Page 9 of The Love Language of the Cartel

I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar calm of my decision settle over me. “The Malones have broken faith with us. They’ve called off the engagement.”

“Shit,” Ángel muttered. “What do you want us to do?”

A cold smile crawled up my face. “We’re going to take what’s ours, Ángel. Demi Malone was promised to me, and I intend to fuckin’ collect.”

“You want us to . . . kidnap her?” Ángel asked hesitantly.

“I want you to retrieve what belongs to me,” I corrected him. “By any means necessary.”

There was a moment of silence, then Ángel’s voice returned, firm and loyal. “Consider it done,Jefe. I’ll handle everything.”

“Good man.” I ended the call and tossed the phone onto my desk.

My gaze fell on the bar in the corner of my office. Without conscious thought, my feet carried me toward it. I poured a generous measure of tequila into the cup I just finished, savoring the sharp, clean scent.

As I raised the glass to my lips, I made a silent vow.Demi Malone will be mine, one way or another. The Malones thinkthey can play games with me? They’ll soon learn the stupidity of their ways.

I wasn’t called El Diablo for nothing. And hell hath no fury like a devil scorned.

The tequila burned a path down my throat, igniting the fire in my belly. I was about to pour another when there was a knock at my office door.

“Enter,” I called out, not bothering to turn around.

I heard the door open, followed by hesitant footsteps. “Señor Rivera?”

I recognized the voice. It was Mateo, one of my lower-ranking men. I turned slowly, fixing him with a hard stare. “What is it, Mateo?”

He shifted nervously under my gaze. “There’s . . . there’s been an issue, sir.”

“What. Kind. Of. Issue?” I growled, each word dripping with menace. I wasn’t in the mood for any more bad news.

As Mateo stammered out his explanation, I felt the last threads of my control slip away. The rage that had been simmering since Cyrus’s call boiled over, consuming everything in its path.

Let them all burn.

The Malones, the traitors, anyone who stood in my way.I’ll annihilate this whole fucking world to dust if that’s what it takes.Because in the end, I always get what I want. And what I want is Demi Malone.

The rage coursed through my veins like molten lava. I clenched my fists, my knuckles hardening as I struggled to maintain some aspect of control.

“It’s about the shipment from Sinaloa. There’s been a delay at the border. Customs is—”

I didn’t let him finish. In one fluid motion, I turned and hurled my glass against the far wall. It shattered spectacularly,shards of crystal and droplets of tequila raining down on the expensive carpet.

The man flinched, taking a step back. I fixed him with a glare that made hardened killers tremble. “Fuckin’ fix it,” I barked. “I don’t care what it takes. Bribe them, threaten them, kill them if you have to. But that shipment better be in by tomorrow night, or it’ll be your head on the chopping block. Understood?”

He nodded frantically, already backing toward the door. “Y-yes, Jefe. Right away.”

As the door closed behind him, I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my temper. I couldn’t afford distractions, not now. Not when I was about to make my boldest move yet.

I walked to the window, gazing out at my country. Mexico was mine, but I wanted more. Demi was the key to that expansion. She was my ticket to new territories and new alliances. The fact that she was reputed to be as beautiful as shewasfierce? That was just a bonus.

“Soon,mi amor,” I whispered, imagining her face among the twinkling city lights. “Soon, you’ll learn what it means to belong to El Diablo.”

Demi

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, a familiar comfort in the dimly lit study of my family’s mansion. It wasn’t even noon yet, and I already felt the need to drink. I set the crystal tumbler down on my father’s mahogany desk with a soft clink, bracing myself for the conversation ahead as soon as he ended his phone call.

Finally, he hung up and turned his attention to me. “Hi, princess.” He greeted me with a heavy sigh, signaling that he was stressed.

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