Master of the Game (Rush Series Book 3) (17 page)

Big, fat
raindrops were beginning to fall as Alex hung up with Jacob and began making
his way back to camp. As he passed Devon’s tent, it took everything in him to
restrain himself from marching in it and demanding the truth from her… not that
he thought for one minute she’d give it to him. No, it was better if he allowed
their game to play out. Let it play out… then round them up for the feds and go
home. Time and distance would put an end to any residual feelings he had for
that woman. He just didn’t understand himself. He’d slept with more women than
he could remember. Why did this one haunt him so? No matter… this time next
week, he’d be far away from this rotting jungle… and her.

~*M*~

As Alex
tramped by her tent en route to his own, Devon lay in bed waiting on Roman to
return. Her mind went back to the events of the previous week which had brought
her to the place she was in now.

“That
rat-bastard…” Devon Montanez muttered as she walked into the apartment drawing
her shirt up over her head as she passed through en-route to her bedroom.

“Are
you referring to the King Rat-Bastard or his son, Prince Rat-Bastard?” Roman
asked
,
his toned and muscular body stretched out on
the couch as he casually flipped through the television channels.

Continuing
on to her room and changing into yoga pants and T-shirt, she returned and
flopped down next to him before answering. “The King,” she said as her lips
curled in derision.

Leaning
her head to rest against the couch’s back, she turned to meet the amused gaze of
her best friend’s eyes. “What’d he do this time?” he asked, as he reached for
her hand.

“He
stopped by the restaurant and demanded a command performance for dinner
tonight,” she replied.

“How’d
he do that exactly?”

“The
asshole said it would be in my mother’s best interest. I don’t know why she
won’t leave him. She has to have contacts back in the states,” she said with a
sad shake of her head.

“So… dinner with the folks.
Sucks to be you.
Bring me something back, okay?”

Clasping
his hand within the both of hers, she pleaded, “Please come with me. Don’t make
me go alone,” she batted her dark eyes like a puppy dog.

“Oh no,
chica
.
You are definitely on your own this
time. I have a date,” he replied.

“Anybody
I know?” she asked.

“Oh no…
I’m not
gonna
jinx it. I’ll tell you if it goes well.
Now, go make nice,” he said shoving her away from him.

She
rose begrudgingly from the couch. “At least tell me where you’re going on this
mystery date… a movie… dinner… water skiing… Come on! I need to live
vicariously through you… at least give me a crumb… it’s been so long since I’ve
had a life of my own,” she implored teasingly with her hands stretched out in
front of her.”

“
LaFayette’s
,” he finally supplied, indicating a swanky, hip
restaurant.

Devon
slinked off to her room and turned the water on in the shower to preheat, not
that it would stay hot for long. She cast an eye over the hovel she and Roman
called home – at least until he moved out. Her father would turn over in his
grave if he saw it. The small, bug-infested house did have its advantages
though: she and Roman could afford the rent; and the King Rat-Bastard, and his
son, the Prince, refused to set foot within its walls.

Thinking
of them made the knot she’d previously dislodged, return. The King, better
known as Miguel Munoz, her less than esteemed step-father, had put it in his
mind that he could dictate her life as well as her mother’s. He’d even gone as
far as to keep the money her father had left hostage from her. Oh, he’d said
the money was hers… as long as she did what he wanted her to do. But it would
be a cold day in hell. What her mother ever saw in him was beyond her. Her
father had been a doctor, a respected member of society. He’d been a
law-abiding man with high morals; while Miguel Munoz was a notorious drug
dealer.

When
Devon had first arrived home after graduation… a graduation her mother had been
unable to attend due to having broken her arm the day before, it’d taken her
less than a week to discover the cause of Miguel Munoz’s wealth. She’d begged
her mother to leave with her, but she’d refused. That had been when Miguel had
told her she could leave but she’d be doing it on her own and not to expect any
help, financial or otherwise, from him or her mother.

Being
homeless and penniless, she’d made her way to the only other family she’d ever
known, the Alcazars. The Alcazars owned a quaint little restaurant in the
downtown district and had gladly given her a job and helped her and Roman find
a place they could rent together – be roommates and share expenses.

But her
life was about to change again when Roman started his new job which would take
him away from her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for him, she was, he
deserved this chance – his first since he’d graduated. She shuddered at what
she’d have to do when he left. She thought about going somewhere she could use
her own hard-earned MBA from the University of Florida, but was afraid to get
too far from her mother… it was what her father would have wanted her to do.

Stepping
out of the now cold shower, Devon grabbed a towel and rubbed the water from her
skin. She refused to dress up for dinner at the drug dealer’s house, so jeans
and T-shirt it was. She could only pray that Prince Rat-Bastard, better known
as Miguel’s son, Jorge Munoz, wouldn’t be there. It had not gone unnoticed by
her that Miguel had it in his mind that she and Jorge would make an ideal
couple… as if!

Jorge
Munoz was a troll. He was short and paunch. He’d apparently had a severe case
of acne, as his tan face was now pitted. His hawk-like eyes were hard and cruel
like his father’s. He was spoiled and entitled and the evil she saw buried
within him scared her.

After a
quick goodbye to Roman, who while now dressed for his date, had once again
resumed his position on the couch, Devon headed toward the door. Just as she
reached it, Roman threw out, “Maybe if you’re nice, the Rat-Bastard will set
you up in style when I leave.”

Instead
of answering verbally, Devon flipped him off, which caused him to laugh at its
absurdity.

As she
drove through the night toward her mom’s, she wondered for the millionth time
how her mother had ever become involved with such a man. She’d asked her
repeatedly, but each time, her mother had become cagey and nearly secretive. If
it hadn’t been for her mother, she’d have never agreed to this dinner. She
hoped Miguel would get to the point of the dinner sooner, rather than later.

Pulling
her twenty-year-old deathtrap, as her mother called it, into the drive, she was
careful to park it off the pavement to prevent a repeat of her last visit.
She’d thought Miguel was going to have a stroke when he’d seen the oil stain
left behind. She stepped out of the car and shut the door slowly as she gazed
up at the ostentatious monstrosity her mother called home. The sprawling mansion
was set awkwardly at the foot of the hills. A huge fountain sat in the center
of the courtyard, the colored lights turning the water a lighted blue. Even the
house seemed to scream the knowledge that Miguel Munoz didn’t come from money
or any type of refinement. Like the man who owned it, the house was gaudy and
while huge, cheap and tasteless.

She
thought wistfully of the elegant home of her youth, the home her parents had
built with love – a house which stood empty because Miguel refused to let Devon
live in it. She swallowed hard once more as she fought to contain the sorrow of
losing her father. Life certainly wasn’t fair to allow such a wonderful man as
her father to be killed, while allowing a deviant such as Miguel Munoz to live.
She hated him and everything he stood for. With more resolve than she felt, she
slowly made her way toward the house’s overdone entrance with its double doors
painted white and trimmed in gold.

She
rang the doorbell and stood shuffling her feet as irritation began coiling
itself around her like a python around its prey. She swung her head to look
behind her when she saw lights bouncing off the house’s exterior. A small, blue
convertible Mercedes with its top up and its music blaring came roaring up the
drive. Jorge Munoz, she thought, just great, just what she needed to deal with.
She watched as he parked alongside all the other elegant and expensive vehicles
near the garage. The contrast in their vehicles spoke volumes to their polar
opposite circumstances in life. Not that she expected wealth to be handed to
her by any means. She just didn’t think it should be granted to scumbags
either.

“
Ahh
, little Devon, why are you standing on the threshold
like a guest? You are family, no?” the repulsive Jorge said with a smile, which
made her involuntarily take a step back.

She
gave him a small, guarded smile in answer and waited for him to open the door.
She preceded him into the grand hall and found her mother descending from
upstairs. Whenever Devon saw the massive staircase, she couldn’t help thinking
of the movie Gone
With
the Wind. Her mother smiled and
Devon struggled to return it as Jorge moved up behind her and placed his hand
against the small of her back.

“Look
what I found on the front doorsteps,” Jorge proclaimed to her mother.

Devon
tensed at his touch as well as from being so close to the offensive man.

“Devon,”
her mother said with a smile, “I’m so happy you decided to join us for dinner.”

Devon
returned her smile, if more than a little reserved. As if I had a choice, she
thought to herself.

Her
beautifully made-up mother, dressed in a pearl-grey suit undoubtedly from some
top named designer, hugged her tight and kissed her. Devon returned the hug in
earnest. She did love her mother, even if she didn’t always understand her.

“Good
to see you, mom,” she said lightly.

Clasping
her hand with Devon’s, Sharon Munoz pulled her after her into a room they
called the parlor. To Devon, it was more of a study/game room, but when it was
your house, she guessed you could call a room whatever you wanted. Her mother
led her to a small settee in the center of the room and pulled her down to sit
next to her.

“Jorge,
be a dear, and pour us a glass of the red, please,” her mother said.

“Red,
it is,” he said with a smile as he hurried off to do her mother’s bidding.

“Just
let me look at you,” Sharon said. Her eyes ran over the jeans and T-shirt, and
while a look of distaste crossed over her face at the attire, she didn’t
comment. She brushed the long hair over Devon’s shoulders. “As beautiful as
ever,” her mother proclaimed with a trembling smile. Softly, so as not to be
overheard by Jorge, she added, “You remind me so much of your father.”

Devon
swallowed hard at her words and her eyes glistened. “Oh, mom,” she replied
lightly as she hugged her mother close.

The
booming voice of her step-father had her tensing and pulling away as
momentarily Devon had forgotten
she
and her mother
weren’t alone. “The prodigal daughter has returned at last,” Miguel Munoz
proclaimed loudly and snidely from the parlor’s entry.

If
Miguel Munoz thought for a second he could intimidate her with his tone or
words, he was sadly mistaken. He may have gotten her here by giving veiled
threats toward her mother, but she’d been raised to never show fear.

Straightening
her shoulders, she accepted the glass of wine from Jorge, before acknowledging
her stepfather with a simple, “Miguel.”

“Jorge,
pour me a glass of that,” Miguel sharply commanded of his son. Jorge rushed to
comply.

Devon
mentally shook her head at Jorge’s quick actions. He’d apparently never learned
not to cave to intimidation. After taking a fortifying sip of her wine, she
asked him, “You have me here, now what do you want?”

“Devon,”
her mother gushed over her abruptness.

Miguel
gave her a slow, small, cruel smile.
“All in due time.
I never do business on an empty stomach. Come, let’s eat; then we’ll discuss
business.”

“Well,
do you mind moving this along? I have to work tomorrow,” Devon said tersely,
refusing to give anything to this man.

“Devon,
that’s enough,” her mother said quietly.

“No,
no, that’s okay. I admire a woman with spunk. It will serve her well later on,”
Miguel said, again with that cruel smile. “By all means, let’s not delay dinner
any further. Jorge, if you’ll do the honors of escorting Devon into the dining
room, we can eat.”

“I know
the way, thanks all the same,” Devon said to Jorge.