“You came back,” Lucca rasped later that night, not bothering to open his eyes as the door opened and closed softly and familiar footsteps approached the bed. “You keep this up, I’m gonna start thinking you’re sweet on me.” The steps faltered, then resumed their progress.

Alma sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to get a closer look at his face, fully intending to change his dressings and assess his medical condition. She was soon distracted by other, less clinical details.

He was still lying on his stomach, which made it easy to admire his strong profile. Sharp, high cheekbones and perfect lips – not thin, not too full. As her eyes traveled higher, she realized she was the subject of an inspection of his own. Oh, those eyes. Brown, but not a flat, warm brown; more of an amber or even hazel. With the exception of the brutalized flesh of his back, his skin was the color of creamed coffee, suggesting a vigorous physical lifestyle and considerable time spent outside.

She knew she should have left him alone, but she hadn’t been able to resist the urge to check on him. Her interest was purely clinical, of course.

“I could have been anybody coming in here, you didn’t even look,” she said.

“I’d know those dainty footsteps anywhere.”

“You couldn’t have heard me from across the room.”

“Sure, I could. It’s not a very big room. You don’t survive extended stays in the jungle without excellent hearing.” He opened his eyes. The heat of his gaze stole her breath. “And besides, I know your scent, your breathing, even your aura.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve lived in the jungle like an animal for months at a time. Every crack of a branch, every bird call, every scent, and every sound that would go unnoticed by a novice, I’ve studied and learned. I’ve had to survive against predators in the form of both men and beasts. From the back alleys of Colombia to desolate jungles, I’ve learned to adapt to survive.”

His eyes warmed as he took in her pert nose and plump, rosebud lips. “What are you really doing here, Alma?” At her blush, he smiled almost sadly. “Ah, I see. Sweet Alma, I’m not a good man. We both know I’m no good for you. As much as I want to grab on to your sweetness, I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you. There’s nothing good in my world.”

“Lucca, you should rest, you’re still recovering–” she said, clearing her throat as she shook her head and reached for her medical supply kit, only to stop when he covered her hand with his.

“Now, I’m trying to be a gentleman here, but you’re not making it easy. Do you believe in fate, Alma? I never did, but now I don’t know what to think. Who knows, maybe you’re my last chance at redemption. Or perhaps being near you, seeing you up close like this – something so perfect that I could never deserve – is my penance for my crimes.

“You see, I should push you away, but I’ve grown tired of living like an animal and killing to survive. My hands are bloodstained and my heart is black, infected by a darkness that, I fear, is taking me over. But seeing you like this? It’s like looking into the sun.” He entwined their fingers. She stared down at their joined hands. “Alma, such a pretty name.”

“It means ‘soul’,” she said, her voice barely audible.

His playful banter came to a shuddering stop as his eyes grew serious. “Can you save my soul, Alma? Without corrupting your own?”

“You don’t need to worry about my soul.”

“How about your reputation, then?”

“My reputation is fine—Why? Whatever do you mean? No one knows I’m here.”

He smiled wryly. “I’m pretty sure they know.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the Ramirez brothers didn’t make it to the top of the food chain by being careless. They know everything. Alone, either of them would be a force to be reckoned with. Together, they are a powerhouse. Unstoppable. On the bright side, if they haven’t stopped you from coming to see me, they must be okay with it. I just don’t know why.”

The Ramirez brothers had made themselves scarce ever since his whipping and that was fine by him. They were the last people he needed on his nonexistent visitors list. The less quality time he spent with those two, the better.

“If you think they’re that smart, then what possessed you to try to smuggle that cocaine?”

“Well, I’ve been wondering that myself and until recently I had thought it was sheer stupidity. But now? I’ve decided it was fate intervening to ensure that we would meet.” He smiled when she blushed. Her innocence touched a place deep inside him that no other woman had ever known. And he wanted her, wanted to touch her skin and kiss her rosebud lips. He wanted to hold her breasts in his hands and know that he had the right to touch her however he wanted. He was in no condition to do much about it at the moment, but the die had been cast.

He had tried to do the right thing and tell her about the darkness in his soul, but he knew that when he was well enough, he would do whatever it took to have her. But it was only fair to warn her. Yes, maybe he’d be able to live with the consequences of his actions if he knew he had warned her first.

“You talk mighty big for a man who can’t even get out of bed by himself.”

When she reached for her medical kit on the nightstand, he stopped her by wrapping his long fingers around her wrist. “I know better than anyone what a monster I am.” His voice softened, his brow furrowing slightly. He picked his next words carefully. “I don’t know what it is about you. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, about you. There’s just something sweet, something so innocent. All I know is that I want you. If you aren’t ready for me, if you can’t handle being owned the way I intend to own you, then this needs to be your last visit.” As if that would stop him… “When I take you, Alma, that’s it. I’m not an honorable man who will send you away for your own good. I’m selfish that way. This is your one out.”

She had never met a man who was so brutally blunt about what he wanted. They were complete opposites and yet they shared a common bond: the cartel. Maybe they were more alike than she thought. There was no escape from the cartel, and she knew she would never be able to make a life with a civilian, a man from outside the cartel. With her cartel connections, such a relationship would have to be built on secrets and lies.

At least with Lucca she could be honest about who she was. Her family counted on her to support them, and the Ramirez brothers had been generous with their provision. Her family turned a blind eye to the fact that the money she sent to them was cartel blood money. Her family had raised her to be a good girl. Their unwavering efforts to shelter her had paid off; Alma’s heart remained open and loving – qualities that appeared to be irresistible to Lucca.

She huffed defensively, “What makes you think I’m so naïve?”

“Not naïve. Innocent. If I don’t devour you, another man surely will. The thought of that makes my blood boil, makes me want to take you here and now. Would you like that?”

“You really shouldn’t say such things. You shouldn’t even be thinking about…that. You need to rest.”

He growled uneasily as he shifted his weight to a more comfortable position, bending his leg to give his burgeoning erection a little breathing room. “You need to tell your boyfriend he’s history. Let him down easy, whatever, but cut him loose now.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yes, you do,” he declared, eyes narrowed. How could she not have men vying for her attention?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do not have a boyfriend.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmmph.”

Despite all of his big, macho talk, Lucca was still confined to a bed, on his stomach, while he recovered from justice a la Antonio Wayne Ramirez.

Alma reached into her pocket for two pain pills and placed them on his tongue. She gasped when he nipped at her finger before releasing it. She gave him a sip of water, holding the cup between trembling fingers. “Do you still have the other pills I left with you?”

“Yes. I won’t take them unless the pain’s unbearable.”

“You’re disciplined. That’s good. We don’t want you addicted.”

“I like the sound of that, we. Where are you getting the pills from?”

“I told you, Lucca, I’m not naïve.”

“So you say. What’s your story? Tell me everything.”

She reached back in her medical kit and pulled out gauze, tape, and antiseptic. He was quite docile as he accepted two antibiotic tablets with a sip of water. “We should have started you on these the other day. Oh, hold on a minute, you’ll need food with those.”

She pulled a can of soup from her bag, staring darts at him when he opened his mouth to comment on whether she made a habit of carrying soup in her medical bag.

A member of the Ramirez household staff had set up a small kitchen area in the corner of the room with a toaster, a microwave, and a few basic utensils and dishes. Three minutes at 50% power and, voila, dinner would be ready.

“If it’s easier, just stay where you are for now,” she offered as she arranged her medical supplies. “I’ll tell you my life story while I doctor you up. It all started with a gunshot wound. I was with my uncle – he’s a doctor – so I assisted him. I was good at it, had never had anything come more naturally to me. The Ramirez brothers were impressed that I stayed so calm and wasn’t thrown by the sight of blood. And there was a lot of blood that day.”

He winced when she started cleaning his wounds in earnest. “Sorry,” she grimaced. “The pills will kick in soon. And the ointment will be soothing too. Hang in there.” She squeezed his arm with the intention of comforting him, but was unable to resist the urge to slide her hand along the silken skin that sheathed the thick, corded muscles.

Clearing her throat, she began applying the ointment and continued her tale. “So, as the saying goes, they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: they would take care of my family in Colombia and pay for me to go to nursing school if I would stay on their payroll. So, here I am. I live here, work here, I even go to school here. They even knew someone who got my immigration paperwork taken care of right away. So, I have a career and my family no longer lives in poverty.”

The buzzer on the microwave went off, confirming the soup was ready.

“Do you ever feel guilty about working for the cartel? I’ve been doing it since I was a kid but you sound like you came from a good family.” He wanted to give her an explanation for his pointed question so she would know he wasn’t being judgmental. How could he judge her when his hands were so bloody?

“I would feel guilty if I left my family to live in poverty. It was terrible, Lucca.” He liked the way his name sounded when she whispered it like that. As she continued to talk, he listened, curious to know more about what had motivated this young woman to embrace cartel life so completely.

“They lived in the most horrible conditions. When the opportunity arose to pull them out of their circumstances, I jumped on it.”

“You’re lucky to have such a family,” he said wistfully. “And they are lucky to have you; you’re loyal.”

“I take family seriously, Lucca. I don’t play games and I don’t want anyone in my life who does. I’ll say this for the Ramirez brothers: I’ve never seen either of them even glance at another woman. They don’t stray. I respect them for that. How about you?” she asked, keeping her voice casual even as she braced for his response.

“I haven’t given it a lot of thought before now. But lately, I’ve had nothing to do but think. I want a family. I want a wife. Children. The cartel women who move in my circle tend to be whores, kind of like groupies. If you take up with a woman outside the cartel, you have to worry about her having an attack of conscience and going to the feds if she finds out what you do for a living. That’s why you are such a treasure. You understand the life. You’re making your own way. You just want someone to give all that love to.”

Alma turned away, her eyes brimming as she busied herself with looking for some imaginary thing in her medical kit.

“I’ll always be honest with you,” he continued softly. “When it comes to cartel business, there will be things you can never know. But when it comes to you and me? I will never lie to you. Now, I’m no choirboy. I can’t say I haven’t had my share of one-night stands and some hookups that lasted a hell of a lot less than a night. But it was just fucking. They understood that.”

Alma must have pressed down harder than she thought as she applied the final bandage because he yelped in pain. “Fuck! That hurt!”

She couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

“Why do I feel like you’re smiling back there?” he groused.

“Because I am. I don’t care to hear about your sexual exploits. You can just keep them to yourself.”

“Really,” he said, sounding smug. “The way I see it, a little jealousy is a good thing. Now, feed me.”

“Bossy. Kiss me, feed me. What’s next? Marry me?” she quipped lightly. Her laughter died as soon as she saw the possessive gleam in his eyes. “Okay, well,” she sputtered, “um, let’s have you sit up.”

When she placed her hands beneath him she was painfully aware of how his muscles flexed and rippled beneath her fingers. When he was finally sitting up, she saw his chest for the first time. His unmarred skin was smooth as it stretched over clearly defined muscles. She bit her lip as she admired the flat, brown nipples and the perfect pecs beneath them. She wanted to run her hands over the uninjured landscape of his body and learn every inch of him.

“This hurt so much worse before you gave me the pain killers. Thank you,” he said even as he grimaced at the effort to remain upright.

“Well, just don’t lean back against that headboard. I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet.”

Alma took the soup out of the microwave. She perched on the side of the bed next to him and began spoonfeeding him. Her cheeks grew warm as he watched every gentle, tender move she made. When she set the bowl on the nightstand and slid her fingertip along the corner of his mouth to catch an errant drop of soup, he inhaled harshly and closed his eyes as his cock came roaring to life. Wearing only loose fitting athletic pants, there would be no hiding the effect she was having on him. He only hoped he could avoid a wet spot. Precum was already sliding down his shaft and causing the tip to glide back and forth against the fabric with every ragged breath he took.

“Damn, I want to kiss you. If it didn’t hurt like hell to move even an inch, I’d–”

She leaned in and kissed him before he could finish. As their lips and tongues got acquainted, what had started out as an impressive stiffening of his shaft became a fully erect hard-on. When she looked down and saw how big it was, her eyes widened and she blushed bright red. He chuckled at her discomfort and shrugged. “It’s like I told you. I’ll always be honest with you.”

“I’m-I’m sorry, I had no business doing that. Finish your soup. You’re in no shape for romance.”

“I want to fuck your brains out and mark you like some kind of caveman. I want you to smell like me so other men know not to come near you. I’m not sure I’d classify that as particularly romantic. I’ll save the wining and dining for later.”

She wasn’t used to a man talking to her so bluntly about sex, but his brazen words were making her stomach do flips. There was something primitive about Lucca and she knew her life would never be the same.

Up until now her career had been her lover. She would learn soon enough that Lucca intended to peel back every layer, tear down every wall, and consume her in ways she had never even imagined. His claim on her would be brazen, brutal, and, if he had his way, it would last forever.