Chapter 1: Dulce’s Gambit
Dulce extracted her index finger from between her full, perfect lips, dark eyes blazing as she
stared into Jefe’s entranced face. She dipped the moistened digit into the bowl of white powder
on the nightstand, then slipped it into his mouth, rubbing the cocaine into his gums.
The effect was almost immediate.
Jefe’s watchful eyes turned hyper-vigilant, almost manic as she pulled off his shirt, damp from
the humid heat of the Colombian night. He began to say something, but Dulce simply placed her
finger softly, sensually over his lips.
She liked it quiet, only the natural sounds of the jungle outside filling the damp air.
Slowly sliding her finger down his lips, feeling Jefe’s hands slithering up the smooth, mocha skin
of her back, she leaned forward to give him a deep, passionate kiss.
Dulce’s dark eyes never left his as she focused on Jefe’s increasingly lively gaze. He should be
feeling everything she was doing in magnified fashion by this point. Smiling slyly, she pressed
her lush lips to his neck, nipping and sucking as she worked her way down. She could feel him
squirm beneath her.
She loved this feeling—being in control. It was what she liked best about sex.
Jefe’s fingers glided around the sides of her petite body until they found the arcing slopes of her
full breasts. She pulled away from him for a moment, reaching down to pull her top over her
head. Her sleek, curvaceous body fully revealed to his trembling eyes, she allowed her lips to
part in a dazzling smile before leaning back down to trail kisses down his warm, bare chest.
He began to knead her breasts. It felt good. He was a decent lover, she knew from experience.
But tonight wasn’t about her.
Dragging her soft lips sensually over his tanned stomach, she licked the sweat from his naked
torso, extending slowly over him until the silky swells of her calves flowed under his legs. His
eager cock stiffened between her breasts, and he shuddered with pleasure.
She smiled again. She had barely begun, and he was already putty in her hands.
Dulce felt the heat of his engorged cock brushing her neck as she suckled each of his lower
abs. By the time her mouth finally arrived at his proud erection, she decided he was a little too
aroused.
She’d have to tease him a little. To make it last.
She let out a steamy breath over his quivering tip, her lips curling into a sly smile as she
considered what to do to him next.
Placing her delicate hands on the inside of his thighs, she dug her fingers into his muscles,
feeling their hardness. She massaged upward, pressing into his increasingly sensitive flesh until
she arrived at his crotch.
His erection was raging now, pointing proudly skyward.
She fingered his balls lightly, then the base of his cock more firmly, feeling the blood pulse
inside his erogenous zones.
“Please,” he whispered. It had only been a few minutes, and he was already begging.
Her rich brown irises dancing with delight, she tapped his tip with her tongue, garnering another
writhing reaction. She placed a fingernail on the underside of his member and ground it slowly
up his sensitive flesh. She felt his hands clench almost uncomfortably tight over her breasts.
“Please?” he asked again, this time in more of a questioning whimper.
She leaned in, breathing in the briny scent of his arousal, then placed her scarlet-painted lips
over his cock, pushing her tongue hard against the underside of his tip.
“Oh God!” he cried. She could feel the coming orgasm inside him and decided to make it fast
and hard.
She ground down his length in one steady, continuous motion, swirling her tongue over and into
every inch. As she reached his base, he spasmed, his hips bucking hard into her chin.
She tasted the brackish heat of his viscous fluid as it pumped into her mouth, then spread it
over his flesh with her tongue as she worked her way back up his convulsing member.
Jefe moaned as Dulce spread her small body over his, pressing her voluptuous breasts against
his chest as his body calmed.
“You are amazing, little Dulcita. You never disappoint.”
“I know,” she replied, smiling as she tucked her cheek into the crook of his neck.
“You make me forget about this nasty business, if only for a moment.”
She gave him a small kiss, just to the side of his Adam’s apple, in reply.
“I reached out to Abomination as you suggested,” Jefe continued. “The DEA has become more
troublesome lately. Not to mention our rival cartels. With his help, no one will dare challenge us.
We can dominate the market.”
Dulce snuggled into him, pressing his nose with her finger in approval. “I knew you had
ambition, Jefe.”
Then the phone rang.
Sighing, Jefe rolled Dulce off him and walked over to the table to pick up the receiver. She
listened attentively, drifting a finger over her nipple distractedly.
“Abomination?” Jefe said, immediately turning his attention to the conversation rather than his
sometime lover.
Dulce rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom. She wanted to leave Jefe’s sight so that he
wouldn’t think to ask her to leave the room. She wanted to eavesdrop.
Entering the bathroom, she closed the door behind her, leaving it open only a crack. She placed
a small hand on the side of the sink and cupped the other, filling it with water to rinse her mouth.
Taking a moment to examine her appearance in the mirror, she wiped off her lips.
She was gorgeous.
Flawless, milky skin graced the surface of her perfect complexion. Her hair, the color of
midnight, shimmered as its waves of ringlets cascaded to mid-back. Bordered by long, curling
lashes, her eyes were luminous and expressive, her lips doubly so.
Many had told her she should take up modeling, and her face was easily pretty enough, but her
1.6-meter stature was hardly modelesque. Her body, however, while short, was sumptuously
curved and lushly feminine.
She had first joined the cartel at eighteen, when one of her friends, Santiago, had found work as
a security guard here. She had come to one of the compound’s weekly parties, quickly attracting
Jefe’s eye in her skimpy bikini. That had been two years ago.
Since then, she’d become the most sought-after consort at the compound, compensated for her
efforts with free drugs—which she never took—and piles of cash—which she always took—in
exchange for sexual favors.
Lately, Jefe had even begun to listen to her ideas. As wickedly cunning as she was
devastatingly gorgeous, Dulce had proven her worth to him with her natural instinct for strategic
thinking nearly as often as she had with her breathtaking body in recent months.
Perhaps for that reason, suspicious of the young woman’s potent combination of extreme
intelligence and thirst for power, he seemed to be limiting her access to information about his
operation lately. Clearly, he didn’t completely trust her and didn’t want her to know too much
That was actually pretty smart on his part, she thought as she pressed her ear to the bathroom
door, listening in on his conversation. If she were to see an opportunity to advance herself at his
expense, she wouldn’t hesitate to pounce on it. Such was the law of the Colombian jungle.
Dulce had never viewed herself as prey. Small, she might be, but she was a predator.
“...protection of course! What else would I need you for?”
A pause.
“That’s outrageous! Do you take me for a fool? I could hire an army for that price!”
Another pause.
“Well then, I will expect immediate results. There’s this DEA helicopter that keeps flying
overhead, taking pictures. Can you deal with that?”
A long silence.
“Okay then. I’ll wire the funds in the morning. I expect to see you before the weekend.”
Jefe said nothing further, apparently having ended the call. Dulce primped her hair one final
time, then flushed the toilet before leaving the bathroom. When she appeared, Jefe eyed her
carefully.
“Now can we get back to relaxing?” she said huskily, lowering her eyelashes seductively.
His shoulders relaxed a bit as she approached him, her sultry gaze never leaving his. He took
her into his arms, and she quickly made him forget his suspicions in a dizzying haze of
pleasure.
***
Standing at the curb below her mother’s apartment building, Dulce re-tied the knot on her
paisley crop top as a steady stream of cars drove by. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to
wear a midriff-baring top for this visit to her mother, but she didn’t own much that wasn’t
designed to showcase her body anymore. Besides, it was hot today, even by South American
standards.
She ascended the stairs of the building, and, taking a deep breath, knocked. When the door
opened a moment later, her mother’s eyes lit up with warm affection.
“Mijita!” she cried, throwing her arms around Dulce. Her daughter looked sheepish as she
returned her mother’s hug, then allowed herself to be ushered quickly inside.
Immediately the older woman made a beeline to the kitchen, setting to work making their lunch.
Her mother, Gabriella, was an attractive woman in her own right. She looked much like Dulce,
though with a few creases in her beautiful face, twin wispy streaks of gray in her raven mane,
and a few extra pounds on her womanly hips.
Dulce walked up to the kitchen counter, pulled an envelope from her bag, and set it down with
an emphatic thump. Her mother’s eyes searched for the source of the sound until they found the
stack of bills. Eying it as suspiciously as if it were ticking, the woman sighed.
Here it comes, thought Dulce wryly to herself.
“I wish you wouldn’t stay at that horrible place, mija,” she said, eyes remaining fixed on the
envelope of cash.
“But mama, you know that we depend on that money. Living in Cartagena is expensive! Your
job at the hotel doesn’t provide even close to enough to pay the bills.”
“I know,” the older woman replied, sadness filling her suddenly glassy eyes. “When we had your
father’s income too, we could manage, but now…”
She trailed off as her voice grew thick with emotion. Dulce’s eyes softened, and she gave her
disconsolate mother another hug. It had been two years, but her father’s death was still an open
wound.
As she released the hug, her mother wiped away a glimmering tear and sniffed. Returning to
her task, the older woman’s normally dexterous fingers trembled. Dulce watched her with
concerned eyes, wondering what she could do to help get her mother past these worries, when
the doorbell sounded, startling her.
Gabriella’s head shot up from the tamales she was wrapping. “Could you get that, dear?”
Dulce’s brows furrowed. What was this all about? But she did as requested, walking over the
door and pulling it open. At the entrance stood a man several years older than she was. Maybe
around thirty years old? He was attractive, with chiseled features, a nice physique, and a cocky
smile.
His smile disappeared, his jaw tensing and relaxing as he chewed a stick of gum. His eyebrows
rose slowly as his gaze descended to Dulce’s lush cleavage. “You’re not Gabriella.”
Dulce rolled her eyes at the man for stating the obvious. Who was this obnoxious—and
annoyingly good-looking—gringo?
“Very observant,” she shot back, placing a small hand on her cocked hip. “And you are…?”
“Is that any way to greet a friend of…” He paused, eying her face consideringly, still gnawing on
his gum. “...your mother’s?” The last part was clearly a guess, an attempt to discover who she
was. Irritatingly, it was correct.
Not answering, Dulce instead turned toward her mother. She remained positioned to block his
entry. “Mama, do you actually know this obnoxious man? Or is he just some silly salesman
come to harass you?”
Her mother smiled as the man raised his sunglasses, levering them upward until they found a
perch atop his head. “I do know this man. Let him in. I asked him to have a talk with you.”
“You asked him to talk to me?” Dulce asked, surprised. “Since when did you start trying to set
me up on dates?”
“What makes you think I’m interested in dating you?” the man said, amused by her assumption.
“Get over yourself, princess. Granted, you’re pretty hot and all, but I’m here on business.”
He pushed past Dulce, brushing aside the arm she was using to block the door to send her
stumbling to the side. Grinning, he sat down on the couch, spreading his arms wide as he
chewed his gum and watched Dulce shoot her mother a questioning glare.
“Do you want to tell her why I’m here, Gabriella? Or should I?” said the man, observing Dulce’s
pointed stare with tacit smugness.
“Go ahead, Señor Johnson,” Gabriella invited. She turned her attention toward Dulce, giving her
a meaningful look. “Listen to what the nice man has to say, mija.”
The man’s smile grew wider as Dulce slumped into the seat across from him, frowning. Her
eyes were attentive, however. She couldn’t help but be curious.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dulce...” He seemed to savor her name as it rolled off her
tongue, emphasizing its two syllables with careful precision. How did he know her name? Had
her mother told him? She was going to have to have a talk with the woman about telling her
business to every stranger she met on the street. Dulce fidgeted in her seat. The man had her
at a disadvantage, a position she was unaccustomed to being in. She took great pains to always
know more than anyone expected her to. But it was the opposite in this case. This man seemed
to know who she was, but she hadn’t the slightest idea who he was or why he was here. She
didn’t like it one bit.
“...but I’m not here to sweep you off your feet, as appealing as that might be for you.” He
continued before pausing, smacking his gum loudly as he seemed to reconsider his words.
Dulce scowled at his presumption, cursing herself for her earlier comment.
“Well, actually, maybe I am here to sweep you off your feet,” he corrected. “In a way…”
Would this man ever come out and say what he was doing here? Dulce was growing seriously
annoyed now. Eyes blazing, she interrupted him. “Would you just spit it out, gringo? Who are
you, and what are you doing here?”
He continued to grin. “Patience, my little Dulcita. Patience!” He paused again, for the sole
purpose of grating on her nerves even further. She was really beginning to hate this man. Why
did he have to be so damned attractive?!
His smile faded a bit, his expression becoming a bit more serious. “I’m with the DEA.”
Dulce’s eyes widened. A moment later, she jumped to her feet, casting a sidelong glance
toward the door, calculating her odds of being able to escape before he could catch her.
“Relax,” Agent Johnson said. “I’m not here for you. I’m here to help you. And your mother.”
Dulce gaped at the man, now completely confused.
“I’m here to offer you and your mother the witness protection program if you agree to help us put
away the senior members of the cartel. We need your testimony to help us with the extradition
proceedings.”
“Witness protection…?” Dulce repeated numbly, attempting to wrap her mind around the
unexpected proposal.
“You would live in Miami...” he cast a glance at Gabriella before returning his eyes to the
attractive woman across from him. “...as would your mother, of course.”
He leaned forward, his expressive eyes imploring. “Just imagine it. A new life in the U.S. A
steady income. No need to be involved with people like them anymore. You and your mother
would be safe and well cared for. It would be a better life for both of you.”
Dulce considered the proposal. The man had good points. But Colombia was her home. And
her mother’s. And, while there were things about the cartel she didn’t like, she had gained
significant influence there. The situation wasn’t bad for her.
Her mind leapt to the conversation she had overheard the previous day. Jefe was about to bring
in Abomination, the strongest supervillain in the world. She seriously doubted that this DEA man
was ready to take him on. No, now was not the time to accept this man’s proposal. But should
she tell him that?
She looked at the hopeful expression on his handsome face. No, she shouldn’t. Better for him to
think that her consent might be a possibility. Men were always easier to manipulate when they
wanted something from her.
Her lips parted in a sly smile. And this man wanted her as more than just a witness. She could
see it in his eyes.
Feeling a bit more sure of herself now that she understood the landscape, Dulce allowed her
smile to widen. She rolled her shoulders back, pressing her chest forward so that her nipples
tented the fabric of her skimpy top as she sat back down.
Leaning forward, she watched his eyes flick downward, her own dancing with amusement. Yes,
he was definitely attracted to her. She could work with this.
“So tell me, Señor Johnson. Would you be moving in with us in Miami as well?” Her voice took
on a sultry undertone.
The man’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, nearly choking on his gum.
