Page 31 of El Malo

“They don’t care,” he assures me. “But you do. Are you familiar with guns?” His probe sends my heart rate skyrocketing.

“I’ve shot them before,” I tell him before taking a sip of the light brown margarita. It’s heavy on the tequila but tastes really good.

“Full of surprises, manzanita.”

I flash him a quick smile and change the subject. “When will Sr. Estrada arrive?”

A smile, filled with love and respect tugs at his lips. “Father and Tania will be here Friday.” He sips his margarita. “We’re having a party Friday night.”

Normally, when he has parties, we prepare all the food but then are to stay out of the way. I wonder if this still applies to me.

“I want you there,” he says, his voice dark and dripping with intent. “Do you have a swimsuit? The weather will be nice by then.”

“No, I don’t have much, but maybe I can borrow one—”

“When we get home, use my computer to order whatever you need.” His eyes narrow at me. “The password is candyapple.”

I swallow down another sip of my strong margarita. I’m trying to keep the satisfied look off my face. If I have access to his computer, there’s no telling what I could uncover for the agency. This whole seduction operation is giving us more progress and access than we’ve had the entire four years I’ve been here. Michael was right. This is working.

“Thank you,” I say.

While we wait on our food, he pulls his pack of little cigars out and lights one. He leans back in his chair, his sharp and hungry gaze boring into me. I feel like this date is a test and if I can pass it, he’ll let me into his world.

I can do this.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me.

Heat floods my cheeks and I fight a smile. “You’re a romantic, Javi.”

His eyes lazily slide to my lips, down my throat, and settle on my cleavage. He exhales a plume of sweet smelling smoke and it clouds the air around us. I feel as though he’s creating this bubble for us—an intoxicating haze I’ll never be able to climb my way out of. With his intense inspection, I find myself fidgeting under his stare. He brings his cigar back to his lips and sucks, his scruffy cheeks pulling in. His full lips part and the smoke pours out like a snake slithering out of its trap. It slides my way and swirls around me.

Only Javier Estrada could make smoking little candy apple cigars look so hot.

“You’re blushing, mami.”

I laugh. “You’re practically making love to your cigar.”

His grin is immediate and I’m rewarded with the dimple I’m growing quite fond of. “I’m good with my mouth as you well know.”

I bite on my lip and relax in my seat. Despite charming the enemy, this is kind of fun. I’d never tell Michael that. You won’t find on any of the reports to the CIA that I enjoyed a date with one of Mexico’s most nefarious men. That I let him stick his tongue inside me. His finger in my ass. They’d pull me and send me back to Virginia faster than I could blink.

“You were okay,” I tease.

His eyes darken as he leans forward, his little cigar stuck between his teeth. Damn, he’s hot. Too hot. I’m going to fuck everything up because of this man. He gets inside my head and makes me forget who I am.

“Should I drag you across this table, spread you right open, and feast upon your sweet cunt again to remind you that I am better than okay?” He smirks and then takes another drag on his cigar. “We both know I was your motherfucking best.”

With those words, he blows the sweet smoke at me before leaning back in his chair. Jorge arrives with several dishes and I don’t even have to dig in to know this food will be better than anything I’ve ever tasted.

Javier stubs out his cigar and we eat, discussing some musicians we both like. He keeps the margaritas coming. Once I’m stuffed and tipsy, he throws down some money, shoves his Desert Eagle back into his pants, and helps me to my feet. I stumble, not quite used to the high heels, and he pulls me to his chest. My thigh rubs against his and something metal is smashed between us.

“Are you happy to see me?” I tease, tilting my head up to look at him.

His palms find my ass and he squeezes. “Give me some credit, manzanita. Surely you don’t confuse my switchblade for my big cock. Do you remember the way I rubbed against you this morning?” He nuzzles his face against my hair near my ear. “You were so wet for me.”

I still am.

Heat floods through me and I want to beg him to take me home now. I’m seconds away from mauling him in front of everyone at this busy restaurant. He chuckles and pulls away before guiding me outside and into the rain where his men wait. Marco Antonio walks us to Javier’s car that sits in the same place we left it. He gets soaked while he makes sure we stay dry. Being with Javier is like being with a prince. A dark, fucked up prince, but still a prince. He has men who bow to him. An entire city of people who quake in fear of making him angry.

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