Enslaved (Colombian Cartel #6) - Suzanne Steele Page 0,10

half-joking. She sighed, “The best-laid plans. I hope you have a plan B.”

“I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. No…I don’t have a plan B.” Page could feel her heart hammering against her ribs and her mind racing to come up with one. It had never occurred to her they might not be able to get in. She had no idea how she was going to find a new fixer now. There was always the internet, but being catfished was a risk if she took that route. She jumped when Judy elbowed her.

“I think he’s giving us the ‘come hither.’”

Page looked at the giant whose facial expression resembled that of a man who ate nails for breakfast. His eyes bore through her, and he was waggling his sausage finger at her in a ‘come here’ motion. She turned her head and looked behind her, hoping like hell he was talking to someone else. No such luck. Shit!

She could feel herself shaking as she pointed to herself, “Us?” Her question came out like a mouse being choked: squeaky, and ready to run. His massive head that was connected to no neck because he was one big mass of muscle slowly nodded.

“I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you’re not,” Judy said, grabbing her arm and pulling her up towards the man. “You wanted this now put on your big girl panties and woman up.”

“I’m kind of partial to going commando in an instance like this. Maybe I bit off more than I can chew.”

“Too late to spit it out now, sister,” Judy answered. She began half-dragging Page up towards the man. Page was sure he was going to confront her for being on Colombian cartel turf.

“Go in,” he nodded. “Your first time is free,” he lied. As soon as they were out of earshot, he spoke into a headset he wore, “They’re in.” He glared at a group of businessmen who may have overheard him, “You gotta fuckin’ problem with that?!” They all enthusiastically shook their heads no. “I didn’t think so,” he said.

When Page saw the man behind the counter, and he nodded them in, it wasn’t his serious expression that sent a chill up her spine; it was the fact ‘The Club’ was so efficient. She’d immediately noticed the men all wore headsets that enabled them to communicate with each other. This was a smooth operation. She’d expected brawn, but there were brains behind this operation as well.

As they rounded the corner, they almost ran into Antonio Wayne.

Judy’s mouth fell open as she looked up at the tall, dark, deadly man who was eyeing them as if studying a bug beneath a microscope. He wore a cream-colored bespoke suit with a purple tailored button-down shirt and a multicolored tie that pulled it all together. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing, and his eyes were an opaque black that gave no hint of where the iris began, and the pupil ended. They felt like they were looking into pools of endless depth. Judy knew those eyes had seen secrets that would go to the grave with the handsome man. She also knew she wasn’t the only woman who had been pulled into their ability to captivate. Antonio Wayne was the flame in the proverbial quote of a moth’s destruction— the kind of man your mother warned you about; it only added to the temptation of bad boys and the trouble they could and would cause a woman.

“Oh. My. God. He’s better looking in life than he is in pictures,” Judy muttered under her breath. She jumped when she heard a voice behind her.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Page and Judy turned around to see a stunning redhead smiling at them. The glint in her eye revealed a mischievous side—it was easy to see why Antonio Wayne was so enamored with his wife.

“Roxanne,” they both said in unison.

Roxanne eased up beside her husband and slipped her arm through his. With a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips, she answered, “The one and only. Welcome to ‘The Club.’”

Antonio Wayne still hadn’t uttered a word—his eyes said it all: this was his establishment, and the girls were on his turf. They were here because he was allowing them to be here.

“Roxanne, show these ladies to the best table in the house, and their drinks are free tonight.” Though he was giving them the red-carpet treatment, there was nothing friendly in his expression. His face was cut with stark