The Vargas Cartel Trilogy: Books 1 - 3 Read online

  In a foreign country, in the arms of a stranger with no familiar faces to judge my actions and report my unbecoming behavior, I decided to live. Fuck Evan and all his apologies that filled my phone on a daily basis. My mom, my brother, my friends…everyone except Vera wanted me to give Evan another chance. They reminded me of Evan’s promising future career in politics at every turn. His dad was a U.S. Senator, and Evan probably would be one someday too. If I married Evan after everything he’d done, it’d be a political merger, nothing more. Evan didn’t love me…he never did. I realized that now. You didn’t lie and cheat when you loved someone.

  Ryker’s hand coasted down my spine, resting at my lower back, and I arched into him, our hips moving in perfect synchronicity with the beat of the music. My hands wandered up the sculpted planes of his chest, and I feathered soft kisses along his neck. He smelled like a mixture of masculine spice and salty sea air.

  My actions were stupid. I meant to tease him…control him, but he had other plans. One of his hands traced the outline of my body from my waist to the subtle curve of my breast. His thumb grazed the tip of one nipple then the other, making them so hard they throbbed within the confines of my black lace bra. When I thought I’d melt into a puddle of need, his hands glided around my hips, guiding my movements, grinding his pelvis against mine, and I was the one being tortured.

  He tipped my chin up, and the flashing lights of the bar lit the sharp angled planes of his face, accentuating his devastating beauty. The full effect of his smoky gaze pierced through me, enslaving me, mesmerizing me. A shot of adrenaline coursed like wildfire through my body as our connection simmered to a full boil.

  I whimpered, but he halted the release of my breath with the press of his thumb against my parted mouth. His thumb traced the contour of my lips, likely smearing Vera’s magic red lipstick, but I didn’t care. I was under his spell—compliant, willing, my eyes begging for things my mouth wouldn’t. I nipped the tip of his thumb and his eyes darkened. “See? I warned you this is where the night would go.”

  Before his comment invaded the haze of lust overwhelming my senses, his hand cupped my chin, and his lips crashed against mine. His kiss was far from gentle, but I didn’t care. I matched him stroke for stroke, bite for bite, and losing touch with reality under the whirlwind of his assault.

  Every contour of his body belonged to me at that instant, and I intended to take advantage of it. My hands darted under his shirt, roaming along the hard planes of his chest and stomach.

  His hand skated up my thigh, cupping my sex in the middle of the dance floor. Common sense told me to object, but my mind was blind, deaf, and dumb to anything but him and the sensations rolling through me. Greedy, eager gasps fell from my mouth as his hand rubbed against my mound. I wanted to use him…steal every inch of him and burn the memories into my mind for later when my mom managed to marry me off to Evan or his stuffy clone.

  His hand slipped into my panties, and my breath rushed out in a needy moan. With every slip, slide, and caress of his finger, flames licked at my body until it practically hummed. Instinctively, I wrapped my leg around his waist, grinding against him. Ryker nipped my lower lip, and my knees buckled as seeds of an explosive orgasm spread from my core up the length of my spine. Like Houdini, he made everything beyond the two of us evaporate. I probably wouldn’t have resisted if he spread me out on the dirty, sticky floor and fucked me in front of hundreds of strangers.

  I palmed his erection through his pants, wildly seeking evidence that he felt this…that he needed this. Insane or not, I needed to feel this stranger inside of me. Wow. I didn’t even recognize my lusty mind.

  Ryker sucked in a weighted breath. “Not here.” His voice mimicked gravel against satin, but it called out to me like nothing I’d ever heard. Distantly, I pondered why everything sounded better, sexier, and infinitely hotter coming out of his sultry, made for sin mouth. Who the fuck was this man? He scattered my thoughts and turned me into liquid fire within minutes…no, seconds.

  His hand coiled around mine, biting into the fragile bones of my hand. Too mindless to object, I followed blindly in pursuit of the sexual emancipation written in every ruthless curve of his face.

  Less than a minute later, we were outside the bar. The humid air ruffled through my hair, lifting it from my shoulders and whipping it around my face. Music from the nightclubs dueled for the attention of the tourists strolling the sidewalks in a drunken fog. But none of that registered in my mind. Alcohol and single-minded lust surged through my veins, clouding my vision until I couldn’t think of anything but the release Ryker promised.

  He pulled me along the side of a darkened building, an alley of sorts, and pressed me against the wall. A thrill skittered down my spine as the stucco bit into my back and snagged the silken weave of my little black dress.

  Less than a beat later, he pressed his body against mine as his hands hiked up the bottom of my dress. The humid, tropical air hummed around my sensitive skin, and I ached for him. I pulled his face to mine, sucking his tongue into my mouth. He tasted of tequila and sin, and I wanted more. I demanded more.

  Not wasting a second, his finger slid inside of me, and he groaned into my mouth, igniting pleasure-laced vibrations in my already pulsing core. “You’re so wet,” he said as his lips ghosted along my neck, my pulse a rapid staccato under his wandering mouth.

  “Mm,” I moaned, grinding my pelvis against his hand. My hands fumbled with his belt buckle. I was done with foreplay. Game over. I wanted him inside of me. Now.

  “Fuck,” he said ripping my hands away just as I managed to release his buckle. He pulled a small square package out of his pocket.

  I both loved and hated that he had a condom. Loved because I wanted him buried inside me with as little to regret as possible tomorrow. Hated because it made me realize he might do this often. I forced the thought from my mind. None of that mattered. I had no intention of seeing Ryker after tonight. He’d be my dirty secret…one huge silent fuck you to my mom, Evan, and the next guy my parents shoved in my face when they finally accepted I wouldn’t rekindle my relationship with Evan.

  With unsteady hands, I released his button and his zipper. He shoved his pants and boxer briefs down his hips just far enough to free himself, but not far enough to expose himself to wandering eyes. Within seconds, he rolled a condom over his erection. A quick snap of his hand and my panties were discarded in a mystery puddle near our feet.

  He wrapped one of my legs around his waist, spreading me, revealing me, and he plunged inside with one deep, breath-robbing thrust. His eyes never left mine as he pounded into me with a confidence and skill I’d never experienced.

  In.

  Out.

  And back in again.

  Deeper and harder with every jutting stroke of his hips.

  My senses whirled and faded into the moment, unable to concentrate on anything but the building pressure as he moved inside me.

  Twisting his fingers into my hair, he gripped my head, his hands biting into my cheeks, his eyes devouring me. The sharp bite of pain only enhanced my desire.

  With his gray eyes boring into mine, I imagined he saw through me, penetrating the deep recesses of my mind where I buried secrets, lies, and all the insecurities locked inside my soul. It was too much. I didn’t want an emotional connection. I wanted a mindless fuck that transported me out of my self-induced agony and pity into a mind-shattering pleasure so raw and deep I’d never forget it. Shaking out of his clasp, I dropped my head and closed my eyes, concentrating on the delicious bite of his cock and the rattling of my teeth as he slammed into me.

  Without words, he complied, shoving me harder into the wall. His hands tore at my dress. When the material buckled under his strength, he raked the soft skin of my breasts with his hand. I’d never experienced anything so rough and mindless. My perfectly tailored life faded into a blur of primal bliss. I liked it. No, I fucking loved it.

  He lifted my other leg, his hands digging into the fle
sh of my ass, and just like that, an incoherent, disconnected sound escaped my mouth as the most insanely mind-numbing orgasm slashed through my body. A dark tide of pleasure swallowed me as I screamed, unconcerned with who heard. Like a savage, my nails clawed at the hard planes of his shoulders and any other body part I could find, trying to pull him deeper into me…into this chasm of soulless rapture.

  “Fuck,” he yelled as he pounded into me. My head hit the wall, and my eyes connected with his at the exact instant of his release. Brutal pleasure contorted the angular features of his face into something both beautiful and wicked.

  Then, everything stopped and he froze inside me. The pounding of the music, the low hum of conversation, and the bursts of laughter seeped back into my reality. Out of breath, he buried his head against my shoulder as he released my shaky legs.

  With my mind luxuriating in the fog of sex, he tangled one of his hands into my hair and forced me to look at him. Everything was blurred, softer, happier…disguising the hard truths of what just happened. I preferred it. I embraced it. No regrets. A languid smile pulled at the edge my lips. My body wanted him again and again.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, his gray eyes simmering with regret. I didn’t understand what he meant, and I opened my mouth to ask, but without warning, a sharp object pierced the thin skin of my neck.

  He brushed a kiss across my lips, and my brain became fuzzier and fuzzier as one second bled into the next. Nothing made sense, but then my body swayed and an instant of absolute clarity flashed through my mind.

  “You drugged me. Why?” I whispered, my tongue thick and heavy as it rolled over the words in my mouth.

  “Because you’re you,” he whispered as my vision faded into nothingness.

  Chapter Seven

  Present Day

  It had been hours since Ryker walked out of the room without explaining anything, leaving me tied to a wooden chair. The room didn’t have a single window, picture, or piece of furniture, except for the chair I sat on and a long wooden table behind me. The silence in the room was deafening; even my breath and the quiet hum of the florescent light seemed loud.

  I stared at the white walls and the gray concrete floors as my mind stalked one horrible scenario after another, each worse than the previous. Deviants kept women chained to the walls. Religious fanatics groomed women to be subservient slaves. Sex traffickers drugged women and sold them. Serial murderers abducted women and tortured and killed them. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to beat back my impending panic attack.

  I concentrated on the tangible items connecting me to that point in time just like my childhood therapist taught me. My chair was wood. The walls were white. My feet touched the concrete floor. The coarse hairs of the rope chaffed my skin. My bladder was insanely full. Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal.

  Just as the pressure building in my bladder had become too much, and I decided I didn’t care if I soiled myself, the door opened behind me. My muscles coiled into knots waiting for a word. None were spoken. Instead, I listened to the soft shuffle of leather shoes over concrete and faint inhalations and exhalations, moving closer and closer with each passing second.

  I could have said something, but I didn’t. I didn’t have anything to say, not yet anyway, and screaming wouldn’t help. I screamed after Ryker left for so long that my throat felt as though I had just finished my first performance as a fire swallower.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Ryker. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I recognized his voice. He placed his hands on my shoulders, his front to my back. I could smell him—spice mixed with salty sea air. Fear and loathing in the form of a shudder crept down my spine.

  I shook my head.

  “Thirsty?” He squeezed my shoulders.

  I nodded. I was so fucking thirsty I couldn’t form the words. I wanted to be strong and refuse anything from him, but I was weak in both my mind and body. Unless I did something about it, I’d become progressively weaker with every passing hour. My throat throbbed. My eyes were so dry that I heard the clicking sound of my eyelids as they slid over my eyeball with every blink. My skull pounded.

  He removed his hands from my shoulders, and I blew out a huge breath, lifting my heavy bangs from my forehead. I tried to ignore it, but I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my shoulders. Less than a minute later, he crouched down in front of me, a plastic cup filled with a clear liquid in one hand.

  I glared pointedly at my bindings. “Are you going to untie me?” The words came out as a strangled whisper.

  He smiled a faint, maddening grin that mocked my very existence. “No.”

  One fucking word. “Are you going dump it over my face or make me lap it up like a dog?”

  “No.” He lifted the glass to my lips, and I greedily sucked the liquid into my Sahara-like mouth.

  “More?” he asked when he pulled it away.

  I tipped up my chin. “You won’t get away with this. Vera knows I left with you.”

  He cocked his head to the side, watching me carefully, completely unmoved by my words. Calm amusement lit the savage planes of his face. “No. She knows you talked to a guy at a bar, but she left before we danced or even before you sat down. I made sure of it. I don’t make mistakes. No one can trace you to me.” His lips curved in a smile that was miles from reassuring. “Besides, this is Mexico. The bureaucratic red tape between here and your government will give me months of lead time.”

  In one sickening rush, my stomach caved in on itself and the water I drank threatened to reverse its course as I processed his words. “You sent that man to talk to Vera to get rid of her so you could…” I gasped, and the blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded. He set me up. He planned everything. This wasn’t a random crime of opportunity. This was much worse. He had targeted me.

  “I’ve been watching you for a while.” He stood up, and I hated the lethal grace oozing out of him. I hated I even noticed, but his magnetic charm wouldn’t fool me today. Without alcohol flowing through my veins, he looked dangerous, but maybe that was just my imagination. A black shirt stretched across his chest. The stubble on his face was thicker and blacker than last night, but he was just a man, even if my mind wanted to believe otherwise.

  I bit my lower lip until the faint, metallic taste of blood flavored my saliva. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I don’t think it will come to that.” His voice was casual, lazy even, but his eyes weren’t. His gray irises focused on me with hyper-vigilance.

  My eyes flared, and blood roared through my head, compounding the paralyzing effect of last night’s alcoholic binge and whatever drug Ryker used to sedate me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face entirely too blank for my comfort. “As long as your father does what he’s told, you should be home before the end of next week.”

  The tension twisting my muscles into frozen knots, released just a fraction. I had faith in my dad. He would do whatever it took to extract me from this hellhole. He may not be the best parent in the world, but he took care of his family. He loved me even if he was absent more often than not. Unlike the rest of my family, he hadn’t pressured me to work things out with Evan. “What’s he supposed to do?”

  “Pardon my brother.”

  “Who’s your brother?”

  “Rever Vargas.”

  My mind raced through the back alleys of my brain trying to place the name, but nothing came to me. I shook my head, a fresh wave of agony radiating through my skull. “What makes him so important?”

  Ryker laughed, a quiet and unsettling sound. “He’s my father’s son.”

  “Who’s your father?”

  “Ignacio Vargas.”

  A little flutter of something—maybe a memory—rushed through my brain, but nothing of substance and nothing identifiable. “So.” I tried to shrug, but the ropes binding me to the chair bit in my wrists.

  He caught my
chin between his thumb and his index finger, and an unhurried, enigmatic, and impossibly sexy smile tugged on the corners of his lips. I wanted to hit him. He leaned toward me, and I considered spitting in his face, but he pressed his finger to my mouth. “Don’t try it,” he warned, his voice deadly calm, his eyes an opaque, impenetrable mask.

  I glared at him, summoning years of anger, frustration, and hatred into the narrowing of my eyes. He bent closer, his lips within striking distance of mine, and for one terrifying second, I thought he’d kiss me. But instead, he yanked his finger from my lips and stood up in one fluid movement. Without looking back, he stalked toward the door, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty room.

  “Wait,” I yelled, craning my head to the side as far as humanly possible. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  He paused, but he didn’t respond.

  “And I’d like a change of clothes,” I added. Ryker had torn the strap on my dress last night, and I hated the memory of that moment glaring at me, taunting me with my impulsive stupidity.

  “Fine,” he answered in his smooth, velvety voice. The door slammed, and it took less than a second for the tears mixed with semi-hysterical hiccups to surface.

  I shouldn’t have gone on this trip. I should’ve got back together with Evan, the self-absorbed asshole. I should’ve refused to go to the bar with Vera. I wished I never touched Ryker. Shame and cruel self-loathing rushed hot and cold through my veins as visions of Ryker and me on the dance floor and in the alley flashed through my mind. I enjoyed having sex with a monster, which clearly meant something was wrong with me.

  I didn’t even hear the door open again. I was too busy floating in a haze of self-pity and regret. The ropes slackened around my wrists and then my ankles, and Ryker’s arms wrapped around my waist pulling me up. Pins and needles of pain shot through my limbs as blood rushed into my starved fingers and toes. I would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for Ryker.