Temptation

TemptationA Dark Cartel RomanceLilian Black Copyright © 2023 Lilian BlackAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.ASIN: B0BJCGQ82PCover design by: Lilian BlackPrinted in the United States of America Contents Title PageCopyrightChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24EpilogueBooks By This AuthorAbout The Author Chapter 1MateoI'd been here a thousand times before— standing with my toes hanging over the edge of the cliff, waiting for the perfect gust of wind to jump off into the unknown. The same adrenaline spike tore through my veins as if it were my first time.Or rather, my first kill.My uncle used to tell me a routine would help. He used to say I should find some way to destress the moment before I stared down the barrel of my gun at whomever my victim was. Smoking a cigarette, cracking your knuckles, popping in a piece of spearmint gum— they were all like Band-Aids on a gaping wound— but they were helpful and made each subsequent kill easier.And so much sweeter.I never bought into that idea. Especially not when it was him on the other side of my weapon and I was given no time to strengthen my paper-thin will. It was a wicked twist of fate that saw me murdering my mentor, but the man had it coming. His commitment to the family was questioned and I realized when I gutted him that there was something fundamentally different between the two of us. I watched the crimson blood pour from his veins and not a lick of it reeked of loyalty— the kind of undying loyalty necessary to keep one’s family alive. I was full of it. Piss, vinegar, and that bitter fucking loyalty that never let me rest.My father had seen it in me since day one.I wondered if that loyalty beat through the arteries of my newest target. I'd seen his picture, of course. I’d spent time memorizing every part of it, but there were always the unmentionables. The things that don't get written in someone's file, the things you don't find in your research. Like the scent of his cologne, which I imagined would make my nostrils burn. Like the throatiness of his laugh when he heard some sick fucking joke that he found amusing. Or the thickness of the callouses on his hands. These were the things that defined a man and not until I had my grip around their throats, choking them within an inch of their life, did I find out what kind of man they really were.I was about to become well acquainted with Ruben.The bar was a dive; one that I probably would have enjoyed frequenting if it didn't have the stink of corruption and underhanded dealings. Luka put this place on the radar after there was an uptick in gun violence in the surrounding areas. He tracked the kind of scum that we kept an eye out for back to this piece of shit bar— the one that currently glowed in the dusky night. Neon lights flickered against the cloud of smoke that seeped from the few windows, and I imagined the inside air was chokingly thick. As I took my first step towards it, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to memorize the taste of fresh air.Past the bikes lined up, the front door was beat up to high holy hell hanging off the hinges like it was seconds away from collapsing to the ground. I pushed inside, my eyes immediately watered and adjusted to the dim ambiance. A rumble of laughter vibrated through the floor with a long wooden bar situated on the back and tables scattered around in both directions. Some men played poker with scared-looking dealers flipping cards faster than they thought possible and women in uniforms that were no more than lingerie sets bounced around with tattered papers and plastic trays clutched in their long nails. Each one lingered at the tables hoping for their lucky break, for the moment when a halfway successful, decent-looking man saw something special in them and decided to save them from their mediocre lives. It wouldn't happen in a place like this, but I wasn't going to be the one to break it to them.It took one sweep of the room until I saw him. That salt-pepper gray hair slicked back to cover his ever-growing bald spot, the pressed white business shirt as if the man had ever contributed anything legal to the economy, and of course, the yellow decay of his teeth from years of the addiction he pretended wasn't festering just below the surface. Ruben liked to exude a confident air as if his grip on reality wasn't a ribbon’s tie thread away from unraveling. But his past couldn't hide it, and neither could the wrinkles around his lips from chain smoking to keep his mouth busy.I’d played this scene over in my head, I knew exactly how it was going to go. There was no use dancing around the topic. As soon as he saw the bleeding rose tattoo dripping from my wrist down to my fingers, he’d know who I was. He’d know why I was here. I considered myself a quick shot, but these days I was taking a little bit of extra pleasure in murdering anyone affiliated with the Desalmados.And I'd be impressed if he managed to keep a straight face when he saw me.All I'd have to do was lay out his options. Make a scene in the middle of the bar or walk with me like a man out back where I’d lodge