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His grip on herarm tightened.
An older man strolled from behind the jet—graying hair, a short-sleeved light blue shirt untucked over beige linen trousers, brown loafers polished to a shine.
Two men dressed in black from their tops to their cowboy boots accompanied him, menace radiating from every pore.
“Vincente,sobrino.”
Gia’s heart skipped.Sobrino.Nephew.
She peered at the man from beneath her lashes.
Shorter than Vincente. Rougher, despite the expensive clothes. Less urbane. His dark eyes were windows into his soul, devoid of mercy.
Cruel. Remorseless. Cunning.
Her stomach pitched. Lightheaded, she fought to stay upright.
He made Vincente look like a choirboy.
If she remembered her research correctly, this was Diego Lopez Becerra’s brother.
Juan’s father.
If the brother who wasn’t in charge wasthisterrifying, she might not survive meeting Vincente’s father—the man at the top of the Espina Negra cartel.
She glanced between Vincente and Juan. Both had stilled, the tension in the hangar thick enough to suffocate.
Vincente’s face remained composed, but his eyes snapped with anger.
Juan looked…resigned. It struck her then how little she knew about him—only that he was Vincente’s cousin and loyal soldier.
“Tío Ramón.” Vincente dropped his grip on her arm, flicking a quick glance over her at Juan before returning his focus to his uncle. “What are you doing here?”
“Juan, closethe door.” Ramón gestured impatiently. “We conduct our business in private.”
Vincente stiffened.
Beside her, Juan flexed his fingers and took a subtle step back, his gaze sweeping the room. Without protest, he pressed a button on the wall.
The hydraulic metal panel hummed and groaned as it descended, closing them in with a final clang that made Gia flinch.
Whatever was happening now felt even more dangerous.
A laugh that felt vaguely unhinged bubbled up in Gia’s throat.
More dangerous?
As if being carted off to a cartel kingpin’s estate wasn’t already bad enough?
“I’m pleased you’ve finally decided to clean up your affairs.” Ramón’s cruel gaze slanted to her. “Although why she still breathes is a mystery.”
The words stole Gia’s breath. Her pulse pounded.
A muscle ticked in Vincente’s jaw. “She will be returning with me to Mexico. As my guest.” His voice hardened. “I expect her to be treated as such.”
“A guest?”Ramón arched a brow, his grin oily. “Perhaps you will offer her services to your father—a minor concession for the time you’ve wasted dealing with her.”
“Perhaps.” Vincente shrugged. “Not that it concerns you.”