Page 67 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

Ty stands next to me, and holds his piece loosely at his side. “Why it ain’t no security coming?”

I smirk, holding Lola’s gaze. “Lola likes her privacy. This is her fuck pad.”

Ty-Ty looks between us as Lola’s face tightens.

“What–”

“Necesitamos un paso seguro para salir de aquí, y la última vez que te llevé al orgasmo, dijiste que harías cualquier cosa por mí. Sigue siendo cierto?” (We need safe passage out of here, and the last time I brought you to orgasm, you said you’d do anything for me. Is that still true?)

Ty-Ty coughs to mask his laugh, since he knows exactly what the fuck I just said, even if he tries to downplay how intelligent he really is.

Lola’s eyes stretch. “Esto incluye a los Santiagos?” (Does this include the Santiagos?)

My smile widens. “Dijiste que harías cualquier cosa mami.” (You said you’d do anything, baby.)

Lola rolls her eyes before she hoods her lids. “Solo si follamos de nuevo.” (Only if we fuck again.)

This time, Ty-Ty doesn’t bother hiding his cackle.

“I’m abstinent,” I shrug, ignoring Ty-Ty’s dramatic ass gasp.

Lola narrows her eyes before moving her long thick black hair off her narrow shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m married now. Follow me.”

“Ay, you seriously abstinent? When did this happen?” Ty-Ty tries to whisper as we follow Lola downstairs to her attached garage. When I cut my eyes at him, he rolls his, but thankfully shuts the fuck up.

“I cannot imagine you just letting those nine by three inches waste away,” Lols purrs, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t have to remind you both to get into the back. There should be a blanket.”

She turns in the industrial overhead lights, grabs her car keys and unlocks the black SUV. Ty-Ty pops the trunk and folds his big ass in, then I do the same, spreading the blanket over us so that we look like random shit in her trunk and not two niggas.

Lola’s phone rings as she slides into the driver’s seat and opens the garage door. She begins to fuss in Spanish to whoever she left in her playroom, and I smirk at Ty-Ty’s shoulders shaking in quiet laughter.

Outside, nothing but gunshots could be heard. Lola whips her truck effortlessly around the fray, and barks at whoever stops her and demands identification.

On the outside, she’s deemed a socialite, far removed from her political family, but my old unit, and specifically I know the real. Lola Calderón is a bitch in every sense of the word. Her kill count was in the double digits before we found each other, and I turned her out. I’d heard after we broke up, she indulged in one more dom before becoming a domme herself. And even though her uncle isn’t president anymore, she’s still a major player–and gun for hire–in South America.

After a few minutes, the gunfire is distant, but she’s stopped three more times before we get to her family’s private airstrip. When we pull into the underground garage, she turns off the engine and sighs, before dialing a number.

“What–” Mekhi Young thunders.

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” Lola hisses into the phone. “Come to my hangar and try to be discreet. And FYI: I’m trimming the fuck out of your hedges and since you won’t have a house to go back to, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The phone is quiet for so long that I thought he hung up, until Ty-Ty’s stupid ass yells, “She’s legit, bro!”

“Fuck. Aight. Be there in an hour. And do what you want, you fuckin’ troll.”

“Blecht! Get out! Both of you. This hangar is secure, so you’ll be safe. In the morning I’ll send over my pilot–”

“And a car? In case we need to get–”

“Yes, yes. A car and pilot. Dios, your dick isn’t even that good.” She unlocks the trunk and Ty-Ty begins to climb out.

I follow him, then round the car to her open driver side window.

“Quit lying, Lola. I know you still dream about my shit.”

Her cheeks pinken before she averts her eyes. Just to fuck with her, I reach in and collar her throat roughly, pushing her head to the side with my thumb.

Leaning in, I kiss her cheek. “Thank you, mami.”