Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(42)

The Russian was in top shape, though Maldonado never saw him using the spa facilities. Or training with the ultramodern machinery there. Not the style of the enforcer.

Nico’s phone beeped. After reading the message, his expression tightened.

“What? More trouble?”

“Another shipment has been lost. Intercepted upon arrival.”

Not to mention they still had one stuck in an all but paralyzed port.

Maldonado let out a curse in between clenched teeth.

Lately, everything was going to hell. And it didn’t seem to be improving in the immediate future. The whole mess with Aalto. The mysterious witness at large. Back home he was having trouble with the police and the other cartels. Nico would be the one to send to take care of that, but Maldonado was forced to see his best asset off to Hawaii on a wild goose chase because an old fart didn’t know that when he couldn’t swallow an olive it was time to retire. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the morons who’d dumped a body over the ocean and had it land on an island. And then made the wrong witness disappear.

“Any news on Jacobson? Any vices we could exploit?” Maldonado asked, trying to breathe through the murderous thoughts.

Nico shook his head. “Nothing so far.”

Jacobson, the politician who’d replaced Aalto, had even a tougher line on immigration than his predecessor. What was worse, he was squeaky clean, and no matter how hard they tried, they hadn’t been able to dig up any dirt on him.

He was a fanatically religious man with an equally enthusiastic wife. No vices. No extramarital affairs. No kinks. The * was a frigging saint. Give him a decade and all that enthusiasm would go down the drain. He would be taking bribes, doing drugs, and f*cking whores by the dozens, but they didn’t have a decade.

“We can talk to him,” Nico suggested. “Convince him of the error of his ways.”

True. Intimidation worked as well as blackmail, but fanatics tended to love to end up like martyrs. No time for that kind of shit. He’d try other venues. It would take some time and would require him traveling and kissing some ass, which he was not too keen on doing, but he reckoned it’d be worth it.

As Nico stood up to leave, Maldonado said, “By the way, I saw Carlos. What happened to his face?”

Nico didn’t even flinch. “I work alone. And heat makes me cranky.”

It was best that the Russian worked alone then, or he was going to disfigure half his men.



“Why is your bodyguard-slash-private-terminator staring at you as if he wants to eat you alive?”

Elle smiled at her inquisitive sister. “Probably because he does. Starting with biting my head off.”

“Nah,” Tate said, “I think he means to start eating much lower.”

Elle covered her nephew’s tiny ears and feigned shock. “Who are you and what have you done with my straitlaced sister?”

“Please. Your straitlaced sister, lover of soft-mannered, politically correct metrosexuals, married James Bowen. She’s gone.”

That was true. And this new Tate was so much fun. Motherhood really became her. James became her.

“Are you still pretending to be together, or are you f*cking him for real?” Tate asked.

“Let’s just say we decided it would be mutually beneficial to find a way to work out the sexual tension between us before it went kaboom.”

“And?”

Elle chuckled. “What do you mean ‘and’? We are working it off.” Although it didn’t help. The more they went at it, the more electrified the air around them got.

At that moment, Jack walked to them and nodded to Tate, then turned to Elle. “Pet, wrap it up. There’s somewhere I have to pass by on the way home.”

“Two minutes, Borg.”

He cupped her neck and took her mouth. “You have one,” he said and strode away.

“I see getting into bed with him hasn’t made him more laid-back,” Tate whispered.

No, it hadn’t. Jack was as intense as always. More even.

And God help her she liked him. His intensity and grouchiness too. He didn’t speak much but he had a very sharp sense of humor, which she loved. Even if it came at her expense.

“You taking him to Jonah and Lizzie’s party this weekend?” Tate asked while they both got up from the loungers. Jonah didn’t seem to like being moved because he started to fuss.

“Have to,” she replied, rocking the baby in her arms. “He’s made it very clear that he goes where I go or I don’t go at all.”

Tate lifted her eyebrow. “And you haven’t chewed his head off yet?”

“I tried, but he’s like a tank, sis. Immovable.” Nothing veered him from his path.

“I told you he wasn’t like your other boyfriends.”

No shit. He was like nobody she’d ever met. Not that she knew that much about him, but what she knew, wow. She hadn’t recuperated yet from the revelation about the burn marks on his body. And worse yet, the dismissiveness in his tone when he spoke of them.

“Let me get James,” Tate said and went into the house. The second she left, Jonah started crying.

As Elle reached the truck where Jack was already waiting, she remembered her bag and handed the baby to Jack. “Just a sec. I forgot my stuff.”

She strutted inside and bumped into James and Tate in the hallway. Her sister was carrying Elle’s bag.