The driver speeds along the rough desert road. He takes a hard turn, the abrupt movement sending up clouds of dust around the Hummer. Three of Jésus’ armed guards sit in the car with me, and anxiety bubbles in my stomach because I know exactly why Jésus is sending me to deal with the Juarez cartel. He wants me to deal with Gabriel. Jésus wants Gabe to witness my loyalty to the Sinaloa cartel, and honestly, he probably wants to insult him by sending someone he won't take seriously.

The car pulls up outside a ramshackle gas station in the middle of the desert. The tint on the windows is peeling; the pumps have weeds growing out of them. When the car comes to an abrupt stop, all the guys get out. One of them holds the door open for me, and I step out of the car, my high heels clicking over the dusty tarmac. There’s an old man wearing a straw hat in the rocking chair on the porch of the shack. He has a pipe hanging from his mouth, but no smoke is coming from it. He tips his hat to us before pulling it down over his eyes as though he's taking a nap. I slide my sunglasses onto my face and glance across the expanse of desert. In the distance, there’s a trail of dust billowing into the sky. When the approaching car gets closer the sun glints off the black paint.

I steel myself and hold out my palm, waiting as Michael hands me a gun. I feel the weight of the cool metal when he places it in my hand, and I grip it. The car finally pulls up, skidding slightly on the loose gravel a few feet away from us. The windows are tinted, so I can’t see inside. The engine cuts, and I wait on baited breath to see who will get out. There's every possibility that Gabriel will show up himself and bring Jude. Some cartel bosses let their men make deals for them, but Gabriel tends to get his hands dirty. Having spent time in the Sinaloa cartel, it's something I've come to respect about him.

The car doors open and several men I vaguely recognise from Gabriel's compound get out before Gabe climbs out himself. He closes the door, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief when I don't see Jude.

Gabe saunters towards us with that usual arrogant swagger he carries. Jésus is always dressed in a suit, but Gabe’s dressed in his usual low-hung Jeans and a plain black t-shirt that clings to his muscular body. He always looks more like an Abercrombie model than a drug lord. There’s a shotgun slung over his shoulder, a smoldering cigarette in his hand. His eyes drag over me, and a sneer pulls at his lips.

"Gabriel," I greet him coolly. All eyes are on me. I must not only prove my loyalty, but be the queen that Jésus wants me to be. This is the ultimate test, facing one of Jude's allies—one of my friends—and demeaning him. Jésus wants to make Gabe eat dirt, and by sending me to do it he's just rubbing salt in the wound.

"What are you doing here, Tor?" He glances at the men surrounding me before his gaze falls to the gun in my hand. He takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke through his lips, completely unfazed as his eyes lock with mine.

"I'm here to negotiate with you on behalf on the Sinaloa cartel." I hold his stare, never flinching, never backing down. I've watched Jude enough to know that perception is everything. The way you hold yourself, the way you speak... it all creates an image. I need Gabriel to believe whole-heartedly that I've turned because word travels. Jésus hears things, and it all helps my cause. The more he trusts me, the easier he is to kill, but more importantly, the easier it is to convince the rest of the cartel that it wasn't me who did it.

His eyes narrow and he takes one last puff on his smoke before tossing it to the desert floor. "I don't negotiate with women or traitors." He arches a brow.

I inhale a slow breath and click the safety off my gun. His gaze flicks to the gun in my hand. "I don't negotiate with Juarez dogs, but here we are." The guys behind me chuckle.

"Wow, and to think I used to come over to your house for dinner."

I raise an eyebrow. "Times change. We came to talk, so talk. It's the only chance you're going to get. I'll be sure to relay your concerns to Jésus." I turn towards Michael on my right and hand him my gun. I hear a low curse from Gabriel, and I can guess why. On the left side of my neck, below my ear, is my tattoo. Jésus insisted that my hair be braided back on one side so it was clearly on show. He said it would offer me protection. That's bullshit, he wanted me stamped and claimed for Gabriel, and therefore Jude, to see. I turn back to Gabriel and he passes his shotgun to one of his men. I step forward and so does he until we're barely a foot apart. It's bullshit really, a sign of diplomacy I guess, to be unarmed. But there are six other armed men here. I really don't need a gun.

"I didn't call this meeting, your man did," he sneers.

I sigh. "You need to stop with the hits, Gabe. It's not good for business, for either of us." He's been killing Jésus' men, bombing drug factories, ambushing our drops. Of course, secretly, I want to shake his hand, but all he's doing at this stage is pissing Jésus off, and that's never good.

"Business, yes...” he laughs. “I see you are now very concerned with that." His eyes trail over me.

"It concerns the boss, and therefore it concerns me."

"There is nothing lower than a woman who turns on her man." Gabe glares at me.

I clench my fists until my nails bite into my palms. I shouldn't rise to it, but I do. "A man's job is to protect his family and when he can no longer do that, a woman will find the man who can." I hate it. I hate myself for saying it because I love Jude no matter what has passed between us. He has to buy this though. More importantly, the men standing behind me need to buy this.

"The man who can." He laughs again. "That Sinaloa shit took my sister, he killed your child, and yet you spread your legs for him,” he says through clenched teeth before taking a deep breath. "You're a whore. Jude deserves better than this bullshit." He turns and waves me off. "Tell Jésus I will not have dealings with you." He spits before he walks away from me.

Michael hands me my gun. "You will do business with whoever we see fit to offer you," I say. "Careful what you wish for Gabriel. Next time Jésus might just come in person, and you might leave missing body parts."

He flips me the bird. "Tell Jésus I look forward to the day I take a piss on his dead body."

I take a deep breath, lift the gun, and pull the trigger. Gabe hits the ground swearing, and suddenly there are guns pointed at me. The men standing behind me aim their guns, the click of the safeties going off surrounding me. Smirking, I stare down Gabriel's three men. I wink at the one that I know is his right hand of sorts. "Don't worry,” I say. “It's just a flesh wound." Gabriel groans, clutching his thigh. "Stop being a pussy, Gabe.” I smile. “That's for my fence post."

He glares at me as he manages to push to his feet. Blood soaks through the material of his jeans. "Tell your boss, that I'm going to keep coming at him until he's on his knees, and then I'm going to make him suck my fucking dick,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him. "You don't know what you're getting into, Tor."

I meet his stare. "I'll get into whatever I have to." I lift an eyebrow, hoping he hears the words I can't say here. I turn away from him and get back in the car. Closing my eyes, I press my head back against the seat rest as we pull away.

I honestly have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I just shot one of Jude's closest friends, and for what? To prove a point, to show loyalty to the man who has my daughter hostage. In the fucked-up world I live in, this is my reality.