Free Enemy Mine by Karin Harlow Page A

had kept her alive all these years, that and Paymon’s being as convinced as the judge who’d sentenced Johnny to death that she was dead. Or so it had seemed. But it didn’t matter if Paymon knew she lived. She was stronger now. Wiser. A seasoned killer.
    Laughter bubbled from her chest. “Oh, Daddy, I can’t wait to see the look on your daemon face when you realize it is your daughter who is cutting out your black heart.”
    Selena let herself in via the kitchen, and though she wanted nothing more than to climb into bed, she made a detour to her home office. She expected to meet el patrón later that day in Little Havana. He would, as he always did, expect a full report. She sighed and plopped down in her chair and turned on her laptop. He was going to be angry. While she could deal with his anger, disappointing him distressed her more. He was a good man, he trusted her, he gave her great responsibility, and she had failed him.
    But she still had a chance to redeem herself by obtaining the location of the cask. She smiled as her fingertips struck the keyboard. She hadn’t come home completely empty-handed.
    A familiar knock disrupted Selena’s focus.
    The door to her office slowly opened. Selena smiled up at Jujubee.
    Ten years Selena’s senior, her distant cousin was the equivalent of Dracula’s Renfield. Except Juju wasn’t daft, deformed, or delusional. Juju was the polar opposite: smart, beautiful, and a realist who had brought Selena back from her own delusional dreams on more than one occasion. A dozen years ago, her mother’s third cousin had taken a chance on a better life in America along with fifty other cubanos and braved the ninety-mile stretch of Atlantic between Cuba and Florida. Since her mother had welcomed Juju with open arms, so had Selena.
    Juju had told Selena just after her mother’s death of her dedication to and involvement with Los Cuatro. Selena had come to respect and love the cause with as much conviction as her mother had.
    It was good to trust someone in a world where everyone was a potential enemy. Selena trusted Juju as she had trusted her mother. And Johnny. Once.
    Juju cocked her lovely face, her dark-brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders, her milk chocolate—colored eyes snapping in aggravation. “Prepare yourself, Selena.” Juju set her hands on her slender hips and looked pointedly at her. “Señor Balderama et al are docking as we speak.”
    Selena sat up ramrod stiff in her chair. “Here? Now? It’s four o’clock in the morning!” She hadn’t written her report. She hadn’t slept in almost two days! She was not prepared to bear el patrón ’s disappointment. Selena stood up and smoothed her hands down the soft wrinkles of her slinky Chanel jumpsuit. She was still wearing the same clothes from last night. Selena chanced a glance in the mirrored back of her office door.
    She might feel like crap, but, thank goodness, she didn’t look like it. As always, she looked pulled together. Expensive. Seductive. She dressed sexily on purpose. As the owner of Lost Souls, she projected sleek, understated elegance wrapped snugly around smoldering sensuality. Like a magnet, it attracted daemons because sex gave them power, just as being sexy fueled her flame. She dressed to thrill so that she could kill.
    “Selena!” Juju snapped. “Get your head out of your ass. El patrón awaits!”
    Selena glared at her friend, but her brain kicked into overdrive. “Send him in.”
    “You will not go to him?” Juju asked, her brown eyes bugging as wide as hubcaps.
    Of course, Juju was right. Selena swallowed hard and walked stiffly toward the door. Obviously, el patrón knew of her failure, and because he was so furious, he could not wait for their meeting later that day. Instead, he had come to personally exact punishment. So be it. She would accept whatever measure of wrath he chose to mete out. After what she’d done, she deserved it. But that didn’t change that she’d