48 Hours Later

“I really don’t know why I care about you so much.”

As the words pass through my lips, a warm hand drifts over my belly, snaking around my hip, tugging me close. Rays of the sun beam down on the gold sheets. It’s a warm day, the ocean breeze pushing through the curtains.

Now that I’ve had time to settle, I’m starting to love this home in Lantía a lot more.

Gusts of salty air spill through the crisp white curtains. I can taste it on my lips, smell the freshness of the water that comes along with it.

I shut my eyes as his hand presses into my belly, skating up to my breast. He cups it in hand, using the other to nudge me backwards until I’m flat on my back. His mouth wraps around my nipple, the other still cupping me in his large, demanding hand. A groan vibrates through his chest, and he sucks until it becomes a soft, pink pebble between his lips.

“Is that why?” he asks, letting up, his voice raspy and filled with sleep. I moan as he pulls his hand away and slides downward, his mouth pressing on my belly, moving to various places. “Or is this why?” His lips are soft, slightly demanding. I start to grip his hair, but he catches my wrist, forcing it down as he slides his face between my legs.

“Draco,” I moan.

He ignores me, kissing the area just above my clit. I shudder when I feel his breath run through my already wet slit. So wet for him. So eager, just from his teasing lips alone.

I say his name again, and it falls so lightly off my lips.

“Stop your bickering.” His breath is hot on my skin. Something hot and wet presses directly on my clit, swirling slow at first. His large hands grip my thighs and his fingers slide up, capping my knees and pushing them up to my chest.

He spreads me wide open for him, sucking, licking, and tasting all of me. His hands grip my thighs as I writhe, back bowing, sinful words leaving my body and surrounding us. He’s always so hungry for me, always ready to devour.

It doesn’t take long for my body to overheat, the bundle of nerves between my legs to scream and beg for release. I grip the sheets and allow every moan of pleasure to escape me, squeezing my eyes shut, relishing in every ounce of it he provides.

My body dies down, sated, euphoric.

Draco slides his large body up, resting his head on my chest, his hard cock pressing on my pussy. We’re both naked.

We may have even celebrated a little too much last night, him over tequila shots and me with way too many tacos and too much sparkling juice. We celebrated the life of Thiago and Emilio, as well as our win over Yessica and getting all of his territory back.

I’ve never seen him so…content. Not even during all the days I’d spent with him before this happened. Even before I knew about Hernandez, he was always so hostile, so vicious.

Now, in his warm brown gaze, I see nothing but satisfaction. I see hope.

Like he’s satisfied with life. Satisfied with himself.

Once, it was all about the venom. The poison and the power.

Now, well, it’s just the passion. Some of the power. Some of the glory. But mostly just love.

He drops his head, the tip of his nose skimming over my jawline. “You know we can’t stay here today, right?” he murmurs.

I catch his eyes as he lifts his head. “Why not?”

“Guillermo got word that the sicario is looking around Lantía for me, wanting to plan an ambush. They’re getting close.”

“Hmm.”

He slides a hand beneath me, cupping the back of my neck, tilting my head so our lips meet. He presses his warm, supple lips to mine.

He kisses me once. Twice.

“This will never end, will it?” I ask, holding his gaze.

“What?”

“This. Going to different locations. Always on the go.”

He chuckles. “As long as there is breath in my body, Patrona, it never will. Are you willing to go through that with me? With the baby too?”

I smirk. “Have you forgotten what I told you yesterday? I fucking love you. I want you. Para siempre.” Forever.

He chuckles, low and deep and perfect. “Hearing that shouldn’t turn me on so fucking much.”

I grin. “Jefe y Patrona. The most wanted couple in the world.”

“Mmm,” he groans, gripping his cock, pressing it at my entrance. My lips part as he slides in inch by savory inch. When he’s fully inside me, he says, “Mí reina. Eres tan perfecta.” My queen. You are so perfect.

It doesn’t take much for me to shatter again. My body still hasn’t come down from the first powerful orgasm of this morning. I break into a million beautiful pieces, just as he grunts his release.

Just as he finishes, there is a bang on the door.

“Jefe!” Patanza shouts. “We have trouble!”

He pulls out of me and climbs off the bed. Picking up a pair of boxers and sliding into them quickly, he walks to the door and grips the door knob. She speaks before he can open the door.

“Someone talked—claimed they saw you coming to this area. Guillermo just called, said he saw the colonel in the city. They’re on their way here. We have to go. Now.”

“Shit,” he rasps.

I climb out of bed, rushing to the closet and yanking down the first dress I touch—a red maxi dress. I tug it over my head, no bra, slide into my sandals and open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out Daddy’s pistol.

Draco is already dressed in his jeans and white T-shirt from last night. He picks his gun up from the nightstand and tucks it behind his back.

“Boat is running?” he calls over his shoulder at Patanza.

“Sí. The maids and butlers are out of the apartments, and Mrs. Molina is already being taken down to the boat. They’ll be here soon. We have to go.”

“Everything else already set?” he questions, taking my hand and leading the way out the door.

“Sí,” she answers over her shoulder, a pistol in one hand.

“Good.”

Clark comes running out of one of the bedrooms with a gun in hand and his bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m not getting caught after all that shit. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says.

We rush down the hallway, down the many stairs and through the corridor. Past his infamous paintings and the dining room he loved to feast in.

When we get outside, behind the house and past the pool, Patanza and Clark rush to the right as Draco and I bustle down the stone steps.

I glance back as she and Clark crowd around something black on one of the walls. She presses buttons on it as he keeps watch and then they’re making a mad dash our way

We’re on the sand, the cold ocean water wrapping around my ankles as we splash through it and toward the speedboat that’s already waiting.

Draco lets me up first and I climb the ladder, taking Sebastien’s hand, letting him haul me up. Mrs. Molina is already waiting on board with a life jacket on, knitting away like she has no cares in the world.

Draco steps on board, Patanza and Clark coming on shortly after.

Patanza huffs, placing her gun down on the bench and then pulling a black device from her pocket. Clark and Draco keep watch of the mansion.

It doesn’t take long for us to hear sirens wailing in the distance. To hear a loud thud as they barge into Draco’s so-called castle. Men in black and some in green surround the house at all angles. I see one who’s tall, sharp, sunglasses on. He looks toward the speedboat as we take off and shouts, pointing at us.

But it’s too late.

Patanza presses a red button on the device, and the mansion explodes, bursting into flames, and burning with it, the sicario.

I hear Draco release a small breath, but I’m not sure if it’s a sigh of relief or a sigh filled with sorrow. His arm wraps around my shoulders, heavy, tight.

We watch his favorite home burn down, the distance growing, putting us further away from the history of that place, good and bad.

I picture his paintings, how they hang on the walls, melting. The beautifully furnished rooms being licked by the flames. Everything in that home will soon be gone—everything, including the memories. All because of a single bomb.

A bomb that has set us free…for now, anyway.

“Where do we go now?” I ask.

“We take everyone to safe places,” Draco answers, his gaze ahead, focused on the fiery flames. I bet he’s thinking the same as I am—about all he is losing with that home. It was his favorite. He had everything there. It’s where he spent most of his time growing up. “And afterward, I’ll be taking you and Mamá to a place I hope you’ll enjoy.”

Patanza slides closer to Mrs. Molina, handing her a spool of thread she dropped. Mrs. Molina takes it, giving her a complacent smile, and Patanza nods once.

For the first time, their shared smile is not cold or filled with indifference and bitterness. It is real. Respectful.

I look at Clark, who has an unlit cigarette pinched between his lips. He smiles at me behind it and then winks. I smile back, mouthing the words “Thank you.” He and I made a pretty good team.

My eyes shift over as mangled curls whip at my face from the growing winds. Draco’s arm tightens around me, his throat clearing.

My eyes travel over until it lands on something that will always stand out to me.

The brown shed.

It still stands, tall and proud, with not a scratch on it. It’s still the same—sturdy, rough, filled with the horrors of my past. Somehow, I know that shed will always be there. That memory will never fade—the memory of how we came to be.

The start of us, though tragic and frightening.

The story that went from hate, to war, and then to the one thing I never thought it would become: love.

El Jefe y La Patrona.

The fucked-up story of how we came to be.

Of how we became one.

Of how we fell in love.