“You’re the good guys.”
“We’re not,” I said, crossing my arms as the fluorescent lighting overhead buzzed. “We’ve hurt far more than we’ve helped. If guts and glory are what you want, look somewhere else. We do what we have to so we survive, and to further our cause. It brings no recognition, only enemies from all sides, and that’s about to get worse.”
“Then you will need good intel, security, and protection. I can help. There are more and more kids like me coming up in the ranks,” Gabriel said. “We know technology better than our own faces. But I have something many don’t—I’ve known the worst of this country, and I’m willing to die before I return to it.”
That rounded out his third reason for offering help. Logic, heart, and motivation for a better life. Ay, and thwarting death, of course. Looking to Alejandro, I cracked my knuckles. “Diego’s not the one we’re trying to find right now.”
“Max,” Gabriel stated. “Alejandro told me.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. My hands were tied. I had do whatever necessary to help Max. I’d be a fool to turn down help, and a fool to accept it. “You have until my patience runs out to help us find everything you can on Belmonte-Ruiz and Max’s current location,” I said.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
I nodded once at Alejandro. “Hand him over to the IT team. Eyes don’t leave him for a second. Get him a new pair of glasses. And Alejo?”
“Dime,” he said, inviting me to continue.
“Don’t fucking disturb me again. I don’t care if the sky is falling.”
Now, I would go fuck my wife.
That was, if I could find her. Because when I returned, she wasn’t in the bedroom.
Or the library. Or by the pool.
After I’d been all around the house, I found myself knocking on Pilar’s door.
“Adelante,” came two female voices followed by a bout of giggling, and, “¡Embrujado! Jinx!”
I entered the room and found Natalia on the tips of her toes in Pilar’s closet, trying to reach a purse on the top shelf—and wearing jeans, socks, and a sweater over her top. Not naked as I’d left her when I’d ordered her to stay put.
I walked in, plucked the bag from the shelf, and handed it to her. “Going somewhere?”
Her fiery eyes met mine a moment before she turned away. “No. We’re reorganizing Pilar’s closet.”
I blinked around the space. It looked as if Pilar had hardly touched a thing since her arrival. “Seems pretty damn organized to me.”
“Well, Jaz’s method doesn’t quite make sense to us,” Natalia explained.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it doesn’t,” she snapped.
Pilar’s puppy-dog eyes stayed on me, waiting for my reaction—for the explosion. In deference to her history with violent men, I inhaled a breath to control my temper. “I need to speak to you, Natalia.”
“After we’re finished.” Natalia stepped back, pinching her chin as she assessed a row of sandals. “These should really be arranged by heel height.”
Ah. This wasn’t about Pilar’s closet. Natalia was punishing me for leaving her in bed. As if it had been easy for me. As if the thought of fucking her wasn’t always top of mind.
I needed to clear my head. I needed the space to think straight. I needed to fuck so hard that there was nothing left in my mind but answers. “Excuse me, Pilar,” I said, keeping my eyes on Natalia, “but my wife and I were in the middle of something that needs resolving.”
“Oh . . .” Natalia looked over her shoulder and winked. “I resolved it on my own.”
If her smirk was any indication, I must’ve looked as dumbfounded as I felt. The thought of her getting herself off in my bed when that was my job . . .
I stepped up behind her, and by the way she stiffened, she knew I was done fucking around. “March your ass upstairs before I do it for you.”
“He expects me to come when he calls,” she said to Pilar. “The way he goes running whenever Jaz needs him.”
I let a short chuckle free, though I was only amused by the prospect of dreaming up ways to punish her for that comment. I scooped her up, threw her over my shoulder, and gave Pilar a friendly smile. “We’ll see you when we’re finished. Don’t wait up.”
To Pilar’s credit, for once, she didn’t look scared. “Have a good time.”
16
Natalia
Cristiano the Brute dropped me on my feet in our bedroom, seemingly oblivious to my fuming. I’d begun to sweat under all this clothing, but that was part of his punishment for leaving me alone, naked, and more aroused than I’d ever been. “Pendejo,” I said.
“You’re awfully brave to call me an asshole,” he said. “Considering you were shaking in your huaraches when you arrived here.”
“I was not. I stood here, in this room, and invited you to fuck me that first night. You’re the one who walked away,” I accused.