Needful Surrender

EPILOGUE

SANTOS

Me: I’d like a full report on our paper expenses for the month in one hour. And gas. Add that too.

I type the message into my phone and send it to Falcon, a grin spreading over my face as I imagine him grinding his teeth when he reads yet another ridiculous request. It’s immature, true, but there’s something about the ability to make a man nearly as powerful as myself yield to my every whim.

Outright laughter erupts from me when I recall his expression of horror as he peered at his chest to where Damian had just tattooed him with the Diablos emblem. Like it or not, he belongs to us now.

Still laughing, I set my phone down and cook eggs and refried beans, then sit at the counter to scarf down my meal.

“What’s the matter with you?” I ask my sicario, Alejandro Montero, when he enters the kitchen, looking far more serious than he usually does.

“I received information on the traffickers.”

Instantly, my smile vanishes and my muscles tense. “What did you learn?”

“They’ll be making a delivery to Lopez soon. Within a week. I want to take a team of men to intercept.”

I give a sharp nod. “You have my authorization. Don’t delay, Montero. Once they’re in Lopez territory, it will be much harder to save the child. We can’t lose another one.”

He opens the fridge and pulls out a beer, popping the tab to open it. After taking a deep swig, he says, “I won’t fail.”

Then just as he’s about to go, I order, “When you’ve secured the kid, kill everyone in that vehicle. Anyone who’s a part of that deserves to die.”

“Understood,” he says and leaves, crossing paths with Damian as he comes in.

He sits beside me, slapping down a manila envelope. “I got some mail for you.”

Still thoughtful about the conversation with Montero, I glance at it. “Who’s it from?”

“Falcon.”

That throws me, and I smirk. “Falcon? Why is he sending me mail?”

“Are you going to eat the rest of that?” Damian points to my plate, but before I have a chance to reply, he pulls it in front of him and proceeds to eat my food. “Pinche cabron, you ate all the tortillas. How am I supposed to eat this shit now?” he whines, though the lack of tortillas doesn’t keep him from devouring every bite.

I’m far too distracted to care, pulling my blade from my boot and sliding it under the fold of the envelope to open it. Inside, I find what looks like a long letter and a drawing of a bird.

Damian snatches the picture from my hand. “What’s this supposed to be? A falcon?”

“I’m not...” I begin to read what is actually an article about me. But it’s not just about me. Crumpling the paper, I hold it tightly in my palm, my fury growing instantly.

“What the hell is it?” my cousin asks again.

“A tattoo outline,” I manage to say through gritted teeth.

“What?”

I turn to him, wanting to smack him on the back of the head for his continuous questioning. “Falcon knows about Sonia.”

Damian’s eyes widen. “What does he know?”

“Everything.”

He remains quiet for a moment because he too knows the implications of that statement. But the seriousness of the situation doesn’t last long. “And to keep his mouth shut, he wants you to…” he trails off with a snicker.

I take the image of the falcon, growling in distaste, wondering if I bit off more than I can chew with him. “He wants tit for tat.”

“Mierda,” Damian manages to curse through his laughter. “I guess that’s what you get when you pick on someone your own size.”

“That fuck doesn’t get to bully me,” I tell him.

Just then, Sonia strolls into the kitchen, her step faltering when she spots me. Her cat eyes flash green hatred toward me like they always do. And, as always, it stirs the fire in the pit of my belly that comes to life whenever she’s around.

“I didn’t realize you were home,” she says, her chin tilting up slightly before she makes to leave.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something. I’m a very good cook, amongst other things.” I give her my most charming grin.

It only serves to incense her more, which turns me the fuck on. “I’d rather eat with the pigs,” she spits out.

Shrugging, I say, “That can be arranged. As long as you remain in my bed, I don’t care where you eat.”

She grinds her teeth so hard, I’m surprised I don’t hear them cracking. But in a split-second, her sneer morphs into a smile I wouldn’t trust with a ten-foot pole. Swaying her hips temptingly, she comes to stand beside me, sliding her hand over my arm. Leaning in, she whispers in my ear, “I actually like sharing a bed with you.”

Surprised, I ask, “You do?”

“Oh yes,” she says seductively, the warmth of her breath over my skin heating my blood. “Because I know, deep down, you’re scared to fall asleep next to me.”

“Is that so?”

“Your dark circles give you away.” And with that, she sways all the way out.

I take a deep swig of the ice water in front of me, but even that isn’t enough to cool me off.

Damian whistles. “She’s got you by the balls.”

“Yup.” I take another sip.

I’m one sick fuck to desperately want a woman who despises me. Then again…There’s a very fine line between lust and hate. And she definitely straddles that line when it comes to me, to such a degree that sometimes, I can’t tell whether she’d like to use her long polished nails to claw my face off or to leave scratches all over my back.

Mierda. When it comes to her, I’m seriously fucked.

I glare at the crumpled-up sheet of paper in front of me that holds a secret that would destroy what I’ve worked so hard for.

“Get your fucking tattoo gun ready,” I hiss.

He bursts out laughing, but when I give him a murderous scowl, he pauses. “Oh wait, you’re serious?”

“As a wart on an assho—” An idea sparks to life in that moment, and I turn my frown upside down as I imagine the expression on Falcon’s face when he sees it. I’ll get his damn logo tattooed, but he won’t like where.

Now it’s me who laughs in earnest. My ass cheek is going to hurt like a bitch, but sometimes, revenge is worth the pain.

* * *