Venomous Mistake
This is Marco and Clara's brutal/sexy story.
Clara
Revenge was my goal-to take down the enemy. I've trained under my Uncle, but everything crumbles when my foolish heart starts beating for a man I shouldn't want. Rule one-seek veng...
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"I thought you'd never take me up on a drink, amigo." I tilt my head back and throw the golden liquid down my throat. What he says falls upon deaf ears as I place the glass down on the wooden countertop with a loud thud.
Camilo had been begging me to take him up on a few drinks on the compound when I'd respectfully declined the first time on arrival. I don't know what it was with Mexicans making friends over a drink.
"I'm not your amigo but here for business." A man friendly to the woman I left limp in the bedroom after she begged me wasn't a friend of mine. I'd kill this fucker long before if that weren't the case.
I opened my laptop, and security footage pulled up on my feed. "I got word from Pancho down in Celaya that a coche exploded, injuring tres oficiales." Camilo ignored my earlier statement and slid a few pictures toward me. "Two dead. Notice their faces or anything familiar?"
"In prison." I stare at the half-burned men and curse under my breath.
"Enrique knows you're here and that you helped Clara out. That's a threat." He pointed at the photos with the empty beer bottle before opening another with his teeth. "He planned on getting her there." The muscle in my jaw ticked as I picked up the third photograph.
Camilo may not know it, but Gaetano had something to do with this. This bastard would do anything to have a soul chained up in his merciless graces. He played no sides but climbed to the top, manipulating every malleable man he saw.
"Let him close in." That fucker wants me to hit, but I won't, not unless I have him close enough to eliminate. I need to play Adrik's game here and move my pieces accordingly. "You know that symbol?" I turn the photo to him and turn to the door when it swings open.
Marta walks in with a tray, and the scent of the food wafts my nose, which reminds me of how hungry I am. I met the sweet woman two days ago when I arrived at La Casa Fuerte. Her husband had welcomed me, and we'd have a tete-a-tete about his family and mine. What he doesn't know is that my father killed his nena, and his nieta killed her father. That feels like we're back to square one.
Marta? She is less friendly than her husband. The woman has a set jaw whenever in my vicinity and watches me in the eyes with indifference. I don't blame her when my dangerous aura seeps out my pores and bleeds inside this room. Her daughter left her happy home for the wrong man and believes her nieta has done the same.
Marta is wrong about me, but I don't intervene. I may be a dangerous and morally justified man who takes lives, but I've given my heart and bared my soul to Clara. She was the only woman to bend me to her will and shift the gears inside my head. I won't correct Marta because it's not my place to win a woman's heart if hers broke long before. I can't show with words but action, and soon she'll see for herself.
"You're the man who got my nieta pregnant?" I stop breathing and curse internally. Did Clara tell her? It's not the snide in her tone but the fear that makes my brows furrow.
