Claimed by the Cartel

Chapter 2 : Mark

Honey

Should I call him?

I looked at my phone, lingering on Roman's contact info. My thumb hovered over the message button, but I turned off my screen instead.

Study. I need to study. I diverted my attention to my criminal psychology textbook, taking notes for various terms I needed to know. I didn't necessarily need the notes, I remembered everything I saw.

A gift and a curse.

A gift for college.

A curse because I can't forget anything. My dad's bribe deals. All the sketchy s**t he got himself involved in, I remembered. I could even remember the name on the check with crystal clear accuracy.

Sierpente. A distinct last name. Of course, considering how fast my dad snapped that check away from me only solidified it in my memory. He played it off, but I knew how nervous he was. Whoever this Sierpente was, they were bad news.

So sure, I was avoiding my dad because I was angry with him, but I also didn't want to get tangled in his web. What I didn't know couldn't hurt me. Because I was also a terrible liar.

I was practically a walking textbook.

I sighed, leaning back on my rolly chair to tie my hair up. It wasn't a very good bun, but my hair was always so unruly anyway. My leg shook and I couldn't stop tapping my pen on my desk, eyes darting back to my phone again.

Fuck it. I'll text the mystery man from the other night.

Keep it short and simple. Don't sound desperate. Roman was too attractive to find desperate endearing. I typed a few letters only to backspace.

Me: Hi, it's Honey from the other…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Me: Salutations. I was pleased to meet…

Salutations? I started to backspace when I accidentally hit send. Sounding like a f*****g weirdo by texting “Salutations—"

Yeah, I'm not getting a text back. Giving up hope, I turned off my screen and placed it facedown on my desk.

Way to f*****g go. That's the last time I ever try to make a move. My face reddened.

I pressed my palm into my forehead. Never once had I ever used that greeting before, but I decided to send it to a drop-dead gorgeous man I met at a club.

Way to f**k that one up, Honey.

Why was I so hung up on it? Roman had this energy about him. I felt it when I was next to him. This draw. It intrigued me. I remembered what his tattooed hands looked like. The thick whorls of ink burned into my vision with perfect accuracy. I bet those hands would look great around my throat.

And where the f**k did that come from? A spike of lust coiled in my belly at the image. Lust wasn't completely foreign to me, but I never acted on it. Boys never interested me. Surrounded by boys in class and on campus.

I've always been attracted to older men, but I had no idea how to make a move. And my inexperience was apparently a massive turn-off. I was going to be a virgin forever.

My phone buzzed and I flipped it over to see that Roman texted back.

Roman: Salutations to you too. Who's this?

My face warmed as I tried to wait the appropriate amount of time before texting back. But in reality, I replied in about ten seconds.

Me: Honey. From the other night.

Three dots appeared, keeping me on the edge of my seat.

Roman: Tequila Sunrise? How are you?

Me: Just studying. You?

Roman: Another boring day at the office. You up for a phone call? I'd like to hear that sweet little voice without all that music.

My stomach lurched up to my throat and I started to feel incredibly warm despite my sleep shorts, oversized tee, and the AC blasting over my head. I looked over to Natalie's unmade bed. She likely wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning.

I suppose a little phone call wouldn't hurt.

Me: Sure. One sec.

***

Roman

A small smirk pulled to the side of my mouth as I pulled back the curtain to look through my scope into Honey Brooks-Whitlock's room. I was set up in an abandoned dorm across the courtyard. Temporary until the recon team set up cameras and I could finally go back to my own bed.

She paced around her room, looking at her phone. Visibly nervous as she gave herself a pep talk. f**k, she was cute.

The past few weeks, I'd been assigned to her. Keeping an eye on her for Don Sierpente. A nice change of pace from breaking kneecaps and cutting off fingers. My usual mark was easy. Kill them or send a message. Make it look like an accident.

Honey, however, was a particular case. I wasn't supposed to hurt her. In fact, I was supposed to make sure no harm came to her until Don was ready for his move. Keep my distance, until my orders suddenly changed this past weekend.

“Get close to her," Dante ordered, playing liaison for Don. “We need her to trust you."

Trust me?

The girl was naive, not stupid. But I'd play. Could be fun.

As usual, I had eyes on her while she was at her desk that evening, nibbling on a pen and tapping her foot. She kept making little notes from her forensic psychology textbook. Honey-blonde hair piled up on top of her head. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and cute little pajama shorts, she looked good enough to eat.

“Call me, you sweet little thing," I murmured, just loud enough for my older brother, Dante to hear. He rolled his shoulders, raising his eyes to look at me, lips tilted downward in a displeased grimace.

My phone rang and I lifted it to my ear, answering, “Roman."

“H-Hey, um…this is Honey," her cute voice whispered nervously over the phone.

I could feel my dimple puncture my cheek as my grin widened. “I know. Salutations."

“Oh, dear God," she muttered with audible embarrassment.

Her anxious little breaths were endearing. I was tempted to stay quiet and wait to see how long it took until she crumbled, babbling about something just to fill the silence.

“So, uh, about the salutations thing. That was an accident." She twirled a loose tendril of blonde hair around her finger, pacing back and forth in a circle. I liked that, even from a distance, I could watch her squirm.

“You mean you don't send salutations as a greeting to everyone?" I already knew the answer to that when I got the text and saw her smash her palm into her forehead.

She laughed nervously. “Ha. Yeah…uh, I was supposed to delete that. But it sent so I gave up on getting a text back."

“Gave up that quick, huh?" I teased. “Shame."

“About five seconds from deleting your contact too."

I gave a mock gasp. “Wow, Honey, that's just cruel."

She made a cute-sounding giggle, finally warming up a little bit.

I glanced over at my brother, clearly distracting himself with a text—probably from Enzo—before he put his phone down and made a motion to cut the call. I rolled my eyes at him, turning away completely. “Hey, baby girl, I actually have to go. Bossman is walking in."

My pet name took her off guard, but I liked the way her cheeks flushed and how she twirled her hair. “Okay. Nice talking to you?" she said more like a question like she wasn't sure how to end the call.

“Definitely. I could fall asleep listening to that sweet little voice." Or jerk off to it, but I wasn't going to say that. “Talk to you later."

I hung up, arching a brow at Dante. “What?"

“Baby girl? Really?" he inquired, crossing his arms.

“You'd like her, Dante. Just your type," I smirked. “And if she's your type, then you know she's mine."

“The last time you dated a woman you were attracted to, she turned out to be a raging psychopath," Dante commented.

“Exactly. You have better taste in women," I winked. I raised the scope to get one last eyeful of her before Dante told me whatever he had to tell me.

“She's undressing right now," I baited. She wasn't. It wouldn't have bothered me, but I knew it bothered Dante. And it was always fun to f**k with him.

Dante's eyebrows furrowed, frown deepening. Always f*****g frowning. Always pissed off.

“You want a peek? She's got the assets."

Suddenly, Dante stood up and ripped the scope out of my hands. “She's a mark. Not your personal peep show," he practically hissed.

“You're telling me that the Don wants me to get close to her, but not f**k her?"

“For the love of God, don't f**k her. She's the congressman's daughter. We're only watching her as insurance that he'll follow through with his promise to rule in our favor. Then we leave."

Well, that was a f*****g contradiction. Why would I have to get close to her if I had to watch her? “What if she f***s me?"

“For f**k's sake, Roman." Dante pinched his nose in frustration. “Drop it."

I leaned back, pleased by his reaction. “She's been my mark for three weeks and you don't even know what she looks like." I took a pack of smokes out of my jeans pocket, lighting up right in my room. “Humor me. See for yourself how f*****g cute she is."

“No," Dante hissed.

“Why? Do you think you'll get attached?" I pouted my lower lip. “I know you have a soft spot for softspoken women. I thought you were supposed to be the big bad Dante Lozano and now you won't even look in the direction of a mark? You're not even the least bit curious why the Don has his eye on her?"

I was baiting him and he knew it. I didn't even know why I did this, but I liked getting under Dante's skin. It proved that he still had a heart after all the s**t that happened to us. He wasn't like me and he shouldn't be. He carried all that weight for us so we didn't have to feel it. All that stress could break a man down.

Dante sighed, sitting back down at the table, and taking my scope with him. “Why do you think you were assigned to this?"

I raised my eyebrows. “Enlighten me. Why wasn't Enzo assigned for babysitting duty?"

“Because he would start to feel bad about her. You, on the other hand, don't feel much of anything," he said.

He was right. The only attachments I had were Dante and Enzo, my brothers. Part of me wondered what it would be like to care. A small little part of me ached for those attachments. But most of me didn't give a f**k unless it gave me something I wanted.

“Speaking of, he's flying back from Mexico next week," Dante explained.

“About f*****g time. I missed the empathetic asshole," I commented. Enzo was too nice for this line of work. He wasn't a good fit for the cartel, but he was trapped in this arrangement.

So was I.

So was Dante.

We were Don Sierpiente's lapdogs and there wasn't jack s**t we could do about it. Til the day we died, the old f**k owned us. Dante at least had enough sense to make himself indispensable. And if Dante was indispensable, so were we. Package deal. The Lozano brothers.

We were a package deal in many parts of our life.

Dante nodded, deep in thought. He didn't like it when Enzo was sent over the border because we never knew if he'd come back. I was sure Enzo could handle himself just fine, but Dante practically raised us, so he still sees Enzo as the thirteen-year-old jackass who moved our neighbor's gnome every morning to make her think it was moving on its own.

And Dante, being eighteen and struggling to help our mom make ends meet at the time, felt like he needed to protect Enzo from every little thing.

Of course, good ol' Enzo doesn't help his case when he still plays tricks fourteen years later.

Dante got up from his seat, still pissed off. This time, not at me, it was at whoever was messaging him. Not that he would ever tell me what was really going on.

Enzo was twenty-seven, I was twenty-nine, and even at thirty-two, Dante was still trying to protect us. I'd find it endearing if it didn't annoy me so much.

“I gotta go. I'll talk to you later," Dante said as he left before I could get a word in.

But, I'd done my part. Now I just had to watch the pieces fall into place.