Page 32 of For the Love of Animals

“We were expecting you to bring it.”

“I’ve been ill all night, and I know how much Señor Lozano hates germs, so I sent my assistant. I assure you, Josefina’s very capable. But if it’s a problem, just send her back and I’ll come myself.”

The guy paused. Lozano hated people deviating from his plans, but who would want to be responsible for making the boss sick? Luckily not this goon.

“No, it’s fine. She can do the final fitting.”

He hung up, and a cold dread settled in Nate’s stomach. Final fitting? What final fitting? Nobody had mentioned that.

“Come in, Señorita Cortes. Señor Lozano will see you now.”

No, no, no! For fuck’s sake, Carmen, don’t go. Just make an excuse and leave.

But of course she didn’t. Because Nate’s woman was crazy—a barrel short of a gun.

“Thank you. It’ll be a pleasure to meet him.”

CHAPTER 14 - CARMEN

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. This was not part of the plan.

After a cursory pat-down, I followed Lozano’s henchman deeper and deeper into the house. Being a drug lord certainly paid well—everywhere I looked, I saw original paintings and expensive furniture. And people. Eight guards, three maids, even a freaking butler. Would I like a drink? No thanks, I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

And then we reached Lozano’s dressing room. The man himself stood centre stage in his underwear, and he didn’t bother to disguise his leering gaze as he looked me up and down.

“Ah, a younger model. You work for Verónica?”

“That’s right.”

He pointed at a chair. “Sit.”

I was so, so tempted to call him out on his lack of manners, but I couldn’t afford to. Not alone in his house, with a tiny brooch my only connection to the outside world. I hadn’t even brought a gun in case they searched me. So I sat.

Lozano was forty-seven years old, more than double my age, and he’d gone soft around the middle, but from the way he preened in front of me, I guessed I wasn’t supposed to care about that. He put on the white shirt, then the suit with its bone detail embroidered in black. I might’ve admired the tailoring if I wasn’t trying so hard to keep my breathing under control.

“The pants are too tight. You will have to move the button.”

Good thing mi abuela had taught me to sew when I was a little girl. I knew there was a sewing kit in the case, because I’d seen it earlier when I sprayed the gloves.

“Okay, I can do that.”

I expected him to take the pants off, but no, he just stood there, grinning while I got to my knees in front of him. Tell me he didn’t expect extras.

“Perhaps you see something you like down there?”

“Please keep still. I don’t want to sew the button to your testicles by accident.”

A lie—I’d have enjoyed doing exactly that.

Lozano roared with laughter. “Ah, a feisty girl. This is good.”

“Just being honest.”

I cut the button away as fast as I could and began stitching it back on half an inch further out.

“So few people are honest with me now. Mostly, they tell me what they think I want to hear.”

“That’s because they’re afraid of you shooting them, or so I’ve heard.”

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