Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set Page 41

  27

  Welcome home, Princesa

  The perimeter of Javier Martin’s compound came into view half an hour later. First to break the horizon were a pair of towers, tall and slim. It reminded Finn of a prison, especially when the sun caught those windows just right and silhouetted armed men behind the glass. He flashed his lights at Lars, who slowed to a stop. He got out, and ambled over to Finn.

  “Think they’ve seen us?” Lars asked with a quick glance at the towers.

  “Sure they’re counting our fucking pores.” Finn grabbed a shoulder in hand and began working at the muscle. He’d been tensing the longer they’d driven down that fucked up excuse of a road. And he could feel that tension spreading through his body, setting every nerve ending it passed on fire. Cora’s silence hadn’t helped either. She’d seemed entirely happy with not speaking to him ever again. “I guess it could only be Martin’s place, up ahead.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” Lars turned so he could see the towers and Finn at the same time. “I’m worried they don’t think we’re friendly.”

  “Miguel!” Finn called out. After a few seconds, the halcon stuck his head from the rental’s back passenger window.

  “¿Señor?”

  “They gonna shoot us?” Finn asked, pointing at the distant towers.

  “No, señor. I make call.”

  “You made it already?”

  “Yeah, he had a long conversation with his beaner friend,” Lars said, a twist to his mouth. “Refused to speak English. For all I know, he planned a fucking coup.”

  “Si. We go.” Miguel gestured ahead, as if there was some mystical point in the road they still had to get to.

  The man’s head disappeared again.

  “—Milo?”

  Finn dragged his head to face Lars. He’d been staring at his SUV, wondering why Cora kept refusing to make eye contact with him. “What?”

  Lars made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.”

  They drove on for a few minutes until a small hut reared out from the side of the road. A man stepped casually in front of Finn’s SUV. Finn brought his foot down hard on the brake, and the car’s back tires skidded forward a few inches.

  The man he’d almost driven into seemed unconcerned. Perhaps it was the AK-47 dangling at his side that lent an air of invulnerability to him.

  “Salgan fuera,” the man said calmly, if loudly.

  “He wants us to get out,” Cora translated, a nervous edge to her voice.

  Behind them, Lars stuck his head out the window. “Hola, amigo. What up?”

  The man ignored him. “Out!” he said, waving at them with his assault rifle.

  Finn’s skin grew tight. Lars was getting out his SUV, so he got out too. He itched to lay a hand on the pistol snug in it holster, but that might provoke the wrong reaction from the guard.

  The Mexican’s grim face turned to study them as he approached. “Volver en el coche.”

  “We don’t speak beaner,” Lars said. “What’s going on? Why’d you stop us?”

  Miguel scrambled out of the rental SUV. “Por favor, señor.” He lifted his hands to Finn and then Lars, hurrying forward. “He want take car.”

  “Take it where?” Finn said, glancing at the offending SUV he’d been driving.

  “It is hire car, si?” Miguel asked, hands still raised. “It have tracking. They not let it through.”

  “Just let them take it, Milo,” Lars said.

  “Cora,” Finn called. She looked up at the sound of her name, and climbed out as the guard made his way around the car and got into the driver’s seat. He made a wide turn through the grass beside the road. A dented sedan appeared from the behind the squat building a few yards away, trailing dust in its wake as it made for the road.

  Their rental truck sped away, the sedan following at a more sedate pace behind it.

  Finn held the back door open for Cora and climbed in behind her, all too aware how his leg pressed against hers as the SUV began moving down the road.

  It smelled of sweat and dried blood inside the cab. But when he wound down the window, dust piled into the car and began settling over everything. He closed it again, leaving just a crack open.

  A few minutes later, the dirt road turned to gravel. Stone walls ten feet high reared up, closed with a solid metal gate that didn’t allow a sliver of light through. Now way to see what was behind those walls, or those gates. Not until they opened. Obviously, they’d been given the all clear—as Lars’s SUV approached, the gate split down the middle and folded back.

  More desiccated grass; the landscape unaltered. But here, the road was paved and turned in a slow bend to the right.

  Finn could feel eyes on them as Lars guided the SUV through the gates, but no one impeded them. In fact, it was eerily quiet, as if even the wildlife in this area knew better than to cross the perimeter of this compound. Which was still out of sight, perhaps a mile or more away.

  The paved road went on for an eternity. How much had Martin paid for this road to be built? And for that massive wall back there. Did it extend all the way around his property? They climbed a gradual incline, and when they crested it, the extent of Javier Martin’s land became apparent.

  It was easily several hundred hectares. Ahead, pine trees had been planted in a straight line down either sides of the road, which curved again. Perhaps in an attempt to shield the villa that lay beyond, but it would have taken more than a few trees to properly accomplish that task.

  Martin had sure gone to a lot of effort to keep this place concealed. Through the trees, he spotted an orchard, a pasture with cows and grazing sheep. Another field lay beyond, several glossy thoroughbreds roaming around in it.

  “Fuck my life,” Lars muttered. “This guy doesn’t mess around, does he?”

  It looked like a small village, not someone’s house. Maybe it was. Maybe this compound was in fact a village Martin had built to conduct cartel business.

  But it was too neat. Every arch and manicured garden too perfect.

  How much water did it take him to keep everything so green? Was he on a river somewhere, with exclusive water rights that he could afford to keep everything wet enough to make it green this deep into the dust bowl that was western Texas?

  “Hundred bucks says he’s gold faucets in there,” Lars said.

  “Si,” Miguel chimed in happily. “El Guapo very wealthy man.”

  It was a drastic understatement.

  A white Bentley stood parked in the circular drive. Fuck knew how it got there, seeing as the first few miles of road to this compound were in such a state. Maybe he had a helicopter he used to put the car down on the nearest tar road.

  A few yards away from the Bentley, two armed guards began walking toward them.

  Cora tensed beside him, and he glanced down at her. Fingers shivered against his leg, and then she was fumbling in his lap for his hand. He let her take it—her long, thin fingers cool against his slab of a palm—and gave her a gentle squeeze.

  She looked up at him, faint panic etched in those honey-gold eyes of hers.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

  Were they wrong in bringing her here? She’d never seemed to have negative connotations of her ‘Uncle’ Javier, but then why was she so nervous?

  She didn’t speak though. Did nothing except cling to his hand.

  Lars brought the SUV to a halt. For some reason, Finn expected Martin to walk out of that massive entry hall and greet them like Swan had when he’d arrived at the manor all of what, a week ago?

  Instead, the two-armed guards came around each side of the car and began inspecting it. When Lars moved to open the car door, Miguel caught his sleeve. “Wait. Wait.”

  Lars gave Finn a pissed off look in the mirror, but he sat in silence as the two men made a circuit of the car. Seemingly satisfied, one of them came to Lars’s now open window.

  “Beunos dias,” the man said, g
iving everyone inside the car an amiable smile. “Take out all your weapons. Guns, knives, garrotes. Whatever you have, you toss it out the window.”

  There was a moment’s stifled silence which Miguel interrupted with a quiet, “Por favor.”

  Lars mumbled something crude under his breath and made a show of ripping his pistol from his holster. He tossed it past the guard’s head, and then sat forward in the seat to extract his second pistol from behind his belt. Finn wound down his window and tossed out his holster, pistol still clipped safely inside, hesitated, and then rummaged in his boot for his concealed knife.

  The guard stepped to the side, peering through Finn’s window with dark, narrowed eyes. Those eyes lit up when he saw Cora. She was sitting forward, taking her Taurus out from her belt.

  “No, Princesa, no.” The guard lifted a hand, waving down. “Mantener tu arma.”

  Cora froze, eyebrows drawing together as she glanced first at Finn and then Lars.

  “What’s he say?” Finn asked quietly.

  The guard cut in before Cora could answer. “Señorita Rivera is not a threat.”

  Cora looked just as surprised at this announcement as Finn felt. Then again, she’d been brought here for safety, so it was reasonable to assume that they’d let her into this top-secret compound because they trusted her.

  “Come.” The guard had a wide smile on his face now, and after Finn had stepped out, the man rushed forward to extend Cora his hand.

  She stared at it for a moment as if wondering what the hell she was supposed to do with it, and then cautiously took it.

  Finn stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you to your uncle.”

  Cora ducked her shoulder away from his hand and glared up at him. “I told you, he’s not my uncle.”

  And, with that, she spun on her heel and stormed toward the large entryway. The guard who’d helped her down from the SUV hurried after her until he was a step in front, and then gave her a wide smile as he opened a massive wooden door for her. Finn heard a murmured, “Princesa,” from the man before he disappeared into the shadow behind that entrance.

  Finn sped up, and caught the tail end of the pair just before they turned a distant corner.

  The door led into a courtyard, open to the sky and filled with flowers and fountains and patches of perfectly trimmed grass. Benches and swings were scattered through the various little parks, and a few birds took flight as Cora and the guard reappeared on the other side, heading through another wide arch that led deeper into the compound.

  Compound? Finn snorted quietly to himself as Lars fell in step beside him. Miguel trailed them, but Angel and the second guard were nowhere to be seen.

  This wasn’t a fucking compound. This was a palace. A drug lord’s palace.

  Princess Cora probably felt right at home.

  28

  The Capo Four Seasons

  It was almost impossible to keep track of where the guard—he’d said his name was Santino—was leading her. She passed archway after archway, some fitted with doors, some open and leading to different areas of her uncle’s property. It was surprisingly empty, but she could hear distant voices and laughter, growing louder the longer they walked.

  The shade was blissful. In some of the passages they walked through, misters filled the air with a dewy breeze that she inhaled happily after the long, dusty ride here.

  Santino hurried forward, shifting his assault rifle aside as he pushed open a door. It was as large and heavy as the rest, turning on a pivot. Beyond, lay an entertainment area replete with pool table, a jukebox in one corner, what looked like a DJ stand to the other, a dance floor, and a few cocktail tables. A small club, nestled inside this village of a house. Palm trees in pots were placed strategically across the room, lending a tropical air to the place.

  The entire opposite wall from where Cora stood comprised of glass walls and a big sliding door. Closed, presumably, to prevent the hot, dry air from outside spilling into this cool, air-conditioned sanctuary.

  “¿Princesa?” Santino murmured, and she realized she’d been staring. Not at this room, and the wealth that seemed to ooze from the mahogany inlaid pool table and what had to be a state-of-the-art DJ booth, but at the scene outside.

  A pool. Not round or rectangular or square. Oh no. That would have been too cheap. The swimming pool looked like a sculpture. It had different levels, and waterfalls, and small oases dotting the interconnected pools.

  She suddenly felt dirty and greasy—her cheap, stolen clothes too stained and ragged for this place.

  There were footsteps behind her. Finn. Lars. Maybe Miguel. Santino’s breezy wave drew her down the steps into the entertainment area.

  The main pool, large enough for one lap to be pretty exhausting. The volleyball game churned the midday sun into slivers of diamond on the water’s choppy surface. A net had been strung across the coruscating water, and on either side a four-man team battled through the water to keep a bright yellow ball from touching the surface.

  Most were men, but a pair of women—one on each side—graced those waters too. Dressed in tiny bikinis, one black, one white, as if they were pieces in a chess game.

  More people were scattered about the pool. Some in loungers, others sitting at a bar, more yet on the perimeter with AK47s, black clothes, and grim expressions behind their anonymous sunglasses.

  “Elle!” a voice boomed.

  She jerked, and turned toward the sound.

  A man sauntered toward her, dripping wet. He tossed silver-streaked black hair from his eyes, and gave her a broad smile that showed almost all of his brilliantly white teeth.

  “Tío!” she said with a grin.

  It had been a long time since she’d seen more than just a glimpse of Javier Martin. When he visited Swan Manor, he would disappear into her father’s study as soon as he arrived. Most of the time, he’d still be in there when Bailey ushered her to bed, and would be gone in the morning when she woke. He’d aged, but not drastically. The crow’s feet at the corner of his dark eyes were deeper, as were his laugh lines. He wore only swimming trunks—red and emblazoned with palm trees—so it was clear to see that his body was far from sagging or wasted. No wonder his nickname was ‘The Handsome’. And it went a long way to explaining how every woman’s eyes followed him as religiously as they would a priest strutting on the podium in a church.

  She expected him to stop, perhaps hold out a hand. But he crashed into her, gripping her so fiercely that her breath left her in a whoosh. Instinctively, she brought her hands up and grabbed his shoulders from behind, more to keep her balance than to return the bear hug. But he tightened his grip, crushing her, and then held her at arm’s length. Dark, pupil-less eyes studied her as his smile slowly faded.

  “I am so sorry about your father,” Javier murmured. He delivered those perfectly enunciated syllables in a voice thick with accent.

  “Gracias,” she said quietly.

  The corners of his mouth turned down, a deep frown line appearing between his thick brows. “I only wish there’d been more I could have done to protect him.”

  She stared up at Javier, giving her head a mute shake. He took a step back, his hands sliding down her arms and clutching her wrists. Drawing them up as he washed his gaze down her.

  “You have grown into such a beautiful young woman.” But then his eyes darted up to her hair, and his mouth went thin. “Was your journey rough?”

  Cora snatched her wrists free of Javier and smoothed down her unruly hair. She hadn’t had a chance to brush it today—it probably looked like a bird’s nest.

  She turned, waving a hand at Finn and Lars. “Tío, this is—”

  “Yes, I know.” His voice dropped several octaves. He used his arm to move her aside—gently but insistently—and came to stand in front of Finn and Lars. Both men had a few inches on him, but he stared them down as if they were kneeling at his feet.

  Lars shifted, giving Cora a frown over Javier’s shoulder. Finn st
ared back at Javier as unconcerned as she’d ever seen him.

  “Mr. Finn.” Javier turned slightly toward Lars. “But you…I don’t know you.” A hush fell over the assembled crowd. It made Cora’s skin writhe. Her fingers strayed to the small of her back, but then she forced herself to hook her thumbs into her empty belt loops.

  “Mr. Eklund,” Lars said reluctantly. Then he jabbed a thumb toward Finn. “I’m with him.”

  Javier held out his arms. “I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said. And then beckoned with his fingertips as if expecting both of them to come in for a hug. He had several gaudy rings on his fingers; some flashed red, others blue. Rubies and sapphires. Somehow those precious stones outshone the diamonds that encircled them. But not the diamond studs, one in each ear, tiny but glittering so brilliantly they had to be at least a carat each.

  “Just doing our job,” Lars muttered, taking a step back as if worried that Javier would dart out and force him into a hug like he had done Cora.

  Finn stayed where he was, but he lifted up a hand—palm facing her uncle—as if warding off the man’s affection.

  Javier dropped his arms. The look he gave Cora was slightly disappointed, but then he ran his eyes over her again and widened them abruptly.

  “Mi reinita, you’re soaked!” He laughed, tugging at the band of his swimming trunks and letting it snap back with a wet slap. “I did this to you. I am so sorry.”

  He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. One of the women playing volleyball climbed out of the pool and padded over to them. She ran her eyes over Finn and Lars, gave Javier a deep smile, and then held out her hands to Cora.

  “Eleodora. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Cora took her hand, and the woman shook it softly. Her hands were like cold silk, and she gave a light squeeze before letting go.

  “This is Ana.” Javier slid an arm over the brunette’s shoulder. She had the shape of a model, slim and tall with big breasts that her tiny bikini barely contained. The smile she gave Javier brimmed with affection. “Show her to her room.” Javier turned to Cora. “You must want to freshen up after your trip. Dinner is in two hours.” He gestured at the villa, the vast property stretching out on the horizon. “I wish we didn’t have to resort to living in the middle of nowhere, but then I would have to put my PhD to use.”