Claimed by the Cartel

Honey Ten missed calls from Dad… I didn't want to talk to him. I knew that as soon as I answered the phone I'd forgive him for telling me that I didn't have the guts to be a criminal psychologist. He told me that I was too sweet to survive. That those criminal types would eat me alive, especially with a name like Honey Brooks-Whitlock. I suppose his feelings shouldn't surprise me considering his “war on crime" campaign. He said the only place for criminals was a prison. Do the crime, do the time. Completely ignoring the statistics that people that go through the system will end up back in again because the prison system tries to profit off prisoners instead of…you know…help them, like they were supposed to. Like talking to a brick wall. It didn't matter that I was well on my way to a bachelor's degree and then a master's degree afterward. He had his own stubborn ideologies that no one, not even an expert in that field could dispute. Fucking politicians. My phone buzzed again. This time a text. Dad: Call me. Me: No. I have plans. Stop calling me. I threw my phone on the little twin bed in my dorm, watching it bounce on the thin mattress. My roommate, Natalie, invited me to go out tonight. Most of the time she ignored me, and who could blame her? I wasn't chatty. Two years into my degree, I was still buried in a book, absorbing every little bit of information I could because I found it so interesting. Natalie was a marketing major, so there wasn't any crossover. In my defense, my major was a bit more demanding so I didn't have a lot of free time. But, I really chalk it up to being my dad's only child, so I was practically wrapped in bubble wrap since the moment I was born. And after getting into the thousandth fight with my father, I wanted to live a little. There was this club downtown, but I had to be twenty-one to enter. I was only twenty, a few months away from my birthday, but Natalie was actually getting me a fake ID. I laughed under my breath. Me? A fake ID? The girl who's never had more than a wine cooler. My heart thudded excitedly. My first experience at a club. Don't get me wrong, I was terrified. I wasn't a very large woman. It wouldn't take much for someone to hoist me over their shoulder to throw me in their trunk, but I'll be with friends, so I'll be okay. Well…they weren't my friends exactly but— The dorm door opened. “Hey, girly. You ready?" I turned to see Natalie standing there, perfect brunette eyebrows raised. She was tall and curvy. Built like a supermodel. I swear a potato sack would look like high fashion on her. Meanwhile, I stood there in my most club-worthy dress, and it still had a collar. Natalie's eyes flickered across my dress. “Do you have a meeting after this or something?" she teased, not in a playful way. Her voice had a mean tilt, but I was so starved for a female friend that I was willing to let it slide. “I don't have anything to wear," I stated, gesturing to my half of the closet that was filled about an eighth of the way. I lived in my UTA sweatshirt. 104 degrees Texas heat and I'd still wear that thing around because my classes were cold as f**k. Natalie laughed quietly, “Of course, you don't. Do you think you can even keep up with me and my friends tonight? There's no shame in staying in and reading…again." She said it like there was definitely shame in doing that. As much as it pissed me off internally, I let myself wither. I wouldn't get what I wanted if I snapped at her. “I'll be fine," I murmured sheepishly. She passed me, smelling like expensive shampoo, and opened my dresser. “I'll find something for you. That dress will make you stick out like a sore thumb." She tossed a few items on my mattress. “There, jeans and this cute little lacy thing." “That is a bra," I pointed out. “I'm not wearing just a bra." “You're no fun. I've got a mesh top to put over it. You've got the t**s for it," Natalie said. “Show a little skin." I was a little thrown at the compliment, but I'd take it. “And take your hair down, the messy tousle is really in right now," Natalie mentioned as she waited for me to finish up. And as I got dressed, I think she might have been right. Showing a little skin, but feeling covered up, was a fantastic combination. I felt hot. Natalie seemed happy with her handiwork. I grabbed my phone and wallet, and we were off. We called an Uber to take us to the club to meet up with her friends, Dominique and Katherine. And for once, I felt like I blended in with them. We looked like we belonged in the same friend group and that, in and of itself, was exhilarating. The bouncer checked our IDs and we were in. I'd have to say that the bumping bodies, the confined space, the loud music, and the flashing lights were really disorienting. But I was determined to have fun tonight. My heart crashed against my ribs and I could feel the bass in my bones, vibrating my entire body. I just needed a drink to settle myself. Following Natalie and her friends to the bar, she bought me my first drink and shouted, “Thanks for coming out tonight!" The bartender handed us all shot glasses full of a clear, potent-smelling liquid. Tequila. I may have never had it myself, but I always smelled it on my mom's breath when she was around. My stomach rolled, but I raised the shot glass and replied, “Thanks for inviting me! Cheers!" I threw it back before I could register how the other girls were licking salt off their hands and chasing it with a hard bite of lime. The strong liquor hit my stomach, causing a wave of nausea to hit me, but I gulped it down and pretended like I meant to do that. “Cheap tequila straight," Dominique said before looking over at Natalie. “Where'd you find her? I like her." I shot her a pained smile, fighting the burn in my throat. Natalie laughed and said, “Come on, let's dance! I see some guys on the dance floor that I wouldn't mind going home with." I arched a brow and I finally got a genuine smile out of her. “Not our dorm, obvi. I'm trashy, but not that trashy," Natalie promised. Now that made me laugh a little, my belly starting to feel warm from the first shot I ever took. Not that I'd ever tell them that. We went out to the dance floor, wedging ourselves between bustling bodies. I felt a little nervous, my palms getting clammy, but I just followed everyone's lead. I bounced along to the music, letting the bass dictate my small hip rolls. Soon, I started to warm up. It was fun to dance around and move with the crowd. Sweat beaded behind my neck and I turned to the side, locking eyes with a dark-eyed man sitting at the bar. He wasn't drinking, but there was no mistake that he was looking right at me. My belly fluttered as I took him in, no longer interested in dancing. His long, lean frame slanted against the bar, thick dark hair touseled on top of his head. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms, revealing tattoos. What is it about forearms, especially tattooed forearms? My belly quivered a little bit. I turned to see what Natalie and the others were doing, but she seemed to be choking on some random guy's tongue in the corner. Part of me envied that. The ability to see what you want and act on it. I was more methodical. Always a thinker. But this time, I wanted to act. There was a sinfully attractive man in the corner eyeing me. If I didn't act on it, someone else would. Oh, God, but what if he was looking at someone else? As if sensing my hesitance, he waved at me and I looked around, pointing at myself like, “Who, me?" Even from several feet away, I could see a dimpled smile as the mystery man nodded, beckoning me over to the bar. I slid out from around the bodies to the slightly quieter bar. Up close, he was even more attractive. A clean-shaven face showing off an unbelievably sharp jawline. His eyes were so dark, they could have been black, matching his dark hair. He was older than me. Maybe late twenties, or early thirties? Certainly, the type of man well settled in his career. Made me wonder what he was doing at a club when statistically– Honey, I told myself, stop psychoanalyzing strangers. “Hi," I greeted, unsure what else to say. I was very out of my comfort zone, but tonight was all about doing new things. Not that I was going to do him or– “Hi," he answered. “Do you want a drink?" I tucked some honey-blonde hair behind my ear, heat in my cheeks from how I noticed his eyes follow my fingertip like he could see all of me. I'd never felt so naked before, but I made the mistake of looking down to see my t**s proudly on display under the mesh shirt, in a lacy red bra. My cheeks fired up even faster. “Yeah, I'd like that." Maybe a drink would cool my nerves. Doubtful, but worth a shot. Ha. Shot. I could use one of those. “Hmm, let me guess your drink," the mystery man offered. A smile curved the side of my mouth and I was too intrigued to argue. “Okay, give me your best guess." “You don't drink much, if at all," he said, tapping his chin with a long elegant finger. “But I had to guess that you were a wine cooler type of girl." My cheeks flamed because he was absolutely right. How'd he get that off a look? “But, since wine coolers are s**t, let me recommend a Tequila Sunset," he said. “It packs a little more of a punch, but it's fruity enough to take out the bite." I pursed my lips, unsure if I'd like it, but I was in too deep not to humor him. “You know what? Sure." He turned to the bartender and ordered it. The bartender made a show of mixing it up for me before placing a lovely glass of orange fading into a berry red from the grenadine. He watched me intently with those intense eyes as I took a sip, marveling that the juice took out that awful taste of tequila. I repressed a smile and said, “That's quite delicious." He returned my grin with one of his own, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “I'm Roman. And you are…?" “Honey," I answered, waiting for the inevitable question of why my name was Honey. But instead, he only said, “It suits you." My face felt hot, not expecting that response. “Thanks." I took another sip of my yummy cocktail that tasted more like juice than liquor. “So, Roman, tell me how you guessed my drink of choice." He shrugged his toned shoulders, drawing my gaze to the chords of muscle around his neck. Never once have I ever wanted to take a bite out of a human being, but here I was, wondering how his muscles would feel between my teeth. I wasn't close enough to smell his cologne, but he just looked like he smelled good. “You don't look like you come to clubs often, so it was a lucky guess," Roman said. “Is it that obvious?" I asked meekly. Here I thought I was blending in nicely, but maybe I did stick out. He smiled at me and said, “No. My brother owns a club so I'm in them pretty frequently. Checking out the competition." That made me feel better. I parted my lips to ask another question when Natalie came between Roman and me to order another drink. She took a step back at my side and gave Roman a once over. “And where have you been hiding?" Natalie said flirtatiously. While Roman looked at me, he was smiling. Visibly interested in me, but with Natalie, he looked very bored. He ignored her completely, which I would have found rude if it wasn't also incredibly hot. I liked the attention. “Can I have your phone, Honey?" he asked, outstretching his hand. I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his hand. Nervously, I sipped at my drink. Was he really about to give me his number? He saved himself in my phone and handed it back to me. “Call me," he said, standing up from the barstool. “Or don't. But I really hope you do." He flashed me one more dimpled smile, shot Natalie one more dirty look, and left. “What a d**k," Natalie grumbled, but I was too engrossed in the contact info. I had a hundred notifications from my dad in the notification bar, but my eyes were locked on his name. “Whatever, let's go dance." Natalie grabbed my arm, clearly irritated at the one man in the entire club who wasn't showing her attention. I relented, tucking my phone into my pocket as I danced the night away with Natalie, the mysterious man from the bar on my mind.