The Pimp (Colombian Cartel Book 2) Page 6

  That motherfucker. I’m going to kill him. A necktie would be too good for him; no, I’m going to cut off his cock and balls and stuff them in his mouth.

  “I’ll deal with Santiago,” I assure her. “But you had to know I would come looking for you. And you should be glad I didn’t let you leave. If you’re out there on your own, it isn’t a matter of if he’ll try to kill you—it’s only a matter of when.”

  “Not if I kill him first. That hijo de puta had me out on a street corner selling drugs like one of his mules. The agreement was that I come here to work for you, not mule drugs for him!”

  “Cartel’s like cockroaches, baby; they don’t die, they just multiply. I promise you, by running away you have succeeded in pissing him off. But that’s okay; as far as I’m concerned, he started this shit when he didn’t come through on our deal to deliver you. I’m betting he liked what he saw, knew you were for me, and didn’t want to let you go. But you’re mine now. You’ve been mine all along and he should have honored that.”

  “What the hell? You’re talking about me like I’m property.”

  I lean back in my chair and smile serenely. “That’s because you are. You’re my property.”

  Fuck me, but she’s beautiful, even more lovely than her photo would suggest. Long black hair that flows down her back in damp, loose waves. Full lips that make me wonder what they’ll feel like sliding over the head of my cock. Olive skin with vivid blue eyes that suggest mixed heritage; I’m guessing Dominican and Caucasian. Not a hint of makeup and she’s stunning. I’m already going over in my mind what a knockout she’ll be after spending some time with our hair and makeup pros.

  She clears her throat, bringing my thoughts back to the here and now. “He had no intention of delivering me to you, he told me so. I did what I had to do.”

  Now that, I can relate to.

  Her eyes widen suddenly and she sits bolt upright. “Oh, hell no, Diego Dias. You are not keeping me here against my will.”

  I don’t want her to feel anything but safe with me, but we’ve got to get a few things straight first. The last thing I need is Santiago blowing up my club. I’ve invested a lot of money into my business, but more than that, the people here depend on me and I will keep them safe.

  “You’ve got no fucking choice. I know you didn’t cause this but now, like it or not, I’m involved. So you can either stay in here with me, or…” I deliberately make a pouty face, “there’s always my time-out room.”

  “You have lost your damn mind. Fuck you, Diego. I’m not staying in here with you.”

  “Works for me.”

  I scoop her up, ignoring her kicking and screaming, and hoof it across the room. I open a door and step into a small room. She lands on the twin bed with a bounce and the robe falls open, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of paradise. She frantically pulls the fabric together and knots the belt tight in a valiant attempt at modesty, but not before I solve the mystery that tortures every man when he’s pursuing a woman. Pink or brown? Her nipples are beautiful, so plush and, yeah, pink.

  “Your modesty is refreshing but unnecessary. I’ve seen more pussy in my lifetime than you could ever imagine.”

  “Well, you haven’t seen mine and you’re not going to. What is this room anyway?”

  “Like I said…it’s a time-out room. And I think you need a time-out; a little time to think, to rest. Since you’re obviously an escape artist, I need to keep an eye on you. Now, why don’t you take advantage of the down time and get some sleep?”

  I turn to go, which is why I never see her coming. She lands on my back, beating her fists into the back of my head and reaching around to try to claw at my face.

  “That’s it!” I hiss through gritted teeth as I slam her back down on the mattress. This time the robe slides open, exposing her pussy to my hungry eyes. But the belt stays firmly knotted at her waist. I follow her onto the bed, briefly covering her body with my own. I never did button my shirt, so my bare chest is pressed against her bare breasts. The sensation of those cushiony curves, so warm and soft, against my body is electrifying. My cock’s homing mechanism is in sound working order as my erection lengthens noticeably against her thigh.

  There is a moment of unsettling stillness and eye contact, when she stops struggling and we both acknowledge the sexual heat that’s raging between us. I break the moment when I raise up onto my knees to straddle her hips, using my legs to pin her arms down and my body weight to keep her immobilized.

  “I asked nicely.” I whisper as I remove a small knife from my back pocket and slice through the thin strip of silk that’s barely holding her robe together.

  “Bastard.”

  “Mm-hmm. That I am.” Hmm, no fear in her eyes from the knife. Interesting.

  This whole exercise was intended to teach her a lesson in humility, but now I want to see how far she’ll go. My eyes rake over her naked curves and, in this sitting position, even fully clothed, my cock’s enthusiasm for the sight before me is more than obvious.

  She studies my face while she bites her plush bottom lip. Sexy as fuck. I resist the urge to suck her nipple into my mouth and tease it with my tongue. Instead I run the tip of my knife blade around a pretty pink areola, being careful to angle the blade away from her delicate skin. She sucks in a deep breath.

  “Careful, it’s so sharp, baby,” I murmur as her nipple tightens up.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asks in a breathy voice.

  “Because I asked you nicely to cooperate and stay in this room and you tried to scratch my eyes out. So I need to ensure that you’ll stay put. I don’t think you’ll try to escape if you’re stark naked.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  “We’ve already established that.”

  I slide the blade over her torso to her shoulder. I deliberately nick her, just enough to draw a drop of blood. I want to see if she’s unnerved by the unexpected pain. Nothing. Nothing but defiance in her narrowed eyes. This woman is something else; she’s enjoying this shit. She’s perfect.

  I lean down and slide my tongue over the wound, savoring her flavor, knowing I’ve claimed some small part of her for myself. It’s progress and it will have to do for now.

  I stand, then pick up the robe from where it has slid off the bed onto the floor. She doesn’t fight me this time. I walk out and lock the deadbolt on my side of the door. As soon as I resume my seat in the leather club chair, I open my laptop and activate the hidden camera in her room. Then I sit back and enjoy the show.

  After a brief tantrum, during which she tries to open the door and search through the empty dresser drawers, she finds the only loose item in the room: an Emily Post book on manners. I figure, every time-out room should have one. She heaves the book at the door, then lies on the bed and…sobs. As much as I want to go to her, I don’t. I’m not a calming influence for her right now. So I watch and wait.

  After a nice, long cry, she lies back on the bed, one knee bent in toward the other as she rests her arms up by her head. She looks like a damn centerfold…no, she’s got more class than that. With her curves and her hips tilted just so, she looks like a pin-up queen.

  Eventually, she gets up and, with her back to the hidden camera, pulls the bedspread back. I’m gifted with a brief, unobstructed view of her luscious, perfectly formed ass. Under my watchful eye, she curls up under the covers, hugs the pillow to her chest, and drifts off.

  All erotic thoughts aside, I’m pleased to see her resting at long last, and I plan to let her sleep as long as I can. I stand and stretch, tossing the robe in the trashcan. Then I head back to bed and place the open laptop on the nightstand. I watch her until I fall asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Brook

  He closes the door and locks it behind him. I jump off the bed and begin struggling with the door—of course, it doesn’t budge. No surprise there. Next, I attack the small dresser in the corner, pulling open every drawer. Empty. This really is some bizarre time-out room for g
rown-ups.

  I look up at a small shelf on the headboard and grab the only thing on it—a book—an Emily Post book on etiquette. I throw the book against the wall in frustration. Seriously?!? Trying to teach me manners after he’s locked me in a room against my will? He’s the one who needs a lesson in manners.

  I flop down on the bed and allow the tears to come. It’s a relief to be able to let my guard down because he’s gone and I’m finally alone.

  The guy’s a pimp and this must be how he disciplines his women. At least he doesn’t beat them like most pimps do. He handles what he sees as bad behavior with isolation and rewards good behavior with, well, I don’t know how he responds to good behavior. Maybe I never will. He must treat these women like children, like he’s their Daddy. Pompous bastard. I’m not one of his strippers.

  My mind drifts back to the feel of his body pressing mine into the mattress. Memories of that moment set off a flood of emotions that confuse me. How is it that I feel so desperate to get away from him when my instincts are screaming at me to wrap myself around him and hold on tight? It’s too much to take in and I’m suddenly so tired that I can hardly think straight.

  I slip under the covers and hug the pillow to my chest. I have one thing going for me: I’m safe for the night. I’ll worry about how to get out of here tomorrow.

  Chapter Eight

  Diego

  “She’s beautiful, Diego. I’m jealous.”

  Foxy is perched on the edge of the loveseat, watching the video feed as I sip my morning coffee. Brook slept through the night. I know this because I watched her sleep, all night.

  “She’s crazy.”

  “All the more reason for me to be jealous, right? You like crazy.”

  “Foxy, you have a man, and you and I both know you’re happy with your man.”

  “Not any more, I don’t.”

  “Really? What the fuck happened? Do I need to beat his ass?”

  “You’re sweet. No, it was a long time coming. I just finally stopped being a fool and faced reality. No need for you to go all caveman on his ass. Good riddance, I say. Anyway, boyfriend or not, I’m still jealous. I want to look like that girl. Just look at her…she doesn’t even have any make-up on and she looks better than any of us on our best day.”

  I turn away from the video feed and give Foxy my full attention. “She is a beauty, you got that right. You haven’t even seen her close up yet.”

  She straightens in her seat and her eyes go wide and her fingertips cover her mouth. “Oh, Diego. You really do like her.”

  “Yeah, the same way I like a black widow.”

  “This…coming from a guy who kept a Colombian Equis snake in a terrarium. You couldn’t just have any old snake, you had to have the deadliest Colombian snake.”

  “You know me. Go big or go home. What’s the point if you don’t go all in? Plus…the Equis worked well for interrogation sessions. You have no idea how many people are terrified of spiders and snakes. The strongest of men gave me what I wanted because I introduced him to Hector, up close and personal. It broke my heart when he died.”

  “Sorry I can’t say the same—about Hector. Now, what are you going to do with this girl—this spider woman of yours?”

  “Keep her.” That’s funny…spider woman.

  “She’s not a puppy, Diego.”

  “She sure as hell needs to be trained. She acts like a wild animal. Look at this!” I say, turning my head to show her the faint scratch by my left eye, compliments of spider woman. “Anyway…we’ve already clarified she’s not a puppy. She’s a spider. A black widow spider.”

  “Well, if anyone can train her…it’s you. You better train her well or she’ll fuck you and kill you – after she scratches your eyes out first.” Foxy giggles as if it could really happen. It couldn’t, could it?

  “Not if I kill her first. Speaking of training. I need your help.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Befriend her. I know how women open up to each other. I want every detail you can find out about her.”

  “Are you gonna sleep with her?”

  “Hell, no,” I say as I turn back to the video feed and feast my eyes on a sleeping Brook. “I’m going to fuck her like a dirty whore – and then spoil her like a little princess.”

  “Spoken like a true pimp.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brook

  The sound of the deadbolt being turned causes me to sit straight up in bed. I watch the door, on high alert. Maybe he’s going to let me go after all. There’s nothing like a good night’s sleep to get a clear head. He’ll see that keeping me here is only going to cause him problems with Sinaloa cartel.

  Diego’s right, cartel don’t die, they just multiply – and never miss an opportunity to make an example of someone. Fear and respect is their currency. A woman shooting a boss would make that branch of Santiago’s territory look weak. He has to save face. Weakness isn’t an option in his world.

  I should have killed him. Why the fuck didn’t I kill him? Then again, it would never end if I had. The cartel’s thirst for vengeance wouldn’t be quenched until I was dead. It’s a vicious cycle of death and I’ve landed myself right in the middle of it.

  I’m sure of one thing: Diego’s going to get much more than he bargained for by keeping me here. He doesn’t know I shot Santiago yet. Maybe he’ll turn me loose when he finds out. I feel melancholy at the thought.

  I’m not expecting to see a woman when the door opens. And I’m sure not expecting to feel so disappointed because it’s not him.

  I tuck the sheet under my arms and touch the place where he cut me last night, as if it will make him magically appear. That whole crazy knife game turned me on. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “My name’s Foxy.”

  “No, it’s not,” I say flatly. “Nobody names their kid Foxy.”

  Her big smile reveals perfectly straight, white teeth. Hmm, either braces or veneers. I wonder what else on her is fake? She can’t be real. She’s too fucking perfect. Long, platinum blonde hair. Big blue eyes with lashes that are so long they almost touch her eyebrows. Full lips. Tiny waist. Big tits. Legs that go on forever. The Rod Stewart song comes to mind as I work my way from the top of her head to the soles of her feet and back again.

  She raises an eyebrow at me and I realize I’m staring. I don’t even try to hide it. “Sorry…you’re gorgeous.”

  “Honey, every woman in here looks like they walked off the cover of Cosmo. But thanks all the same.” She sets a tray down and turns to me. “You’re not so bad yourself. Look at you, not a bit of makeup and you’re beautiful. Wait until one of our makeup artists gets their hands on you – if Diego lets them, of course. I get the feeling he might want you to stay just the way you are.”

  “I don’t plan on being here that long.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” she says, shaking her head indulgently. “You’ve met your match. Once Diego makes up his mind about something there’s no changing it, and he’s made up his mind he’s keeping you.”

  “I’m not a puppy.”

  “See? I knew I’d like you! I told him the same thing but he’s not having it. To be honest, I think you’ve cast some kind of spell on him.”

  “Great…just what I need -- a crazy Colombian cartel boss developing a fixation on me.”

  “Well, Diego does have an obsessive personality so the word ‘fixation’ works. But seriously, you’ve really made quite the impression on that man.”

  “So he’s done this before?”

  “No, he hasn’t, and that’s what I find so fascinating. You’ve bewitched him. Anyone who knows him can see it. I’ve been wondering how you managed it, but now that I’ve met you, I understand.”

  “What is there to understand?” I ask uncertainly, not sure I want her insight into the strange heat that’s simmering between Diego and me. “He’s just protecting his own ass because Santiago is looking for me.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” she smiles.
“Only time will tell.” She looks back at a point just above the door and smiles softly, then turns back to me. “He wants me to watch over you, help you settle in. Take my advice: be nice, don’t try to escape. He will protect you. You’re safe here. I’d go so far as to say this is the only place you’re safe.”

  “Safe? I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  Chapter Ten

  Diego

  Watching them talk, I almost believe Brook can be a good girl and stay. We all know looks can be deceiving though. I’m not buying it for a minute. Maybe I should get her set up with a tracker chip. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I pick up the phone and call the perfect man for the job.

  “Vincent, it’s Diego. I’ve got a job for you.”

  “Finally got a chick you want tatted?”

  “No. I’ve got a viper that I need to watch closely. I want you to put a chip in her shoulder. And then we’ll take care of the tattoo.”

  “Tomorrow morning? How about 9 o’clock?”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Sounds good. You want to do it here or at your place?”

  “We’ll come to you. One more thing, my friend. I might need you to slip her a little something to relax her. At this point, I don’t want her knowing about the tracker chip. I may change my mind later, but this girl’s a runner and she’s just crazy enough to dig it out with a knife.”

  “Sounds like my kind of girl.”

  “Fuck no, but she’s damn sure mine.”

  “My man, I’ve never known you to be smitten. She got a magic pussy or something?”

  “Not one word about her pussy, motherfucker,” I growl. “No, this one’s special. Feisty as hell and I’m looking forward to taming her wild ass.”

  “Well, if anybody can do it, you can.”

  “I have to admit, for the first time in my life I’m not so sure.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”