Page 10

Demi

I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my senses immediately on high alert. The gentle hum of engines surrounded me, and the subtle vibration beneath my body told me I was no longer heaped inside a cart. I was moving. Flying.

My ears popped as my eyes widened, and I found myself staring at a sleek, cream-colored ceiling.

The air smelled of leather and expensive cologne.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind as I pushed myself up on my weak elbows.

My eyes pinged near and far, from the half-empty bottle of dark tequila next to a deck of cards on the edge of the bar to the opened mahogany humidor with silk lining on a table next to my seat.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

That voice . . . deep, accented, and dripping with amusement.

I whipped my head to the side, my black hair tumbling over my shoulders, and there he was, that model-looking mothafucka.

Ozias “El Diablo” Rivera, lounging in a plush leather seat across from me, looking every bit the dangerous menace I knew him to be through rumors and now, firsthand.

Even seated, his confident posture eluded to a tall, athletic build.

His brown skin was a warm, sun-kissed bronze, hinting at his Hispanic heritage.

His dark, low curls were freshly styled with a tapered fade around his ears and nape, adding to his polished, king-like appearance.

His eyes were an enchanting shade of deep cocoa brown, and the well-defined brows that framed them and the thick beard that covered his jawline only added to his overall sex appeal.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, the smell of designer labels and money practically emitted off of him. I’d been in the room with millionaires before. I knew the aroma well.

“You,” I spat out, my voice hoarse from disuse. “What the hell is going on?”

Ozias’s dark brown eyes glittered with amusement as he took a sip from a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid. “I thought that would be obvious by now, Demi. We’re taking a little trip.”

I struggled to sit up fully, my limbs feeling sluggish and uncooperative. As I did, I took in my surroundings. We were in what appeared to be a luxurious private jet, all polished wood and gleaming metal. The windows showed nothing but endless blue sky and wisps of clouds.

“A trip?” I echoed, my thoughts scattered. “Where? And why the fuck am I here?”

Ozias set his glass down on a small table beside him, his movements fluid and controlled. “All in good time, mi amor . How are you feeling?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, anger bubbling up inside me. “How am I feeling? I feel like I’ve been drugged and kidnapped by a fucking psychopath who had my best friend and her family murdered for no good reason. How the fuck do you think I’m feeling?”

He had the audacity to chuckle when he smiled, the sound low and rich.His smile was magnetic, revealing a grid of perfect white teeth that lit up his ruggedly handsome features. It was one of those smiles that could’ve easily won over any woman he encountered. Any woman except me.

“Feisty as ever, I see. Good. I was worried the sedative might’ve dulled that razor-sharp tongue of yours.”

“Sedative?” I repeated, my hand flying to my neck, where I suddenly remembered feeling a sharp prick. “You mothafucka. You drugged me!”

“A necessary precaution,” Ozias responded, his tone maddeningly calm. “You’ve proven quite . . . resourceful in the past. I couldn’t risk you causing a scene.”

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lunge across the cabin and strangle him with my bare hands. “My. Father. Will—”

“Your father,” Ozias interrupted smoothly, “isn’t going to do a fuckin’ thing. At least, not for now.”

A chill ran down my spine at his words, but I refused to let him see me sweat. Instead, I forced a smirk onto my face. “You clearly don’t know my father very well if you think he’s just going to sit back and let you get away with this.”

Ozias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The movement caused his tailored shirt to stretch across his broad shoulders and defined muscles, and I hated myself for noticing. “Oh, I know Cyrus Malone quite well, mi amor . Perhaps better than you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded to know as my heartbeats per minute doubled.

He shrugged as another small, infuriating smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It means your father and I have an . . . understanding.”

I scoffed while crossing my arms over my chest. “Right. Because my father would be over the moon with his only daughter being kidnapped by a delusional Mexican cartel boss. I call bullshit, Ozias.”

“Believe whatever you want,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “But the fact remains, you’re here, and you’re not going anywhere.”

I glanced around the cabin, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. My eyes landed on a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket nearby. If I could just reach it . . .

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned, his voice suddenly hard as stone, as if he could hear my thoughts. I froze, realizing he’d been watching my every move. “If you ran away and I had to kill you, I’d be heartbroken, Demi. It would make our two-hour journey so much less pleasant.”

“Our journey to where exactly?” I asked, fishing for intel. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

Ozias’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of something behind his carefully constructed facade. Weariness? Regret? But it vanished in an instant, replaced by his mask of cool indifference.

“Cabo San Lucas, of course,” he replied simply. “My home.”

The words hit me like a Mack truck. Cabo.

Thousands of miles away from Cancun and even further from Chicago, from my family, from everything I knew.

I struggled to keep my panic at bay, reminding myself that I was Demi Malone.

I’d faced down rival gangsters and corrupt politicians. I could handle this. Him. Couldn’t I?

My brows snapped together. “And what makes you think I’m just going to go along with this little half-baked plan of yours?” I challenged, raising a questioning brow.

Ozias’s full lips quirked up in a partial smile that radiated confidence. “Because, mi amor , you don’t have a fuckin’ choice.”

I belted out a harsh laugh. “There’s always a choice, Ozias. And I choose to tell you to go to fuckin’ hell where you belong!”

Instead of getting angry, he looked almost impressed. “Such fire. It’s one of the things I’m starting to admire most about you, you know.”

“Save it,” I snapped. “I’m not interested in your admiration or anything else you have to offer.”

He tilted his head, studying me intently. “You’re not the least bit curious about the big, bad El Diablo?” Ozias teased, but there was an edge to his voice.

“I know everything I need to know about you,” I answered carefully. “Every time I think about the loss of my best friend, I’ll have a chilling reminder of who you really are.”

Something flashed in Ozias’s eyes—maybe hurt or regret—but it was gone before I could be sure. “And who am I, Miss Malone? Please, enlighten me.”

I leaned forward, meeting his icy gaze head-on. “You’re a fucking monster. A killer. An unhinged menace to fuckin’ society who gets off on power and control.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the steady thrum of the jet engines.

Then, slowly, Ozias rose from his seat and crossed over to where I was seated.

I tensed immediately, ready to defend myself if necessary, but he simply crouched down in front of me, his face level with mine.

“You're right about one thing,” he said softly. “I am a killer. I’ve done things that would make you never want to close your eyes again for the rest of your life. But the rest of that shit? You’re wrong about.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my heart bucked against its reins.With his recipe of good looks, charm, and apparent wealth, Ozias was the epitome of a modern-day melanated prince charming with a dash ofSazón.

“Oh? Now I guess it’s your turn to enlighten me,” I said finally.

Ozias reached out, brushing a stray curl away from my face. I flinched at the contact, but I didn’t pull away. “I care about more than you know, Demi. That’s why we’re here. That’s why I had to take you.”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, hating how breathless I sounded in his presence.

He stood abruptly, turning away from me. “Get some rest. We’ll be landing in about another hour or so, and you’ll need your strength.”

“Ozias,” I called out as he started to walk away. “Tell me the truth. Why am I really here?”

He paused at the door to what I assumed was a bedroom, his hand on the handle. For a moment, I thought he was going to ignore me. But then he turned, and the look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.

“Because you’re the only one who can save thousands from unnecessary bloodshed. I might be a monster in your eyes, but I will never unnecessarily sacrifice my people.”

I slumped back in my seat, my mind whirling with questions. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of it all, but exhaustion and grief quickly crept up on me again. Despite my best efforts to stay alert, I felt myself drifting off.

As I slipped into unconsciousness, one thought echoed in my mind: Whatever game Ozias was playing, I refused to be just another pawn.

I was Demi Malone, and I would find a way out of the dirt I’d been buried under.

I had to. With that thought, I snapped my eyes open, refusing to succumb to the fatigue or the sorrow plaguing my heart.

Ozias’s words echoed in my mind, stoking a fire of defiance within me.

“Nice try, Ozias,” I called out to him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if you think I’m buying that bullshit you’re selling, you’re sorely mistaken.”