Unshackle (Deliver 7)

A mouth that had forgotten how to soften in a smile.

He wanted to force his tongue between her clenched teeth and duel it out.

He wanted to kiss her.

Even after consuming more whiskey and half of a steak, he still tasted her on his lips. He couldn’t recall ever contemplating the flavor of a woman’s body before. Perhaps because no one had ever tasted so forbidden, like honeyed sin and fiery rebellion.

Shutting the door on those thoughts, he turned on the television, switched off the lights, and slid into bed beside her. After a few adjustments, they lay beneath the covers, face to face, eyes locked.

Tomas had already retired for the evening, confirming that the devices in the ceiling had night vision. But the sounds from the TV should drown out a whispered conversation.

A late-night talk show flickered on the screen. The soundtrack of studio laughter detached itself from the weighty silence between him and Gina.

He wished he knew her real name. He wanted to know everything about her—where she came from, how she ended up here, her schooling, job history, hobbies, family, boyfriends, all of it.

She regarded him with similar interest, her dark eyes pooling with dazed curiosity, lips swollen, and forehead creased as if fighting the lethargy taking hold.

“You can’t fall asleep?” he asked.

“Not lying beside a rapist.”

“Deal with it.”

“Yeah.” Her jaw stiffened. “It’s what I do.”

“Do any La Rocha members force you to spend the night in their beds?”

“Never.”

“This is the first time you’ve slept beside someone since you’ve been here?”

“I’m not sleeping.” She squinted. “So that first hasn’t happened.”

“You going to stay awake for a week?”

The slits of her eyes become impossibly narrower.

“Tell me, Gina. Where do you wish to be right now?”

“A thousand miles away.”

“Only a thousand?” He kept his voice soft, tucking their privacy inside a whisper.

“More like eight-hundred miles.”

“That’s specific. Given your accent, your home is in Mexico. Exactly eight-hundred miles from here?”

“Where is here?”

“You tell me.”

“You writing a book?”

Irritatingly gorgeous pain in the ass.

“We can talk.” He reached beneath the covers and tweaked her soft, warm nipple. “Or we can fuck.”

As expected, instant hostility fired in her eyes, and she slapped his hand away.

She’d endured his level of douchery from countless men since she’d been here. Three years was a long time, fighting for survival night after night in a cartel compound. The fact that she was still breathing meant she’d learned not to show the slightest weakness.

He appreciated her strength and stood behind it one hundred percent. But to finish this job, he would have to break through that stubborn armor.

A foot of silence separated them. Might as well have been eight-hundred miles.

With a quick reach of his arm, he caught her around the waist and yanked her flush against him. Chest to chest, skin on skin, he felt every inch of her nudity along every inch of his.

Her gaze held, widening only slightly as he hardened against her thigh.

“Ignore it.” He pulled the sheet up to their faces and whispered against her lips. “Tell me the location of this place.”

Now she stiffened, and her breathing shortened. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I swear, I don’t know.” She looked off-kilter and desperate—this woman who fearlessly stared down cartel gangsters.

She was telling the truth.

“What about Vera?” he breathed against her mouth. “Does she know?”

“Ask her yourself.”

He was hard. She was hours past passing out, and they were both gloriously naked. So flipping her onto her back and pressing his erection against her cunt required no effort. She struggled, her movements clumsy, and he waited her out, letting her breathing escalate.

She didn’t have to like him. By the end of the week, he’d make sure she didn’t.

At last, she stopped resisting and sank into the mattress. “Maybe.”

“Yes or no.” He kicked his hips, threatening her entrance with the head of his cock.

“Yeah, motherfucker.” She bared her teeth, a startling white contrast to her dark complexion. “She knows.”

That was the confirmation he needed. If Vera gave him the coordinates, he would leave. Let them put a hood over his head and escort him out. Then he would return with an army.

He slid off her hot body and adjusted them on their sides, settling into the same position as before. “Is anyone looking for you?”

Surprise popped into her eyes, and she jerked away as though she’d been burned.

He dragged her back. “Family?”

“I have one person. One person left in my family, and I won’t let you near her.”

His interest wasn’t in her family. He just needed to know her stakes in this, that she had something to fight for. A life she missed. Someone she loved. If she valued this person over the cartel, maybe he could trust her. Unless the cartel was using her family member to threaten her.

Shifting her lower beneath the covers, he whispered under the veil, “Is this person safe from La Rocha?”