Page 209 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

My skin prickles as if tiny needles are dancing over the surface of my body. Memories swirl through my mind, commanding air time that I’ve tried so hard to preserve and protect. Deep breaths become impossible, and only slivers of air can make it into my lungs. Short, sharp pants quake my shoulders and I close my eyes to block out the terrifying scene playing out in my mind.

Images flash across my eyes as the sounds of my screams rupture my ears and the scent of burnt rubber assaults my nostrils. It’s like I’m there again, immersed in the aftermath of horror.

“Jaelyn,” Sergio says slowly. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”

I blink fast, keeping the tears at bay, my own words about emotion resonating in my mind. “Javier works for the Becerra Cartel.”

Sergio nods. “Yeah…”

“That cartel was responsible for the murder of my parents in Miami three years ago.” My eyes open, brimming with unshed tears. “And they’re here in Vegas now because of us.”

“Keep going,” he mutters.

“First, you have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t Nate who tried to hurt you. He wouldn’t do that. He was only putting on an act because we didn’t know any other way of getting your attention, and we need your help against the cartel, now more than ever.” I take a deep breath and a hiccup slips out. “Look, you’re right about the night I went to your club. I was spying on you. We’d heard that the Becerra Cartel was here in Vegas and were afraid they were closing in on us. The offer from you and your organization seemed strange because you have so much money and backing.” I let out a sigh. “I thought you were just using it as an excuse to get close to us, that you might be working with the cartel to take us down. It wasn’t until I saw Javier’s tattoo when your guy dragged him away from me that I knew for sure it was them.”

“So that’s why I could freeze ice on your ass the night we came to Sapphire. You thought we were the enemy.”

“And then you kidnapped me, so I’m not entirely convinced you’re not,” I huff.

“So the cartel, what do they have to do with your parents?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.” He grins. “No food, but time. And vodka.”

“Are you going to uncuff me now?”

“I still don’t really trust you. Lemme hear the rest of the story and I’ll decide if you deserve to be released.”

I make a face. “Can I at least have a drink? I’m fighting a hangover from whatever the hell drug you shot me up with. I may as well do myself in completely with some booze.”

“Pickle garnish is all I can offer.”

“I’ll take it.”

He disappears and returns a minute later. “No mixers either.”

I take a sip of the clear liquid. It goes down so smooth, landing coolly in the center of my empty belly. “Nate used to be President of a motorcycle club in Miami. His guys did some illegal stuff, mainly money laundering through the club’s businesses. I wasn’t privy to too many details, but one night, he told me that the head of the Becerra Cartel approached him to do some drug running and distribution. It was big money, he said, but Nate didn’t want to do it. It was dangerous work and he didn’t want to put the club on the radar of the cops and the Feds. So he turned down their offer. They didn’t like that answer and sent him a message,” I finish in a choked whisper, taking another sip of the vodka.

Sergio nods. “I know all about those kinds of messages,” he says in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, the guys who did it got off without so much as a week of community service. They walked. My parents were murdered and they got to leave the courthouse as free men.”

“Why are you still on Becerra’s radar? You fuck with his business?”

“Crippled it,” I say. “Me and Nate. We went after the guys who killed my parents. Torched their warehouse and popped them both. Then, we disappeared.” I manage a small smile. “See,thatwas direct retribution. Two lives for two lives.”

“But the debt ain’t paid, is it?”

“No. And they’re just aching for the day they can collect the total. Do you see why we have to warn Nate?”

Sergio rubs the back of his neck. “I just wanted your fucking pussy,” he groans.

“Excuse me?” I squeal, sitting straight up.

“Relax, I meant your nightclubs.” He snickers. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie.”

A hot flush blankets my body and floods my cheeks.

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