Clink, clink. The door was unlocked. Canelo entered and on cue Mary Jane’s stomach rumbled with striking nausea. When Mary Jane paid him no attention, he tossed the oily brown paper bag onto the bed beside her. She hardly glanced at it. While they were traveling, they’d gone through many drive-thru eateries. They couldn’t poison her because she’d watched them grab the food.

“You vomited early this morning. Aren’t you gonna eat?” he gritted out.

The growl of her stomach was just as loud as her whisper, “No.”

“Why not, Lalina?”

“Fuck you! I am not Lalina!”

Canelo sat on the bed beside her. Internally, she recoiled from the strength in his physique. Outwardly, she glared at him, up and down.

He pulled a Snickers bar out of his jacket pocket and placed it into her lap.

She folded her arms. The “good guy, bad bitch” routine had almost reached its peak. He walked out.

In an orange bikini with gold designer emblems, Soledad sunbathed beside a salt-water infinity pool. She sipped a frosted glass of Pina Colada when Canelo stepped onto the pool deck. Canelo imagined her evil eyes boring holes through his brown complexion through the shade of her sunglasses.

He needed to tell her about the young woman. The girl they had taken could not be Lalina. Although, Lalina and Mary Jane were the spitting image of each other, Escobar’s daughter was never allowed to be in the presence of a single man. Moreover, Lalina’s life was sheltered, perfect even. The Puerto Rican drug cartel made sure his daughter lived a precious existence. She had a security team, but Canelo had learned this Lalina lived with a Polynesian man. The man’s life would be marked for just looking at Lalina on the chance that Lalina might run away with him. And then there was the girl claiming that she wasn’t Lalina. Which made sense. There were warnings to tourists not to wear jewels in Mexico. It was like Mary Jane was claiming not to be this rare, exquisite jewel to a world renown thief. So she was lying about her identity and had run away from her father. With a man. But her father’s team should've found her, killed him, and escorted her home by now.

Escobar would start a drug war if Canelo’s boss, Hector, had so much as sniffed in Lalina’s direction.

Canelo’s people wanted to wage war. So why wasn’t Escobar adding fuel to the flame? They had a pawn. No, they had Escobar’s pretty, little princess.

As he stepped closer, the sound of Soledad slurping up the last bits of chilled alcohol aggravated his eardrums. She held up the empty glass. He grabbed it and went into the house to refill it. When he stepped back out of the large villa, she’d turned over. He placed the drink on the end table next to her chair. As he’d been trained, Canelo picked up the tanning lotion to apply it to her pale skin.

“Soledad,” he finally began. “I don’t believe she’s Lalina.”

“Are you paid to think?” She sipped at the now slushy-like drink with a thin arched eyebrow.

“Hector will flip when—”

She began to laugh. “Again, we are conversing about matters that do not concern you. Are you the boss?”

His hands itched to wrap around her slender neck.

“I didn’t think so.” She undid the straps of her string bikini bottoms. He rolled his eyes. What skin hadn’t already been visible before became so as he pulled them off her. He began to massage the lotion over her bottom.

Her hand took hold of his and gently glided it into her wetness.

Contrary to his hatred of Soledad, his penis began to rise and strain against his jeans. Canelo opened his mouth to let Soledad know that he wasn’t in the mood. But hell, the last time she made such a fit, she’d forced him to screw her longer, harder.

He was loyal to Hector, the king of the El Toro before Soledad arrived.

When Hector took Soledad as a mistress, Canelo’s life changed for the worse. Although he’d already had sex with her in his mind after first being introduced to her, he never would have initiated a physical relationship with her. She was walking death. She belonged to Hector.

However, this mistress wanted more sex than the others were required to give the old bastard. Hector couldn’t keep this one satisfied.

The beautiful demon turned over, signaling him for more.