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events.
    She was ready to fight, fight back, fight for
what she wanted. If he wanted hell, she could give him hell. He
grabbed her after all. Maybe she could use that against him
somehow. She fished out her cell phone and called the police.
     
10. The
Trail
     
    Diez minutos. Ten minutes.
    The prison guard had told him that he had ten
minutes to talk to Councilman Mateo Varela. Jeremy intended to keep
the rest of the call in English, on his turf.
    “Varela,” a gruff voice answered.
    “Councilman,” Jeremy greeted.
    “Are you mocking me?” he grunted. He probably
did not expect an English speaker.
    “Prison walls cannot strip you of your
rightful title, especially for trumped-up charges.”
    He muttered under his breath a grudging
acceptance of the title.
    “I'm calling about your wife.”
    “Where is she? How much do you want for
her?”
    “I don't have her. She's here of her own free
will.”
    “We tracked her last call to Seattle. My men
have been looking for her.”
    “They're looking in the wrong city. Send them
to San Francisco.”
    “What's she doing there?”
    “There's no easy way to say this,
Councilman.” Jeremy paused.
    “Tell me. Now.”
    “Your wife showed up at my door in clothes
only a husband should see her in.”
    “Son of a bitch. You are Jeremy! Fuck
you, asshole!” He continued cussing, breathing hard into the
phone.
    “I left Argentina over two years ago,” Jeremy
said quietly, when Varela settled down. “I have not stepped onto
that continent since.”
    He waited for the comment to sink in for
Varela.
    “Your aggravation mystifies me,” Jeremy
continued. “And for your information, she got none. I threw her
out.”
    Varela sobered, probably debating about what
to say next. “She would turn away or have her eyes shut, even those
early days. A few times she said your name in her sleep.”
    No wonder Natalia showed up at his door. The
two never got going in the first place. That poor couple probably
didn't orgasm in over two years.
    “Councilman, I know you come from a family of
distinguished service, and I have no doubt you are a
gentleman.”
    “I'm not a fool. Just say it.”
    Jeremy stifled a groan. “I don't think
Natalia wants you to be a gentleman in bed. In my limited
experience...” Sure Varela told him he could tell it straight, but
from experience he knew that a man still had an ego. “...and this
is over two years ago, please remember, she likes it when a man
commands the bedroom. She's submissive and wants a man to exert
dominance.”
    “I'm not that kind of man,” Varela said
brusquely. “ Machismo is trash.”
    “This isn't about machismo ,” Jeremy
said. “Tell her what you want her to do in bed. If she obeys you,
please her. If she disobeys you, punish her by forcing pleasure on
her even when she doesn't want it. So the choice is still hers—to
obey or disobey. However, you get to determine how the consequences
are met.”
    “How?”
    “Use sex toys, if you have to.” A vibrator
would surely help, for starters. “Find out what pleasures her. Keep
it interesting. Keep her guessing, so that she wants to obey you in
bed, so she can get her next fix—the gentle way.”
    “I have one minute left. Make it quick.”
    “Have your men track the cell of one of my
men to get the GPS coordinates.” No way was Jeremy going to give
his own cell number, in case it somehow got into Natalia's hands.
“She's in suite 210. Have them hand her a cell phone and a
vibrating dildo. Fuck her on the phone. She should be on the next
flight back, pounding on your prison door, and showing up in that
outfit you should have seen her in.”
    “I'll try it.” Varela gave him the cell
number of one of his men. “If it works, what do you want?”
    “Her, off my continent.”
    “Done.”
    The line went dead. Good. At least, they
established a mutual understanding.
    He picked up the phone again. “Hughes.”
    “Mr. Wyatt.”
    “Text a message to this cell number.” He