Devil's Den: A Dark Mafia Romance by Aidèe Jaimes

Author:Aidèe Jaimes [Jaimes, Aidèe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

SEVEN

SARAH

I sleep on and off the entire drive to Chihuahua. While the atmosphere in the car seems light with Damian constantly niggling Alejandro and him taking the bait every time, I sense their urgency.

It turns out, Damian is the Diablos’ pilot and Juan is his guard. He’s the one in charge of deliveries into the U.S. that go far beyond the border. When I asked what exactly he was bringing in, Damian said, “Things that make the world go round.”

That left me in deep thought for several minutes as I tried to figure out what that could be. Drugs, weapons, money, diamonds… Those all make the world go round.

Cartel. That’s what they are. As much as they’re doing a good deed by saving me and my baby, they’re still criminals.

“I’m a bad man. I’ve done very bad things.” That’s what Alejandro said, and I don’t believe he lied.

And yet… I turn to him just as he looks at me. For the first time since I met him, the intensity in his gaze softens. The black of his irises seems to lighten, letting through small specks of gold. Something inexplicable heats my chest. It tightens and settles in my throat like a lump when I realize it’s me bringing this out in him.

He takes my hand and shifts, attempting to get more comfortable in a back seat not made for a man his size. I stifle a snicker, because for all the moving he’s doing, he’s still in the same position. He’s just too big!

Suddenly, that thought has me recalling how big he is indeed, and my smile vanishes. My breath hitches in my throat when I remember that large body on me, in me. The weight of him, his scent.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he notices the change in my breathing.

“Um, yeah. I just… Is it getting a little hot in here?” I fan myself, feeling that damn rush of blood come up my neck and face.

“Damian, turn up the air,” he orders, then to me says, “We’re almost to Las Cruzes.”

“Las Cruzes?”

“It’s the name of Santos’ ranch. That’s where I live.”

“How appropriate,” I remark. A man named Saint who lives on a ranch called The Crosses and yet is considered the Devil himself.

Just as Alejandro said, we soon arrive at the gate of Las Cruzes, a large stone arch with two heavy looking iron doors, each with a trio of crosses embedded in the center.

At least ten armed men stand on either side, but only one approaches our vehicle. He picks his teeth as he leans in to peek through the driver’s window. “Had to see for myself you’re really alive,” he says to Alejandro.

“Why the fuck would I die? I’m already in hell with you cabrones,” he replies.

The man then turns to me and gives me a wolfish smile with that toothpick still hanging from his teeth. “Who’s she?”

“Mine,” Alejandro growls.

The man frowns and moves off the car, seeming genuinely confused. Damian chuckles and honks. “Let us in already.

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