Mia’s eyes popped open when a loud noise shook her awake. Sitting up, she clutched the blankets under her chin.

Earthquake?

No. Her ears homed in on a buzzing whirl. Goodness, it was a plane for sure. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Mia’s heartbeat sped as she glanced to the clock.

12:27

Thank heavens he made it!

And there was no time to lose.

Slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she grabbed her headlamp and raced for the garage. It housed a golf cart she used to move around the grounds. El Padrino hadn’t allowed her to learn to drive, but he did let her use the cart as long as she stayed on hacienda property.

The problem was that it was four miles to the main gate and she didn’t trust the guards. Through the darkness, she drove toward the gate with only her headlamp to light the way, making the going slow. Once she spotted the guardhouse light, she pressed down on the accelerator and sped as fast as the cart would take her.

Ahead, at least a dozen guards had Lucas face down on the gravel, pointing guns at his head.

“Stop!” Mia yelled as she slammed on the brakes, making the cart fishtail and jolt to a halt.

Juan, one of El Padrino’s favorites, thrust his fists on his hips. “What are you doing here, señorita?”

“Never mind that.” She threw back her shoulders as she marched forward. She couldn’t show fear now or they’d see right through her. “Release him.”

“But—”

“I said release him!” She jammed her fists into her hips. “El Padrino does not want him harmed.”

“But—” Juan shifted his gaze her way, his dark eyes filled with hate. “El Padrino ordered the—”

“You shall hand him over to me at once!” She stamped her foot. “I mean it. If you do not obey me, you will answer to The Godfather and I swear it will not go well for you!”

Juan shouldered his weapon and nodded to the others. “Do as she says.”

Mia let out a long breath, standing as tall as she could and praying no one noticed how much her hands were trembling. “You made a good choice.”

“Yeah?” Juan pulled Lucas to his feet and pushed him toward her. “Think about it, chica. It will be you answering to El Padrino.”

A sickly lump churned in the pit of her stomach. She’d be answering to The Godfather all right. Mia had been answering to the black-hearted man most of her life. But she would face any punishment he dished out just to see the men leave the Australian alone. Somehow, Lucas Lewis had survived against the odds. But why had he returned?

What would drive a man to come back only to endure more brutality?

As Lucas limped toward the golf cart, the light from Mia’s headlamp reflected blood trickling down the side of his face. “You’re hurt,” she said, switching to English.

“Roughed up a bit.” He slid onto the bench in front of the steering wheel. “I’m driving. I need to have a word with your master.”

“No.” She moved to the driver’s side and slid in, elbowing him over. “This is my cart. No one drives it but me. And sorry to disappoint you, but El Padrino isn’t here.”

Lucas gave her a look. “What? Where the hell is he?”

“Away.” She pushed the accelerator and headed back down the drive. “He never tells me his business.”

“How long will he be gone?”

She shrugged. “A couple days. A couple weeks. He doesn’t tell anyone. Disappearing is one of his greatest feats of magic. It’s why no one can touch him.”

“Someone must know.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about his mother?”

“Are you totally clueless? I swear, Australians don’t know anything.”

“Huh?”

“He killed her.”

“Jesus.” Lucas raked his fingers through his hair and looked away.

The Godfather’s twisted reasoning for murdering his mom was yet another reason Mia tried to be a chameleon. She didn’t want him thinking she was family. She didn’t want him thinking of her at all. “One time he told me he had no choice but to send her to heaven.”

“Why…?”

“He can’t let anyone he loves survive because his enemies will use them against him.”

Wincing, the pilot rubbed his side. “Jesus.”

Mia shot Lucas a quick glance. There were so many things she’d like to say—so many questions she’d like to ask. She had vague memories of people who were kind but, as time wore on, the more distant those memories became. Yes, she knew El Padrino was a bad man but living under his roof had tempered her perception of his cruel nature. Watching Luke bleed made her realize how apathetic she’d become and she didn’t like it.

She stopped at the garage to pick up a first aid kit, then took the pilot to his apartment. When she followed him to the door, he turned and grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me you’re not planning on going inside.”

Her breath caught with his touch. Lucas glared at her with an angry intensity that bordered on violence. His big hands firmly gripped her shoulders—almost too firmly. “Y-you need someone to look at your wounds,” she said, standing her ground.

“No. You are El Padrino’s woman and—”

“I am not his woman.”

“He told me you are.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Whatever.” Lucas dropped his hands rolled his eyes skyward. “Look, if you go in there with me, we’ll both end up in more hot water than we’re already in. And after the thug at the gate’s warning, I’m guessing you took a risk just by driving to the gate.”

Mia held up the first aid kit. “Yeah, but that’s another reason why I stopped for this. I’ve nursed men before—gunshot wounds, knife wounds.”

“You’ve removed bullets?”

“Nooooo—the doctor does that, but then I’m the one who ends up sitting up all night with the patient. As long as…” She stopped herself and bit her bottom lip.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“As long as El Padrino gives his permission.” She groaned. “But he can’t right now.”

“Right.” Lucas turned and opened the door. “I’m not so bad off I need a nursemaid. Do us both a favor and go back to the ivory tower.”

Oh no, they needed to talk, and not outside where someone could overhear. Pushing around him, she headed inside. “This will only take a minute.” There was no way was she going to leave without a few answers even if it did lead to punishment. Thrusting her finger at the couch, she commanded him to sit.

“Bloody hell.” He plopped down. “I’d offer you a stubby, but the fridge is bare.”

“S-t-ub-bie?” She awkwardly pronounced his slang.

“A beer,” he explained.

“Are you thirsty?”

He nodded and she got them both glasses of ice water then went to work, starting with cleaning up his blood and dirt-encrusted face with gauze and saline solution. “Tell me what happened.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I made the drop and, not long after, the fuel ran out, just like you said.”

“You mustn’t have crashed?”

“No. Thanks to your warning, I flew conserving fuel on the way to the drop site.” He raked his fingers through his hair—a gesture she’d seen him make a few times—a gesture that made him look too sexy. “After, I radioed for assistance. Landed at the airfield of an old mate.” Lucas’ gaze drifted aside as if he wasn’t giving her the complete story.

“In America?”

“Louisiana.”

“Then you came back? Why would you do that?” She perched on the ottoman and stared at him in disbelief. “Did El Padrino threaten you—tell you there was no place on this earth you could hide?”

Lucas leaned forward and regarded her intently. “He didn’t go that far. As a matter of fact, his threats were more centered on you.” He shrugged. “But I had to come back. You see, I’m not a good bloke. If you recall, the first time we met I was in prison for running drugs. I’m wanted by Interpol and a host of countries that include America—so landing there was as dangerous as coming back here.” He gave her a sideways grin. “You could say I’m a slave to my daredevil nature.”

“You’re a fool.” She re-capped the ointment. “You needed to get away from El Padrino. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. Don’t you realize he doesn’t care about you?”

The pilot snorted, looking at her incredulously. “And you do?”

“Yes…I-I mean, I don’t want to see you killed.” She pressed her fist against her lips. No, no, she couldn’t tell Lucas about how she’d tried to convince The Godfather not to hire him. Such an admission would expose her too much—expose the uncertain feelings making her skin tingle since the first time she’d set eyes on him.

He sighed, his head lolling against the couch. “The bottom line is I had to come back because I need money. I gotta keep my nose clean and stash away the cash. Buy my freedom and get out of the game before I end up six feet under.”

“Do you think you’ll live that long? Holy heck, you were nearly killed today.”

“Morales was testing me.” He pushed to his feet, the movement making him wince. “And that means you need to leave. Right now. We’re not going to be friends and if you stay here any longer, a bloke like me might just take advantage of an attractive bird like you.”

Reluctantly, Mia stood. “You wouldn’t.” Though he talked tough, there was something more gentlemanly about Mr. Lewis than the others. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“You don’t know me. And you’re as tempting as a meat pie to a starving man.”

Everything froze except for the thundering of Mia’s heart. Luke stared with the look of a hungry man, yet he didn’t grab for her. Gulping, her gaze lowered. He had a hole in the knee of his jeans where blood had soaked through. “I should apply some ointment to that.”

“Give me the kit. I can take care of myself.” He firmly grasped her elbow and led her toward the door, though she could tell he was trying not to limp.

Before he reached for the knob, she turned and faced him. “Is there anything I can say to convince you to leave tonight? Even after what he did to his mother? El Padrino doesn’t care who he kills.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll promise to watch my back.” He drew a cross over his heart.

But his gesture didn’t instill comfort. He was too nice to stay at the hacienda. “It would make me feel better if you would go. Climb back into that airplane and fly away from here.”

“No chance.” Lucas placed a hand on the door beside Mia’s head, then brushed his finger along her cheek. His touch made a shiver course across the back of her neck, made her breath stutter. She couldn’t help herself as her gaze slipped to his lips—full and moist and slightly parted. He wasn’t smiling, but those lips sent ripples of energy surging through Mia’s body like a driving need that craved to be satisfied. If only she could reach out and sink her fingers into his waist, to pull him closer, brush her lips across his one more time before she had to pretend he didn’t exist.

But he straightened his arm and grinned, a sparkle reflecting in those pale eyes. “I can’t let you tempt me, love. No matter what.”

“I believe it is the other way around, Mr. Lewis.” Before she completely lost herself in his hypnotic spell, Mia slipped out the door.

Shaken, she ran through the shadows. Why was she so attracted to that man? He said he was wanted. He was a criminal—yet, of all the men in El Padrino’s employ, Lucas didn’t fit the mold. She couldn’t put her finger on it. If only she could get to know him better—understand what it was about him she found so darned enticing.

***

Luke watched the door shut as Mia smartly made her exit. Had she stayed in his flat for another minute, he would have had his arms around her and his tongue in her mouth. Definitely not a way to start his first solo mission with ICE.

But, damn, the woman was tempting. Once a man fell into that Sheila’s web, he’d sell his soul to keep her. Worse, Luke couldn’t do anything about her and every lie he’d told was like a knife in his gut, sliding deeper with each word. But being a spy meant he had to say and do anything not to expose his cover. Yeah, he already knew Morales had killed his mother. Worse, he hated lying about being on the most wanted list. Luke couldn’t discount the fact that Mia might be spying on him. Had Morales sent her in to tell him about the plane?

This is messed up.

But the mission was greater than any one person, including Mia. There were kids dying out there, kids who should be looking at bright futures that included college and girlfriends and summers on the beach. They ought to be playing in the sun, not drugged out their minds with their brain cells destroyed for life.

Was the mysterious Mia tempting? Hell yes, but so were dozens of other women. Having been a pilot in the Royal Australian Air Force, Luke wasn’t new to the seductions of women. In fact, at times he thought he’d invented the game of nightclub stalking. In his early twenties, he often enjoyed a different woman in his bed every night.

Though things had been a bit dry as of late. Flying for NATO in Africa didn’t give him much chance to rub shoulders with the opposite sex and, on diplomatic trips, his flight attendant had been a man. Some of the female diplomats were game, though most too old. Reflecting back, he sighed remembering the director of African immigration to the United States. She was mighty fine. They’d hit it off on a couple of her trips to eastern Africa, though Luke realized it was over when he read about her marriage on his Twitter feed.

A fair dinkum thrill seeker, Luke didn’t let the news get him down. Hell, he’d had a good time with the director, what? Twice? Two nights of mind-blowing sex did not a relationship make.

He grabbed the first aid kit and limped to the bathroom, his knee throbbing like a bitch. After peeling off his clothes, he examined the damage. The gash at his temple could use a stich. A little squirrely around needles, he opted for a butterfly bandage. He had a fist-sized bruise on the left side of his chest and another over his ribs. It hurt to take a deep breath, but he didn’t think it was serious.

His knee looked like mincemeat. And after sitting on the toilet and using plastic tweezers to pluck out dirt and gravel, he dabbed on some antiseptic ointment and taped on a gauze bandage.

He meandered back to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Nope. No one had seen fit to put anything in there. He could use a beer or, better yet, a fifth of tequila. There were no Icelandic Stouts in Mexico and no ICE pub a few doors down from the suite he’d started to call home.

You’re doing what you wanted. You have the chance to make a difference.

Luke’s little self-pep talk took the edge off his pain—well, not so much pain, but anger. He’d been set up and spat out, and now damned Morales was nowhere to be found.

Bastard.

He wandered to the bedroom, turned on the ceiling fan and flopped to his back. Made of bamboo, the fan whirled around at a smooth tempo, making him sleepy. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.

Where had Mia come from?

She doesn’t belong here.

Luke’s gut turned over. He’d seen a lot of evil, but El Padrino was nothing short of sick.

What does Morales have over her. Is she paying off some sort of debt? Where was her family? What had the poor woman endured in her lifetime?

She’s so young.

So beautiful.

It’s FUBAR.

Luke draped his arm over his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He shouldn’t be thinking about Mia. At least she looked healthy and appeared to be out of harm’s way, even if Morales did have some sick power over her.

Clenching his fists, he tried to think of something else. Caring about Mia would buy him nothing but trouble. In fact, caring too much about anyone at Hacienda Paraiso would purchase nothing but a one-way ticket to hell’s gate.