Tom' hand falls from the desk and he stares at me with loathing. Unable to help myself, I smirk back. He's trapped in a box of his own making, there's nothing he can do now. Still he tries to plead with Luis, his gaze softening to confusion as it swings back to my lover. "Why are you doing this, son? I've given you my home, my protection. I even gave you my son, Roberto, as a sign on good faith."Luis stands, his body going from a supposedly relaxed position, uncoiling like a viper, tension and cold fury running though him. This man is the boss of an entire cartel, beautiful, majestic and lethal. And he belongs to me. Pride blossoms in my chest as I watch him face his nemesis."I am not your son, Garcia. I never was. You killed the only father I have in a dirty warehouse where I was meant to be next." Tom opens his mouth as though to deny the accusation. Luis cuts him off. "Your time is over. Don't insult both of us by pleading. Keeping you and your sons alive, even this long, is mor

"Arturo."I approach the man laboriously and try to climb onto the seat next to him. He's sitting at the bar in my and Luis' home, waiting for my husband who is currently out on business. Arturo heaves an annoyed sigh and gets up to help me onto the stool. He acts like this is a grievous task, when we both know he can't wait for the arrival of baby Manuel (or Manuela as I have argued is a possibility). His hands are gentle as he lifts me onto the stool and makes sure that I'm steady before dropping back onto his own chair.He eyes me suspiciously as he sips at his drink; I think it's a gin and tonic since its clear and I've never known Arturo to willingly drink water. "What do you want?" His voice is gruff though his eyes soften as they dip toward my prominent belly.Arturo and I have developed an understanding. We don't have to like each other, but we both care about the same man, the well-being of this family and the entire cartel. In that, we acknowledge that we are stronger toge

"Mama, when are we going home?"I stop, my hand on the light switch. I take a breath and look over my shoulder at my four-year-old son, such a miniature replica of his father that my heart aches. Except this time, instead of a happy ache I feel an agonizing wrench. I blink back the tears, not wanting him to see my distress, and try to find my voice."We might stay here for a while, cari?o," I tell him, keeping my voice steady. "I'm not sure yet." It depends on whether or not your papá can find us. I go back to the bed and give him an extra kiss, pressing his small body against mine, absorbing his warmth and taking in his unique babyish scent, grateful he hasn't lost it yet. Soon he'll be bigger, will not want his mama to hold him so close and embarrass him with affection. Then I will have to settle for showering his younger sister with my love. I press my lips against his forehead and help him snuggle back under the blankets."I miss papá," he says sleepily, smothering a yawn agai

Betrayal churns in my gut as I stare down at the phone, disbelief still my strongest emotion. How is it possible that Luna, my rock, my only love, could leave me? Not just leave but take my children with her. Fury wells up once more. I pick up the phone and hurl it, uncaring that it smashes against our stainless steel refrigerator and falls to the floor in pieces. I know Luna well enough to know that she won't answer the sister phone again. She's said her piece, explained her betrayal. Weak as it was. My fingers clench into fists and I know if she were standing in front of me I would snap her neck without a shred of remorse. I would tear her body to pieces with my bare hands and feed her to the dogs. I've spent years defending her selfish, reckless behaviours. But this… this cannot be explained away. This will be her final act. If she is running away because she fears the darkness, the monster, then she better be ready, because she's seen nothing yet. When I get my hands on her, she

I turn the stove element off and pour hot water over my teabag. I set the teacup aside, leaving it untouched for now. With a sigh of disgust I move to the back door, unlocking it and stepping out into the dark night. Acrid smoke immediately assails my nostrils, telling me that Pedro is stalking the yard. Though I hate the idea that he might have been watching me through the sliding glass door, I'm grateful that I don't have to seek him out in the confines of the small shack he inhabits."Pedro?" I say hesitantly. I may be able to smell him, but I can't see him. I pull my long, thick mane of hair off my neck and look around, searching the darkness.I jump as he steps into the slight glow cast from the kitchen light."Se?ora Decena," he drawls.My hackles rise immediately. Since our arrival in Cuba, every word out of this man's mouth has taken on a disrespectful tone. I want to verbally slap him in a way that only Luna Decena is capable of, but he's a half foot taller than me and pro