Chapter Five

Naz

N icolas was right. Someone on my payroll is a fucking rat. There's no denying it as I pour over the financial data spread across the top of my desk, scanning every detail. It doesn't add up.

I drum my fingers against the mahogany surface, my frustration growing as I pick out details that don't match. The Garcia account is missing two grand; the Alvarez shipment was off by a kilo. Another three grand is missing from the Bandari Fund. Someone is stealing from me.

Who? I mentally run through a list, trying to figure out who the fuck has a death wish.

Josef? Andrés? Camilo? Griffin? Aside from Nicolas, they're the four I trust most. Would any of the four betray me? Would they throw in with Rojas? With Sullivan?

Someone has.

This is precisely why I trust no one. Motherfuckers can't be trusted. They'll smile in your goddamn face while shoving a knife between your ribs. In this world, it's kill or be killed. And no one is fucking loyal.

I push back from my desk and stalk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown LA, cursing under my breath. Bright sunlight filters over the city below, reflecting off the cool blue water…softening it. It's a lie, though. Between the gangs, the mobs, and motherfuckers like me, this city is always on the brink of all-out war. It's just a powder keg ready to blow.

I can relate. I feel caged, murderous rage simmering just below the surface. I want to put my fist through someone's skull. Hunt down whoever betrayed me and paint the walls with their blood. Fucking desecrate their bones.

But I can't do that. Until I know every last detail of what they're doing, who is involved, and why, I need be logical, precise. But once I have all the pieces? I'll rip the fucking cancer from this organization with my own hands. No one will cross me again.

Cristo . I need to hit something. Break something. Fucking destroy.

Lombardi . I've been meaning to slit his miserable throat for days. Might as well put all this rage to use handling that situation.

No. I need to see her first.

I haven't set eyes on her in four days. I've been here, letting the anticipation build, letting her miss me…slowly going out of my goddamn mind.

I'm a cord pulled too taut, ready to snap.

I stride back to the desk, snatching my keys from the top before stalking from my office. The door slams behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.

Nicolas glances up from his desk, brows furrowing. " Príncipe ?"

"I have something to do," I snap, not stopping to explain. "Call if anything comes up."

"Will do, príncipe ."

I start to storm away and then stop, wheeling around to face him. "I want the names of everyone on our payroll on my desk come morning."

His brows widen. "Eh, that may take some time, Naz. You have people all over the place."

"Make it happen, Nicolas," I grit out. "Every name. And either find the motherfucker running information to Sullivan, or I'm going to start culling people from the ranks myself. Every last one of them if that's what it takes."

" Príncipe ," he protests, shock filtering through his expression. "Half of them have been with you for a decade. They're loyal only to you. We'll find the ones who aren't. I just need a little time, yes?"

"Yeah, well, you're out of time, Nicolas. Find them. Now," I snarl, beyond being placated. If he doesn't find them, I will. If I have to cut through every corner of this organization to do it, that's what I'll do. But I want them found now, before they do more damage.

I storm through the office, my footsteps echoing on the floor. My people scatter out of my way as if they sense the black cloud hanging over me. Smart choice. Anyone stupid enough to get caught in my way might not like the consequences today.

I treat my people well and pay generously for their loyalty. People may think the worst of me, but I'm not a total fucking monster. I actually have a goddamn soul. And I care about everyone I employ. I may not be puppies and rainbows about it, but I protect what's mine. They've always been mine. But today? Well, I just had an abject fucking lesson in how far their loyalty extends to me. And it's not that far, apparently.

I mutter a curse, slamming my finger against the elevator button. Jesus Christ, I need to get out of here.

Thirty-three minutes later, I street park near the School of Law and cut across Shapiro Courtyard to Dodd Hall, long, ground-eating strides carrying me closer with every beat of my heart. Fuck. I just need to set eyes on her. Just a single glimpse to settle the rage rattling around inside me like a demon.

I know it's a lie, even as I repeat it to myself. If I see her, I'll approach her. I'll put my hands on her again. I won't be able to stop myself. She's in my blood now, pumping through my veins like a drug.

Ironic, considering I've never used the fucking things. I supply them to the dealers who do. It's always been one of my rules. Don't be fucking stupid and use your own goddamn product. Rules are necessary in this world. They've kept me alive and one step ahead of Rojas since I took the reins at sixteen, a full fucking decade ago now.

But I seem to be smashing through every single one of them for Brynna Sullivan.

Don't think with your dick? Too late. Don't get close? My motherfucking bad. Don't get involved? Already did it. Don't catch feelings? Well, goddamn. Is that what I'm doing here? Catching feelings?

Is that even a question?

I stroll around the side of Dodd Hall, intending to take up a position in the courtyard to wait for her class to let out…but I don't get that far. As soon as I step around the side of the building, my eyes lock on her alabaster skin and crimson hair. She's sitting on the steps, her face tipped up to the sun.

I pause midstep, devouring the sight of her. Dio . She's a vision, an angel bathed in sunlight. It spills across her skin, making her almost glow.

The rage inside me dies in an instant, the inferno extinguished by something equally as potent but far softer. Affection. Desire. Longing. All three surge through my veins as I stare at her.

The sight of her always hits me hard, but now? After four endless days? It's like coming up for air after being submerged in the darkest depths of this world.

Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in wild crimson waves, like flames dancing in the light. It looks so fucking soft. My fingers ache to slip into it, to wrap the strands around my fist as I claim her perfect pink mouth.

She looks so goddamn innocent and pure, completely untouched by the darkness of my world. And something about that purity makes me ache to put my filthy hands all over her, to claim that innocence as my own. To defile her in every way possible.

But I don't want to destroy that innocence. I want to possess it, to preserve it.

To fucking worship it on my knees.

I stride forward, my cock throbbing against my zipper with every step. Halfway there, she dips her head, and her gaze locks with mine. For a fleeting moment, her expression is wide open to me, no walls between us.

I see excitement spark in the depths of her emerald eyes, as if she's happy to see me. Desire chases immediately after. And then she seems to remember that she isn't supposed to like me, isn't supposed to want me. She blinks a scowl into place, her lips pursing.

"You," she growls.

Fuck, she's cute when she's pretending she's fierce. Will she be so brave when I'm pinning her to the bed beneath me, driving into her so hard she thinks she's going to break?

"Hello, Irish," I drawl, my lips twitching. "Fancy meeting you here."

"What do you want this time, Naz?" she asks, exasperation coloring her tone. She doesn't even give me a chance to answer before she throws her hand up. "You know what? Don't answer that. I'm still looking over my shoulder from the last time you showed up and ruined my night."

My smile grows, the rage I felt driving over her a distant memory. "Ruined your night? I think you mispronounced enhanced your evening, princesa ."

She rolls her eyes at me. "No, I said precisely what I intended to say. Why are you here this time?"

"Out for a stroll," I lie.

"Uh-huh, sure." She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up in her little shirt. "Stalking isn't really a good look on you, Nazario. It screams desperate."

"For you?" I reach out, running a fingertip down an errant curl. It's exactly as soft as I imagined. "Always, princesa . I thought we were clear about that."

She sighs heavily. "What do you want, Naz?"

I consider teasing her further, only to realize I have no desire to do it. "My office was stifling," I murmur. "I needed fresh air and something soothing to look at before I did something I'm sure I'd regret eventually." My eyes bore into hers. "So…here I am."

She eyes me silently, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. "Do I even want to know what it is you were considering doing that you'd regret?"

"Murder. Mayhem. Monstrous acts." I shrug a shoulder. "Take your pick, little one."

She blinks at me, shivering. "Jesus, Naz."

"I won't lie to you," I murmur softly. "You know who and what I am. Denying it would be an insult to you, little one." I wrap her curl around my finger. "I'm not interested in insulting you."

"I…thank you," she whispers, her lashes fluttering. "It's nice to be treated like an adult instead of as a little girl who needs to be protected at all costs."

"Oh, I never said I wouldn't protect you." I untwist her hair from around my finger, brushing my knuckles across her cheek as I lean closer. "No one touches what belongs to me, mi cielito . I'll raze this city to the fucking ground if anyone tries. But you are all woman." My lips skim her cheek. "I should know. You've had my fucking cock hard since I set eyes on you the first time."

"Naz," she whispers, a warning in her tone. She doesn't lean away, though. Nor does she tell me to stop. She may not want to want me, but she does anyway.

"Run away with me for the day, princesa ," I breathe against her skin. "Spend one afternoon with me."

"I…"

"Say yes, Brynna. You know it's what you want to do." My lips graze her cheek again, one hand around her thick waist. I don't give a fuck who sees us. It's unlikely we're the first to kiss on these steps. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

She pulls back slightly, her eyes locking with mine. The avid curiosity burning in their depths makes my balls ache. Dio . Who is this girl that this carrot is the one that entices her? Not my money, not power, not sex, but knowledge of who I am. "Anything?"

"Anything," I agree, unable to resist touching my tongue to the corner of her lips. She shivers, her upper body swaying closer to me. "Whatever you want to know."

"Why did you hit Adrian Lombardi?" she asks, breathless.

Ah, so she heard about that, did she?

"He thought taunting me was a good choice." I flick my tongue against the corner of her lip again. "I disabused him of that notion."

"Taunted you how?" Her eyes are dark, her pupils blown wide. Fuck. I want to wrap her curls around my fist and taste every inch of that perfect mouth.

"He thought waking a sleeping giant was a good idea, mi cielito ." My grip around her waist tightens, my fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"What did he say, Naz?"

"He mentioned putting his hands on you." I tip her head back, meeting her gaze. "What did I tell you about that, princesa ?"

Her lips part, and I can't fucking take it anymore. I need to kiss her, need to taste that perfect mouth before I snap.

I dip my head, my mouth slanting down over hers. The first full brush of her lips against mine is pure bliss. It's not gentle or sweet. It's fierce, feral.

She gasps softly, and I take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, my tongue tangling with hers in a blatantly erotic claim of possession. The sound of her soft whimper shoots straight to my cock.

Dio . She tastes like fucking heaven—honey and sin and unschooled innocence. I've never felt anything this intense before, never had this soul-deep craving to possess and claim before.

I want to fucking devour her.

My hand curls around her nape, holding her in place as I plunder her mouth, branding her with my taste. Stealing hers.

She yields to me so sweetly, letting me take what I need. And I do, my tongue sliding against hers, stroking, caressing. Claiming.

Heat sears through my blood, desire steaming through my veins. I pour every ounce of frustrated desire and raw need into her, letting her feel every ounce of it.

She mewls into my mouth, her little hands fisting in my shirt as she clings to me. I nip at her bottom lip, and she shudders.

Fuck . The way she responds to me.

I want to destroy her with pleasure, shatter her into a million pieces, and then put her back together again. Throw her down on the steps and fuck her right here, in front of God and everyone, make sure they know she's mine.

I'm like a man possessed, lost to the perfect slide of her mouth against mine and the breathy little sounds she makes.

I force myself to pull back after a long moment, breathing hard.

Her eyes flutter open, glazed with lust and unfocused. She's as beautiful wrecked from my kiss now as she was looking like a princesa at the gala. Moreso because this is more her than that dress was.

She's stripped down to the most primal of instincts, breathless and aching. This is the side of her no one else ever sees, the one she hides from the world. It's Brynna, raw and real.

"Come with me," I whisper, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Give me one afternoon, princesa . We won't even leave campus if it's what you want."

She bites down on that kiss-swollen bottom lip, her eyes wide as they lock with mine. I see her inner conflict warring in their emerald depths, desire battling with good sense. She aches to say yes. I see it. I feel it in the way she arches into me, seeking more contact. More of my touch.

But she's struggling with the desire, a good girl to her core. The angel on her shoulder tells her to be smart, to stay the fuck away from me. But the devil on the other shoulder? He's whispering for her to take what she wants. To give in to the dark just this once.

In the end, the devil wins.

And I'm the motherfucking devil.

She exhales a breath, nodding as she slips her hand into mine. "Okay," she whispers. "But we're staying on campus. And I want something first."

"Name it," I growl, victory surging through my veins. I've won this war, and we both know it. She's mine now. She might not realize it yet, but it's only a matter of time before she surrenders every little piece of herself, body and fucking soul.

"Let Lombardi live."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "People shouldn't die just because they say something annoying, Naz. Not even someone who says annoying things as often as he does."

"Why, princesa ?" I grit out, watching her face, searching for the truth. Whatever it is, it isn't that.

Her gaze drifts from mine, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Maybe too many people have already died because of what they've said or done or tried to do to me," she finally whispers, a tremor in her voice. "And maybe I don't want his death on my conscience, too."

I guess that's clear enough, isn't it? And the answer is a fucking tragedy. She's innocent, her hands clean. But she carries guilt that doesn't belong to her anyway because, like the rest of us, she lives in this world, too.

"I won't kill him," I agree, incapable of adding to her burden when it's already heavier than she should have to carry.