Filthy Secret

ROMAN

It’s after midnight when we make it out to the kitchen in search of food. Lupita empties the deviled ham onto a plate then opens the cabinet door under the sink and tosses the cans. I frown. “You seem to know your way around the place.”

She picks up the plate and crackers she’s scavenged from the pantry and comes over. “I spent the first five-six years of my life here,” she says, setting the food between us.

Antonio’s words come crashing back. This here, is the pride of La Escuadra. “You grew up here?”

“Just like every Torres before me.” She turns back to the cabinet, pulling open the door. “This is my dad’s handiwork.” She points to the jagged, uneven letters carved into the wood, JT. “Why he was in there, I don’t know. But he was learning to write his name, and he told my grandma he ran out of paper.”

“Quick thinking.” Now the pink and white room makes sense. “So, was that your room we were in?”

“Yes.” Closing the cabinet, she sits beside me to share the potted meat and water from a gallon sitting in the refrigerator. “I think having the first girl in several generations was both a curse and a blessing. They didn’t quite know what to do with me.”

I smile. Yeah, I can’t see a guy like Jorge knowing what to do with a tiny daughter. “You mentioned generations living here, but this is the Mendoza’s property.”

With a grimace, she takes a deep breath. “Fifteen years ago, my grandparents were at a neighboring ranch for a wedding reception. The party went late, and the men started a card game. Long story short, Mr. Mendoza said grandad lost the ranch in a poker game, and he had friends there as witnesses.” She pours herself drink.

“He got screwed over.”

She nods. “He denied it. Everybody who knew him said he didn’t drink and didn’t gamble. A lot of people came forward, so the claim was in question. That didn’t stop them from showing up with armed men to throw

us out. By then, they were already putting up a fence.”

“I see.” That explains why the land’s still under Jorge Torres’s name. Mendoza’s been keeping it tied up all this time.

“Grandad bought an old house and had it moved across the road. It was supposed to be temporary, a place to stay while things got straightened out.” She cocks her head. “But the dispute has dragged on in court.”

“Draining your resources,” I finish for her. Why didn’t I bash Antonio’s teeth in like I wanted?

“My grandad passed; Grandma moved to San Antonio with her sister. My dad was left with less than half the land and no water for the cattle. He had to have it trucked in. Eventually, he had to sell some of the herd at a loss. It broke my heart to see him go through that. He was devastated.” “I understand.” It would be a blow to the man’s pride.

“The latest is the trouble with the coyotes. They shot three head a few days ago, two full-grown and a calf. And they brought down a fence. That’s

what Dad was working on when…this happened.”

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“I was driving to the back of the ranch with some supplies. He shot out a tire then dragged me out of the truck.” She clenches her jaw. “Dad was

supposed to meet me-us-he thought Mom was with me.”

“And he brought you here?”

“Yes. We walked for a couple of hours.” She drags in an unsteady breath. “I think the fact Dad was coming was the only thing that kept him- Blanco, from hurting me.”

“Good.” It was a lucky break. Too bad I didn’t hear about this before. I would have made sure the bastard hurt before killing him. “You won’t have to worry about Blanco anymore.”

ROMAN

Lupita stirs in my arms, bringing me awake. Scrunching her brow against the dim light in the room, she turns, settling flat on her stomach, her right knee bent.

With this being a different time zone, my internal clock is off, but I’m more than certain the sun hasn’t come up yet. I glance over to the nearby chair holding my guns, like I’ve done every time I’ve opened my eyes. While every light in the house is on, I like to be prepared.

Thankfully, there’ve been no surprises…other than the woman sleeping next to me. I lower my lips to her shoulder, placing a kiss on her bare skin. Her long braid brushes my stomach as I move, sending a ripple through my gut, straight down to my groin. My cock stirs, and my lips pull into a grin. I can already imagine her nipples tightening.

I run my fingers down her spine, spreading them over her ass cheek, fanning them over to converge at her pussy. Her core, that’s brought me so much pleasure, is already wet. My cock hardens within my next heartbeat. I go up on an elbow, sliding the pads of two fingers down to circle her nub, then return to dip inside her.

She jerks. “Roman,” she says, surprise injected into the single word.

“Who else would it be?” I murmur against her shoulder, continuing my trek. I slide my fingers in, and her hips angle up.

“Ohhh.” Her inner muscles clamp down, stopping me at the second knuckle. This lovely woman has inadvertently set up an irresistible temptation.

Pulling my fingers from inside her, I push myself up, grabbing the pillow she abandoned. “Stay there,” I instruct in a tone that stops her from turning in place. I set a knee between hers, fold the pillow in half, and pick her up by the hips. My cock brushes her ass while I shove the pillow under her hips.

It’s a beautiful sight, her pink skin glistening with her arousal. I set the head of my cock there, watching myself push aside her walls and disappear into her body. Her accompanying groan has me clenching my jaw.

Leaning over her lets me sink as deep inside her as possible. My balls are practically screaming as I set a hand on the mattress to steady myself. I reach under her, cupping her breast with the other hand. As expected, I find her nipple a tight little bud. My first instinct is to surround it, pulling as I would if I were feeding from her. It’s something she’s going to have to get used to if I have my way-and I always do.

She hugs me tight, making every muscle in my lower body tense. This time, I press my finger and thumb together hard enough to make her cry out. Later, when she’s alone, it’ll remind her of this moment.

My cock’s throbbing, a reminder that there should be much more going on. I straighten, pulling out in the process, only to thrust back in immediately. My pace isn’t gentle; there won’t be anything holding me back from taking her. Her body’s wet and waiting, her moans telling me she’s reveling in the possession. She’s my prize, mine to claim after everything we’ve been through. I dig my fingers into her hips and drive into her with single-minded purpose until I’m at the brink of brutality.

Her grip tightens around me as her cry of release fills the room. As much as I want to, I can’t fight the ripple of her inner muscles. My resistance shatters, and her pussy drains every drop of cum from my balls. I stay buried, keeping pressure on her back until she starts to move.

Breathing labored, I pull out slowly, trying to keep her body from flooding. The image from earlier, present in my mind. Moisture pools, trickling down her pussy. I set my thumb under the thick fluid, moving up, gathering what’s threatening to escape, then press my thumb in to the first knuckle.

“What are you doing?” she asks. Taking my other thumb, I move in gentle circles around her clit. “Oh God. Again?” I grin when she doesn’t move, despite the comment.

This damn woman could be dangerous if given the chance, but I’d die happy if I could fill every one of her holes until that happened.

ROMAN

We’ve been walking for half an hour when the sound of a vehicle engine catches my attention. Lupita turns to look at me. There’s no way to know who’s coming, or if they’re friendly. “You know how to use a gun?” I ask, reaching into my holster.

“Y-yes.” She nods, wide-eyed.

I hand her the gun by the grip. “Go into the bushes; just check the ground.”

“But-”

“Now,” I snap, unused to someone questioning an order. Startled, she clamps her mouth shut and heads for the edge of the road as I turn back to search into the distance. “I’m moving on. Stay sharp.”

I pull my suit coat on to cover my holster as I continue. Antonio? Somehow I doubt it’ll be him. He strikes me as the type to be at home, cowering in a corner.

The last thing I expect is a station wagon to come around the curve. The vehicle slows down, and I immediately recognize Estela.

“Mr. de Marco.” The surprise in her voice is evident, despite being muffled. She puts the engine in park and reaches over to unlock the door.

I check the back, finding it empty. “Lupita, it’s safe,” I call over my shoulder. “It’s Estela.”

Estela freezes, her hand coming to cover her mouth. She makes the sign of the cross as she throws open the door. “Virgen Maria, gracias. Lupita!” She rushes down the road, giving thanks to the Virgin, her arms thrown open until she envelopes Lupita.

“I’m okay, Estela.” Lupita hugs her back, pointing the barrel of the gun to the ground, while being crushed in a bear hug. They’re swinging from side to side like a pendulum while Estela wails.

I glance around, making sure we’re alone, before I head their way. “I’ve got this,” I say, taking the weapon from Lupita before there’s an accident.

“I’m going,” she says around tears. “I’m taking you home.” She sniffs.

“I don’t care if Mr. Mendoza fires me.”

“Fires you?” Lupita frowns, confused. “Why?”

Estela pulls back. “I was going to help search for you.” She cranes her neck, looking back to find me. “Mr. Jorge is losing his mind.” Lupita’s gaze finds mine, her eyes tearing up. “He said I had to come clean for his grandfather, or I’d lose my job.” She cups Lupita’s cheek, her brow

furrowed in anguish. “I’m sorry, mija. I cou-”

“If you hadn’t come,” I cut in, capturing her attention. “You wouldn’t have found her.”

Estela nods in agreement. “You’re right, Mr. de Marco.” “Let’s go.” Lupita nudges her along.

“Yes, yes, let’s go.”

We pile into the station wagon. I haven’t closed the door yet when Lupita grabs the radio Estela has on the dash. “It’s the first saved channel,” Estela says, pressing down on the gas.

Lupita’s shaky finger presses the button on top of the unit. “Come in, Jorge Torres.” She swallows hard. “Come in.”

“Lupe.” The relief in his voice leaves a lump in my throat. “Hija,” he says, as cheers erupt in the background.

“Lupita,” a woman breaks in with a sob.

“Where are you?” Are you okay?” they say, talking over each other.

I squeeze her arm, a reminder of the conversation we had to keep what happened from getting out. She nods. “I’m safe. Estela’s bringing me home.”

“Come home,” Mom says, tearfully. “You, too, Jorge.” Lupita drops back in the seat, her breath coming in a rush.

We drive along at breakneck speed, coming up on the main house. The white two-story house has my care and two trucks out front, one of them Antonio’s. Anticipation coils in my gut. “Drop me off here.” Something in my tone makes Lupita look over, warily.

“Yes, I’ll tell Mr. Mendoza I’m leaving, too,” Estela says with determination.

The door opens, and Antonio comes out, staring as we approach. He jerks his head back, wide-eyed at the sight of us. Anger cuts through me like a torch in the darkness. The son of a bitch left Lupita stranded when she was in trouble. “I’ll take care of it, Estela. Antonio and I are going to have some words.”

“Ay, Dios mio,” she says, calling out to God in concern as I step out.

I lean down, keeping in sight of the doorway. “He’s not invited to this meeting, Estela. Now, you get Lupita home safe. I’ll be along.” With that, I close the door.