Blake’s gaze jerked to the man walking down the stairs, and the hair on his nape lifted at the sight of the tall, forty-something Latin man in a fitted gray suit who joined them in the cabin. Adrenaline rushed through Blake’s body and acid spilled over his taste buds. For several beats, Blake could barely process what was happening. Alvarez. Alvarez was fucking here, so close he could smell the evil wafting from him. A flash of Whitney’s lifeless face, the blood pouring from her throat, shook him to the core. Anger burned in his chest and he grappled for control. The ease at which he could jump Alvarez and kill him had him struggling to remember what the downside would be. Hatred bled through his body and he could feel it darkening his mind, reddening his anger. He wanted this man dead, and there was no guilt in him at the idea to hold it back.

Suddenly a hand was on his arm, spreading warmth through him, jerking him back with a familiar, calming quality. Kara. Kara was here. Don’t go get killed or kill anyone before it’s time. Her words replayed in his mind, pulling him back to reality, to a place where more than hate filled his heart, where she did. He couldn’t kill Alvarez. Not yet. He had to protect Kara and find her sister.

Blake blinked himself back into control, and not a moment too soon. Alvarez halted directly in front of him and the game was back on. Blake flicked a look up and down the kingpin. “Am I to assume the expensive monkey suit means you’re the boss?”

Amusement flashed over the arrogant asshole’s finely carved features. “I’m the boss no matter what I’m wearing, Mr. Wright.”

“Right,” Blake said flatly. “Had I known you were dressing up for me, I would have worn my new boots.”

“Seems Ignacio was right about you being a smartass,” Alvarez commented, his gaze shifting to Kara, his eyes drifting over her, and lingering on her hemline. “He also said Kara was quite beautiful.” Blake curled his fingers on his knees and decided Alvarez had three seconds before his eyeballs got ripped out. On the three count, the kingpin shifted his gaze away from Kara and added, “No wonder you keep her close.” He spoke of her, not to her. She, like all women, was subservient to this man. No better than a cold beer to be sold off during happy hour.

“She’s here because you requested she be here,” Blake commented. “What’s this about?”

“Business,” he replied. “What else is there?”

“Money,” Blake said. “That’s what I’m about.” He glanced around. “And comfort. This isn’t what I call comfort.”