Chapter 16
“Domino”
Asharp buzz from the nightstand dragged me out of sleep.
Too damn early, unless you had a mule making a ten-hour run with a client who’d kill over the wrong color shoelace… and my mule was leaving at six.
I sat up, cracked my neck, and realized immediately I wasn’t in my bedroom.
The silk sheets? The lavender walls? The glittery vanity lights?
Yeah… definitely not my place.
A leg slid across my thigh and a soft moan followed. “Mmm. Lay back down.”
That’s when it clicked. ,
The night before I left the cartel fundraiser—disguised as a “charity gala”—with one of the estate groupies who drifted in and out whenever they smelled money, danger, or a man they’d never actually have.
She wasn’t special; a nigga was just horny, and she was available and willing.
By the end of the night, she was drunk, giggling, and begging for whatever version of me she thought she could keep.
Without responding, I stood and swung my legs out of the bed.
“Where you going?” she groaned, sitting up, hair wild, and confusion etched on her face.
I pulled on my pants, not even glancing her way. “Home,” I simply replied.
“Home? I thought we’d at least have breakfast together?”
I faced her. “Look, last night was a nut, not a relationship. Don’t start building fantasies before sunrise, sweetheart.”
Her face fell. “You’re serious?”
“Dead,” I shot back, buttoning my shirt. “I didn’t come here for cuddles. Don’t make this weird. But just for future reference, I don’t stay, I don’t explain, and I damn sure don’t do breakfast.”
Silence… then a tiny, pitiful exhale.
I slid my watch on. “Lock the door behind me.”
And with that, I walked out.
I lived seven minutes from her place—five, if I drove like I owned the road, which I did.
I walked into the crib, stripped, and hit the shower with purpose. Ten minutes later, I was dressed casually, wearing a white tee and some gray joggers that hung low on my hips as I made my way into the kitchen.
Our chef looked up the second she heard my footsteps.
“Morning, Mr. Ross,” Mariela greeted softly, turning from the stove.
She’d been with us for years. I had no complaints about her. The lady was quiet, efficient, and smart enough never to ask questions she didn’t want answers to.
“Morning,” I returned, letting a yawn slip through.
“Coffee’s fresh,” she said, nodding toward the pot.
I grunted in acknowledgment, scanning the kitchen for one more person. “Where’s Alejandro?”
She wiped her hands on a towel. “He requested to eat in bed this morning.”
I paused long enough to register it, but I didn’t question it—not that day.
The event the night before probably wore him out.
“Alright,” I replied, dismissing the thought. “I’ll need mine brought to me as well. I’ll be in the surveillance room.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
I grabbed an apple from the counter, then picked up the cup of coffee she’d already set aside for me.
Then I headed straight down the hall toward the one room I’d be in for the next twenty-four hours at least. I wasn’t trippin’ because everything I’d need was in there, including a bathroom and a couch that I hardly used.
Before turning the corner, I slowed, debating whether to stop and check on Alejandro on the way, but if he wanted space, I’d give it to him. He’d talk later.
When I glanced at my watched it showed 6:05 A.M.
Perfect.
I pulled up the feed for Car 47, which was assigned to Ajori.
There she was, sitting in the driver’s seat, hands clasped, and eyes closed.
She was praying.
Ajori didn’t get much sleep the night before; the shadows under her eyes made that clear. But even tired, she was beautiful.
And yeah, I’d told Marcos exactly how to deliver the message to her.
I wasn’t trying to scare her for the hell of it, but she needed to understand the seriousness of that run.
That client was known to be ruthless, unpredictable, and too rich to care if a mule didn’t make it safely.
So Ajori needed to be on her shit. I hated that she was out there at all… but hopefully not for too long.
She adjusted the mirrors, turned on the engine, and pulled off.
I leaned back in my chair, chewing the apple down to the core.
A thought came to my mind.
I grabbed my phone and called the guy Ajori was going to drop the product off to.
The line rang once before he answered, tension already in his voice. “Something wrong?”
“Nah,” I said, calm as ever. “Everything is still on. She’s en route.”
“Then why the call?”
“I need a small favor.”
I smiled slowly, because the favor I was about to ask was the kind that changed the entire tone of the drop.