Page 32 of Don't Trust Him

Eliza could be saying Fuck Grayson Teague And All That He Stands For and I’d just be happy that my name was in her mouth. I like her talking about me.

“So there’s just one question left to answer,” Eliza says.

“Yeah?” I ask her.

“What’s your poison?” she asks, laughing.

Fuck, you are. You are my poison and my antidote, Eliza Lang. I would walk through goddamn fire for you, even if you set it up to burn me down.

“Let’s see a man about some tequila,” I tell her.

“Ooh!” She nods. “Jalapeno tequila. I love that shit.”

I laugh. There’s something really fucking cute and innocent about how she said it.

“Never tried it, maybe I should,” I say, and I feel fucking awkward like I asked her to a middle school dance or some shit. When kids my age were going to dances, I was learning about major arteries to cut. So yeah I’m a little fucking rusty I guess when it comes to some shit. I mean, my palms are sweating and my ears feel hot. What even is that. “Let’s go,” I tell her. As if I’m equal parts terrified she’ll change her mind and I’m so nervous that I have to talk, say something, to help alleviate the swelling feeling in my chest that makes me want to grab her and hold her.

“Not so fast,” Eliza wags a finger at me.

Fuck, what?

“You don’t just ask a girl out and not let her get ready. I’ll see you in five minutes.” Eliza smiles at me, pauses for a second, and then saunters

off.

What can one girl do in five minutes? But then again Eliza looked so goddamn gorgeous already, I guess I’m excited to find out. I wash my hands and splash some cold water on my face and still have time to spare to wait for her.

The anticipation is everything. I don’t think I want this night to ever end.

Seventeen

Eliza

“Two more?”

“Two more.”

Raising one hand up in the air, Grayson waves at the bartender. Without even asking, he lays two more glasses of tequila in front of us; we touch glasses and then down the damn thing in a split second.

The other patrons of the bar have already started to throw daggers at us with their eyes, but so far no one has mustered enough courage to confront us. I guess that even though people in here might not know who Grayson Teague is, he still has an intimidating presence all the same.

Maybe we should have gone to the seediest watering hole we could find, and not the most upscale bar in the city. Which, by the way, is in the most expensive hotel we could track down around here. But what the hell—we’re celebrating, aren’t we?

Oh, if only those assholes around us had any idea what we’re celebrating right now. Doesn’t really matter, though, does it? Soon enough everyone in the world will realize that the game has changed. There will be a war, that’s for sure. The cartels are going to be at each other’s throats, trying to survive the new pecking order, but the Bonita Muerte cartel and my organization will be standing right at the top, handing participation trophies to all the other wannabes.

Too bad that’ll put Grayson and I on opposite sides once more.

“Hey,” he whispers at me, resting his hand on my lower back. I feel a shiver go up my spine as I feel the gentle pressure of his fingers on my body and, as I look into his eyes, I feel my insides clench. Maybe it’s the tequila, but damn...why does Grayson keeps getting more and more handsome? “What are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re gonna quit on me.”

“Not at all,” I laugh, still not taking my eyes off his. Rapping my knuckles on the counter, I tell the bartender to bring the bottle and just leave it. It’s going to make for a pretty hefty bill, but what do I care?

When I see something I want, I just get it.

Besides, it’s not like I’m aching for money. Hell, I could buy this place instead of just the bottle; and who knows, maybe I’ll need to in the foreseeable future. Laundering money isn’t an easy task, after all.

“It’s hard to believe our little partnership is coming to an end, isn’t it?” I ask him; even though I try to keep all sadness out of my face, I’m pretty sure he can read it there. “It wasn’t easy, but I think we were a good team.”

“We are a good team.” Grabbing the bottle, he refills both our glasses and then leans toward me. “We are the best of fucking teams, Eliza. What we did together will single handedly change the drug trade for good. We’re like fucking gods.”

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