Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
After waiting until I could hear Locke on the call, I threw on running clothes and shoes, grabbed my earbuds, and went downstairs to the fitness center, which had the same amazing view of the pool deck and water beyond.
After hopping on a treadmill facing the open doors to the view, I pumped up my music and began running off my frustration.
About twenty minutes into my run, an attractive man about my age entered the room dressed in similar workout clothes. I hadn’t seen him before and couldn’t place him from the names on the list. His eyes widened when he saw me, and then he flashed a friendly grin.
“Mind if I join you?”
I pulled out an earbud and tilted my head at the room full of high-end equipment. “Help yourself.”
Maybe I should have introduced myself as the event host and given him the rah-rah to make him feel welcome, but I wasn’t feeling it.
Instead of choosing any of the equipment spread around the room, he chose the treadmill right next to mine and began a warm-up walk.
“Santiago Alvarado,” he said with a genuine smile. “Call me Santi.”
It took all of my training and self-control to keep from reacting to the shocking introduction.
“Jethro Davis,” I said, nodding rather than risk shaking hands with the son of one of the world’s most notorious drug lords.
While the name Esteban Alvarado had been on the guest list, never in a million years would I have expected it to be this Esteban Alvarado. Notorious drug lord Esteban Alvarado. The one who, along with his son Santiago, was constantly under suspicion for multiple criminal activities around the world related to the movement of drugs and money.
Suspicion by my employer, specifically.
What the actual fuck are the Alvarados doing at a chess tournament?
“Haven’t seen you at one of these things before,” he said with a friendly grin.
“I work for Mr. Maris.”
“Ah,” he said, lifting his chin. His bronze skin was perfectly smooth, with inky-black eyelashes that must have made his mother proud. His eyebrows were clearly shaped by someone, and his haircut had to have cost several hundred dollars.
“What about you? Do you play, or are you here with one of the players?” I asked with what I hoped was naive politeness.
He grinned. “I’m here with my old man. He plays. Wants me to learn alongside him, but we’ll see. The game’s boring as fuck if you want to know the truth.”
I shrugged. “At least the weather is nice,” I said, trying to remain boring and plain as I stopped my run and prepared to leave the stressful situation. Maybe this was why Locke didn’t want me talking to anyone. He was friends with fucking murderers.
Santi stopped his own treadmill and stepped off.
“You want to go for a swim with me, chico lindo?” he asked in a sultry voice, white teeth flashing in a player’s grin.
Not gonna lie, after not being able to experience my own release in the shower, there was a part of me that wanted to let this man pull it out of me.
The trained agent in me was tempted to flirt with him, too. To lure him in to take advantage of whatever he might want to share with an intimate partner.
But there was no way I could do that while I was here with Locke. Not only was I not on the clock—well, not on ESP’s clock anyway—but I also wasn’t a jackass.
It was in Locke’s best interest for me to be solidly straight as far as everyone here was concerned. More than that, I was loyal to a fault, whether Locke deserved it or not.
“I’m afraid I have an early morning tomorrow,” I said. “Good night, Mr. Alvarado.”
“Santi. Please,” he said, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. “And the pleasure is mine, Jethro.”
As I made my way back to my room, I wondered if Santi and Eduardo Alvarado’s presence here was enough reason for me to come clean to my boss at ESP.
When I entered the suite, Locke was still on a call, discussing anti-piracy naval escorts through the Gulf of Aden. He sounded smart and commanding, determined and casually in control. The tone of his voice was enough to make my dick hard, which was embarrassing as fuck.
Since he didn’t even acknowledge my presence, I slunk to my own room and jacked off in the shower to the memory of Locke Maris barking at someone to “get Defense on the line again.”
Then I fell asleep.
Alone.
The following morning came way too soon, considering how fucking uncomfortable I’d been sleeping in my own room for the first time since arriving. After dressing in an outfit from my new “assistant” wardrobe, I dutifully followed Locke to breakfast.
As soon as we entered the room, he was surrounded by people greeting him, including a few newcomers who must have arrived late.