It was evening when I got back to the house, the orange-gold light painting the pale façade, but there was something menacing about it. As if the spacious lawn was on fire and the flames were creeping toward the house, preparing to engulf it and return everyone inside to Hell. A fitting end to all of the devils inside, but I’d need to be in there for it to be right.

And she’d need to be out here. Alive and free.

Wishful fucking thinking. Digging in Nicky’s bag, I returned the gun to the back of my pants and climbed out of the truck. I had to get my head on straight. Walking into Paulo García’s house with anything less than complete focus would be suicide, and that meant I had to stop imagining killing them all.

The second I opened the front door, I heard the laughter, the loud voices in the front room — too many voices. Stepping past the entryway, I saw them around the poker table and let the cold wash over me and erase everything I’d seen in Nicky’s apartment from my mind.

“Hola, Andre! Join us!” Samuel was grinning, leaning back in his chair to wave me over, and there was no way to avoid it. As much as I wanted to go upstairs to Nicky, I had to make an appearance or I wouldn’t be able to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“¿Qué onda, güey? What’s with the purple bag?” Nicolás asked as I approached, and a second later everyone was looking at me.

“Clothes for the girl,” I answered, keeping my voice level as usual. Having the brothers here already wasn’t a good sign, it meant Paulo was planning something soon. Very soon. As I looked around the room I saw Luis on the couch with Paulo in the chair closest to him. They’d clearly been talking. Shit.

“Yeah, we heard about this girl. Muy bonita, yes? Diego says you won’t share her?” Samuel laughed.

“No, he won’t,” José answered for me. “We didn’t even get to have any fun with her yesterday. Just scared her a little.” He leaned forward on the table, lifting his chin a bit. “Why does the puta need clothes, cuadro?”

“I tore the ones she was wearing.”

The brothers laughed loudly, José chuckled, and I even caught the hint of a smile on Paulo’s face, but Diego sneered. “She’s just a set of holes. Why you getting shit for her like some little bitch?”

“Diego, you still got blue balls?” Nicolás grinned, but Diego growled and shoved himself back from the table to head to the bar. The look he gave me promised pain — for him, if he was dumb enough to make a move.

“Cuadro, come and sit.” Paulo beckoned and I obeyed like a good little soldier. Luis gestured to the couch beside him, and I dropped Nicky’s bag to the floor.

“Hola, Luis.” I shook his hand when he offered it and sat beside him.

“It has been a while, Andre. Six months?” Luis was stoic, level-headed, and not a man I minded spending time around. It was always easier when someone didn’t fill silence with empty words.

“Si, about six months.”

“Well, I do not like to take him away from his work if I don’t have to. Luis handles the border well, eh?” Paulo took another drink, and it seemed that he’d had a few already. More relaxed, but that could be an act.

“My men make it so, jefe,” Luis answered, humble and respectful as always.

“Yes, yes, claro. Andre, you do not have a drink. This is not right.” Turning, Paulo saw Diego still lurking at the bar and smiled. “Diego, bring Andre a glass, and a bottle of the Casamigos tequila.”

I couldn’t fight my own smile as Diego’s face went dark at the order, but he didn’t dare speak against Paulo and brought it over without a word. As he set them on the table, his eyes met mine and I leaned back on the couch, making it clear he didn’t worry me.

“Problem, cuadro?” Paulo asked as soon as Diego returned to the poker table, but the shark’s grin on his face told me that all he wanted to know was if blood would be spilled.

Shrugging a shoulder, I leaned forward to get the glass and pour. “We will see, jefe.”

“Bien. I am glad you returned when you did. I have been telling Luis that you are the right man to accompany us to our meeting. I mentioned an opportunity to you this morning, do you remember?” Paulo was still smiling, the expression as empty as he was.

“Yes, jefe. What do you need me to do?”

“That is what we have been discussing. Jefe told me how you handled the accounting issue this morning, and that kind of loyalty is what will be needed.” Luis always spoke so carefully, looping around the subject. No wonder Paulo kept him so fucking close.

“I understand.” Taking a sip of the tequila, I savored it for a moment, because what I really wanted to do was toss it back and pour another, and then another. I was too sober for this shit.

“I will cut straight to it then. There have been some changes south of the border, and I believe our enterprise can benefit from them. Some interested parties are arriving in three days, and I need to be sure we are… prepared for the meeting.” Paulo sat back in the chair, resting his hands on the arms, his glass dangling from his fingers. “There are so many ways meetings like this can go, as you know, cuadro.”

I nodded, focused on keeping my breathing steady and even so that I didn’t betray my sudden racing pulse. Fuck. Could this finally be it? Thirty-one months of this hellhole and I could finally get the names of the bastards serving up drugs by the plane and truckload? Too many thoughts hit at once, and so I shut them all down, let the black swallow me whole, just like I had that morning. “What is your main concern, jefe? Your safety, or the potential… consequences the changes may have on those at the meeting.”

The edge of Luis’ mouth lifted a bit. “They want to meet with jefe, Andre. He’s allowing the meeting, I do not think they would risk the business relationship.”

“Exactly.” Paulo shrugged, looking every bit the king overseeing his empire, turning the wingback chair into a fucking throne. “How the meeting goes will depend on if their terms acknowledge our position here, or if they are insulting.”

“This is why you asked Samuel and Nicolás to come in.” It wasn’t a question, and the slow smirk crossing Paulo’s lips confirmed it before he spoke.

“I want the best with me, cuadro, and that includes you.”

“Gracias, jefe.” For once, I actually meant those words. If I was with him, I might finally have the information to get the fuck out. To take him down, to burn them all down.

“Then it’s settled! Time to drink. Salud!” Paulo raised his glass, and Luis and I did as well, echoing him, and I finished the rest of my tequila in one sweet, burning swallow.

I refilled all of our glasses with the Casamigos, and over the next hour we steadily drank. Luis talked about his children, Samuel and Nicolás joined for a bit to thank Paulo for the invitation and try the tequila, and Marco’s absence was finally explained — he’d been drunk when the brothers had arrived and was already in bed. Not surprising.

The haze of the alcohol settled my head, but every time I looked down to see Nicky’s bright purple duffel my cock throbbed. There were still conversations I needed to have with her, things I had to get answers to, but they could wait until the morning. As could the report to Nathan. I just needed the opportunity to step away without it being disrespectful.

As the buzz of conversation hit a lull, Luis stood and nodded to Paulo. “I had a long trip, jefe, I’m going to sleep. Gracias for the drinks as always.”

“Buenos noches, Luis.” Paulo raised a hand as Luis nodded to the others and headed to the stairs. My gaze followed him as he walked up, into the dim shadows at the top, and when I turned back to the group Paulo was smiling at me. “You want to go make belleza scream again, Andre?”

Leaning back in the seat, I let a smirk pass over my lips, the darkness surging its own acceptance of Paulo’s offer. “She does sound so pretty when she screams, jefe.”

A low laugh rumbled out of him, sinister and soft. His real laugh that matched the emptiness of his eyes. “Then go make her scream, cuadro.”

“Gracias, jefe.” I finished my drink and set it on the table. I knew my own smile was cold, and more honest than I wanted to admit — because I really did like the way she screamed. Grabbing her bag, I pulled the strap over my shoulder as I stood and moved to leave.

“When are you going to stop being such a pinche pendejo and share the whore?” Diego swaggered in front of me before I could get out of the room, a bottle of liquor in his hand that could be a weapon in a flash.

I stared at him for a second, shrugging my free shoulder. “I tire her out, Diego, and I don’t like to share.”

“You fucking maricón! You’re not fooling anyone here. That puta needs a real cock.” Grabbing his crotch, Diego moved closer and I shifted my feet, ready for him to swing a fist or the bottle. “I can give her a real cock.”

“Is that what you said when you tried to get in my room this morning while I was with jefe? Did you tell her you had a real cock, pendejo?” Dropping the duffel off my shoulder I took a step towards him. “What part of ‘she’s mine’ did you not understand, Diego?”

“I went for her first!” Diego shouted and swung, but he was so drunk it was too easy to step in and grab his arm, bringing my elbow back into his face, and then my knee into his stomach. The spray of blood from his nose was satisfying, but as I twisted his arm and forced him forward, I loved the pathetic cry of pain more.

Pressing my forearm to his elbow, I kept him bent forward, and I knew with barely any weight at all I could snap his fucking arm in half. I wanted to do it, I wanted him to remember the pain the next time he even looked at Nicky. The next time he had to jack off left-handed.

“Ella es mía, cabrón.” I kept my voice low, speaking close to his ear, and he tried to move, but I increased the pressure and he shouted in pain. “Say it.”

“¡Vete a la verga culero!” The fact that Diego had the nerve to call me an asshole, or say fuck you, with me about to break his arm confirmed that he was either a total idiot, or too proud to save his firing arm. Either way, it would be sweet to hear the bone snap.

“Wrong choice.” I leaned into the joint, feeling his body shudder, hearing his groan.

“Stop.” Paulo’s voice was like a puppet master tugging my strings, and I hated it. Diego deserved this for daring to come after what was mine, but I leaned back just enough to keep him from breaking his own arm if he jerked.

“Jefe, he tried to break into my room to get to the girl this morning.” I tightened my grip on his forearm, twisting it just enough for him to groan again. “And now he does this.”

“I understand, cuadro.” Paulo moved closer. “Diego, I recommend you say it before Andre breaks your arm.”

“Fuck!” Diego growled, but finally dropped his head and mumbled, “The puta is yours.”

Glancing up, I saw Paulo nod and growled because it meant I had to let him go. Leaning close again, I used my coldest tone. “Come near her again, and I’ll put you in the fucking ground. ¿Entiendes?”

Diego didn’t speak, but he gave a single short nod and I let him go, shoving him away from me. He immediately grabbed onto his arm, muttering curses, and for a moment Paulo just stared at him with no expression on his face. Then he turned to me.

“Hit him, Andre. Just once, so he remembers the lesson.” Paulo’s eyes were coal-black and empty as he passed between us to return to his seat.

Diego straightened up, glaring at me, and I smirked. Popping each of the knuckles on my right hand, I moved in front of him to ensure I landed the punch as hard as possible. There was no warning, no more words needed, I just pulled back and hit him. The impact jarred all the way up my arm, and Diego stumbled to the side where Nicolás caught him by the arm with one hand.

I waited for him to look at me, cursing through his bloody nose and mouth, and then I picked up Nicky’s bag. “Buenos noches.”

“Don’t you know not to fuck with Andre, idiota?” Samuel’s voice and laughter followed me as I headed to the stairs and started climbing.

The smile was still on my face, my knuckles bleeding again as I got to my room and knocked. “Open the door, Nicky.” When I didn’t hear any movement, I sighed and knocked harder. “Nicky, unlock the door. Now.”

Growling, I pounded my fist on the door once more.

Finally, I heard a crash inside the room and then the locks started moving. When the door opened she flinched against the light, hair a golden, tangled halo around her head, still in nothing but my shirt. Putting my hand on her chest I pushed her back into the room and kicked the door shut behind me, feeling the darkness humming in my veins.

She’s mine, asshole.