Filthy Secret

ROMAN

The curiosity in her amber eyes intrigues me, so much more when she takes my outstretched hand without second-guessing herself.

Stepping down from the truck, she barely reaches my chin. A braid as thick as my wrist slides over her left shoulder as she looks up.

If my cock wasn’t already semihard, the shot of electricity running from her fingers through mine would do it.

I’ve never experienced this…awareness for a woman. Lust, hate, desire, and rage I’d recognize, but not this.

The oversized T-shirt she’s wearing does little to hide her assets. The soft cotton is draped across generous mounds and pulled tight against her hips. My mind runs amok, stripping her naked where she stands.

What would it be like to hold her body to mine? Her lips part, her breath fanning out, as if she knows what I’m thinking. I’m tempted to reach down and taste her mouth, but I know enough not to try. The way my cock is throbbing, I’d want to drag her back to my hotel room and bury myself inside her. Hell, I might not bother going that far when I can stretch her out on the seat.

Though none of that is going to happen. Her father, idiot that he is, would likely pull that old gun on me, and all hell would break loose. This time, I grin. It would probably be the most excitement this place has seen in a long time.

“Have dinner with me.” The words are out before I can think much about it.

Her gaze breaks away, and she pulls her hand out of mine. Just like that, the buzz running through me stops. Much to my surprise, I’m left wanting more.

“I-I can’t,” she replies with a note of regret.

“Lupita,” the old woman calls out, coming around the front of the truck like a mother hen to protect her chick.

Lupita turns, cheeks a pretty pink. “Estela, this is Mr. de Marco,” she explains. “He came by the house yesterday.”

The woman’s shoulders settle and she gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mr. de Marco.” Her wizened eyes tell me she recognizes a predator when she sees one.

“Ma’am.”

She closes the door, pushing Lupita past me in the process. “We need to go. Felix is waiting.” She points up to the loading dock, where all traffic has stopped to watch us with open curiosity.

Lupita’s gaze catches mine then falls away. Jesus, when was the last time I saw a woman blush?

“Excuse me,” she murmurs, letting herself be shuffled along. I watch them for a few seconds, enjoying the rear view as much as the front. Then I catch Felix studying me while his two guys are checking out Lupita. My grin disappears. What the fuck do they think they’re looking at?

Felix whirls back to his employees. “Hey, back to work,” he snaps. “I don’t pay you to stand around gawking.”

I turn on my heel, heading across the street to the cafe only to find I have another audience at the window. Fucking fantastic.

With the cafe being on the corner, the windows stretch around the building to the front. The women inside scatter as I draw near, leaving a guy standing by himself to watch me walk in. For some reason that shit-eating grin makes me want to smash my fist into his mouth.

“You de Marco?” he asks.

It shouldn’t surprise me that these women have been as chatty with him as they were with me when I showed up yesterday. “That’s right,” I reply, already guessing who he is.

“I’m Tony Mendoza.” He stretches out a hand. After a brief handshake, he points to the seat nearest me. “This is a good a place as any,” he says, grabbing a seat. He holds up two fingers, and the waitress heads to the counter.

Antonio Mendoza. The cocky son of a bitch is the third and youngest son of Miguel Mendoza. The one who deals with our contact across the river. I suspect that even if I got to know this guy, I’d still want to help him swallow his teeth.

The waitress from yesterday puts two beer bottles in front of us.

“Thanks.”

“Would you like anything?” she asks with the same tilt of her hips that offered much more than information yesterday.

“Sure, I’ll have enchiladas.” “Cheese, chicken, or beef?” “Beef,” I answer automatically.

She jots it down on a small pad. “Tony”-she gives him a smile -“same as always?”

He pats her hip. “Yup. You know what I like.” He takes a swig of beer and watches as she turns on her heel and walks away. He grins, putting down his beer. “So, our friend said I should have a sit-down with you.”

I twist the top off the bottle. “I understand things are getting difficult.”

“Nah.” He frowns, shaking his head as he takes another quick drink. “We’re not having any problems.”

Jorge Torres’s expression flashes into my mind. I have a feeling I figured out the reason for Jorge’s trouble. He really should have waited to hear my offer; he might have reconsidered. The others I talked to seemed impressed by the money we’re willing to pay. I’m nothing if not generous, especially if it helps keep things moving quietly. He could have cut and run, started a new life somewhere with a future. I could have been done, ready to drive out to San Antonio and fly back to New York. Instead, I’m sitting here talking to someone who thinks he can take me for a fool.

“That’s not what I was told.”

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to-”

“Antonio,” I interrupt, keeping my voice even. “I flew across the country to smooth things out, so how about you cut the bullshit.”

His pose may be relaxed, but he’s trying to figure me out. Something about him bothers me. He strikes me as the type who’d sell out his own mother for the right price, and I’m seldom wrong about a person.

I unbutton my coat, running the layout of the area through my mind. This place has a dozen tables, all but ours empty at the moment. One door in the front, another through the kitchen. Windows cover the top of the wall in a standard commercial setup that wraps around the front and side of the building. We’re sitting close enough to the door for me to see anyone coming in beside us. One could still set up an ambush, but it would be unlikely. Either way, I’m prepared, and even if I take a bullet, this fucker won’t get far.

“Well, there’s no problem there for me.” My hard stare lets him know

I’m not up for this. He exhales and sits forward. “What are you asking?”

“What’s the issue with you and your neighbor?”

“Oh, that.” That shit-eating grin’s back in place. “Ancient history.” He crosses his arms. “More of a disagreement on land rights between my

grandfather and Torres’s dad that’s dragged on over the years.” “I see.” Hmm, so feuds happen out here, too.

“You met the princess.” He points out the window toward the feed store.

“Torres’s daughter.” I nod, playing along. “Yeah, she was there when I went by yesterday.”

He runs his thumb along the edge of his nose. “What’d he say?” he asks, his mouth still open, ready to laugh.

“He wasn’t up for selling.” This bastard doesn’t need to know the details.

“Yeah. The old man’s holding out hope they’ll turn things around.” He scoffs. “It’s not gonna happen, if I have my way.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Torres will end up folding.”

“From what I hear, that may be sooner rather than later.” Jorge really should have taken my offer. The house is in the same condition as the old truck he’s driving. They’ve both gone without maintenance for too long. Right on cue, the truck pulls into the street, turning onto the highway in front of us.

“Hell, my old man tried talking me into marrying her to end this property thing.” He keeps his eyes on the truck until they’re past the window. “It’d be an open marriage, for me.” He shrugs. “Eh, there’s still time. Who knows because, with a wife like that, I could do whatever I wanted, and nobody’d say a damn thing.”

Anger cuts through my chest with a vengeance. Why it matters is beyond me. I don’t have a dog in that fight. My job is to smooth things out so the goods make it over the border and keep the customers coming back. “So, is this what’s causing problems with the supply chain?”

“No, man.” He shakes his head. “Jorge knows his place. He’s not butting in.”

“That doesn’t clear up a hell of a lot.” “What can I say?” He shrugs.

“You can say you’ll get me in contact with your side of the business.” I can’t get any blunter than that.

Antonio goes silent. “You don’t pull any punches,” he says, sitting forward.

“Like I said, I flew across the country for one reason.”

He pulls a grimace, rolling his shoulder as he twists his neck. “I don’t like dealing with those guys, but I can try and figure out-”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Guys? It’s supposed to be one guy. I shake my head. “I’m already here. I’d rather have the conversation than to have things escalate.” The last thing this place needs is to have Victor show up with his brand of negotiations.

“I’d need time to track our friend down,” he says, shifting his gaze away. The cagey routine does work for me.

“He’s coming tomorrow.”

“How do you know that?” he asks, eyebrows jammed together. “You forget, we handle the rest of the supply chain.” His lips twist as he ends up cornered.

“I need to touch base when he’s here.”

“Here you go, boys.” The waitress sets the plates down in front of us. It takes her a second, but she loses her smile as she senses the tension between us. “Um, I’ll be by the counter, in case you need anything else.”

Antonio stares down at the plate, pushing it away. “It’ll be tonight,” he grumbles.

I nod, satisfied with the change in schedule. We might be able to work things out so I can get the hell out of here before the end of the week after all.