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C arlos flicked the cigarette to the garage’s floor and ground it into the cement with the ball of his loafer. The acrid taste of tobacco spread across his tongue and he lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips. He should have known better than to light one up. He’d always hated cigarettes.

He lowered the bottle to the table and lifted his gaze to the man wracked with shivers and bound to the chair across the room. Tony folded his arms across his chest and approached Carlos.

“What do you want to do boss? We know for sure he’s been talking to the feds. He even admitted it.”

Another glance at the man showed blood leaking from a gash to his head, eye, and lip. Tony could be very effective at getting people to talk.

Fury surged through Carlos’s veins. He hated snitches. There was nothing worse than assuming you had an iron tight circle around you only to find out someone was relaying information.

Carlos reached into his pocket, shook out a silk handkerchief, and brought it to his temples.

The garage was hotter than a fucking sauna and he was sweating like a pig in one of the suits he usually wore to the club.

He wore the suits so that no one would doubt him as the owner—as if most didn’t know who he was already.

But some people were stupid. And besides, he had an image to uphold.

“What information did he leak?” He folded the silk material back into a neat square and stuffed it into his breast pocket. Tony ran his hand over his long locks, his face dripped with sweat, but it wouldn’t bother Tony.

“He says they questioned him about the club and that’s it. He swears he never gave anything else away, but I don’t believe him.” A sharp glint came to Tony’s eyes and Carlos registered it as his usual excitement for inflicting punishment.

Carlos trained his gaze on Fabian again. Granted, he wasn’t one that had been trusted into Carlos’s tight circle. Only Tony, Hector, and Ricardo knew all of Carlos’s inner dealings. And without a doubt, none of them would dare betray him. But he couldn’t let Fabian off.

Snitching was an unforgiveable crime. And he had to pay the maximum penalty.

Tony vibrated on the spot. “What you gonna do?”

Man, Tony was a sick fuck. Carlos loosened the knot of his tie at his throat and moved around Tony. “I just want to talk to him,” he said, keeping his voice even as he reached Fabian.

Fabian’s tongue wet his bottom, bloody lip, and his pupils dilated. The warm scent of urine wafted to Carlos’s nose and it was all he could do not to take a sledgehammer to his cowardly face. No, that’d be much too quick.

“I didn’t say anything, Mr. Santiago. I swear to god, I don’t know shit.”

“Did you talk to the feds?” Carlos spoke each word slowly as if to a small child.

Fabian’s eyes darted around the room and a low whimper sounded from his throat. He nodded and sweat mingled with the blood at his short, dark beard.

Carlos lifted his shoulders.

“Honesty always earns a reward.” He retreated to the table and lifted the bottle of whiskey, then brought it back to Fabian and raised it to his lips. Tony’s eyes rounded on him and his jaw trembled with unspent rage.

Fabian gulped greedily, but most of the liquid dribbled down his chin and coated his shirt.

“Th–thank you, Mr. Santiago. I swear, I’ll never do anything like that again—”

Carlos placed the bottle back on the table. “Oh, I know.” He shifted his gaze to Tony. “Tone, cut out his tongue and show it to the other guys. Let them know that’s what happens when you talk to the feds.”

Tony rolled in his top lip, revealing his stained teeth. A slick smile crawled across his face. “Sure thing, boss.”

Fabian jerked against the restraints in the chair. His head thrashed from side to side. Tony pulled a dagger from his back pocket and gripped Fabian’s jaw in his hand.

Carlos turned on his heels and headed for the door. Fabian’s screams carried behind him.

***

Jesus Christ, you’d have to be psychopath to cut someone’s fucking tongue out.

Nate’s stomach roiled, making him want to spit out the beef jerky. He swallowed and lowered the screen of his phone to lay face down on his thigh. The image of the young, lifeless snitch branded into his brain, his tongue found next to the body.

And that’s who Maddie had so fucking insistently gotten involved with. He sucked the hot, salty air in through his nose, but it did nothing to slow the frantic gallop of his heart.

Carlos was a dangerous sonofabitch. He had a reputation for heinously murdering anyone who betrayed him—murders that rivaled some of the worst he’d seen in the past in serial killer cases Nate had worked on.

Disgust turned the beef jerky’s flavor sour and he crushed the bag in his lap. So much for lunch.

“Did you see that, Dad?” A young boy next to him screamed with delight and yanked on his dad’s hand.

“Yeah, it was a dolphin. Let’s go to the pier and see if we can get a picture of him next time.”

The boy raced ahead of his father and Nate brought the binoculars back to the sleek, pearly white yacht off the coast. Carlos’s boat easily ran into the millions, all from money he’d made bringing drugs into Miami.

It should have been easy to catch the bastard.

He blew money like there was no tomorrow; he always had a small entourage of bodyguards.

Over the years, Nate had spoken to some snitches—all of whom had wound up dead shortly after. His spine stiffened and the muscles in his face tensed.

Problem was, Carlos owned the Miami police, a handful of judges, and probably some people in the FBI. And Maddie had damn well bull-dozed her way into being an informant and accomplice to taking him down.

Carlos could kill her as easily as he had all of the other snitches.

No. He wouldn’t, because Nate wouldn’t let it happen. Not that she’d given him a damn choice. As much as it irked him that she was putting herself into the hornet’s nest, he’d protect her with his life.

He crumpled the wrapper and tossed it in the trashcan next to him and then stood from the bench. It’d look pretty fucking weird if he sat here all day staring at the same damn scenery. He could go out to the pier, but that might draw more attention to Carlos or his men.

What was it that had drawn Maddie to Carlos? He’d never asked her what had made her want to come after him, but there had to be a reason. His phone vibrated against his leg. He pulled it out and checked the screen.

Ethan.

He let out a breath and dropped it back in his pocket. He couldn’t deal with his questions right now. As it stood, he’d already had to lie to both him and Cal, telling them he was in Arizona working on a case.

Ethan had finally found his groove in life as a private investigator. It seemed to be a habit he could never shake—even from his personal life.

He’d met his two closest friends while in the military and recon years ago.

They had more than a decade of friendship between them, and Nate had never avoided either of them.

Nate was born an only child, and Ethan and Cal were like his brothers.

He’d do anything for them and vice versa.

Sneaking around with Ethan’s sister didn’t fall under that category.

Maybe he should call Cal and fill him in on what he was involved in with Maddie.

Though knowing him, he’d be pissed at being dragged into the middle of it.

Cal had a thriving gym in Seattle, and he and Lana had just had a baby a couple months ago.

That was something Nate had never expected from the hard, dangerous life Cal had led before meeting his now wife.

He pushed his friends out of his mind and focused on the yacht.

He’d return Ethan’s call as soon as he was done.

He sighed. He was wasting his time trying to watch Carlos and Maddie on the boat. He’d be lucky to view them at all, let alone know what they were saying. He strode another hundred yards and leaned against a palm tree. Its shade offered a reprieve from the heat.

He brought the binoculars back to his eyes and swept across the heads of people bobbing near the shore, and zeroed in on the yacht.

From here, he had a better sightline. The top of Maddie’s head caught his eye.

The rich tones of her hair danced in the sun, and her bare, slim shoulder lifted. He bit his tongue.

Carlos stepped onto the deck, shirtless and in a pair of black trunks. Aviator shades covered his eyes, and his even white teeth flashed at her. Nate’s stomach lurched. His fingers tightened on the binoculars and he ground his teeth together. A bead of sweat rolled over his temple.

Carlos sank beside Maddie, his profile turned to Nate, and his dark, hairy arm rested on the back cushion of her seat.

His fingers picked up a strand of her hair and tugged on it.

Maddie shifted in her seat, and slid over his lap, straddling him.

She lifted her sunglasses and rested them on the top of her head.

The corners of her mouth lifted and she leaned forward and kissed him.

Rage shot through Nate’s veins. He tore the binoculars away from his face as if they burned him, the safety string yanked at the back of his neck. Sonofabitch. His temples throbbed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

She was playing with fire, and to her it was a fucking game. If Carlos found out what she was doing, killing her was just the tip of the iceberg. Heat spread through his chest and he pushed away from the tree. He’d been stupid to come here. If someone had seen him, they were fucked.

Maddie would be fucked…

A tingling sensation erupted on his thigh. Who the hell was calling him now? He checked the screen: Ethan.

Goddammit, what did he want? He never called repeatedly unless it was an emergency. Guilt ate at the lining of his stomach. He swiped the pad of his thumb across the screen, ignoring the call.