Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last

here.”
    Sola narrowed her stare.
    Slowly closing the flap of the envelope, she turned the thing over in her hand, reached forward, and put it faceup on the desk. Keeping her forefinger on it, she nodded once. “As you wish.”
    Turning away, she went to the door and waited for the unlock.
    “
Niña
, don’t be like this,” Eduardo said. When she didn’t reply, the creak of his chair suggested he was getting up and coming around.
    Sure enough, his cologne wafted right into her nose and his hands landed on her shoulders.
    “Listen to me,” he said. “You are very important to Ricardo and me. We do not take you for granted—
mucho
respect, yes?”
    Sola looked over her shoulder. “Let me out.”
    “
Niña.”
    “Right now.”
    “Take the money.”
    “No.”
    Eduardo sighed. “You do not need to be this way.”
    Sola enjoyed the guilt that threaded through the man’s voice—the reaction was, in fact, precisely what she was after. Like a lot of menfrom their culture, Eduardo and Ricardo Benloise had been reared by a traditional mother—and that meant feeling guilt was a reflex.
    More effective than yelling at them or kneeing them in the balls.
    “Out,” she said. “Now.”
    Eduardo sighed again, deeper and longer this time, the sound a confirmation that her manipulation had once again truly found home.
    He wouldn’t give her the money she was owed, however. Over-the-top office decor and flashback to his childhood dynamic aside, he was tighter than a bank vault. That being said, she was confident that she’d effectively ruined his evening, so there was satisfaction in that…and she was going to take care of what Ricardo owed her.
    He could do it aboveboard. Or, as he had chosen, he could force her hand.
    That came with a surcharge, of course.
    Yup, it would have been so much cheaper for him just to give her the contract price, but she was not responsible for the decisions of others.
    “Ricardo will be upset,” Eduardo said. “He hates being upset. Please just accept the money—this is not right.”
    The logical part of her brain suggested that she take the opportunity to point out the unfairness of being cheated out of what she was owed. But if she knew these brothers, silence…oh, the silence…
    As nature abhorred a vacuum, so did the conscience of a well-raised, well-bred South American.
    “Sola…”
    She just crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. Cue the Spanish: Eduardo broke into his native tongue, as if his angst had stripped him of his English skills.
    He finally gave up and let her out about ten minutes later.
    There would be roses on her doorstep at nine a.m. She wasn’t going to be home, however.
    She had work to do.

    “
What do you mean, they didn’t show up?
” Assail demanded in the Old Language.
    As he sat back in the seat of his Range Rover, he held his cell phone tight to his ear. The red traffic light up ahead was hindering his forward progress, and it was difficult not to see it as a cosmic parallel.
    His cousin was factual, as always.
“The pickups did not arrive at the prescribed time.”
    “How many of them?”
    “Four.”
    “
What?
” But there was no need for the male to repeat it.
“And no explanations?”
    “Nothing on the street from the seven others, if that’s what you mean.”
    “What did you do with the extra product?”
    “I brought it home with me just now.”
    As green flashed overhead, Assail hit the gas.
“I’m making the interim payment to Benloise, and then I’ll meet you.”
    “
As you wish.
”
    Assail turned right and headed away from the river. Two blocks up, a left had him approaching the gallery again; another left and he was going behind it.
    There was a car already parked in the back, a black Audi, and he eased in behind the sedan. Reaching into the foot of the passenger seat, he took the silver metal briefcase by its black handle and got out of the SUV.
    At that moment, the rear door of the gallery opened and someone emerged.
    A female human, going by the scent.
    She was tall and had long legs. Dark, heavy hair pulled back. Chin was up, as if she were ready to fight—or had just been in one.
    But none of that was material to him. It was her parka—a camouflage white-on-cream parka.
    “Good evening,” he said in a low voice as they met in the middle of the alley, he on his way in, she on her way out.
    She stopped and frowned, her hand sneaking into the interior of that coat of hers. In a flash, he