Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(77)

Alluring and dangerous … like a black widow spider.

As her gaze slid in his direction, tracking his approach, a smile of satisfaction and amusement grew. “I didn’t expect you to come. What had you told me the last time we crossed paths? That my husband was beneath your notice, and that I was beneath his?”

No, Cesar Rivera was still very much beneath his notice. Once he had thought him capable, but that was until the man crossed him on a deal. While he was not above trades for flesh at one time or another, he had made a deal like that once before. He had ceased his part in helping the transactions along, making sure that anyone who thought to use his services knew his feelings on the matter.

It hadn’t taken long before Cesar’s business took a turn, but instead of folding entirely, somehow he had managed to bounce back, far quicker than Uilleam would have thought possible … at least until he learned of their involvement with Elias.

How easy it was to find secrets with only a name.

Cesar peddled in flesh, sampling his wares far too often, and Uilleam knew the man couldn’t possibly be in negotiations with Elias. It was too easy for him to make mistakes.

But Carmen …

He had underestimated the woman.

“Cesar is now beneath your notice as well, no?” Uilleam asked as he took a seat opposite her. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

Carmen’s answering smile was demure, but Uilleam saw it for what it was. In their world, it was what was left unsaid that mattered the most.

“Why are you really here?” Carmen asked, setting her empty martini glass on the table. “I doubt it was to exchange pleasantries.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

One perfectly arched brow shot up as she leaned in, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Cesar has been running your club for almost a decade now, unrivaled since I took care of that nasty business you had with the Vega Cartel.”

Carmen’s reaction was carefully controlled, her gaze drifting down to her lap at the mere mention of the organization that tried to kill her.

That was a consequence of doing business with men like Uilleam. While he was able to solve problems one might not have otherwise been able to resolve, that still left them open to attack because Uilleam then knew their weakness.

And he was far worse of an enemy to have than any Cartel.

“I’m sure we have expressed our gratitude in regards to that,” Carmen said coolly.

“Indeed. But I’ve been curious. Cesar has failed to move his business further since I fixed the problem. One would think he would have progressed farther than he has, and yet here we are.”

Carmen flipped her hair over her shoulder. “My husband’s business is his own.”

“Is it?” Uilleam asked with a smirk. “Come now, Carmen. You should know by now that nothing escapes my notice.”

He made it a point to know as much about anyone he crossed paths with as possible. It was just good business practice.

She was quite skilled with her deception considering Cesar was no more the wiser of what she was up to, but it would have taken far more than a few hushed conversations to keep Uilleam’s attention away.

“You’ve been thinking about pushing your husband out of the business,” Uilleam said as he watched the ice dance around his glass. “A daunting task for someone like you, but not impossible for someone like me.”

“Not impossible, you say? With everything that you’ve done over the last couple of years, I can see why you think so, but how can I be sure you can do what I need?”

That was the opening he needed. “And what, exactly, is it that you need? I’m sure I can find a solution—for a price, of course.”

Carmen wasn’t a stupid woman. She hadn’t made her way up to the top by making reckless decisions, so Uilleam knew that she wouldn’t just outright say what they both knew she wanted.

“Perhaps I do want things my husband doesn’t, but you’re asking me to betray him and—”

“Am I?” Uilleam asked, canting his head to the side. “I’m merely offering you a service—one I’ve offered many, including Cesar.”

“You’ve never fixed anything for Cesar,” Carmen said in a rush, her accent growing thicker as she considered his words.

He almost smiled.

It didn’t matter whether he had or had not, not when the truth no longer mattered. Doubt was a powerful thing, and those that inspired them in others always believed someone else was out to get them as well.

Carmen stared at him a moment. “If you fail …”

“When have I ever?”

“I’ve heard things,” Carmen said as she sat back, appraising him with a critical eye as she dragged a crimson painted fingernail across the tablecloth. “A woman, sí?”

In his thirty-two years of living, Uilleam had learned quite well how to hide his reaction to stimuli, especially when it came from those that meant to bait him.

His father had taught him well in that regard.

But, he was not perfect by any means, and while his reaction was not one that made her aware of it, he still knew.

More than that, he was surprised the glass hadn’t shattered from the grip he had on it. “And yet, here I sit. Others cannot say the same, can they? But that’s immaterial. The real question is whether or not you’re willing to pay my price.”