Stolen By The Queen: A Narcos Romance

Chapter 20

Camila could feel Rodrigo beside her even though he maintained a healthy distance of at least two feet. With his hands clasped behind his back and a subtle smirk curling his mouth, he exuded every inch the secret cartel heir--the son of the reigning Sinaloa King. Camila had never seen him in person, had never even seen a picture of him, but she just knew he was Rodrigo Sinaloa, even before she'd noticed the similarities between his features and Carlos'.

The way his gaze had zeroed in on her was unsettling to say the least, his lips curling back from his teeth when she'd stepped out on the patio, Ryan's hand searing into her hip through the yellow silk of her dress. It was like no one else existed on the patio except the two of them. 

Rodrigo didn't say a word, gesturing toward a room that looked like a library, a full wall of built-in shelves visible through the doorway. Camila stepped through, her heart thundering in her chest like a trapped bird, ratcheting up her throat. 

It was almost over. The hard part was over. Breathe, Camila. In and out. You did what you had to do to save yourself. 

She wrapped her arms around her waist as Rodrigo shut the door quietly behind him, every movement of his lithe body startling elegant and quiet, a lethal juxtaposition to the usual bravado of some cartel men--like his uncle Esteban. 

Rodrigo leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her. Camila walked along the wall of books, feigning distraction while she gathered her thoughts and managed her breathing, willing herself to focus on anything to help quell the tsunami of guilt welling up within her gut. 

"You know," Rodrigo drawled as he ran a hand long the edge of his slicked-back black hair, "I almost have half a mind to go back on our deal. Seeing you standing here in person." 

Camila swung her gaze sharply toward him, her breath catching in her throat.

"No puedes hablar en serio?" *You can't be serious?

"You can't actually be so beautiful, preciosa." *gorgeous

Camila felt panic flood through her blood but Rodrigo's sharp laughter settled like ice in her veins. He was messing with her.

"Relax, Camila. I'm a man of my word. Perhaps we should we start using your real name now that we're working together, Mercedes Benitez?" 

"We're not working together. We made a deal."

"Semantics, la reina." *queen

"Don't call me that."

"You sure you still don't want to claim the title? It's still yours if you want it." 

Camila felt the burn of bile along the back of her throat. The Queen. The Queen of the Cartel. It had been the only thing her father had seen in her ever since she was a pre-teen, when it was clear that she'd grow up to be stunning and desirable--beautiful enough to bring cartels together, to aid in consolidating power in Mexico's underworld. It was one of the many reasons her father kept her so hidden away, having her attend school in the United States, refusing to let her date, not allowing her to attend friends' parties so that no one could ever threaten her father's most precious pawn. 

And it was the same power-hungry strategy that had Carlos Sinaloa hiding away his only son, Rodrigo. Until the fateful day their marriage was to be announced and Rodrigo Sinaloa and Mercedes (Camila) Benitez married. 

When Camila's father sat her down and detailed her fate, she felt the world fall out from underneath her. She felt her heart lurch, her stomach churn. She wanted out of this life. Spent her nights dreaming about it, wishing and praying for a prince to come and save her from this life. The life that had taken her mother, stolen her father's soul. 

Instead, she was to be used as a pawn to bring together the Benitez and Sinaloa Cartels, extending their ownership throughout Mexico to reach more territory than any other cartel family had before. And the only "prince" coming to save her would have to be herself. 

That was the day she began to set her desperate plan in motion. The plan that had led her here.

Led her to Ryan McAllister.

She swore she'd never beg and yet she'd found a way to get Rodrigo's phone number and had begged--with her life--for anything, anything other than to marry him. 

His villainous chuckle had sounded the same through the phone as it did now as he told her he'd be open to a deal. A trade.

A top-level DEA agent's life for hers. 

Someone he could extort for DEA leniency, torture for intel, kill for revenge. From the moment he'd communicated his terms to Camila she knew it was a life-for-a-life: either hers or an agent's. And every step of the way, she knew she might fail, she might die in the process, might never even get the chance to make the trade. 

But what she feared more than any of that, was that she would. 

That she'd succeed.

And in doing so, she'd be a killer. No better than her cold-blooded father shooting her mother through the back, not even a shake of his hand as he aimed the firearm at the mother of his child and pulled the trigger. 

"I want my papers." Camila's voice shook slightly as she faced Rodrigo, his hand trailing thoughtfully on the desk behind him as he studied her. 

"In such a rush, Mercedes. What exactly is it that you plan to do with your newfound freedom?" 

"That's none of your concern." Camila crossed her arms over her chest, ready to get her new falsified passport and birth certificate papers with a new identity and get the hell out of Mexico. Possibly to Europe or even Asia. As far away from Mexico as she could manage, putting oceans between herself and her father.

She'd need to be as disappeared as dead for her father not to come after her and kill her himself.

"It's really not good business to be so short with your partners, Mercedes. You've held up your end of the deal, bringing the American DEA agent right where we need him. Why not enjoy a glass of tequila before you go? After all, you were slated to be my wife. What's one night together compared to a lifetime?" 

"Rodrigo--"

Her words were cut off when he launched himself at her, his hand coming up to grip around the front of her throat, squeezing tightly enough to hurt. 

"Tell me, Mercedes, was it really necessary that you let that gringo fuck you or is that just a kink of yours? Fucking men before sending them to their death?" His voice was a snarl, the mask of a refined, polished business gone, the true snake glowing through underneath. 

Camila gripped at his hand clasping her throat, clawing at his skin, leaving red trail marks across his hands and wrist until he finally let go, sucking in a lungful of air. 

"Gato luchador, Mercedes." *Feisty cat, Mercedes. Rodrigo hissed, his smile half grin, half snarl as he stepped back, surveying his marked-up skin. "I do like a little fire in my women." 

Camila couldn't speak, her throat hoarse as she struggled to ready her breathing, the feel of Rodrigo's grip around her neck still stinging the delicate skin of her throat. She thought of Ryan, of whether or not at this very moment he knew he'd been played by her. She wondered how much damage he really could inflict with that one pistol at his back and suddenly found herself hoping he was as competent and skilled as he seemed--that lethal energy that radiated beneath his stoic surface enough to kill all the men in this place.

So long as she was already long gone first. 

Just as she'd thought to herself earlier--that list Ryan had promised her, of the men he'd kill who had wronged her?

It was only a matter of minutes at this point until her name was at the top of his kill list.