Martin flicked his hand at the goons posing as security and flashed her a rare smile of amusement.
“Fuentes is watching you very carefully, little one,” he said. “Are you certain there is not more than mere friendship that binds you? I have not seen our friend over there so upset over a woman in all the years I have known him.”
And there were a lot of years to back that up. Ian and Martin had clashed more than once, and several times the drug runner had come against the SEAL team Ian had worked with.
“Perhaps it’s indigestion.” She shrugged, refusing to glance back at Ian again. “I’m not here to discuss Ian’s problems, I’m here to enjoy a few drinks. You’re interfering in that.”
A small frown flitted around his brow. “So inhospitable?” he asked. “You confuse me, ma petite. The niece of one of the world’s richest men, and you resort to lowering yourself to a traitor and drug cartel owner? How can this be? Surely your tastes are more refined?”
Kira folded her hands in her lap and watched him silently, archly, for long moments.
“Daniel, could you have the valet bring our car around now.” She directed her response to her bodyguard. “Mr. Missern is beginning to bore me.” She moved to slide from the booth.
“Non, non, you must not leave yet.” Martin’s hand snapped out, as though to grip her wrist to stop her. A dominant, forceful move backed by enough strength to break her wrist if he wasn’t careful.
Missern was a termite. A shifty little maggot known for manhandling his women.
Before his fingers could wrap around her flesh she had two of his fingers in her hold, pressing back, shocking him into stilling and watching her with narrow-eyed silence.
“You know the rules, Martin,” she reminded him softly. “Don’t touch me, and I won’t touch you.” He flinched as she exerted just enough pressure to assure him she could dislocate the digits before he could make a move for her.
“Kira, little love.” Josef, Martin’s twin, grinned at the exchange. “Release Martin now. He will be a good boy, will you not, Martin?”
Martin’s lip curled as she released him, his brow twitching disdainfully as he glared at her.
“Martin’s temper is growing more testy Josef,” she pointed out. “Are you certain he’s had all his shots?”
“Why, you little bitch.” Martin wasn’t one to take insults lightly from a woman.
Distantly, Kira knew what was coming. She saw the shift of his body, the flash of his hand, and knew there was no way to stop the blow. Even Daniel wasn’t that fast.
But someone else was. A breath away from her cheek, Martin’s hand stopped abruptly, and Kira was dragged around the booth, sliding on the smooth leather of the seat as Daniel bounded over the back and landed where she had been sitting.
His weapon was in his hand, his expression furious as he stared at the Misserns. Both men had lifted their hands in a gesture of surrender, though triumph filled their faces.
“Get her the fuck out of here!” Ian’s voice snapped at her ear as he pushed her at Daniel. “Now!”
Turning, blazing with fury, she faced a demon she couldn’t have expected and a small crowd of bouncers as they moved in to shelter the altercation. Yep, Coronado’s at its finest. They didn’t care who killed or who died, as long as the customers were shielded from actually witnessing who did the killing.
“Take your hands off me!” She jerked her arm from his grip. “And go to hell. I don’t need you or anyone else rescuing me.”
Hard hands gripped her upper arms, jerking her close, as his head lowered, his nose nearly touching hers, anger flowing from him like waves of heat.
“Don’t push me, Kira,” he bit out. “You won’t like the consequences.”
“Push you, Mr. Fuentes?” she questioned him vehemently. “I have no intention of doing anything so crass. But if you don’t let me go you’re going to lose a fine set of balls.”
“How very interesting,” Josef called out gleefully. “Have you met your match, Fuentes? The drug lord and the society princess. Now, who would have guessed at such a match?”
She saw the second Ian realized the mistake he had made in defending her, just as she realized how carefully Martin Missern had played this little debacle. It was well known that Kira did not tolerate men touching her without her permission, and he had deliberately touched her at every chance once he and his brother had joined her in the curved booth.
He had touched and pushed, and taken the opportunity to force Ian to show his hand. Because of something he had heard, something he had been paid to instigate? Or because someone knew something more?
Ian’s head lifted, and when he stared back at Martin, his voice was cold, deadly. “We have a meeting tomorrow,” he reminded the other man.
“We do,” Martin answered smugly.
“Let your brother handle it. If I see you again, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. Do you understand me?”
“You will deal with me or you will not purchase the supplies you need.” Martin laughed. “Come now, Ian, why allow a little society tramp such as this one to affect business?”
Pure murder burned in Ian’s eyes then. Kira tensed at the icy fire, her heart racing in fear now.
“Consider that meeting canceled,” Ian said softly. “You’re not the only supplier. And you won’t be alive long enough to provide anything I need.”
Tightening his hand on her arm, he began dragging Kira through the crowd, ruthlessly ignoring her struggles and her curses.
She glanced over her shoulder at Daniel as he covered the rear, keeping his gaze carefully on the Missern brothers who had stood and now watched their departure, their expressions a mix of anger and concern.
“Hummer’s waiting at the door, boss,” Deke announced as he and another bodyguard cleared the way through the dance floor.
“Trevor, you and Cristo ride with her bodyguard. We’ll meet at the villa.”
“Which villa?” one of those other bodyguards called back.
“Mine!”
“Like hell,” Kira protested loudly. Not that he seemed to be listening to her. “You can take me to my villa or let go of me now.”
He ignored her, of course.
Stumbling, she fought to tear herself out of his grip, only to feel the world tip and sway. A second later she was fighting the knowledge that Ian had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of damned potatoes. At least he had the presence of mind to wrap his arm around her thighs and hopefully hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties tonight.