Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
He smirks. “You don’t fucking listen.”
I cock a brow. “And you’re easy to kill. Wouldn’t be the first time a gun was held to my head, either.”
His eyebrows draw together. I notice he’s wearing all black, and I suspect he was planning this ambush, just waiting to sneak into my room and intimidate me.
“Why the fuck did he let you go?” he snaps.
“You don’t even know who he is.”
“Oh, trust me,” he laughs. “I know who he is.”
We both still have our guns aimed, arms straight.
“Who is he, then?”
“I watch the news. I’m updated on everything that involves a cartel, and he’s a fucking kingpin. Everyone is out for him, but they can never seem to find him. The whole world knows who the hell he is…and I bet you know where he is.”
“No, I don’t. And even if I did, why would I tell the person who’s holding a gun to my face?”
“Because if you don’t,” he presses the gun into my forehead, “I’ll shoot you.”
I don’t even bat an eyelash. “’Kay. Go ahead. I’m waiting.”
His frown grows deeper, his finger wrapping around the trigger, the gun pressing harder into my forehead. I don’t waver. Don’t sway.
He won’t do it.
I know he won’t.
He’s not stupid.
He finally grumbles something and drops his arm. I lower mine too, but not completely.
“Why did he let you go? He’s risking his entire life by having you out here after keeping you hostage for so long.”
“He knows I wouldn’t snitch.”
“What are you? His fucking pet?”
I glare hard at him before stepping around him and going for my suitcase. “I am not his fucking pet.”
“Then what are you to him? A spy? His sex slave? ”
I roll my eyes. “Now you sound like a fifteen-year-old boy.”
“Fuck you,” he bites out. “I need to know this shit! They don’t want to ask questions, so I will. I don’t trust you. I don’t believe he just sent you here without some kind of agenda. What does he want from us?”
My eyebrows stitch together. I’m utterly confused by his paranoia. “He has everything he could ever want. Why would he want anything from you—or my family, period?”
Clark’s finger wraps around his trigger again. He stares hard at me, nostrils flaring. “I know everything that happens, Gia. Every fucking thing. Even what happens in Mexico. Hernandez,” he says, and a chill hits me hard, my spine stacking. “I heard she’s taking over, and The Jefe is about to be in the dust. He’s losing people. Is it true?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Oh, bullshit,” he scoffs. “I know you know. I heard he dropped everything just to get you back from her. I heard she killed his cousin.”
I swallow hard, looking away. “How are you hearing this stuff?”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. I run a business, too, only mine is much simpler. Cleaner, although I don’t mind getting my hands dirty when I have to.”
“Is Uncle Jack still involved in it?”
He gives me an obvious look. “What? You think he’s selling cupcakes and cookies now? Once you’re in, you’re in. It’s hard to back out of something this big. He won’t work with the Mexican cartels anymore after what happened with Lion and the Ricci clan, but I’m willing to. I want to expand. Become bigger, with or without him.”
“Do you have a jet? A plane? Anything?” I ask, stepping forward.
“For what?”
“If you have one—or anything that can get us to Mexico—you might be able to meet The Jefe. You meet him, talk things over, maybe expand your business. But only if you get me there—and only if I know I can actually trust you by the time we’re there.”
Clark laughs, a deep laugh that grates my nerves. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve heard the stories about him. He’d kill me on the spot. You aren’t that important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent you away.” He looks me over. “Did he give you a number to call? An email? Anything for you to stay in touch?”
“No,” I mutter.
“Then that settles it.” He walks to the door, twisting the knob and pulling it open. “You mean nothing to him.”
I rush for him, pushing the door shut, not giving a damn if the slam of it is loud enough to wake the whole house up. I glare up at him as he hikes his shoulders.
“You don’t know him,” I snap, getting closer to his face. “And you don’t know me. I can be just as lethal as him. Don’t think I can be stepped on or looked over just because I’m a woman. I’m not a fucking doormat. I need to get there, and you’re going to make it happen. Do you have anything to get us there?”
“Why do you want to leave so badly?” he asks, suddenly annoyed. “Why put yourself in danger again?”