The quiet buzz of the security system sounded sometime later—it was the proximity alarm. The high I’d been on crashed to the floor, and every muscle in my body was taut. The noise of the alarm didn’t wake Scar so much as my quick launch out of the bed.

“Stay here,” I told her, then strode to the closet across the room. It wasn’t a typical closet. Sure, there was Armani and Dior Homme hanging neatly in there. They just happened to be hanging neatly beside Berettas, Glocks, Sigs and high carbon, stainless steel tactical knives. And there was also a wall full of monitors that would tell me precisely who’d been stupid enough to get close to my property.

Thirty seconds later, I watched as a gunmetal grey Mercedes pulled up to the outer gate. The side windows were tinted, but the position of the cameras allowed me to zoom in on the front windshield. The man in the driver’s seat was a nobody—I’d never seen him before, nor was he likely anything more than a well-paid driver. The man who sat next to him was likely no more important. I zoomed in further until the camera lens let me see past them to the man reclining comfortably in the back seat.

Fuck. That man was not a nobody. That was Mateo Lopez. I’d seen him meet with Marcos on more than one occasion. An associate—Marcos had told me, though he would never tell me anything further. But if he was nothing more than an associate, there would be no reason for him to be here. On my property. He would have had no idea how to find me, nor any reason to try.

Marcos’ minions had done a passable job filling in for their missing leader—until that leader could be found, of course—and it was well-known I had my hands full with his little escape artist at the moment. No business would have been directed my way, and certainly not here, and mere days after my arriving.

That left only one option, and I didn’t like it one fucking bit. This man had never been one of Marcos’ associates like he’d said. That was a ploy, probably to keep this man out of the line of fire from rivals. Because this was Marcos’ boss.

Was he here for revenge? No, if he knew I’d killed Marcos, he would have sent his own goons after me. He wouldn’t be making a house-call with anything more than his driver and one guard for protection. That meant he was stepping in where Marcos had left off, and possibly looking for information. Though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep an eye on the driver and the guard, just in case.

I wanted to ignore the buzz that was now sounding from the front gate’s intercom, but a man that high up on the food chain wouldn’t have made the trip unless he knew I was here. So, ignoring it was only going to raise suspicions. There was only one route available to me. One very particular route. And it fucking sucked.

I pressed the button to let them in, tucked a Glock in the back waist of my pants, secured a Beretta in its holster around my ankle and double-timed it back to Scar.

I didn’t want to do this to her. Fuck, I wasn’t even sure if she could handle it, but the only other option meant putting us back on the run. I couldn’t do that to her.

In the bedroom, I found her in the exact position I’d left her, but one surreptitious glance up through her lashes and the expression on her face changed. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this to her. Thank fuck for the clothes I’d picked up on the drive here.

“Scar, you need to listen and do exactly what I say. Put on the black nightgown,”—it was the most coverage I could offer her—“kneel at the end of the bed. Don’t use the pillow. Keep your head down no matter what unless you’re told otherwise.”

“What’s…what’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear as she hastened to do what I’d said.

I didn’t even have time to explain it to her. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Master,” she said and nodded without hesitation.

My heart soared and sunk at the same time. She trusted me without equivocation…but once again I’d led her right into this.

“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you. Understand?” It was the only assurance I could offer her.

She nodded.

I strode to the door, but I couldn’t stop myself from turning back once I reached it. “I’m so sorry, Scar,” I whispered.

She heard me. I could tell by the way her shoulder muscles tensed, but she didn’t move from her position at the end of the bed.

Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to grab her and make a run for it. Instead, I walked out of the room, closed the door behind me and smoothed my features into an unreadable expression. With any luck, I’d have them out of here without ever laying eyes on Scar—though I’d learned well that luck was a cruel son of a bitch and wasn’t counting on it to lend me a hand.

Down the stairs and across the foyer, I paused for one last calming breath. I was used to dealing with evil fuckers. Hell, I was one too—this was nothing more than an encounter with my own kind. Stay calm and cool, show no fear, and be prepared for anything. I touched my fingers to the steel at my back. Yes, I was ready. I was ready to do whatever I had to do to keep Scar safe.

I disengaged the security on the door and opened it to the two men standing there. The driver had stayed in the car—not surprising, but it meant I’d be re-engaging the system the second these two stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Mateo,” I greeted the one I knew to be in charge and nodded to the other man. There was no need to feign surprise over their appearance here—they would already know I’d seen them on the security cameras.

“Good afternoon, Derek. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

I let him take the upper hand in the handshake that ensued. If it appeared I had already been well aware of his supposed superior position, it would give the impression Marcos had confided in me more than he really had.

“Can I offer you a drink? I’ve only recently returned, so there isn’t much more I can offer you, I’m afraid.”

“A drink would be wonderful.”

I stood back and let them in as prickles rose at the back of my neck more with every step they took that put them closer to Scar. Outwardly though, we looked like amicable acquaintances.

I closed the door and re-engaged the security system, then strolled toward the bar at the wall across the room without a backward glance. I wanted to watch them like hawks, but that wouldn’t appear very cordial. At the bar, I poured three drinks, offering one to Mateo, and leaving the other on the bar for his lackey to retrieve on his own.

“I assume you’ve been concerned about Marcos’ disappearance,” I said since there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Yes, quite concerned.”

I motioned for Mateo to have a seat and took the one opposite him once he was seated.

“I assumed at first it was James Garcia who had ambushed him. As I’m sure you’ve heard, he was the man who took Marcos’ slave. But I don’t believe it was him.” It would be a tidy story to say that James Garcia—aka James Donovan—had been responsible for it all, but I didn’t want Mateo to have any more reason to dig into Donovan’s—and by association, Scarlett’s—life. It would be best if he turned his efforts elsewhere.

“I’m inclined to agree with you. Speaking of the slave though, I would like to see her. I understand you reclaimed her successfully.”

Fuck. There was no good, god damned reason he needed to see her, but there was also no plausible excuse to keep him the hell away from her.

“Of course, though I must insist she remains where she is. My pet is learning the importance of staying put.”

It was the best I could do. If she was in the midst of a punishment, it was less likely Mateo would do anything that would interfere with her current master’s course of action.

“I understand, and I commend your dedication, Derek. Marcos spoke often of your diligence to your work and your applaudable success.”

Inwardly I cringed, knowing the man was right. I’d been damn good at what I did. Since Scar though, that had become my shame, not my glory. I’d been a monster—a damn good one.

Mateo stood and I followed suit, leading the way to the stairs and then the bedroom where the only person in the world that mattered was kneeling there, probably terrified. What I really wanted to do was put a bullet in this fucker’s brain. My fingers itched to feel the cool steel of my Glock, to squeeze the trigger and watch as every worthless drop of life drained out of him. I might have felt guilty as fuck for the innocents I’d hurt, but men like Mateo deserved every bit of evil I was capable of inflicting.

Instead, I kept one hand relaxed at my side and opened the door with the other while every fiber of my being railed against letting Mateo anywhere near Scar.

I had no choice, but I knew right then I had limits. I could only let this go so far. If he tried to hurt her, I was going to rip him apart with my bare hands. And make no mistake, I was still a monster because I was going to enjoy every second of it.