“I want you to watch out for Mia,” El Padrino said, squeezing Lucas’ hand as the orderlies wheeled him to the waiting ambulance. Dr. Labastida was taking The Godfather to a private hospital for surgery and rehabilitation.

“Si, Señor,” said the pilot in a steady voice as he walked alongside the stretcher. “You can count on me.”

If she hadn’t heard it for herself, Mia never would have believed El Padrino asked Lucas to be her bodyguard. “I think Mr. Lewis should teach me self-defense,” she blurted before she thought.

“Stop.” The Godfather reached back and took Mia’s hand. “Are you afraid?”

Mia nodded rapidly. “Zambada will retaliate. I know he will.” News had already come that the enemy’s plantations were burning across Mexico. An all-out war was a matter of time.

“Then, yes. Learn well, for I do not want anything to happen to you, my pet.”

Doing her best not to dance with excitement, Mia drew her lips into a frown. “I hope your surgery goes smoothly and your recovery is swift.” She almost wanted to take the words away as soon as she said them. The longer it took for El Padrino to recover, the more time she’d have alone with Lucas.

“You do care for me?” The Godfather asked.

Forcing herself not to look at her new bodyguard, she gave a single nod while her stomach clamped into a ball.

The doctor moved beside them. “There’s no need to worry.”

“But will The Godfather be safe?”

“No one knows where he’s going.” Dr. Labastida patted her shoulder. “Not even you.”

“What about the orderlies?”

“They only go as far as La Ceniza. Then I will drive the ambulance from there.”

El Padrino took Lucas’ hand. “The old fox will need time to lick his wounds. I doubt Zambada will strike before my return.”

“I hope you are right, sir.”

“I am. Mark me.”

With that, the rear doors of the ambulance opened and they slid El Padrino inside.

Mia crossed her arms and stood beside Lucas while they watched the ambulance take The Godfather. The eastern sunlight reflected in the rear windows as if sending a warm farewell. This was the first time since she’d come to Hacienda Paraiso she could say without a doubt The Godfather would be gone for at least a month. The doctor had insisted El Padrino’s recovery would take six weeks or more, but Mia knew better than to rely on Dr. Labastida’s estimation. The overlord would be the one to decide when he was ready to return. Nonetheless, he needed reconstructive surgery to repair the bone. Numerous things could go wrong and the first month was the most critical. The Godfather would obey doctor’s orders until he was no longer in jeopardy of losing his leg. After that, he’d start calling the shots. He always did.

As soon as the ambulance was out of sight, Luke turned to Mia and grasped her by the shoulders. “If I’m going to manage things until he returns, I need to know shipments, crop reports, manufacturing outputs and details of money transfers.”

“I-I don’t know all of that.”

“But Morales said you can help me.”

“I can with money and running the hacienda. Does someone need to be paid?”

“I need to understand the operation and you need to help me. Remember?” He took her hand and tugged her up to El Padrino’s office. “The pieces of the puzzle are all there, but how they fit together is foggy. Crops are grown, shipped to a gazillion different places to be cooked up, then transferred to even more warehouses.”

“Not always.”

“What?” He leaned against the desk and crossed his ankles.

“Sometimes the goods are shipped direct.”

“How did you know this?”

“I listen. El Padrino conducts most of his business by phone—encrypted phone that can’t be traced.”

“That I know.” Lucas spread his palms to his sides. “But how does he pay people? Juan gave me a wad of cash—”

“He uses cash most of the time—all employees are paid in cash. Sometimes he pays cash for large things like TVs or boats.”

“Houses?”

“Yeah.”

“Where does he keep it?”

“I don’t know about his cash. No one knows. The employees joke about his mother’s tomb though no one has ever unearthed anything.”

“So he has bank accounts?”

“Not in his name.”

“Then how does he move money?”

“Cash is moved by guards—Marco always brings it to the hacienda. But El Padrino has thousands of bank accounts in other names.”

“Other names?” he asked.

“Not real people.”

“So, how did Morales pay for the Gulfstream, for example? Was there a large transfer of funds?”

“Oh no, he never transfers large sums. He’d be caught.”

“How do you know this?”

“I keep track of his accounts.”

“You have a list? On a computer?”

“No computers, remember?”

“So, you keep track by hand?”

“Ledger paper and calculator—El Padrino taught me how.”

“Okay…back to the Gulfstream, if he didn’t use cash, how did he pay for it?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly use cash. He used a shipment.”

“A shipment?”

“You know. He laundered the payment—isn’t that what’s done in his business?”

Luke nodded. “Uh—yeah. Tell me more about it.”

“The delivery was made to the U.S. by submarine. I-I don’t know all the details, but the company that acquired the drugs has a legitimate business—a popular women’s apparel line. They purchased the plane.”

“And who sold the drugs—after they were delivered?”

“LuLu Togs.”

“The women’s apparel company?”

“Mm hmm.”

“How do they manage it?”

Mia shrugged. “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. How they run things on their end is up to them, I guess. And there’s no way I would ask El Padrino about it. He hates me to ask questions.”

“How did you learn this much?”

“He always tells me what to do. Now he uses me as a front person.”

“Like when you interviewed me?”

“Yes, and to meet with bankers. El Padrino manages the growing, manufacturing and distribution, but when it comes to moving money, he doesn’t want anyone knowing who is really behind it.”

“Hence the fictitious account names?”

“Mm hmm.”

“And your face is tied to them all?”

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “You see, I am a criminal, just like El Padrino—just like you.”

Lucas shook his head. “I think not.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you are carrying out his orders under duress. He is responsible for your actions.”

She huffed. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Would you like to get away from him?” The corner of his mouth turned up along with the arch of a single eyebrow.

Every muscle in her body tensed. The last time she’d run, he’d tortured her for three days. She’d never live through that again. “I-I-I can’t. He’ll find me—no matter where I am in the world. And he can do it. I’ve seen him track people down in Africa and have them executed—with the whole gruesome act on video.”

The phone rang, but Lucas ignored it. “Let me tell you one thing; no one’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m still breathing.”

***

Luke spent the rest of the day either on the phone or grilling Mia about operations. She knew more than she thought and Luke compiled the details in his head to share with Garth as soon as he got some time alone. The big news for the day was all the reports coming in telling of hits on the Zambada Cartel’s operations. Luke did write those down, the locations and details of what was done. No one had reported seeing the enemy overlord, though. He hadn’t initiated retaliatory action, either. With luck, he’d be so decimated Luke wouldn’t have to concern himself with any hostilities coming from that faction. It was hard enough to take up the reins when El Padrino’s inner circle of men were either shot dead in Buenos Aires or in the hospital. Paco had called and reported Marco underwent surgery to remove two bullets and his condition was stable. Luke, in turn, used the excuse that he needed fighting men and not invalids, telling them to stay in Argentina to allow Marco to recover before returning to Guadalupe y Calvo.

At five past six, Luke capped his pen and tossed it on the desk. “Things are a hell of a lot easier to keep track of with computers.”

Mia looked up from her ledger. “El Padrino will never allow them—aside from the security monitoring system.”

“He’s crazy.” Luke rubbed his neck. “I need to work out before I turn into a blob.”

Hopping to her feet, Mia clapped. “We can practice yoga.”

“Yoga?”

“Remember? Self-defense.”

He hissed in through his teeth. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. People will talk, and we’ve probably already given them enough to gossip about being holed up in here all day.”

“But El Padrino told me to help you. He also gave his permission for you to train me.”

How could Luke forget? Honestly, he’d been trying to forget all day. He certainly had enough on his plate acting king of the dung hill. Still, he needed to focus on the op and not on the girl. “All right, but we’re going to work. No fooling around.”

Her face brightened with a look of triumph. “If that’s what you want.”

“I’ll meet you in the gym in a half-hour.” Luke needed ten minutes, but he could run some sprints before the little hottie joined him. That’s the only way he’d be able to keep himself in check.

***

It surprised Mia when Lucas hadn’t beat her to the gym. A little disappointed, she moved inside and set down her bag. He’d acted seriously all day without a single suggestive glance. They both had. Because El Padrino trusted him, she’d divulged everything she knew, though deep down she wished Lucas would throw his hands up and do something about shutting down the drug operations. The Godfather didn’t need any more money. And even though Mia was sheltered, she watched the news. The drugs coming from the Morales Cartel were hurting people.

If only Lucas would admit it is wrong. She sensed such goodness in him, it was difficult to believe he was a criminal. He was nothing like El Padrino or any of the other men. And today, he’d proven that ten-fold. He was smart and hardworking, and a fast learner on top of it all.

One day I will have an opportunity to talk to him about walking away from his life of crime.

Could she change him? God, if she could, she might earn a place in heaven just for saving his soul.

Mia moved to the center of the mat and faced the mirrors. She started warming up with arm circles. The last time she’d thought about heaven, she was in Sunday school, the first-grade class. She’d been so proud when she graduated from kindergarten. Little did she know, that would be the only graduation she’d ever attend.

Taking in a deep breath, she bent down and touched her toes while the door opened with a whoosh of warm air. Goosebumps made her skin tingle.

Lucas stepped inside, his body glistening with perspiration. His chest bare and heaving as he drew in deep breaths.

Mia’s tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth as she straightened and looked at him in the mirror. “You started without me?”

He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and guzzled it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just needed to run off some tension first.”

“Ah. I imagine the day was stressful for you.”

“Yeah.” He grabbed a towel and ran it under his arms then over his head and across his chest. Gosh, a few quick swipes and the man looked delicious enough to eat. He gestured to the mat. “You ready?”

Mia gulped. “Mm hmm.”

He moved in beside her and faced the mirror. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Mia looked scrawny compared to him, her arms like toothpicks.

Arching an eyebrow, he regarded her. How anyone could make her gooey inside with a single look, she couldn’t fathom, but she guessed Lucas Lewis had become a pro at tempting women early in life. “We’ll warm up with some punches, blocks and kicks. Okay?”

“How will I know what to do?”

“No worries, just follow me. A front punch should be at your opponent’s face, a side punch to his temple, and upper cut to his jaw. And there are blocks for each. You ready?”

“I guess.”

He looked over at her with a more pointed expression this time—but still drool-worthy. “You need a little more enthusiasm than that. Say ‘yes, sir’.” His deep voice echoed around the room like a gunshot.

She couldn’t help her giggle. “Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir!”

Only then did Lucas launch into a routine of punches, blocks and kicks, calling each one out by name and going slow enough for Mia to follow. By the time he stopped and bowed, she was breathing heavily.

“You’re pretty good for a beginner,” he said.

“Thanks.” She grinned like a little kid. If only he knew how infrequently anyone paid her a compliment. Well, El Padrino did, but his compliments always came with a demand—or a backhand.

“As I told you before, martial arts is learned over a lifetime. But I think in your situation you would benefit most from a few days learning Krav Maga.”

“Krav M…?”

“Krav Maga. It’s a highly specialized and brutal Israeli martial arts form. It wouldn’t be my choice if we had a couple of years, but you need some moves in your arsenal you can put to use straightaway.”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

He faced her in a crouch, his hands out to his sides. “Let’s say someone is coming at you.”

“With a taser?”

Lucas dropped his arms, his eyebrows drawing together. “Why a taser?”

Her shoulder ticked up. “El Padrino likes to use electricity.”

“Christ.” Groaning, he grabbed a one-pound dumbbell. “Okay, let’s say I’m coming at you with a taser. What do you do?”

“I scrunch up into a ball, tighten all my muscles and try to protect my head.”

“Jeez.” Luke stopped and drew his eyebrows together. “Does he zap you with a taser often?”

“Only when he thinks I need a change of opinion.”

“Bloody hell…fuck that…the son-of-a-bitch!” A string of curses sounded as if they stuck in Lucas’ throat until he shook his head. “We sure as hell are going to teach you how to disarm the bloody wanker. A freaking taser?”

She nodded slowly. “It’s not fun.”

“All right then. When you face an opponent who’s wielding a taser—or any weapon, you must never lose sight it. The best defense is not to let him get close enough to zap you.”

“But what if he does?”

“Then you need to take control of the situation.”

“Even if your opponent is stronger than you?”

“Even then.” He handed her the weight. “Try to hit me with it.”

Mia lunged forward and jabbed with the dumbbell. Before she knew what happened, Lucas snatched it from her hand.

She gaped at her empty palm. “How did you do that?”

Purely mechanics. “I first controlled your hand by stepping to the outside of your body, to make it difficult for you to take a swing at me. I grasped your wrist with my near hand and used my far hand to lever the taser toward your thumb.”

“I’m never going to remember that.”

“You will, but only with practice.” He held out the dumbbell. “Now take it away from me.”

Mia moved mechanically while Luke instructed her with each step. Then he asked her to do it over and over again until she could snatch it from his hand in less than a second. He showed her a number of other maneuvers designed to quickly take charge of an attacker and to use quick strikes to inflict pain on trigger points on the body.

“A woman can overpower a man by acting swiftly, unpredictably and ruthlessly.”

“Even if he’s a lot stronger?”

“Yes.” Lucas stood with his fists on his hips. “It’s common for an altercation to start with a push. A bully will want to assert his power fast and try to intimidate you.” He beckoned her with his fingers. “Give me a good push.”

Mia focused, clenching her teeth. She’d been through enough maneuvers to know he wanted her to use as much force as she could muster. Surging forward and putting all her body weight into it, she thrust her palms toward his shoulders, adrenalin rushing through her blood.

Right before impact, Lucas shifted and pushed her arms to the side. Before she could raise her hands for protection, his massive palm slapped over her face, shoving her chin up. She stumbled backward but lost her balance, toppling to the mat. In a heartbeat, he pinned her down with his knee, throwing fake punches to her carotid—which she’d only just learned would render her senseless.

“Stop!” she hollered, squirming beneath him, trying to get away.

His hands immediately stilled. “You all right?” he asked, his face not but five inches from hers.

“Yeah.” She chuckled, realizing he’d guided her fall with his free hand to prevent her from hitting her head. “That was amazing.”

Without thinking, she cupped his face with her palm, her heart beating like butterfly wings. If only she could kiss him—if only he was El Padrino so she’d never be afraid again. “I wish there was a defense for—” Mia forced herself to stop, her eyes shifting away.

He pushed onto his haunches, the movement making her feel chilled and vulnerable. “For what?”

Sitting up, she crossed her arms. She shouldn’t say anything, but if Lucas ever checked behind the screen in The Godfather’s office, he’d figure it out. She scraped her teeth over her lip. Why not tell him? El Padrino put Mr. Lewis in charge. “The crown of pain,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

She threw her thumb over her shoulder. “Behind the screen…remember the day you came into the office and I had my head down—I wouldn’t look at you?”

“How could I forget?” His pale eyes grew dangerous—almost frightening. “And if I’d looked at you I probably would have wrapped my fingers around Morales’ neck.”

For a moment, Mia couldn’t breathe. He would have fought for her? “Why didn’t you shoot him when you took away his gun?”

Groaning, Lucas pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Look, a man does things in the heat of the moment. He makes decisions. They might not be the right decisions, but he has to live with his actions.”

“Are you saying you should have shot him?”

Snorting, his shoulders shook with his grin, but he looked away as if he were erecting a wall between them. “I think you need to tell me about this crown of pain. Then I’ll decide if I should have shot him.”

“Remember I said he liked to use electricity?”

“Yes.”

“He straps me to a chair and puts a crown on my head. It’s hooked up with electrodes and designed to cause the worst pain imaginable. Every time he uses it, I think I’m going to die.”

Lucas kept his head turned. “Fuck.” The curse was uttered in low growl and Mia doubted he’d meant for her to hear. But his reaction showed her the one thing she wanted to see. No matter what, when it came right down to it, through the wall he sometimes erected, through the tough guy routine, the man cared. Heck, he cared enough to show her how to wrest a taser from El Padrino’s hand.

Mia placed her fingers on the pilot’s shoulder. “Can you teach me how to stop the crown of pain?”

He met her gaze and in his eyes brewed with a tempest of emotions. The only problem was Mia couldn’t tell which was more powerful, his anger or his hate. “Once you’re there, you can’t stop it—just like you can’t stop a bullet after it’s been fired.”