were desperate for her to not only hear him, but to see what he wasn’t saying.

Why wouldn’t he just tell her? Was someone listening?

Her eyes widened, and she jerked her head toward the camera on the ceiling. “Who’s watching us?”

“I’m the only person who has access to that feed.”

“What about listening—”

“There are no listening devices in my suite.”

Well, shit. She pulled the sheet tighter around her chest and met his gaze. “Fine. I’ll keep looking and figure out what you’re not telling me.”

“Where are you going to look?” His breathing started to return to normal, the tension in his face dissolving.

“All the answers are here, right?” She touched a finger to the outer corner of his eye.

“Muy bien, my beautiful girl.”

He bent closer and brushed his mouth against hers. Another brush and another, until his tongue swept past her lips. The gentle kiss deepened, turning breathy and earnest.

His hands sank into her hair, and his erection jabbed at her stomach. But she didn’t pull away, her tongue licking his with all the hope he’d planted in her. He’d opened up, and while she was more confused now than before, he’d given her enough to believe that there was something more than a monster behind those golden eyes.

He broke the kiss and cupped her neck. “We need to get dressed and eat. Then I’ll give you a tour of the property.”

Her pulse kicked up with excitement as he led her into the closet, activating a sensor light in the ceiling.

Rows of clothes on hangers and cubbies lined the walls on the left and right. Straight ahead was another door, this one with an eye scanner.

“What’s behind that door?” She nodded at it.

“Skeletons.” He grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on.

Her mind conjured a torture chamber with dead slaves hanging from chains on the walls. She shuddered, cursing her overactive imagination. “Do I have access to your skeletons?”

“Not until you’re ready.” He waved a hand at the racks of clothes on the left wall. “That’s your side.”

Kicking at the sheet that draped her body, she investigated the extensive wardrobe. Cocktails dresses, casual wear, and lingerie filled the space, all with tags and in her size.

She mentally ran through the last twenty-four hours. She’d spent most of that time in this suite.

“When was all this brought in?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Does it matter?” He slipped a blue t-shirt over his head.

“Yeah, it really does. Was it here before I arrived?”

“What does your gut tell you?” He touched a fingerprint scanner on a small safe in the wall, unlocking it and removing the Glock he carried in his waistband.

“My gut tells me…” She studied his face, watching for a reaction. “You expected me to show up as a slave with Van.”

He seated the gun in the back of his jeans and stared at her, eyes and mouth giving nothing away.

“I can’t figure out how, though.” She snatched jean shorts from a cubby and held them up with a questioning brow.

“You can wear what you want during the day, but I choose your attire for dinner.”

Fair enough. “The thing with Larry…that was all kind of up in the air.” She dropped the sheet and slipped on the first bra and panties she found—white lacy things—then the shorts. “I followed him for months, knew he was involved in the trade, but I didn’t know exactly how I was going to infiltrate until I tortured him.”

He leaned against a shelf, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest, regarding her with an unreadable expression.

“You must’ve been watching me for a while.” Her stomach clenched with that realization. “But you couldn’t have known my plan until I called you that night to pick up Larry’s body. And even then, I don’t know how you knew.” She put on a brown tank top while keeping her focus on him, examining every twitch in his body. “That would’ve given you two days to stock the closet with clothes in my size, which is really creepy, by the way.”

An

d immensely satisfying. How many men had that kind of attention to detail?

Stalkers did. And serial killers. Oh, and psychopaths.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “So am I warm on any of that?”

“You’re hot.” A panty-soaking smile filled his face. “Really fucking hot.”

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“The best rewards are the hardest to earn.” He straightened and held out his hand. “Let’s eat.”