Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“I will—”
“Call me again when it’s done.”
Miguel sighed when she hung up and stared at the bathroom door. If he chose to walk in there and give Nero what he’d been gagging for, could he tell himself that he’d only done it for the sake of getting to kill Raul Moreno?
He chose to grab a cigarette instead.
Chapter 2
Miguel
Another week had passed without progress in terms of getting closer to Raul Moreno. Nero wouldn’t give him peace, teasing Miguel and taking him wherever he went, but despite all the smiles and filthy comments inviting Miguel to bed, the cunning bastard didn’t offer real trust. Three months since Miguel had become a member of Nero’s team, only flesh remained on offer, and he found himself increasingly frustrated.
His mother refused to talk to him until he got closer to their ultimate goal, and at this point, he was ready to explore alternative solutions like blackmail or finding a way to endear himself to Nero that didn’t involve sucking dick. Too bad he’d never developed a talent for making friends, because that would have been awfully handy.
At times he wondered what his life would have been like if the Moreno Cartel hadn’t destroyed his family, but there was no changing the past, and his ability to kill any emotion that took root inside him had been essential to being Mother’s right hand man. It made no difference to Miguel whether he achieved his goals with bribery or by skinning someone alive, and while he took no pleasure in making others suffer, what counted was getting the job done. But since using force against Nero would bring nothing good, he was stuck waiting until his boss deemed him worthy of meeting the Big Man himself.
Miguel had just finished sharpening his switchblade to perfection when he spotted movement in the quiet street beyond the fence. Initially bristling, he calmed when he spotted the mailman’s uniform, and then his familiar face. There was a separate entrance for staff and deliveries, and the man used a code to open the gate that led him down a narrow passage to the back of the villa. Miguel’s forearms broke out in goosebumps when, from his place on the balcony, he spotted that the parcel in the mailman’s hands had a familiar shade.
Once again, Nero was receiving a package with secretive contents. He never opened this baby-blue box around anyone, but while in the case of any normal person that might have suggested sex toys, or a similarly embarrassing item, Nero would have flaunted those in everyone’s face.
Like he already had more than once.
No. There was something very suspicious about those deliveries and their consistency, and today, Miguel would get to the bottom of this mystery.
He folded the switchblade, shoved it into his pocket, and put his leg over the railing of the balcony. Once his boots hit the asphalt, he sped through the tunnel under the house and then past Ezra Correa, who paid no attention to him, dripping sweat on stone tiles as he fought to keep the plank position. His cousin, Carlos, seemed to have given up on exercise for the morning, and was reading a dirty magazine in the shade of the palm trees.
Green leaves smacked Miguel’s face as he hurried down the narrow passage between the facade and a plant bed, ready to intercept the damn box before Nero was alerted of the delivery.
Last time Miguel had seen him, he was scribbling something in the TV room, so he couldn’t be anywhere near—
When Miguel turned the corner with every intention of pressuring the courier into giving up the package, Nero was already waiting at the open door.
Fuck.
“It’s fine, Miguel, I’m just getting a delivery. No need to get your panties in a twist,” Nero shouted, presenting his bare muscular chest and flat stomach rising over jeans that hung so low they showed off the orange waistband of his underwear, as if he wanted to test the sexuality of every man he encountered.
The mailman looked back, freezing, but Nero took the package out of his hands, hurting Miguel’s eyes with a new color on his short-cropped curls—bright green.
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
Miguel’s mood soured. He’d taken too much time catching up with the poor bastard, and now that Nero had received the package, Miguel’s job would be infinitely harder. He could wait for another chance, of course, but that wouldn’t be until next month. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
Miguel didn’t trust anyone, though out of all the people he interacted with on a daily basis the mailman might just be the least suspicious of them all, mostly because he wasn’t in any way involved with the cartel.
“Drink?” he offered begrudgingly, because Nero wouldn’t reject the opportunity for trying to get into his pants and baiting the cock-slut might offer a chance to have a go at the package.