Page 51 of Cartel King

I know the owners of the house the car was always in front of since they’re the original ones. I know they aren’t connected to any syndicates, and they’ve been abroad most of this spring. I learned they didn’t rent out the house; it’s supposed to be empty. The car’s an anomaly I’m still trying to sort out, and my men’s failure is something that won’t go unpunished.

I pull into Ellie’s driveway and nod to Carlos. He and Andrés are the two most discreet men outside of my immediate family. They’re brothers and second cousins to Luis and me. That’s why I trust them most with Ellie. They won’t gossip about me coming over or how long I stay.

Part of me wants to send them home to increase our privacy, but after not recognizing the guy at the gate, I’m uncomfortable without somebody watching the house while I’m—shall we say—distracted. I shoot off a text to my brother before I get out of the car.

Find out who’s working the gate in Ellie’s neighborhood. I don’t recognize him.

I stick my phone back into my pocket and hurry to the front door. It opens the moment my knuckles touch the wood. Then she’s in my arms, just like the only time I’ve been here before. I twirl her around, her back against the door now. We can’t get enough of each other. Our lips meld as our bodies press together.

Her hands roam over me for a couple of minutes, then I take control once more. I lift her arms over her head, pinning her wrists together in one of my hands, but she pulls away and shakes her head.

“Not yet. Please let me touch you.”

Her tone isn’t begging, but her expression is. She needs this as much as I do. I let go, and she cups my face as we come back together for another cataclysmic kiss. I love it when she does that. I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. Now that she knows who I am, I don’t fear her feeling the gun at my lower back.

Her leg presses against the top of it, but she doesn’t react. It’s one thing to know it’s there, but another to not seem to notice. In the back of my head, that strikes me as strange, but it’s not enough to make me stop what I’m doing. I squeeze her ass as I carry her to the sofa. The moment we’re seated, we’re pulling our shirts off. She unfastens her bra and flings it halfway across the living room. We pause long enough to laugh for a moment before diving back in.

We’re like two people lost in the desert who find an oasis. I sweep my tongue against hers and the satiny inside of her cheeks. Nothing has felt more life-giving than this. She tastes sweet, and I can’t get enough. She continues to cup my jaw while my hands move over her tits and back. When I tweak her nipple, one hand drops to my shoulder, squeezing to where it’s almost painful, but I relish every moment of knowing her desire matches mine.

Then both hands sweep over my pecs and up and down my abs. She moans with pleasure, and it does things to me. I unfasten her jeans and slide my hands down the back to her bare ass.

“Chiquita, I missed this. My hands have felt so empty every moment I haven’t held you.”

“Enrique, it’s been such a long ten days. I don’t mind traveling, but it’s been a while since I’ve been this happy to get home.”

I kiss along her neck up to behind her ear. “I hope the next trip either of us takes is a getaway together.”

Where the hell did that come from? It’s way too soon to suggest something like that. I’m probably going to freak her the fuck out. However, when she leans back and our gazes meet again, she smiles.

“Can we go today?”

“The idea of traveling with me already doesn’t raise every red flag a woman should have?”

“It likely would if it were any other man, but for better or worse, I trust you, Enrique. And I can’t think of anything better right now than getting away somewhere that can just be the two of us, so we can get to know each other better without the outside world intruding. But I also understand after you left the other night that no matter where we go or what we do, there’s always the chance you’ll have to leave with no warning. I get that, and I’m okay with it.”

I watch her, and something in her tone and her gaze makes me suspect she’s used to that. Did her ex-husband have an affair and make excuses about why he wasn’t around? Did he have some type of job, like being a doctor, where he got called away unexpectedly? It’s not resignation, so I don’t fear she already resents that possibility, but it is acceptance. And not merely she thinks she’s okay with it but will later discover she’s not. It’s more something she’s already used to.

“Enrique, I can practically hear your thoughts whirling through your head. My dad is a trauma surgeon. He often got called away even when leaving the family was the last thing he wanted. While he chose the occupation, and you didn’t, he did important work just like you do. So, I couldn’t fault him for helping other people when they needed him the most. He missed holidays and school events and vacations because of work, but I could appreciate it because of his altruism.”

“Do you see me as altruistic?”

If she can wrap her head around that and believe it, I should nominate her for sainthood because she’s the most forgiving and accepting person I’ve ever met.

“I think you prioritize duty and loyalty to your family above all else, and to protect them means protecting the people who depend upon you. So, your loyalty and sense of duty extend to everyone beneath you. The movies might make it seem like all that syndicate men are after is money and sex, but that’s a naive way to look at a community. Syndicates aren’t just a transactional organization. They’re communities, and that means people depend on you who don’t directly work for you.”

She fucking gets me.

“I’m certain some of your men must have families who rely upon the money they make working for you. And businesses can only survive when they make money, and it’s reinvested into them. That’s why I can reconcile the things you do because of other people’s needs. I get I’m making excuses, but to me it’s also an explanation.”

“There are parts of me and of my life I will never share with you, Ellie. I can’t. It’s not safe for you, but it’s also a part of me I never want you to see. It’s the monster in me.”

She studies me for a moment before reaching back and pulling my hands away from her ass. My heart sinks until she laces our fingers together.

“Enrique, tell me the truth, and I will know if you’re lying to me. Do you do those things because you crave it? I don’t mean the satisfaction you might get when you dole out a punishment or justice to someone who threatens your way of life. Or do you do those things because someone trained you to?”

“No, I have no innate compulsion to do these things, but I’ve accepted my role, and I do what I must.”

I’ve accepted it makes me a monster with psychopathic tendencies.

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