“Not sexy,” he grumbled. “It was Raphael. There’s a new player on the board for the South, and it sounds like he’s throwing a wrench into Anthony’s plans for the succession.”
“I thought it was kind of a winner-takes-all thing.”
“It is, but it’s beginning to look like Anthony had a winner in mind, and it isn’t the new guy.”
“Does it matter to us?”
Vincent shrugged. “Not really. According to Raphael, this new player—Christian Duvall’s his name—is pretty damn powerful, and he wants to join the alliance, so . . .”
“But you’re worried about something.”
“I’d like it a lot better if the South was settled once and for all. We’ve got problems of our own, and I don’t need their shit bleeding into mine.”
“Lovely imagery.”
Vincent slapped her firm ass. “You asked.”
“Uh huh. You have too many clothes on.” Pushing his jacket off his shoulders, she started working on the buttons of his shirt.
“About the wedding,” he said, sliding his hands around her hips and cupping the round globes of her ass beneath the silk of her panties. “As soon as possible.”
Lana gave him a quizzical look.
“Anything you want works for me, as long as it’s here in Mexico City, and we get married sooner, not later. A month is too long.”
She grew very still, staring up at him. “Vincent, is there something you’re not telling me?”
“It’s war, Lana. Things happen. And I want you to be mine.”
She met his eyes for a long time, searching. “Okay,” she said finally. “One month. I need you, a dress, and my dad. Maybe a few friends. And my mom if she wants to come. One month.”
“It’s a date.”
Chapter Five
Houston, Texas
NATALIE CHECKED her posture, straightening her back where she sat near the wall, watching the Krav Maga class on the other side of the dojo. It was an advanced class, which meant she had trouble following all of their moves, despite her familiarity with the discipline. Krav Maga wasn’t beautiful; it wasn’t meant to be. It was functional and deadly, and it got the job done. Natalie had picked up the basic moves from Alon Riese, her best friend and the instructor for the current class, but despite his encouragement, she’d never pursued it further.
Joining a dojo had been at the top of her list after she moved to Houston, but judo was her discipline. Her father had introduced her to the martial art as a child . . . “just in case.” That would be just in case she was in a situation where neither he, nor either of her giant brothers, were around to pulp any horny boys into submission.
She sighed and slumped back against the wall. She’d never had to deal with any of those horny boys, because her brothers always got to them first. And they hadn’t been much of a danger anyway. But at least the training was excellent exercise. She could say, with perfect modesty, that she’d always been in great shape.
These days, her work at the dojo still helped her keep fit, but it also burned off the stress of a job that involved staring at numbers all day long, trying to translate the story they told of crooked vampire lords and unscrupulous bankers. She loved her job. It was challenging, but also sometimes exhausting. Which was why she often ended her nights with an early morning visit to the dojo, before heading home for a hot shower and a few hours of sleep.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Her friend Janette Baldwin was sitting next to her, and punctuated her words with a jaw-breaking yawn, which told Natalie what the it was. Janette was a night person forced to live the life of an early bird. She ran a very successful daycare and preschool in downtown Houston, which meant she had to be there to greet all the earliest moms and dads when they dropped off their children. Natalie had met her at the first gym she’d joined in the city, and then Janette had followed her to the dojo when she decided the gym wasn’t what she needed.
“And I don’t know how you chase a bunch of rugrats around all day and still have the energy to get up an hour early to come here,” Natalie told her. “Don’t you get enough exercise at the prison?”
“Nat! Stop calling my school a prison! Someone will hear you and think I’m a screw at the big house or something.”
Natalie laughed. “A screw at the big house? You’ve been watching too much reality TV.”
“Besides, I like coming here,” Janette said quietly, her gaze riveted on Alon’s muscular form as he efficiently put every single member of the advanced class on the mat. Krav Maga might not be elegant, but Alon sure was. Natalie could appreciate his beauty, even though he didn’t ring her particular bell. They’d tried dating once, early on. But there was no heat between them; they were better as friends.
Janette, on the other hand, had a major crush on Alon, but was too shy to do anything about it. Unfortunately, Alon seemed blissfully unaware. He was always friendly, always respectful, but that was it. Much to Janette’s continued dismay.
“Stop ogling Alon, and talk to me.”