Ernesto Ruiz. Don Ernesto, as he was known. A sign of respect when he deserved none.
The reason she was here.
For a moment, she froze, sure the older man would recognize her from the old picture in the newspaper. But they’d never met and Ruiz’s attention was on her chest and her left leg, revealed by the thigh high slit in her uniform sarong skirt, not on her face. Then too, Ruiz would never dream that his enemy’s daughter would be here waiting tables.
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