Read Online Obsession by Sharon Buchbinder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Buchbinder
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the man I’ve been looking for.”
Deep. Deep. Deep Shit.
“Tio, you can leave.” She waved him toward the door. “I need to speak with Alejandro. Alone.”
Tio whispered, “Nice chatting with you, bro’.”
Alejandro nodded. Sweat rolled down his back. Did she know? Was she on to him?
He mentally enumerated the ways he could escape. He had to stay in control of his emotions. Show no fear despite the effects of the huge rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body, priming him for flight or fight. After sorting through the least-likely to the most-likely-to-survive scenarios, he decided the best tactic was to take Isabel Ramirez hostage. As soon as he’d been trusted to wander the mansion unaccompanied, he’d concealed handguns in strategic locations. One was under the desk where he sat. He’d probably have to hurt his big buddy, Tio, in the process, but collateral damages were unavoidable.
Isabel plopped on the sofa. “I want you to work with Angie.”
Alejandro paced the cool office and tried to block out the sounds of children galloping in the hallway. Memories of his young nephew, Esteban, shouting, “Close your eyes, Uncle Josué and start counting… uno, dos, tres ...” blended with the chatter of Isabel’s kids, alive, well, and laughing.
He needed to focus on what Isabel was saying. To avenge little Esteban’s death and his brother’s maiming, he had to stay sharp, pay attention, and act like he was an obedient underling. When he opened his mouth, however, his emotions spoke before his brain could rein in his tongue.
“I’m an accountant, not a foot soldier. Why me?”
He locked gazes with her, a risky, aggressive move. What was so important about this American woman that Isabel would put her day-to-day cartel business on hold and send her sole financial wizard off into the wilds?
In her short, low-cut black dress, Isabel looked as if she was ready to go out to a nightclub—if there’d been any safe ones in the province. Stepping out of her fortress into a dimly lit bar would only invite rival cartel bosses to line up to take turns trying to rape, kill, and dismember her—and not necessarily in that order. In their machismo minds, it wasn’t bad enough someone had captured Chihuahua out from under their noses in a relatively bloodless coup. No, the cherry on top of the cake for these thugs was they’d been bested by a woman . The Latina adjusted her ample breasts, tossed her black hair over her shoulder, and leaned back.
Her eyes bore into him, and she spoke in a low husky voice, forcing him to move closer to hear. “You were also a Green Beret in the US Army. If you want to rise in the ranks and become one of my Lieutenants, you have to do what your boss tells you to do.”
Her legs fell open, and his gaze automatically followed the movement.
Shit shit shit! She wasn’t wearing any underwear. He knew this move. He’d seen her use it thousands of times on unsuspecting males, from dementia addled old men to testosterone addled adolescents. The Pavlovian effect was so uniform, it was cartoonish. And, sad to say, it wasn’t lost on him either. The region below his belt shifted and rose to the occasion. Shit.
Isabel smirked. “Something wrong?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the after image off his burning retinas. Think, man, think and not with your little head. Do the numbers. One, she wasn’t really his type. He preferred redheads. Like Angie. Two, she was married to a strapping stud muffin. Three, most important of all, she was his boss, and he never, ever screwed any woman on the job.
“Alejandro, are you ill?”
He shook his head to clear the fog of hormones. “No, not at all. Just trying to understand the assignment.” And stay out of your non-existent pants.
He averted his eyes from her dark triangle and stared out the window. “If it’s not too impertinent, why would you send me, of all people, off on this potential wild goose chase?’
She
Deep. Deep. Deep Shit.
“Tio, you can leave.” She waved him toward the door. “I need to speak with Alejandro. Alone.”
Tio whispered, “Nice chatting with you, bro’.”
Alejandro nodded. Sweat rolled down his back. Did she know? Was she on to him?
He mentally enumerated the ways he could escape. He had to stay in control of his emotions. Show no fear despite the effects of the huge rush of adrenaline that coursed through his body, priming him for flight or fight. After sorting through the least-likely to the most-likely-to-survive scenarios, he decided the best tactic was to take Isabel Ramirez hostage. As soon as he’d been trusted to wander the mansion unaccompanied, he’d concealed handguns in strategic locations. One was under the desk where he sat. He’d probably have to hurt his big buddy, Tio, in the process, but collateral damages were unavoidable.
Isabel plopped on the sofa. “I want you to work with Angie.”
Alejandro paced the cool office and tried to block out the sounds of children galloping in the hallway. Memories of his young nephew, Esteban, shouting, “Close your eyes, Uncle Josué and start counting… uno, dos, tres ...” blended with the chatter of Isabel’s kids, alive, well, and laughing.
He needed to focus on what Isabel was saying. To avenge little Esteban’s death and his brother’s maiming, he had to stay sharp, pay attention, and act like he was an obedient underling. When he opened his mouth, however, his emotions spoke before his brain could rein in his tongue.
“I’m an accountant, not a foot soldier. Why me?”
He locked gazes with her, a risky, aggressive move. What was so important about this American woman that Isabel would put her day-to-day cartel business on hold and send her sole financial wizard off into the wilds?
In her short, low-cut black dress, Isabel looked as if she was ready to go out to a nightclub—if there’d been any safe ones in the province. Stepping out of her fortress into a dimly lit bar would only invite rival cartel bosses to line up to take turns trying to rape, kill, and dismember her—and not necessarily in that order. In their machismo minds, it wasn’t bad enough someone had captured Chihuahua out from under their noses in a relatively bloodless coup. No, the cherry on top of the cake for these thugs was they’d been bested by a woman . The Latina adjusted her ample breasts, tossed her black hair over her shoulder, and leaned back.
Her eyes bore into him, and she spoke in a low husky voice, forcing him to move closer to hear. “You were also a Green Beret in the US Army. If you want to rise in the ranks and become one of my Lieutenants, you have to do what your boss tells you to do.”
Her legs fell open, and his gaze automatically followed the movement.
Shit shit shit! She wasn’t wearing any underwear. He knew this move. He’d seen her use it thousands of times on unsuspecting males, from dementia addled old men to testosterone addled adolescents. The Pavlovian effect was so uniform, it was cartoonish. And, sad to say, it wasn’t lost on him either. The region below his belt shifted and rose to the occasion. Shit.
Isabel smirked. “Something wrong?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the after image off his burning retinas. Think, man, think and not with your little head. Do the numbers. One, she wasn’t really his type. He preferred redheads. Like Angie. Two, she was married to a strapping stud muffin. Three, most important of all, she was his boss, and he never, ever screwed any woman on the job.
“Alejandro, are you ill?”
He shook his head to clear the fog of hormones. “No, not at all. Just trying to understand the assignment.” And stay out of your non-existent pants.
He averted his eyes from her dark triangle and stared out the window. “If it’s not too impertinent, why would you send me, of all people, off on this potential wild goose chase?’
She
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