Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

A Gift

**SANTOS**

"The package has been deposited and is secure, Santos. ETA for arrival should put us there half an hour before midnight tomorrow," Juarez tells me.

He's standing at my office door, probably looking like a cat that's just had his cream, with his dark beady eyes aimed at the back of my head. I'm sitting behind my desk, my chair turned around to face the unshaded bay windows, but even with my back turned I know what that gremlin is thinking. His misconception is in his belief that I am unaware of what he is planning. He has been one of my men for ten years.

Ten long years of a friendship that has gone from good to over with just the appearance of a single female. A female that *tried* to *kill* me no less!

*Really Tony? Are you sure you want to do this?*

But yes. Yes I am sure. Because although at one time, I was positive that I would *never* ever be one of those males that falls all over himself for the sake of a woman - it has happened. And despite that I have known of the Red Raider for *years* - even *known* I'd more than likely face her one day - I never thought to prepare myself for any more than the task of killing the woman.

of her before this. Her very first job when she was *fifteen* years old was to take out my cousin Diego Rojas, Dana's brother, and although at the time, Diego and I didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, I knew it would be my job one day to end her. My *aunt* still hates me for not taking immediate aggressive action

the way I felt the moment I came face

not only pivotal,

heartburn - but in the back of my mind, I *knew* what it was. I *feared* what it was.

A very *different* beast than I was used to concealing. It was the one thing in this world I never thought to allow myself, that this new monster seemed to crave. And it craved it from *her.* From Red. *More* than

it never even occurred to me that she might *want me* in return, I thought of it as goodbye. Because I was sure that by the time my men were done ravaging her, she would be ready to die. She might even have *begged* it of me by that point. If she had? I would have been able to tell myself that my killing her was a gift, instead

in and climbed atop her perfect frame, spitting disgusting things in her ear, I steeled myself against the rage that I felt. Honed in on my cold stone heart, I waited for him to take the light from her eyes. When he sliced off her pants and growled out his arousal, I tried not to listen

said that *it wasn't him that she was wet for* - and

didn't verbalize that it was *me* that she wanted, it was there in her eyes. Since that afternoon, that is all that I see when I try to sleep

into those liquid blue pools of worship, is all that I want. Maybe *that* is what I should have asked her for. Instead of trying to strongarm her into becoming one of *us.* Perhaps then

thoughts and I finally realize

"What the hell are you