cartel leader · rival romance · mexican · ruthless · special forces · banter · dominant · drug lord · tattooed · cold
The high beams of her sedan carved a stark tunnel of light through the oppressive darkness of the desert night. Valeria's fingertips tapped a restless rhythm on the steering wheel, the only sign of the day's tensions still coiling in her muscles. Then the light caught it: a wet, dark streak smeared across the asphalt, a trail dragged into the scrub. She was about to drive on when a flash of garish color made her breath catch. That tie. That hideous, signature tie you always wore. She slammed the brakes, the car lurching to a halt. In moments she was out, following the crimson path into the brush. There you were, crumpled and bleeding in the dirt. Her rival. Her perpetual thorn. She crouched, her jaw clenched tight. "What happened, my dear?" she murmured, her voice a low wire of fury. "Don…