"For years she has taunted me.Living in my home, protecting my father. She is a bodyguard, but she’s also my obsession. Sexy, stunning and deadly. If I could get rid of her, I would. Move on with my life, kill the distraction. Erase Lena from my home and my thoughts.Then the unthinkable happens and the cartel falls to me. The bodyguard becomes mine. I hate her, I want her. And I want her dead. But before I kill my obsession, I will take the years of wanting from her flesh until there’s nothing left.Kiss of the Cartel, Luna & Andres is created by Nikita Slater, an EGlobal Creative Publishing signed author."
View More"Mama!" Cristo and Sola throw themselves into Luna's arms as she hits her knees in the dirt outside our home at The Site, heedless of the damage she's doing to her silk trousers. I think she said they were Valentino or something. I don't usually pay attention to the brands unless they're sexy enough that I want her to do a little extra shopping.I chuckle as she lands kisses all over their faces, tries to answer the questions they're peppering her with while pulling gifts from the bags she's carrying. I know they will notice me in a few minutes once they get over their initial mama obsession. Though we passed off that late night mad dash Miami boat ride as a vacation, the children know better. They felt the tension, the fear. They remember Luna's tears, her cries as they were being hauled away. Cristo is particularly protective of Luna now. He watches her like a hawk and becomes grumpy when she needs to leave for more than a day. He was unbearable the days leading up to this recent va
I can hear something beeping and it annoys me. I hear voices talking in hushed tones, then a man's voice raised in anger. I hear sneakers squeaking on the floor. Cool hands touch my arm, poke and prod me. These things all annoy me. I'm pretty sure death shouldn't be so fucking annoying. The beeping, the hushed voices, everything, they all suck balls.I want to say something. Open my mouth and tell them all to fuck off. To bring me my sun chair and margarita. I earned some tasty booze, I earned heaven. I tried to be a good mother and wife. I tried to be the best! Maybe I was a failure, but it wasn't for lack of trying. I died trying to be the best I could be. I earned better than this annoying bullshit, whatever this is.It takes me a few hours… or maybe a few days, I'm really not sure since I can't seem to open either my mouth or my eyes, to figure out that this isn't heaven. Thank God! I'm probably not even dead. Death shouldn't suck this much. Awareness comes to me in flashes, some
Buzz, buzz, buzz…I wake up, instantly alert, my hand hitting the bed next to me. Fuck, she's gone. I know exactly what's happened, though I pray that we aren't under attack, that Luna hasn't been taken somehow. Impossible. No one knows about this place. She's left, trying to get back to our children on her own. If she manages to get off the property she could easily be taken by an enemy if she makes a wrong move, if she's detected in a place she shouldn't be. All of us Decenas have targets on our backs. Luna knows this, but she's desperate, exhausted, hurt. She might make a mistake.And once she's home, if she says the wrong thing to the wrong person, her life will be taken. She's too emotional to think clearly, she needs me by her side, tempering her reactive nature. I should have tied her to the bed. Shouldn't have slept so hard. Shouldn't have had that tequila. I should have known she'd run the first moment she had a chance. Our children mean everything to her.All this runs thr
I wake up feeling warm, surrounded by the familiar scent of my husband. For a moment, just a single moment, I think we're back home at The Site, our children just down the hall in their rooms, the nanny in hers, the cook about to prepare breakfast. As realization hits, a spike of pain pierces me and it's everything I can do not to throw Andres' arms from my body. I try to keep my breathing even so I don't wake him up.My mind is racing. He intends to keep me here, forever. He wants to take me away from our children. I understand why. Or at least I'm trying to, but it hurts so much. He thinks giving me a new child, one that his family doesn't know about, will solve everything. I don't want a secret child. I want Cristo and Sola. I want my babies. They fill my mind until they're all I can think about; their sound, their smell, everything about them. I lay next to Andres obsessing about my babies until I become consumed by my thoughts.I think hard, trying to figure out what to do. I'm
I look down at my sleeping wife where her head rests next to my hip and take another sip of my tequila. I skipped the shot glass and poured myself a nice big tumbler after Luna cried herself to sleep. She refused to allow me to hold her, offer her comfort. Only after she fell asleep did I cover her with a blanket and sit next to her, smoothing my hand over her lush curves. She's so exhausted she doesn't even notice my touch as she slumbers.I wish there was another way, but I know there isn't. She's too much of a loose cannon. She can't be trusted. She's fucked up too many times. If she does anything else stupid, does it around Charlie, Nic or the Los Zetas, her life really will be forfeit. Which means my life would be forfeit as well. Because this moment in our lives, this desperate snapshot, has taught me that Luna really is my anchor to this life. I am nothing without her. If she dies, then so do I. I'll go to my brother, tell him she betrayed me, stole my children, fucked me ove
It's morning and we've been here for a full day. I still don't know where here is. Andres has left to pick up groceries and other supplies. While he's away I decide to go for a walk. I pull on a fuchsia tank top and a pair of white shorts that show off my tanned legs. I find a pair of cheap floppy sandals in the bottom of the duffel bag and pull them out. They have those plastic things that go between the toes. I make a face, deciding grimly that Andres really must have been planning on killing me because no way would I have worn these unless I had no other choice except death.I smile and stretch my arms wide, welcoming the sun as I step out the front door. My problems feel as though they melt away in the warmth that touches my bare skin. Most of our family and friends think that we named our daughter Sola because my name is Luna, because she is the sun to my moon. This is only partly true. We named her this way because I have always been a worshipper of the sun, because she lights u
"You've been here before, haven't you," she murmurs, her voice a husky whisper against my throat.We've been sitting together in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour, naked in each other's arms. I have an excellent internal clock so I can usually tell the time, even when there is no clock available. It doesn't surprise me that Luna is the first to break our silence. What does surprise me is how long it took for her to speak. I stroke the hair from her face in gentle swipes, sifting my fingers through the silky strands. Despite the topic of conversation we are about to discuss I feel completely relaxed, still basking in the afterglow of great sex."Yes, I've been here several times," I tell her. "I own this house and the land it sits on."She nods and I know this revelation doesn't shock her. She's a smart woman, she probably figured out who owned the land as soon as we arrived. Decena men like to be in control of their surroundings. I wouldn't have brought my wife, in such a deli
He drags me toward him until our faces are almost touching, my lips grazing the bristly hairs of his chin where he hasn't shaved in days. His elbows are braced on his knees. "Look at me," he growls. With extreme difficulty I lift my eyes, past his wide jaw and perfect, sharp features to his blue eyes. They are blazing at me like a wounded animal. A wolf who has been cornered and doesn't know a way out except to fight. My throat catches in sympathy. I know how much he hates the darkness, the terrible side of his job. I despise the idea that I crossed over from being his comfort to another thing that draws him toward the darkness.I lift a shaking hand and touch the edge of his jaw, running my fingers along the length toward his lips. I savour the feel of his roughness against my skin. This is real, this is my husband. The man that has cherished me for five years. Held me in his arms countless times, given me the gift of his children.I reach up with my other hand and cup his other c
I wake up alone surrounded by shadows. I bolt upright, clutching a blanket against my chest because I don't recognize anything. Remembrance returns slowly along with aching pain throughout my body, particularly my arm. I'm thirsty but the terrible swollen pain in my throat tells me that a drink will be agony. I push a hand through my hair, fingering the knots from the long strands. I wonder what time it is. Normally I would check my phone, but that's definitely not an option since I left my phone in Mexico and the burner phone in Cuba. I don't feel very rested or refreshed so I know I haven't slept for long. A shudder runs through me as I think about what Andres did to me. I understand why he did it, but the pain of it is so overwhelming I can feel my mind trying to fold. My husband tried to kill me. He wrapped his hand around my throat, held me down and squeezed the breath from my body. For those few moments he put his cartel, his brothers, his birthright above me. He put me in my
"Lena, dance."I stiffen, not wanting to turn around, but having no choice. I know who is speaking, his curt voice, the timbre, the inflection and accent, unmistakable. I turn slowly, keeping Manuel on my right, still within my line of sight as I face Luis. The boss's son, a man who's made it clear that we are not friends, we're not even acquaintances. We're enemies. And in our world, the mafia world, an enemy in one's own camp is a very dangerous thing.His sexual appeal is undeniable. He's tall, broad, and darkly dangerous. His inky black hair is long, tied at the back of his neck in a ponytail that flows to midway down his back. His suit is fit to kill. Women that is. Dark, tailored, with a crisp white dress shirt and a black bowtie. Everything about him is proper. But I know better. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, fitting in where he doesn't belong. A killer pretending to be civilized.I despise the zing that goes through my body as I study him. The way my heart beats overtime
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