Page 46 of Revenge & Ruin

He almost got caught today,I have to remind myself.He might not come.

It’s difficult to ignore the brick of disappointment that makes its home in my stomach.

He’s been watching me for weeks now. Someone must have told him I’m here.

A test. It’s just a test. It’s nothing more than a test to prove a theory. And it’s a theory that really doesn’t need to be looked at too closely.

Because if I’m right and hecan’tkill me, there has to be a reason.

My internal turmoil is thankfully interrupted by the bartender placing my drink before me.

But before I can even move for my wallet, a crisp twenty-dollar bill is placed in front of me.

“This one’s on me,” the man beside me declares.

I turn to face him with a wry smile, hoping it hides my disappointment.

The man before me has dark hair, eyes, and skin—trademarks of his Hispanic heritage—and a cheeky smile that just knows how good he looks in a leather jacket.

I tip my glass to him before taking a sip. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Not every day a pretty girl like you walks into a place like this.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “People still use that line?”

He shrugs. “All right then, not every day an Italian walks into a place like this.”

His eyes glint with meaning, and I understand immediately. Hell, it was the reason I chose this place, after all.

“It’s not like the cartel to wander so far over the bridge,” I smile back.

He turns to glance out the window at the beckoning Brooklyn lights. “Sometimes it’s nice to get a little perspective. Everything the lights touch, and all.” He turns back to me. “I’m Luis.”

“Isabella,” I offer back.

He smirks. “Isabella.”His tongue wraps around the wrong vowel in a way that I think most women would find quite tantalizing.

But I know what he’s doing. He's just playing with his food.

And I need him to try and take a bite.

“Luis,” I purr right back. “I’m looking for something a little drunk and dangerous. Do you think you could help me out?”

He chuckles. “In that case, you’re going to need more than a Martini.”

He turns to flag down the bartender, and before I know it, we’re doing shots of tequila and carrying a tray of a dozen more to a table in the corner.

Perched around it are more cartel members. Many are as large and as intimidating as Luis, softened only by the haze of drugs and alcohol that clouds their eyes.

I don’t falter, allowing them to squeeze me in at the table and I clink my shot glass with theirs as we enjoy another round.

I’m not the only woman there, and I even share a grin with a particularly intoxicated girl across from me when we both grimace at the aftertaste of the tequila.

She shouts something at me, something about liking my dress, I think. But I can’t really hear her over the music.

I don’t have a chance to follow up before a leather-clad arm finds itself over my shoulders.

“So,Isabella,what brings you here?” Luis’ lips almost touch my ear he’s so close.

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