The human trafficking, he couldn't stomach. Women and children were being sold and forced into prostitution. Brutalized and then dumped like trash in anonymous graves. No choice there. That was damn personal to him. Maldonado's organization had a big role in the traffic of young women from his country, who got tricked into traveling abroad and relinquishing their passports.
"What other side businesses?"
"You don't want to know, Goth girl." This line of conversation put him in a shitty mood. He should have listened to his cock and fucked the chick instead of going off the deep end and engaging in chitchat. What the fuck was he doing, laughing and playing house with her? Talk about spacing out and delaying the unavoidable. He grabbed his burner phone and turned it on.
It buzzed right away with several incoming messages. He scrolled through them. Cursed under his breath.
"What is it?" she asked.
Reality calling. "Time to go back."
Chapter Six
"You shouldn't be here," Nico said, his voice reproving.
She looked around the busy coffee shop and then turned to the man beside her, sitting at the counter by the window, sipping a vanilla-blended crème and pretending not to know her. "Free country, buddy. I can have coffee wherever I want. With whomever I want." She leaned toward him and whispered even lower, "Unless you plan to shoot me to get rid of me."
He'd made it clear he wanted to come to the rendezvous place alone, but she'd prevailed. Having her car at Rosita's had helped her win, arguing she'd be stranded if she didn't hitch a ride with him.
Once in the city, and to her utter surprise, Nico had parked his car, taken a bunch of bills from his wallet, and shoved them in the glove compartment. "To cover the owner's trouble," he'd said at her puzzled glance.
If her mom had known a stolen vehicle had been parked in the driveway of her guesthouse all weekend, she would have had a cow. Good thing she never believed who Nico really was. Grand theft auto and a drug lord? She would have needed resuscitation.
"Finish your coffee and don't tempt me. I still might shoot you," he grumbled over his cup, his gaze never leaving the window.
She took a sip of her double-shot espresso. "Your drink is rather sissy, you know, if one takes into consideration who you are. I would have bet on a large coffee, black, no sugar, and a shot of whiskey in it." His vanilla thingy was off the kiddie menu, for Christ's sake.
A smile flashed on his face. "What you described is an Irish coffee, Goth girl."
"Incorrect, Escobar. Originally, Irish coffee had sugar and heavy cream that sat out for two days so it curdled." She smirked at the way he lifted his eyebrows. "I'm a bartender, my friend. Known for my mojitos and other concoctions."
"I'm not much into concoctions," he continued. "I'm a simple, vanilla guy."
Sure. Whatever he was, a simple, vanilla guy he wasn't.
"I'm not vanilla," she interjected.
"No. You most definitely are not."
"Is this seat taken?" a guy interrupted, motioning to the empty stool by Paige's other side and smiling at her. A nice college kid, into weightlifting by the looks of him.
"Yes," Nico answered before Paige could get a word in. As the college kid left, Nico added, "Your clothes draw too much attention."
"Nah, it's my natural sex appeal. Haven't you noticed? And that plays in your favor: they see me, they don't see you, which is what you want. By the way, I got you something." She reached into her bag and picked up a device the size of a pen drive.
"What is this?" he asked as she offered it to him. "Another of your customized condoms? Or is it a candy?"
She giggled. "No, you dummy. It's a molecular analyzer."
He frowned. "Where did you-"
"Get it? I had it at home. It's from one of the companies I interned at, ages ago." Or so it seemed to her. "It connects to your smartphone. You download the app, and just by pointing at whatever you want analyzed, you get the composition on your phone. They'll never slip anything in your drink again."
He smiled big, and her breath caught. Laugh lines appeared around his mouth, and those intense blue eyes crinkled with amusement. He was gorgeous in his habitual severe demeanor, but when he smiled … Man, when he smiled, he was a god. A lethal one, though, with this aura of danger around him that never dissipated, no matter what he did.
"Thank you." His tone was gruff. Obviously, he wasn't used to accepting gifts.
"It's mostly used by sports and nutrition freaks to measure the quantity of sugar and carbs they eat," Paige continued, "but I don't see a reason why a drug kingpin couldn't use it to thwart poisoning attempts. As a matter of fact, I think the patent holders are missing out on a huge market by not addressing the needs of the underworld."