Samantha Keith

Exposed


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ago, he started to show interest but I pushed him off. Now he’s lapping at my heels like a puppy.”

      Nate guffawed. “Jesus. Do you realize he hasn’t had a serious relationship since his ex-wife Barbara?”

      “Yes, Nate. I’ve been watching him as long as you have.”

      “No, you haven’t. The FBI has been on his trail for four fucking years. No one’s gotten close. I don’t know what’s more terrifying, that you think you can, or that you have.”

      “He invited me to go boating on Saturday. Just him and I on his yacht.”

      Nate cursed. “That’s a bad idea and you know it.”

      “I can’t get close to him if I keep pushing him away. Besides, if the rumors on the street are true, he’ll have another shipment coming in a few weeks. I have to get him to trust me between now and then.”

      Nate bolted forward, his face stopped inches from hers. “You’re going to fuck him, aren’t you?”

      Maddie’s body coiled into a spring. She closed the gap between their noses, her cheeks heated. “That’s none of your business.” Then more softly, “What choice do I have?”

      The way she saw it—none.

      His hand tightened into a fist and he punched the dash. Maddie winced. “For fuck’s sake, you’re crazy,” he wheezed. Shame crept up the back of her throat and hit her taste buds. Heat burned her skin. She flicked on the air conditioning, biting back the nasty words that singed her tongue, and inched away from him.

      “Look, I know what I’m doing. If you had half a brain, you’d realize that he won’t let me get close to him while holding hands and pecking.”

      Nate laughed, the sound was brittle and derisive. “And you think he’s going to keep you around after he screws you? C’mon Maddie, you should know better than that.”

      “I’m not stupid. And believe me, once I sleep with Carlos, he’ll only want more.”

      She lifted her heavy lids and met Nate’s gaze. His cheeks darkened and the solid lines of his face turned to stone.

      “Your brother’s right. You’re too damn cocky.” He lifted his hips, dug his hand into his back pocket, and slapped a small black device onto her dashboard. “It’s an encrypted phone. Use this to contact me from now on.” His fingers closed over the door handle.

      She gave one brisk nod. Tension crackled in the air between them. He cursed and leaned toward her, his thumb and forefinger gripped her chin.

      “Be careful, dammit. If anything happens, call me. Don’t worry about the case, just call me. Got it?”

      She swallowed and nodded. His eyes moved over her face, and then dropped to her mouth. His jaw tensed and his grip tightened on her chin. Anticipation froze her to the spot. Her eyes trained on his lowered lids. He shook his head and loosened his hold. His thumb smoothed over her lip.

      “Don’t be stupid.” His fingers fell away. He climbed out of the car and shut the door. Silence fell around her and her shoulders sagged. His tall, dark form disappeared from view and she rested her forehead on the steering wheel, tears stinging the back of her eyes.

      She took a deep, shuddering breath. She’d been stupid to call Nate. He was capable and trustworthy… but that hadn’t been her only motive. Now she couldn’t back out. The sooner she put distance between her and Nate the better. He sure as hell didn’t want to be near her. Regardless, she needed to finish the job and get Carlos’s drugs off the street before more innocent people got hurt.

      People like Leila.

      Carlos would pay for what he’d done, and she’d make sure of it. If that meant sleeping with the enemy, then so be it.

      Chapter 3

      Carlos flicked the cigarette to the garage’s floor and ground it into the cement with the ball of his loafer. The acrid taste of tobacco spread across his tongue and he lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips. He should have known better than to light one up. He’d always hated cigarettes.

      He lowered the bottle to the table and lifted his gaze to the man wracked with shivers and bound to the chair across the room. Tony folded his arms across his chest and approached Carlos.

      “What do you want to do boss? We know for sure he’s been talking to the feds. He even admitted it.” Another glance at the man showed blood leaking from a gash to his head, eye, and lip. Tony could be very effective at getting people to talk.

      Fury surged through Carlos’s veins. He hated snitches. There was nothing worse than assuming you had an iron tight circle around you only to find out someone was relaying information. Carlos reached into his pocket, shook out a silk handkerchief, and brought it to his temples. The garage was hotter than a fucking sauna and he was sweating like a pig in one of the suits he usually wore to the club. He wore the suits so that no one would doubt him as the owner—as if most didn’t know who he was already. But some people were stupid. And besides, he had an image to uphold.

      “What information did he leak?” He folded the silk material back into a neat square and stuffed it into his breast pocket. Tony ran his hand over his long locks, his face dripped with sweat, but it wouldn’t bother Tony.

      “He says they questioned him about the club and that’s it. He swears he never gave anything else away, but I don’t believe him.” A sharp glint came to Tony’s eyes and Carlos registered it as his usual excitement for inflicting punishment.

      Carlos trained his gaze on Fabian again. Granted, he wasn’t one that had been trusted into Carlos’s tight circle. Only Tony, Hector, and Ricardo knew all of Carlos’s inner dealings. And without a doubt, none of them would dare betray him. But he couldn’t let Fabian off.

      Snitching was an unforgiveable crime.

      And he had to pay the maximum penalty.

      Tony vibrated on the spot. “What you gonna do?”

      Man, Tony was a sick fuck. Carlos loosened the knot of his tie at his throat and moved around Tony. “I just want to talk to him,” he said, keeping his voice even as he reached Fabian.

      Fabian’s tongue wet his bottom, bloody lip, and his pupils dilated. The warm scent of urine wafted to Carlos’s nose and it was all he could do not to take a sledgehammer to his cowardly face. No, that’d be much too quick.

      “I didn’t say anything, Mr. Santiago. I swear to god, I don’t know shit.”

      “Did you talk to the feds?” Carlos spoke each word slowly as if to a small child. Fabian’s eyes darted around the room and a low whimper sounded from his throat.

      He nodded and sweat mingled with the blood at his short, dark beard. Carlos lifted his shoulders.

      “Honesty always earns a reward.” He retreated to the table and lifted the bottle of whiskey, then brought it back to Fabian and raised it to his lips. Tony’s eyes rounded on him and his jaw trembled with unspent rage.

      Fabian gulped greedily, but most of the liquid dribbled down his chin and coated his shirt.

      “Th– thank you, Mr. Santiago. I swear, I’ll never do anything like that again—”

      Carlos placed the bottle back on the table. “Oh, I know.” He shifted his gaze to Tony. “Tone, cut out his tongue and show it to the other guys. Let them know that’s what happens when you talk to the feds.”

      Tony rolled in his top lip, revealing his stained teeth. A slick smile crawled across his face. “Sure thing, boss.”

      Fabian jerked against the restraints in the chair. His head thrashed from side to side. Tony pulled a dagger from his back pocket and gripped Fabian’s jaw in his hand.

      Carlos turned on his heels and headed for the door. Fabian’s screams carried behind him.

      * * * *