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“Shall we get down to business?"

Cruz nods, the playful glint in his eyes hardening into something more calculating. "By all means. You mentioned you were looking to expand your supply chain?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he regards me intently. "What kind of quantities are we talking about?"

I hold his gaze. "Significant. My client base is growing, and they demand reliability as well as volume." I pause, letting my eyes drift over to where his men are still loitering near the bar, pretending not to watch our exchange. "I trust your operation can handle that kind of demand?"

Cruz chuckles, the sound low and confident. "My dear Samantha, you underestimate us. We have the resources and the connections to supply even the most...discerning of clientele." He leans back, spreading his arms in a gesture of casual authority. "But I must admit, I'm curious. What made you seek us out, specifically?"

I allow a faint smile to curve my lips. "Word on the street is that your product is the best in the business. And I've grown tired of dealing with...unreliable sources." My gaze narrows slightly. "I need someone I can trust to deliver, no matter what."

Cruz's eyes gleam with something that looks dangerously close to triumph. "Well then, I believe we have the beginnings of a mutually beneficial arrangement," Cruz says, his lips curling into a predatory smile. He signals to one of his men, who hurries over with a leather pouch. "Here is a sample of our finest product. I think you'll find it exceeds even the lofty standards you've heard about."

Matteo steps forward and takes it, slipping it into his pocket without a word. I don't bother with it, simply observing the exchange. "I have no doubt your product is top-notch, Mr. Cruz. But as I said, I need reliable quantity and consistent delivery. Anything less and this partnership won't work for me."

Cruz nods, his expression turning thoughtful. "Of course, of course. Rest assured, my organization has the resources and the connections to meet your needs. All I ask is that you come back tomorrow with a firm order and the capital to back it up. Then we can discuss the details of an ongoing arrangement."

I arch an eyebrow. "I don't like to be kept waiting, Mr. Cruz. My client base is...impatient. I was hoping we could finalize the terms today."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my impatience. "Ah, my dear Samantha, good things come to those who wait. I must insist on taking the proper precautions. Tomorrow, with the funds in hand, we can hash out the specifics to both our satisfaction."

I press my lips into a thin line, feigning reluctant acceptance. "Very well. I'll return tomorrow, as you request." I pause, allowing a hint of warning to creep into my tone. "But I won't be kept waiting much longer."

Cruz's grin widens, clearly taking my veiled threat as playful banter. "I look forward to our continued negotiations, Ms. Delgado." He leans back, signaling to his men. "Gentlemen, please see our guest out."

As I stand from the booth, Matteo quickly steps up to my side. I catch the hungry looks the other men are sending my way and resist the urge to roll my eyes—these pathetic excuses for henchmen are nothing compared to the true predators I've faced. With a toss of my hair and a sultry sway of my hips, I lead the way out of the Silver Orchid, secure in the knowledge that I have Cruz exactly where I want him.

Once we're safely back in Matteo's car, I let out a long, slow breath, the tension in my shoulders finally starting to unwind. "Well, that went about as well as expected," I mutter, glancing over at Matteo.

He nods, his expression unreadable. "Cruz seems to have taken the bait. We've got him curious, at least."

"Curious, but still suspicious," I point out.

Matteo's grip on the steering wheel tightens as he navigates the winding roads, putting as much distance between us and the Silver Orchid as possible. We take the long drive through various streets and even a cemetery to make sure we aren't being followed. I glance periodically in the rearview mirror, searching for any sign we're being followed, but the streets remain clear. Good. The last thing I need is Cruz's goons catching wind of this little covert op.

I know that somewhere behind us at a safe distance are Jensen and Eli.

But, I can't help but feel like we're being watched. My skin prickles with the familiar sensation of eyes following our every move. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder, knowing it'll only feed that paranoia.

Instead, I turn my attention to the intel we've gathered so far. Cruz is intrigued, no doubt about that, but he's still playing it cautious. Typical cartel behavior—size up the new player, test their mettle, and then decide if they're worth the investment. I knew going in that it wouldn't be as simple as waltzing in, batting my eyelashes, and walking away with a direct line to Reyes.

But dammit, a girl can dream.

I clench my jaw, ignoring the faint throbbing in my temples. The last twenty-four hours have been a fucking whirlwind, from Rule's ‘visit’ then to the charged meeting with Cruz. And now, the constant awareness of being watched, hunted even, is wearing me down. I should be laser-focused on the task at hand, not letting my mind get sidetracked by twisted stalkers and their games.

"You're brooding," Matteo observes mildly, his eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road.

"I'm not brooding. I'm thinking."

The comms in my ear crackle to life, and Eli's voice filters through, dripping with his usual smug amusement. "Hey, Seanna, do you have that adorable little crease between your eyes right now? You know, the one that shows up when you're plotting someone's murder?"

"I swear to God, Eli, I will shoot you in the fucking kneecap," I snap, my fingers instinctively reaching up to smooth the space between my brows.

Eli's laugh echoes in my ear, unbothered by my threat. "You're not in the car with me right now, so my kneecaps are currently perfectly safe. Besides, that little furrow is cute. Makes you look all intense and deadly."

"I don't do cute," I growl, glaring out the window at the passing buildings.

"Everyone, focus," Jensen's voice cuts in, all business as usual. "We're approaching the rendezvous point. Let's keep the chatter to a minimum. Matteo, take the next right and follow the access road behind the industrial complex."

I straighten in my seat, grateful for Jensen's intervention. The playful banter evaporates instantly, replaced by the sharp, electric tension that always precedes an operation's critical phase. Matteo follows Jensen's directions without comment, taking the turn with smooth precision.