Page 48 of Falling for the Enemy

“Sit your little ass down,” I bark, climbing in behind her, dodging the jab she throws at my face. “If you can’t behave, then I’m going to take you over my goddamn knee!”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

A hundred times over.

From the front passenger seat, where he now sits, a bored-looking Benito hands me a pair of zip ties as a slew of Russian curses fill the SUV, only half of which I understand. Getting the makeshift handcuffs on her is a struggle, but again, her efforts to escape are in vain.

We’ve reached the point of no return.

Our fates have been sealed.

I repeat, she is mine.

Silky hair now a tousled mess, she kneels on the far side of the seat once I’m finished, as far away from me as possible, her bound hands pulled behind her back.

“For this, you will die, Alejandro Santiago!” I hum in faux agreement as I pull her legs from beneath her and secure her seatbelt in place. Her not wearing one isn’t an option. With me, she’ll always remain safe. “Slowly and painfully!”

“I expect nothing less from you.”

Ignoring the fury that rolls off her in waves, its intensity mounting with each passing second, I meet Christian’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Call either Luis or Javier, whichever has the night off. Have them come clean up the mess we just made and instruct him to dispose of her gun in the Atlantic.”

“Si, Jefe.” He lifts his chin. “Where to now?”

“My yacht.”

With a nod, he shifts the Rover into drive.

In thick silence, we head for Charleston Harbor.

TWELVE

Ari

A one-hundred-foot Lürssen.

Anchored over a mile from the South Carolina shore, the boat Alejandro has chosen to hold me captive on bobs on the Atlantic. The gentle rocking is calming, however, it does little to extinguish the inferno currently blazing within me.

Shot at. Taken Prisoner. Abducted.

The night has not gone how I envisioned it would. Silver-lining: it could be much worse. Instead of being trapped aboard a luxury yacht with a man I plan to castrate given the first opportunity, my bullet-riddled corpse could be resting atop the roof of The Carriage Inn, rotting away beneath the stars.

If it wasn’t for my enemy, that’s precisely where I’d be.

The kingpin saving me from La Famiglia, a scenario my pride will never allow me to live down, is the sole reason I plan to execute him swiftly and painlessly versus slowly and torturously. Part of me wishes his life was one I didn’t have to take.

But I have no other choice.

Alejandro himself ensured that the moment he foolishly tossed me over his shoulder as if I were a distressed damsel still in need of rescuing, and carried me to his car, where he bound my hands and threatened to spank me.

No one treats me in such a fashion.

Not to mention, this little stunt of his is costing me more than my pride. Thanks to the mudak who wrongly believes I belong to him and has chosen to act on such a ludicrous notion, my men have undoubtedly dropped every task I’ve assigned them and are mobilizing.

All to find their queen.

It’s in direct opposition to what they should be doing—increasing our financial resources by continuing to work the ports and casinos. That’s in addition to preparing a counter strike against La Famiglia for daring to take a shot at me, an action I’m sure Casper has already learned of.

Correction, multiple shots.

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