33. Natalia
THIRTY-THREE
The first light of morning seeped through the bedroom cabin’s porthole, bathing it in a soft, warm radiance. I stirred, fighting off the lingering haze of sleep. Dante lay beside me, lost in peaceful slumber, his face untroubled and serene - a welcome change from last night’s emotional turmoil.
I untangled myself from the sheets and Dante’s arms, moving with slow, purposeful care to let him rest undisturbed. God knows he needed it after the last few weeks.
Checking my phone, I saw a text from Valentina lighting up the screen.
“Stuck at HQ all day, chica. You’re on your own. Stay safe.”
Disappointment flared, but I pushed it aside. If Val was tied up today, then it was on me to unravel the mystery of the DEA mole.
I thought of Morrow, the way he’d dismissed the idea, refused to even consider it, and what Julio had said about him - it set off warning bells in my head. Morrow was hiding something, I was sure of it. Maybe even actively trying to fuck us over.
A plan formed in my mind. I’d tail Morrow all day, keep tabs on his every move, hoping to catch him slipping up. It was a gamble that could royally fuck me over if he made me, but I had no other play. I needed the truth, whatever it took.
Determined I grabbed my shit and headed for the bathroom, ready to start the day with a much-needed shower.
As hot water poured over me, steam swirling around, the heat melted away the tension from yesterday’s bullshit.
Lost in thought, I didn’t catch the door opening or the quiet steps of Dante sneaking in. Suddenly, his arms were around my waist, his breath hot on my neck, making me jump.
“Morning, my queen,” he whispered, his voice a seductive growl that made me shiver with want.
I sank back against him, my back fitting perfectly against his hard chest. “Dante,” I gasped, my voice catching as his lips scorched a path over my shoulder. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through me as his hands explored my slippery skin, igniting sparks everywhere they touched. “I can be pretty sneaky when I want,” he purred, fingers drawing teasing patterns along my breasts.
I bit back a moan. “Is that so?” I managed, my voice breathy as I arched into him, silently pleading for more.
Dante’s response was a low, sensual growl as he spun me around, his hands sliding down my body, a deliberate possessiveness that stole my breath away.
“Dante,” I whimpered, my plea swallowed by his consuming kiss. His tongue plundered my mouth, a carnal invasion that buckled my knees.
Greedy hands pawed at my breasts, igniting my desperation with each squeeze and caress. I ground against him, my craving spiraling out of control. His fingers delved between my slick folds to circle my entrance, stoking my frenzy.
“Please,” I gasped, my spine bowing under his touch. “Fuck me. Right now.”
Dante’s fierce grip on my hips sent a jolt through my core as he hoisted me up, my back slamming against the wall. I locked my legs around him, clinging to his neck as he plunged into me with one decisive stroke.
A guttural moan tore from my throat, my nails clawing into his shoulders as he stretched me to the limit, igniting every nerve with exquisite pleasure. Dante’s ragged breaths mingled with mine as he started to move, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pounded into me with reckless abandon.
“Dante,” I panted, our bodies crashing together with each relentless thrust, the water creating delicious friction. “Fuck me harder.”
He ramped up the intensity, his strokes turning desperate and demanding, our rhythm syncing in perfect carnal harmony as the steamy shower enveloped us. Ecstasy overtook me, my head lolling back as I teetered on the brink of oblivion.
“Surrender to it,” Dante commanded, his gravelly voice dripping with lust. “Come on my cock.”
An earth-shattering climax ripped through me, my body shuddering violently as I cried out his name like a prayer, clinging to him for dear life. Dante followed me over the edge, a deep groan reverberating in my ear as he spilled himself inside me, his thrusts slowing as he nestled his face into my neck.
For a moment, we stood there, locked in an embrace, our hearts pounding in time, our breath mingling with the steam that surrounded us. “Te amo,” he whispered, his lips brushing my shoulder.
I tightened my arms around him. “I love you too, Dante,” I said.
Reluctantly, we parted, the water growing cooler as the steam dissipated. I felt Dante’s gaze on me, his eyes dark and intense as he took in my flushed skin, his hands reaching out to brush a stray lock of wet hair behind my ear.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “Especially with my mark on you.”
A slow smile curved my lips as I raised a hand to touch the spot on my throat where he had marked me, a silent brand that spoke of our connection, our undeniable bond. “I’m yours,” I said. “Always.”
I signaled the barista for another hit of caffeine, my gaze flicking to the clock. Four hours had crawled by since I’d planted myself here, a glorified statue, while Morrow was tucked away in the building across the way.
Just as I turned to head back to my table, there he was—Morrow, emerging from the building heading out. My coffee splashed onto the floor, forgotten, as I bolted from the cafe, my focus locked on reaching my car before Morrow vanished.
But as I approached, I let out a curse. “ Shit!” A parking boot was clamped onto my front wheel, courtesy of the city’s vigilant parking patrol. Seriously?
Salvation came in the form of a passing cab, and I waved it down with the frantic energy of someone on the brink.
Tumbling into the backseat, I didn’t waste a second. “Follow that car!” I thrust a finger toward Morrow’s retreating sedan, the command spilling from my lips in a rush of adrenaline.
The cab driver, a wiry man with a thick gray beard and a pair of aviator sunglasses, arched a bushy brow at me in the rearview mirror. “Which one, miss? There’s about a million of ‘em out there.”
I craned my neck, scanning the flow of traffic for Morrow’s black sedan. “The dark one, two blocks ahead. The one that’s about to turn onto 5th Avenue.”
With a grunt of acknowledgement, the cabbie slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, the taxi’s engine roaring to life as we lurched forward into the stream of oncoming traffic. Horns blared and brakes squealed as we wove through the chaos with a prowess that could only be described as masterful.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I asked, as I gripped the edge of the seat, my knuckles turning white.
The cabbie chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. “You could say that, miss. I’ve been driving these streets for more years than I care to count. There ain’t a car in this city that can outrun me.”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Good. Because the man we’re following? He might just lead us to the key to solving one of the biggest cases of my career.”
The cabbie’s eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror, a spark of curiosity lighting up his weathered face. “Is that so? Well, in that case, miss, you just sit back and let me do the driving.”
True to his word, the cabbie maneuvered through the streets and after a tense and twisting chase through the city, Morrow’s sedan finally came to a stop in front of an old office building nestled in the heart of downtown Miami. I watched as Morrow entered the building, disappearing from sight.
The cabbie pulled over a safe distance away, his eyes flicking to mine in the rearview mirror.
“This is your stop, miss,” he said. “You sure you wanna go in there?”
I nodded, my gaze fixed on the entrance of the building where Morrow had just disappeared. “I have to. It’s my job.”
The cabbie grunted, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied me. “Well, in that case; when you’re done in there, I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
I thanked him, throwing a wad of cash onto the front seat before slipping out of the taxi and into the night. As I approached the building, I felt a chill, a sense of foreboding that permeated the very air around me.
The structure was an architectural relic from a bygone era, its brick facade and arched windows reminiscent of the film noir detective movies I had loved as a child.
With a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure I hadn’t been followed, I slipped inside the building, my footsteps silent on the worn carpet as I ascended the stairs to the second floor.
The hallway was dimly lit, the air heavy with the musk of mildew and neglect. I moved with practiced stealth, my ears straining for any sound that might betray the presence of an unseen observer.
I found an office at the end of the hall, its door ajar as if inviting me to step inside. This must be Morrow’s office. I hesitated for a moment, weighing the potential consequences of my actions, before finally giving in to the irresistible pull of curiosity.
I pushed the door open and slipped inside, my eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom as I took in my surroundings. The office was small and sparsely furnished, with a worn wooden desk, a filing cabinet, and a couple of mismatched chairs.
Morrow was nowhere in sight.
I moved towards the desk, my fingers brushing over the scattered papers and files that littered its surface.
I opened the top drawer and felt my breath catch as I caught sight of a series of cryptic notes scrawled on a yellow legal pad. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the implications of what I was seeing were crystal clear.
The notes contained coded references to various DEA operations, including the botched warehouse raid that had resulted in Matt’s death. There were also several mentions of a mysterious individual referred to only as “The Benefactor,” alongside a series of bank account numbers that I recognized as being tied to the Reyes cartel.
My gaze landed on the computer screen, still glowing with the light of Morrow’s open email. With trembling fingers, I slid into the chair and navigated to the secure drive I knew he kept for sensitive operations. My fingertips flew over the keys, decrypting the files with a swiftness that belied my inner turmoil.
Whatever was in those files had to be the proof I needed. I grabbed a USB flash drive I had found in Morrow’s desk drawer and plugged it into the computer. I began the process of transferring the files, my eyes flicking nervously towards the door as I waited for the progress bar to fill.
But just as the final file was about to finish, I heard a toilet flush. Fuck. Morrow was in the adjoining bathroom.
The door handle rattled, and my heart damn near jackhammered out of my chest. I scrambled to stash the flash drive in my bra and hastily tried to rearrange Morrow’s desk to look like I never touched anything.
I didn’t finish before the door swung open, and there stood Marrow himself in all his rumpled glory.
“Natalia,” he drawled, eyeing me. “Looks like someone’s been snooping where she shouldn’t.”
I froze, my mind searching for an excuse, an alibi, anything to get me out of this clusterfuck. But Morrow just shook his head and closed the door behind him.
“Save it, Ramirez,” he said gruffly. “I know what you were doing in here.”
Shit. Here it comes - the clink of handcuffs, the cold steel of a holding cell. I prepared myself for the inevitable, squaring my shoulders and meeting his gaze head-on. If I was going down, it would be on my own terms.
But the arrest never came. Instead, Morrow sunk into his chair with a weary sigh, suddenly looking every bit his age.
“You weren’t the only one sniffing around where you shouldn’t,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his craggy face. “I found something, too. Something big.”
I edged closer, eyeing him warily. “What are you talking about, Morrow?”
He let out a humorless chuckle, opened his desk drawer, and lifted up a false bottom. He reached underneath and when his hand emerged, he was clutching a slim folder.
“See for yourself,” he said, tossing the folder onto the desk.
I snatched it up eagerly, my fingers trembling ever so slightly as I flipped through the pages. Reams of encrypted data, coded transmissions, a damning trail of breadcrumbs leading straight to the biggest rat of them all: Chief Reynolds. The head of the DEA. That backstabbing, degenerated scumbag. He was the one feeding information to Ricardo himself.
“How did you get...” I began.
Morrow shrugged, his mouth set in a grim line. “I found it stashed in Reynolds’ private safe, along with a few other...incriminating items.”
Anger surged through me. I wanted to scream, to rage against the sheer injustice of it all. But I swallowed it down.
Morrow watched me carefully. For once, there was no hint of judgment or condescension in his eyes. Just a weary sort of understanding, the kind that can only come from years of wading through this same cesspool of corruption and deceit.
“What’s the pl?—”
The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway cut me off mid-quip, and we both tensed, ears perked like a pair of feral cats.
Morrow jerked his head toward the window and handed me the folder. “Now you know why we couldn’t go to the Internal Affairs. If anything happens, take this to the DA. He’s the only guy who can nail the Chief.”
I tucked the folder under my jacket, gave a nod and made for the window. One foot was already out when I turned back to Morro. “See you on the other side.” Then, with a wink and a two-fingered salute, I disappeared.
I hit the pavement hard, tucking into a roll to bleed off the momentum. As I dusted myself off and made sure the folder was intact, I glanced back up at Morrow’s window one last time. The grizzled old warhorse was nowhere to be seen.
I patted the folder under my jacket and turned on my heel, my mind whirring a mile a minute. So Reynolds was the big bad wolf, huh?
All those years, all those lives sacrificed on the blood-soaked altar of his greed and ambition. Made me want to put my fist through something—preferably his smug, self-satisfied face.
I paused, fishing the stolen flash drive out of my bra with a grimace. Thank god I sprung for the industrial-strength underwire.
My fingers traced the outline of the innocuous little device as I weighed my options. I could take this straight to the DA, blow the lid off this whole rotten conspiracy in one fell swoop. But I should wait to hear back from Morrow.
This needed to be handled delicately.
I tucked the drive together with the envelope and turned my focus to locating my cab driver.
I had barely made it a few steps down the alley when a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me, blocking my path like a brick wall. The tires squealed against the pavement, making my heart leap into my throat.
Before I could even think about making a move, two cops burst out of the car, guns drawn and pointed right at me. The sight of those barrels aimed my way made my blood run cold.
“Natalia Ramirez, you’re under arrest!” one of the cops barked, his voice cutting through the sticky heat of the day.
Well, fuck me sideways. This was not how I saw my afternoon going.
Questions pounded in my head as the cops manhandled me into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind me with a finality that made my stomach churn.
With my hands cuffed behind my back all I could do was hold on for the ride.