Page 4 of Scarred Queen

Reyes turned to Ignacio with a raised brow and a smirk. “She’s stunning,amigo,” he admitted and nodded toward the pool, now completely obscured by the pouring rain. “You did well for yourself with thatone.”

Ignacio’s chest puffed and he reached for a cigar box. Reyes waved the proffered cigar away and forced himself to keep his back to the window. He couldn’t see the object of his fascination nowanyway.

“She was promised to me long ago by her family. She was a beautiful child too,” Ignacio told him, his eyes glinting in a disturbing way that made Reyes want to remove his teeth. Slowly, one at a time. “She almost slipped through my fingers… an accident. But it worked out for us, we married just after her eighteenthbirthday.”

“You are a lucky man,” Reyes acknowledged with a grunt, remaining deliberately behind Ignacio’s desk next to the big leather chair; the power position. It left the other man standing opposite him, where his minions would usually place themselves. Ignacio shifted uncomfortably, but seemed to shrug itoff.

“She could be yours, Señor Reyes,” Ignacio said slyly. “For atime.”

Reyes could feel the vicious pull of his lip sliding back along his incisor in a snarl. He could not contain his disgust this time. He was forced to dip his head as though in thought. His voice was tight when he drawled, “That is very generous of you, Ignacio. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer. After all I am in Miami for a short time only and such a beautiful companion would make me the envy of mymen.”

His lips tightened further while disgust flooded his chest. The need to tear out Ignacio’s eyes and slam them down his throat before setting into an earnest bout of torture rode him strong. The other man had just boldly offered Reyes the use of his wife. Hernandez clearly had no instincts for self-preservation or he would have stepped much more carefully around the Bolivianboss.

“I am a generous man,” Ignacio said proudly, puffing away on his cigar, pride blinding him just as much as the smoke curling around his mustachedface.

“How generous?” Reyes asked, trying not to growl at the other man. “I don’t want a woman that has been passed around half of Miami, you understand?” Fuck his plan, he was going to murder Ignacio Hernandez with his bare hands in the next five seconds if he didn’t like thisanswer.

Ignacio looked alarmed for a moment, as though his own plans weren’t quite going the way he wanted. He was quick to reassure. “No, never. She is practically untouched, except for myself, ofcourse.”

“Of course,” Reyes growled, turning from Ignacio. It went against his instincts to turn his back on an enemy, but he couldn’t look at the man without seeingred.

“So, you’ll consider Casey as part of the negotiations?” Ignaciopushed.

Reyes gripped the top of the chair, crushing the leather beneath strong fingers, imagining it was the other man’s trachea.Impudent fuck, he thought to himself.How dare he presume to dictate the terms of our agreement and then use my woman as a bargaining chip.The death of Ignacio Hernandez would be something to besavoured.

“Yes, I believe she will be part of the negotiations,” Reyes murmured, gazing into the pouring rain toward where he knew she sat. Alone andvulnerable.

“But only to use in Miami?” Ignacio was quick to clarify. “Not to take back with you to Bolivia. She is my prize, afterall.”

“Of course,” Reyeslied.

Chapter Five

Casey hadn’t thoughtabout the man in over six months. It took her a second to realize who he was when he suddenly appeared next to her in the pouring rain, on the pool deck, water dripping down his tanned face and running into his collar. She was damp herself, but sitting comfortably underneath her patio umbrella lounge set. Her fearful gaze flickered toward Alonzo, who was standing underneath the overhang of the towel cabana. He didn’t move or indicate in any way that she might be in danger of the man standing arrogantly next to her, as though he had every right to invade her space, so she figured she was safeenough.

She looked back up and forced herself to try to remember him. Her memory was not always the best, not since the car accident that had cracked her skull open ten years ago. Sometimes she had difficulty remembering things, which seemed to annoy people. Her bad memory coupled with her sometimes impulsive words and other little quirks tended to get her introuble.

“You’re an associate of Ignacio’s.” She finally managed to come up with. “We met at that club several monthsago.”

He jerked his head in a short nod and moved to sit across from her at the small table, his eyes never leaving her face. She thought it was a little rude of him to sit without an invitation, but in their world, guys like him were used to doing whatever they wanted. Which Included invading the spaces of women. Sadly, she was used to it by now. The man continued to stare at her as though she were available or something, though he should know by now that she wasmarried.

Now she definitely remembered him, remembered the way his eyes roved over her as the men conducted business in the club. How she’d hated every moment of that meeting. Ignacio had forced her to go as punishment because she’d mouthed off to him earlier in the day, told him she wouldn’t leave the house. He knew she hated leaving the safety of herbedroom.

Casey picked up her mimosa and took a long sip, forcing the tremble in her hand to steady out before placing the glass back on the table. She saw his dark gaze flicker to her drink for a moment and then back to her face with a raised eyebrow, saw the judgment there. He was probably calculating the time, 9:30am. Her own eyes narrowed and she dared him to say something. He didn’t live with Ignacio Hernandez, couldn’t possibly understand what her life was like. What the fuck was he doing in their house for a meeting at that time of morninganyway?

“A little early, ehnena?” he asked, his deep accented voice caressing eachsyllable.

She stared at him, determined not to give in to the urge to unleash on the man. Strange, she rarely allowed herself to feel anything other than cold dispassion. Especially toward Ignacio’s business associates. Yet, something about this man assuming she was a morning drunk rubbed her the wrong way. Woke something up inside her. And calling hernena? She knew her Spanish well enough to know he was calling her a combination of baby and party girl all rolled into one. An endearment if they’d known each other, but an insult otherwise. She eyed him, completely taking him in for the firsttime.

He wore his thick, black hair short and spiked up, shaved to the scalp at the sides around his ears and collar. Almost militaristic, except it was a bit too long on top. His features were broad with deep, pitted scars marring enough of his face to make her heart lurch. How had she not noticed that before? The scar next to her eyebrow twitched in sympathy and she resisted the urge to reach up and brush it with a fingertip. She’d erased that particular tell years ago. She forced her eyes to linger on his face, the way his relentless gaze lingered on hers. His high cheekbones, prominent forehead and sculpted lips would have made him quite handsome except the scars and his demeanor gave him an almost feral look. She knew without a doubt that the assumption she’d made about this man six months ago was wrong. He was not an underling or a bodyguard, he was the boss. And he was not to be lightlydismissed.

Finally, she dropped her eyes and went for her drink again. His hand reached across the table, landing on her wrist, stopping her. She jerked in surprise nearly spilling the drink. His skin was warm against hers. Her heart pounded against her chest as she took in the feel of another man’s touch against her flesh. She hadn’t been touched by a person in over a year except the woman that did her hair and nails. And the hapless bodyguard with the now broken fingers. She glanced unsteadily toward the windows of the house, but the downfall of rain obscured anything past a few feet. Even her bodyguard couldn’t see exactly what was taking place on the tabletop from the way they were sitting. His hold wasn’t tight and she knew she could slip her hand away if she wanted. Instead she lifted an eyebrow in question looking at him fully again. Instead of judgement she now saw pity. Her second least favouriteemotion.

“Why?” hedemanded.

She took a quick breath in, savouring the fleeting touch and then pulled her hand away. Deliberately she picked up her champagne flute, tipped it against her lips and emptied it. The man across from her made an annoyed grunting sound. Her heart responded with an erratic thump. She set the glass back down and pressed her hand against her chest, rubbing a little. She was surprised at how her body reacted so quickly, so readily to the presence of thisman.

Then, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. She spent so much time alone, that maybe she was like a sponge, ready to soak up any kind of attention. She turned to him and tilted her head, studying his broad shoulders under the dark shirt he wore, unbuttoned at the top, and the way he sprawled his legs out as though relaxed in her presence. Only she suspected he wasn’t truly relaxed. He seemed to be absorbing everything about her. And he was hyper-aware of her bodyguard. She could tell by the tension in his body, the placement of his hand next to his hip, near his back and the way he relaxed in positon so he could see both her and the man over hisshoulder.

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