I can’t bite back the laughter that itches at the back of my throat. “I don’t think Rebel cares about you staying shape, darlin’. I think he cares about you keeping quiet and not trying to stab people in the neck with a plastic knife whenever they come in here. Or throwing your own shit. I think he cares about you not doing that.”
“I only did that once.” She pouts. Even without make-up, she’s a very beautiful woman. There are certain concessions Jamie’s made for her, certain demands he’s met in return for her vague cooperation, but make up hasn’t been one of them. “And I only did that to demonstrate how undignified this whole arrangement is, baby. I shit in the corner of the same room that I eat, sleep and bathe in. That’s fucking insulting, no?”
I smirk, grabbing her wash bag. “He’s already knocked through three of the rooms to give you more space. He’s not gonna give you any more.”
“But I need a treadmill,” she whines.
“You’re dreaming. It’s not gonna happen.”
“You could make it happen,” she says quietly. “If you really wanted to.”
“But here’s the crazy thing, Maria Rosa. I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” She seems genuinely confused.
“Hmm. Could have something to do with the fact that you tortured me for three days in Columbia? Could also have something to do with the fact that you were severely unhelpful when Rebel and I were searching for my sister? And for Jamie, I’m gonna say it’s because you fucking framed our club for the murder of eleven innocent people who were just trying to do their weekly grocery shop in Los Angeles.”
Maria Rosa laughs, head back, her voice tinkling like a silver bell. She’s fucking insane. “Oh, yes. That.”
“Yeah. That.”
“It’s been three years. I thought he would have forgotten about that by now.”
I shake my head. I’m almost tempted to roll my eyes. “It’s been six months, you lunatic. And even if it had been three years, you know Rebel. You had a bunch of civilians killed for no goddamn reason, and then you tried to pin it on us. A lifetime could go by and he’s never gonna forgive you for that shit.”
She pulls an ugly, disgusted face. “So fucking sensitive. Worse than a woman. He offended me. Of course I was going to retaliate.”
Rebel refused to be her whipping boy. There was no way he was ever going to agree to run drugs for her, be her hired help whenever the fuck she felt like it. It was ridiculous that she even thought he’d go for that deal. I don’t argue with her, though. It’d be a pointless venture. The woman is completely unreasonable. She really does believe that her actions were justifiable. “Eat your breakfast, Maria.”
“Wait.” She crosses the room, skipping a little to get to me before I can let myself out. “I’m so fucking bored in here, baby. Can’t you stay a little while? Entertain me?” She already knows by the face I’m pulling what my answer will be. “Or…” she says, grabbing hold of my arm. “I could entertain you instead? I seem to remember that you liked it when I used to entertain you.”
I didn’t really have much choice when she chose to ‘entertain’ me before. I was strapped to a chair, naked, a zip tie cutting into my wrists, blood trickling down my finger tips, and she did everything in her power to figure out what would get me hard. She had girls come and blow me. She had people come and fuck in front of me. She let her bodyguard fuck her in front of me. Nothing worked. It drove her crazy. In the end, it was her frustration, her desperate, inexplicable need to sexually excite me that made it happen. And it was a conscious decision. She tried to force it, but that’s not me. She could tease and play with my dick from sun up to sun down and she wouldn’t have gotten anywhere until I decided to let it happen.
Maria Rosa’s full, swollen lips part as her tongue darts out between them. Her hand slides down my body, traveling from my arm to my cock. She squeezes. Hard. “We used to have fun, baby. I know I’m in Rebel’s bad books, but that doesn’t mean I have to be in your bad books, surely?”
“You’re the only person in my bad books, woman. Now get your hand off my dick before I break your goddamn fingers.”
She grins up at me, not believing me for a second. “Come on, Cade. When was the last time you had a woman’s mouth around you? A real woman’s mouth. A passionate woman, not some silly little American girl.”
“Back when I met you, you always wanted to be one of those silly little American girls, didn’t you?” Her hand is still exactly where she left it, and she’s squeezing harder. She leans into me, crushing her breasts up against my chest.
“That was before I got locked away in your motherfucking basement. Now I know how stupid that was. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I’m proud to be a sensual, sexual Columbian woman. You can keep your stupid, blonde airhead bitches.”
“Either way. It’s not happening. So move your hand. If you want someone to play with, I’ll send Carnie down here. I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige you.”
She lets go, her repulsion at the thought very clear on her face. “Oh please. That little boy? He’s a child.”