Dulce De Leche
“You want to know what I am?” he murmured against her mouth, his hands shoving her dress up around her waist. “I’m a man who takes what he wants. And I want you. Here. Now.”
Nina Falcone is LAPD. Undercover. Posing as a high-end escort, she has one mission: get close to El Sombras, the drug lord no one can name, photograph, or catch.
Every night, powerful men buy pieces of her. Every morning, she washes them off her skin and turns their secrets into evidence. She tells herself it is duty. She tells herself she is still in control.
Then Cruz finds her. Dark. Beautiful. Dangerous. He doesn’t buy her. He sees her. He strips through every mask she wears with one look and leaves her a card that feels like a command. Next time, don’t look away.
She doesn’t.
One night becomes obsession. Obsession becomes surrender. He touches her like he owns her, protects her like she is sacred, and ruins her for every life she had before him. Nina forgets the badge, the case, every line she swore she’d never cross.
But the case won’t die. Every lead she pulls turns up dead before she can use it. Someone is watching. Someone who sees her coming before she arrives. And the clues keep circling closer to the man in her bed — doors that open for Cruz without a knock, men who lower their eyes when he speaks, phone calls at three in the morning in a voice she’s never heard.
The ghost she’s hunting keeps getting closer close enough to touch, close enough to hold her in the dark and whisper stay.
The only thread left to pull is the one tied around her own throat.
520