Page 2 of Choices

I may have cursed under my breath.

I'm so tired of this endless war. The last thing I need is a complication. Especially a soccer mom in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt.

I share a look with Santiago and Matty and they both say the same thing.Don't hurt her.

I don't want to know why my lawyer and my enforcer are both pleading for her safety. But that's something I'll have to figure out later. Right now, I can't let a witness out of my grasp. We own the cops, but we still don't need the headache.

I stalk towards her, but she doesn't move. I scoff. Clearly, she has no survival instincts. I grab her upper arm, my gun hidden behind my thigh with the other, and shove her toward my car.

Her wide, fucking gorgeous eyes look up at me. Her plump lips pout open in shock. My cock chooses this moment to come alive, taking in her soft, pink lips and how delicious they would look wrapped around it.

Annoying.

It hadn'tbeen interested in anything for months, but apparently, it didn't give a shit that she'd just witnessed me commit a murder and would try to turn me in at the first chance.

I open the door and shove her into the passenger seat of my Expedition, watching her closely as I round the hood and slide into the driver's seat. I switch my gun from my left to my right hand and lay it against her thigh as I start the car.

She shivers. She's shaking as she takes me in, the bullet-proof SUV and the gun resting against her thigh.

I imagine the backs of my tattooed hands as they dig into the bare flesh of her thighs.

Fuck, I need to get laid.

Finally, her survival mode kicks in.

"I didn't see anything."

"Mhm, " is all I respond with.

I reach between her legs and notice she flinches. I shove my hand inside the purse between her legs to pull out her wallet, only to have a baggy of weed fall out as well.

I raise an eyebrow at her and she blushes. So, that's why she was on the wrong side of town, buying weed, likely off of one of my guys. I'll have to have a chat with them about picking and choosing who they sell to.

I open her wallet, find her ID, and plug her address into the GPS.

"Wrong place, wrong time, mami," I tell her, my voice low and slow.

"I didn't see anything!" Her voice is anything but. It's high and fast.

I pullout onto the main road but remain silent.

“I... I…I have kids.” She pleads, trying to convince me not to murder her.

“Good for you.”

I'm a sick fuck who is enjoying her torture probably more than I should. I press the gun against her thigh to keep it in place, while I let my thumb rub little circles on her yoga pants.

"Are you scared of me?" I ask, a sadistic joy in my voice.

She bites her lips and nods. Of course, the fuck she is. But something about her sends a bolt of adrenaline through me. Most of the people I interact with fear me, but they pretend they don't. The very best soldiers fear and respect me, but their answers are always self-serving. They think they'll slide into my favor based on their response. They think if I want fear, they'll give me fear. If I want respect, they'll give me respect. But is it truly respect if it's fabricated? Is it truly fear if it's fabricated? Fuck, I hate the duplicity of it all.

This little woman to the side of me, though? She shivers. That's not a response you can fake.

My entire life consists of playing chess and placating egos. I didn't quite understand the grasp of it when I took over my father's empire. He made it look so important, so glamorous, but after running the Columbian mafia in DC for ten years, I finally understand what he enjoyed about it. The power. Being powerful stroked his fragile male ego until it became his entire personality. It's not surprising he let his ego lead him to an early grave.

The Italianmafia in DC pissed in his cheerios one too many times and Dad's ego couldn't sustain it. He retaliated and was put down like a rabid dog. I can't say I was disappointed.

I have a different motivation to keep the Columbian mafia strong in DC and to keep control over our sections of the city and the people underneath my protection. And it has nothing to do with ego.

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