Read Bane: Elite Operatives (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 4) for Free Online

tapped a gun on the surface of the table. The leader of the Los Reyes de Guerra cartel looked nothing like a South American crime lord. He was scrawny as a fucking chicken wing with a thick scar pulling down the whole left side of his face. His gang minions wore regulation leather and black. Not Carlos. He dressed in a three-piece suit in dandy-friggin’-blue complete with a perfectly folded handkerchief in the breast pocket.
    Like these were the old Prohibition days and he was the Hispanic Al-fucking-Capone.
    His second-in-command sat beside him—no airs for him. He looked just like what he was. A big block of concrete with fists built to kill with one lethal punch.
    The same as I’d been.
    “You got some cojones, cabron , showing up again. Not enough pain last night?” Carlos’s voice was guttural as a bullfrog’s, at odds with his small frame.
    “ Bastardo .” The concrete block lumbered to his feet. “I keel him, si ?”
    Carlos wrapped a thin-fingered hand around his henchman’s arm before he could draw a gun on me.
    Tension rolled between the three of us, until Kiki— goddammit —stepped out from behind me.
    My hand fell to the grip of my Sig.
    I watched Carlos’s dark eyes move over Kiki, taking stock of her as she stood with a bold smile and a cocked hip.
    “Shouldn’t we have drinks before we pull out the guns?” She winked, batting her eyelashes.
    Un-fucking-believably, Carlos laughed—the sound as grating as machine gun fire.
    The atmosphere cooled rapidly from the suffocating sense of Kiki’s and my imminent doom to the chill zone. All the potential perps breathing down our necks as Kiki and I stood with our backs to the rest of the bar slowly dispersed.
    Carlos even motioned for us sit across from him.
    Maybe there was something to be said for bringing Baby Spy with me instead of motormouth Walker.
    “How many partners you got, gringo?” Carlos asked as we slid into the cracked-leather booth.
    “The dude you shot up last night was an associate. Not a partner.”
    “What about her.” He shoved his chin in Kiki’s direction.
    I glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “Her? Definitely a partner.”
    “ Bueno . Good choice.” At the lift of his finger, a bottle of tequila arrived with four fresh glasses.
    Hulk the Henchman poured, and I was surprised he didn’t shatter the small glasses in his hamfist.
    Carlos raised his drink toward Kiki. “ Senorita Catalina . It’s been awhile, no ?”
    Catalina?
    “Sixteen months, give or take.” She saluted him with her drink then gulped it in one.
    I sat, frozen for a second, this new information nothing short of a ball-shocker. As soon as I figured out how to swallow again, I downed my drink and motioned for another shot.
    Kiki isn’t using the pussy angle then.
    Jesus.
    She’d been inside with the cartel before. In what capacity I had no idea, but it suddenly became crystal goddamn clear why she’d been put into play on this mission.
    She and Carlos began a fast conversation in fluent Spanish while I remembered to do more than sip my fucking tequila and look like more than a turd in a punchbowl.
    Christ.
    I cut in whenever possible, adding my own info, but Kiki squeezed my thigh beneath the cover of the table—trying to shut me down or turn me on, I wasn’t sure.
    Probably shut me down.
    But then her fingers traveled to the northside of strictly professional, copping a feel of my cock that’d grown dangerously hard as soon as she’d touched me.
    Scratch that.
    As soon as she’d turned Carlos the Killer into Carlos the Kitten.
    While I sat, nursing my drink, choking on arousal, Kiki felt me up with very fucking skilled fingers toying with the fat head of my cock all the while she multitasked.
    I felt my eyes grow wider and wider when I would’ve preferred to just slump back, open my pants, and get her to blow me.
    I couldn’t decide if I was more stunned by her impressive knowledge of Los Reyes cartel’s competitors’ movements, her