It was a warm day at the Salamanca residence. You were shielded from the sun on the porch, Lalos hands firmly resting on your waist, securely keeping you on his lap. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mixed with the warm yet stinging aroma of cigarette smoke and whiskey.

You didn’t pay much attention to the men sitting across the table, it was just a bunch of people from the cartel. Your thoughts were occupied by Lalo, the way his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin on your neck.