Page 12 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Aléjandro doesn’t mind that you’ve been married. He requested you.”

Does that matter to me?

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re a Luciano. You’re a valuable woman. Hell, I hated when Father gave you to Rocco. I was against the deal from the beginning, but you know how Father felt about Tommaso.”

I nodded.

“You deserve more than a common soldier. Aléjandro is more.”

I let out a long breath. “I hope he knows he’s not getting an obedient, submissive virgin.”

For the first time since our conversation started, Dario grinned. “He knows.”

There was no way—short of running away and entering a protection program—that I would be able to stop this marriage. I had no more chance than I could have stopped Rocco’s and mine a decade ago. God knew I’d pushed Dario further than he would have allowed by most. And yet, my brother and my capo had no intention of letting me out of the agreement he’d already brokered.

“When?” I asked.

“Your mourning will be over before the beginning of April. Your wedding will be small, as it’s your second. Aléjandro has recently been assigned to California. The Ruizes are doing well, growing the cartel’s US network. Jorge wants Aléjandro to stay within the States full-time to handle any challenges that arise. You’ll wed at the Ruiz home near San Diego the first weekend of May.”

I shook my head. “The Ruiz home—you mean Catalina’s family?”

“Her parents. Their home is on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.”

Turning away, I swallowed the bile bubbling in my throat. Dario was describing a destination wedding as if he were a travel agent. I wasn’t interested in a house on a cliff, an ocean, or a marriage. I turned back. “And if I say no?”

“You won’t.”

I hated the confidence in Dario’s voice. “I won’t say no,” I acquiesced. “But I can and will tell you that I hate you for doing this to me.”

Dario nodded.

“I mean it, Dario. I’ll hate you until the day you die, just like Father.”

“That’s your choice. You’re my sister. I’ll never hate you.”

Exhaling, I sagged my shoulders. “I will never love anyone from the cartel. This will be a marriage bound by hate.”

“Your emotions are your choice. From experience, I have to tell you, I never expected to love a cartel member. I was wrong.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m not.”

ChapterThree

Aléjandro

Emiliano Ruiz drove us through the night along deserted roads in the Tijuana River Valley. The roads weren’t completely deserted. A mile back we’d passed a truck, empty of merchandise with two of our men, killed. Bullet holes in the back of their heads.

“Fucking bratva,” Em said, his grip of the steering wheel loosening for the first time since we’d come across the carnage.

“We’ll find them. They can’t be too far ahead of us.” I sent a text message to another of our drivers, telling him to watch for and report any signs of trouble. “There’s a shack about a half mile down that dirt road.” I pointed to the right. “If I were the assholes who intercepted our drivers, I’d try to hide out there until we moved on.”

“If you knew we were coming. Nothing says they know.”

“Two million in product. They fucking know.”

Em nodded.

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