“Are you in love with Laila?”

  Sighing, Trees glanced back at his bedroom, seeing her wrapped up with her pillow. “I’ve never been in love, but if that’s feeling like your head is upside down, your gut is in knots, and your heart has been through a blender, then there’s a good chance.”

  “It’s pretty much like that, buddy. Buckle up.” Zy sounded grim.

  “Things no better between you and Tessa?”

  “Nope. And I don’t expect them to get better.”

  But Zy still couldn’t get over her. Trees feared his buddy was doomed for head-on impact with heartbreak, and there was nothing he could do to stop it except… “You gotta find out if she’s guilty, man.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Look, I know you don’t want to, but if you investigate her and you can’t find any evidence, then you can fight like hell for her without a shred of doubt.” But if he uncovered her guilt—like Trees expected—Zy would crash hard. No matter what, his buddy would do the right thing. He always did because he had a core of honor. It was one reason they had adopted each other as brothers.

  Zy sighed. “Yeah. I’ve avoided it because I don’t want her to hate me if she finds out…but things can’t get much worse.”

  “I’m sorry.” The anguish in Zy’s voice tore at Trees, too. “Really. But I’m here for you no matter what.”

  “Thanks. And I’ll send over the pictures as soon as I get the police out of my hair and get the images.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “With Laila? That going any better?”

  “No.” Last night had been a hell he’d rather forget.

  “Fuck.” Zy laughed. “We sound pitiful.”

  “I think it’s because we’ve become pitiful.”

  “Sadly, I think you’re right. We’ve got to fix that.”

  “Amen,” Trees seconded. “Never accept defeat.”

  “Ever. Talk to you later, buddy.”

  “Later,” Trees said.

  Then Zy was gone.

  Trees wandered back into his bedroom and watched Laila turn, stretch, then cuddle up to his pillow. His gut kept telling him that the bodies in the EM Security parking lot had something to do with her. He had no fucking idea what, though. How could a woman who was barely five feet tall and had only been a legal adult for a few years be even slightly responsible for this kind of violence? Suddenly, he had a feeling that there were missing pieces to this cartel puzzle EM Security didn’t know…and she might be able to fill in the blanks.

  And after last night, wouldn’t she love for him to interrogate her?

  He sighed and started slamming back coffee. He had a bad feeling he was in for a fight.

  Laila woke to the smell of frying bacon and country music echoing from the kitchen. She stretched, staring at the clock. Ten a.m.?

  With a gasp, she bolted upright, then realized she wore nothing except Trees’s enormous shirt.

  The night came rushing back. It had taken hours for the ache between her legs to settle so she could finally drift off. But dreams had plagued her after that. Hot ones of her in Trees’s arms, finishing what she had suddenly—and foolishly—stopped last night. Violent ones of her years in Emilo’s compound. Terrible ones of her sister and her nephew in peril.

  The last time she’d looked at the clock, it had been nearly four a.m. Exhaustion weighed on her. But she had duties to attend to—dishes to wash and laundry to do. She could not shirk those.

  Rising, she tiptoed from Trees’s bedroom and peeked at him in the kitchen, broad and shirtless and muscled, his big, bare feet hanging off the edge of the mat in front of the sink. Wincing, she tried to make her way undetected to her temporary bedroom. She probably looked horrible, and she felt even worse about last night. As soon as she brushed her teeth and changed her clothes, she would be more equipped to face him.

  Laila had barely taken two steps before Trees turned. “Morning.”

  He didn’t sound angry.

  “Good morning,” she said cautiously.

  “Breakfast?”

  “If you will allow me to do the dishes.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I will eat.”

  “Then come on.” He crooked his finger. “It’s ready.”

  “I need five minutes.”

  “Food will be cold by then.”

  Was he suggesting she sit across the table from him and eat a civilized breakfast without underwear or a bra? “Start without me. I will join once I am dressed.”

  Trees dropped the fork he’d been turning bacon with on the stove and approached her. “You’re wearing enough to eat. What’s the real problem?”

  “I have on nothing beneath your shirt.”

  “I know.” A clandestine glance down told her that aroused him. “I’ve seen it all, little one. More than once. I’ve had my mouth on it, too. But I won’t jump on you, and you can always stop me with a word. Last night should have proven that.”

  How could she explain this to him? “What you might do does not worry me. It is the memories… Eating this meal dressed in almost nothing will leave me feeling…exposed, like meals Victor and Hector forced me to endure.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

  The memories were humiliating, and Laila hated to talk about them. But if she was going to be with Trees until her sister let go of the foolish notion that they were safer apart, she should help him understand. Thus far, he had seemed willing to listen and able to adapt.

  “I will feel too vulnerable. The Ramos brothers took great delight in forcing me to various states of undress during meals.”

  “Did they fondle you while you ate?”

  “Usually. Sometimes, they also made me suck one or both of them while my meal sat on the table, waiting for the moment I ‘earned’ it. It was not uncommon for Emilo and his lackeys to come in and out of the room while I performed these tasks. No matter how humiliated I felt, I was not allowed to stop.”

  “Bastards,” he spat. “Did they ever make you service others?”

  Humiliation stung. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Sometimes.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Trees looked ready to lose his temper. It warmed her that he seemed incensed on her behalf. “Did Victor and Hector force you to fuck others, too?”

  She squirmed, but what good did lying do? “When it amused or benefitted them.”

  He lifted her chin until she met his probing stare. “Emilo?”

  Laila tried to hold back tears. She hated to show weakness—but it was futile. “Yes.”

  “They forced you to have sex with your own sister’s husband?”

  She nodded. “They watched.”

  Trees clenched his jaw as his hands curled into fists. Clearly, he was fighting to hold on to his temper. “I’m sorry, little one. Truly.”

  Laila felt desperate to change the subject. “I know you are angry about last night—”

  “Not angry. Let’s be clear. Disappointed. I gave you my word, and you chose to test me. I understand why, and that’s the reason I’m not mad. But now you know I keep my promises.”

  Laila did. The lesson had been an unpleasant one, but she had never met a man willing to stop taking his own pleasure from a woman simply to make a point—until Trees. “I believe you.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Good. Then we’re making progress. Now let’s figure this out. Are you willing to eat with me, as you are right now, and believe that I’ll respect your boundaries?”

  “I worry about the memories…” They had been some of the most nightmarish of her life. What if they overwhelmed her and dragged her back to that dark place she knew too well?

  Then again, the last few days with Trees…she hadn’t felt so hopeless.

  That realization shocked her. So did her certainty that her fears were from the past and in her head. She needed to move on.

  “But I will try not to let them overwhelm me.”

  He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, making it tingle, then he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “If they do, you know your safe word.”

  She frowned. “How will that help me?”

  “I told you last night that saying red will also stop me from anything that brings you mental anguish. If you can’t eat in front of me in nothing but that shirt, then say so. We’ll discuss and come up with another plan.”

  Was it really that simple?

  Trees sighed. “If you’re ever going to trust me, you have to at least try.”

  He made a decent point, and not trusting him had always ended badly in the past—Victor, the coyotes, and last night’s ache of desire that was still unsated. Maybe it was time to believe he wasn’t like the others. “All right. I will try.”

  He guided her to the table, pulling out her chair.

  “Can I help you bring the food to the table?”

  Trees just shook his head. “Sit. I got it. You’re doing the dishes, remember? Right now, I need to ask you some questions. There was a development overnight, and we’re trying to understand it.”

  That sounded ominous. Slowly, Laila sat. “What?”

  He ferried the bacon, a plate of eggs, and bowls of oatmeal to the table before sliding into the chair across from her. “Dig in. Let’s get some food down you before we dive into that.”

  Laila didn’t love putting off reality. Over the years, she’d learned that facing a situation was far more productive than burying her head in the sand. But she also suspected he put off the ugliness until she was fortified enough to face it.

  Silently, he forked bacon and eggs onto her plate—way more than she could actually eat. But he only rolled his eyes at her protests, then passed her a bowl of oatmeal before adding a dash of milk and a sprinkle of brown sugar.

  After he consumed even more food, watching her with an unflinching gaze as she ate, he finally pushed his plate aside. She did the same, stunned to realize that he’d kept her so engaged during their meal that she hadn’t felt afraid or self-conscious for even a minute.

  That spoke volumes about how much she was beginning to trust him.

  Laila leaned across the table, propping her chin in her hand. “Shall I do the dishes now or—”

  “Let’s talk first. Help me understand the state of Tierra Caliente before EM extracted you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emilo ran the operation in the bunker. That was his fiefdom, right?”

  She shook her head. “His responsibility was bigger. He ran that region of the country, along with some foreign export operations.”

  “He had help, didn’t he?”

  “Of course. Victor and Hector, his right and left hands, were always willing to lend their brain power—such as it was—and their muscle to enforce his rules as if they were laws. There were others, but they were bought and paid for. The Ramos brothers…they were intensely loyal to Emilo.”

  “And where were they when you were rescued from Emilo’s compound? Still inside?”

  She shook her head. “About a year ago, Hector moved to the US to spearhead another operation. I overheard that he married an American woman. But I do not know his wife’s name or where they settled. Victor stayed behind to help keep operations and employees inside the compound in line.”

  Including her. If she’d thought life without Hector would be better, that she would have fewer degrading demands to adhere to, Victor had quickly dispelled that notion.

  “You were gone from the bunker before Emilo was killed, right?”

  “By several months. But I have no doubt the shock of his untimely demise staggered the cartel. And I am sure the infighting to assume his authority was almost instant.”

  Trees leaned in, all elbows. “So there were factions, right? Groups infighting for supremacy?”

  “Yes.”

  “In any power vacuum, there always is.” Trees nodded. “Tell me about those.”

  The situation inside the cartel had always been complicated. No one had ever explained the power structure to her, but merely by observing their behaviors and eavesdropping on their conversations, she knew who had likely been vying for power.

  “Emilo ran his operation inside Tierra Caliente, of course. He had loyal enforcers—Hector and Victor. Whatever power they had only existed because Emilo made it so. Of course, Emilo’s father, Geraldo, presided over the larger operations of the cartel, not just in the region but the organization as a whole. His word is law. He didn’t often override his son’s decisions on day-to-day operations. Emilo mostly had autonomy, but there were times…yes. Geraldo would step in and block Emilo from some plan or plot. The whispers said that Emilo was not good with understanding the way the political winds blew. He especially did not do well appeasing local politicians. Geraldo often had to care for such things himself, but he tolerated Emilo’s spotty competence because that was his son and Emilo did a violently good job of eliminating competition. But after Emilo’s death, Victor and Hector likely did their utmost to seize control of the compound and its operations. I doubt Geraldo would have tolerated that.”

  “So it’s possible those two factions are at war?”

  “I am sure they are.”

  Trees rubbed at his chin in thought. “Did Victor chase after you in Orlando because he didn’t want to let you go? Or is it possible he had a more political reason for pursuing you?”

  She gathered her knees to her chest. “Probably both. Victor never liked losing his ‘toys,’ but the Ramos brothers and Geraldo have been trying to get their hands on Jorge since his birth, I guess because he is the future of the cartel. The heir apparent.”

  “Whoever controls the boy controls the organization?”

  Laila shrugged. “It sounds silly because Jorge is not yet two, but I can think of no other reason why both factions want Valeria—and thus, my nephew—so badly. If either side captured me, they would merely use me as a bargaining chip.”

  “To get their hands on Jorge. I get it.” He frowned. “But it doesn’t add up. The cartel is running without Jorge, and how does either side think a toddler will forward their business?”

  “It puzzles me, too. Except, I suspect, they intend to groom him to take over one day.”

  Trees sighed like he was about to impart bad news. “Three men were murdered sometime overnight. Their killers dumped their bodies in the EM Security parking lot, almost like they intended to send us a message. But we don’t understand. The victims’ identities are unknown, but they were all Hispanic with lots of ink, between late-twenties and mid-thirties. That describe anyone in particular you can think of?”

  Was he kidding? “Victor and Hector had those loyal to them and, thus, Emilo. But they always suspected Geraldo had his spies on the inside, telling him everything his son did. But they were all men. All pigs. Almost all fit that description.”

  With a frown, Trees leaned back in his chair. “Spies? If Geraldo didn’t trust his son, why would he give Emilo responsibility for a chunk of his empire?”

  “I cannot say. I only met the man a few times. Thankfully, he found me beneath his notice.”

  “Thankfully?”

  “He terrified me. Emilo was violent and ruthless…but ultimately greedy and lazy. Sloppy. I do not think he would have ever been capable of running the whole Tierra Caliente cartel. I think his father tried to make it so by giving him the necessary experience, but it was beyond Emilo. Geraldo, however, is the perfect kingpin—shrewd, strategic, even diplomatic when need be. Of course, he is also ambitious and not afraid of violence. Victor described him as something of a chameleon, able to rub elbows with government dignitaries as easily as criminals. He knows exactly which moves to make, which people to pay off, and who he cannot trust.”

  “Good to know. Zy will send over some pictures of the dead bodies when he gets them together. Will you look at them for me?”

  Laila wasn’t sure if she could identify anyone, but she was willing to try. “Of course.”

  “Thanks. Why don’t you shower and get dressed? Then you can do the dishes and start the laundry. I need to work on a few things.”

  With a nod, she stood. Trees’s stare swept up and down her body. She flashed hot. Self-consciously, she tugged at his shirt, trying to drag it below her knees in a futile effort to feel less seen. But unlike the Ramos brothers, his stare wasn’t a precursor to a sexual demand. Trees merely rose to his feet, withdrew his phone from his pocket, and headed to the corner of the house that contained his home office—the room beside hers.

  After a shower, she realized she had nothing clean to wear until she finished laundry, so she donned Trees’s overlarge red tee again, gathered all the dirty clothes, then started the washing machine. While the clothes agitated, she cleaned the kitchen.

  That left her with nothing to do—a state she hated—so she made Trees’s bed, then started tidying the rest of the house. As the weather warmed, he left his office. Together, they made lunch, then ate in relative silence. Afterward, he took her out back to better acquaint her with Barney. The big black dog still intimidated her, especially when he growled at her approach. But soon enough, he sniffed her outstretched hand, took a treat from her, and allowed her to pet him. Perhaps they would never be best friends, but she would settle for him not biting off her leg.

  Back inside, afternoon shadows turned to evening. With that came thoughts of bedtime. Would Trees invite her to sleep there again? If he did, would they finish what she had so abruptly ended last night?

  Laila wrestled with her mixed feelings as she tried to find interest in a telenovela. Eventually, the dramatics of the characters seemed too foolish to waste even another moment, and she drifted around the corner from her bedroom. The door to Trees’s office was cracked enough to see the darkness inside, broken only by the glow of his computer monitors.

  As she hovered in the doorway, his phone rang. He swiped it off the desk with a curse. “What’s up, Muñoz? Any break on Kimber’s case?”