by Marci Bolden
“This is stupid,” he whispered to himself. But then he pictured Mandy, stoned and posing in her underwear for a photo that was posted online. A post that noted she was “certified clean” so men would pay more to have sex with her. “Fucking prick,” he said angrily as his fury reignited. He clenched the steering wheel, ground his teeth, and exhaled a harsh breath, tapping into the rage that had fueled him for the last few months.
Parking his car where Darrin had told him, Dean unbuckled and grabbed his phone. He’d missed four calls from Alexa and about half a dozen texts, each one begging him not to do exactly what he was doing.
He started to reply, but what was he going to say? That he was sorry? He wasn’t. He hated that he’d taken her notes without telling her, he hated that he hadn’t been honest with her about his intentions, but he wasn’t sorry about what he was doing. This son of a bitch deserved to have his ass kicked for what he’d done to Mandy and who knew how many other young women like her. He deserved to have to pay for what he’d done to the women; not just selling them drugs but breaking them down to the point that they were helpless.
Without a single way to justify what he’d done and was about to do, he tossed his phone aside, accepting that he’d have to reconcile with her later. He thought she’d understand, was certain that he could convince her he’d done what he had to, but he had to admit he was worried that she’d never trust him completely again. Trust was important to her. She’d never said as much, but he had learned that about her just from being with her. He had little doubt that she was feeling betrayed at the moment.
Raking his hand over his hair, he felt doubt creep in on him again. The one and only time he’d gotten into a fistfight was with Jared Conner, a basketball player on the high school team who had called Dean’s then-girlfriend a bitch. He’d only said that because the girl turned him in for cheating off her history exam.
One thing Dean had little tolerance for was men demeaning women. He guessed that stemmed back to his father and the way he treated his throwaway family. Dean’s mom had never been good enough according to his dad—she was too fat, too thin, too dressed up, not dressed up enough. Nothing she had done was ever right. Hearing that growing up had left Dean sensitive to men picking on women. It tripped a trigger in him, and when his girlfriend had run to him crying, he’d stormed off to the gym and punched Jared Conner right in the jaw.
Then Dean had been thrown flat on his back and the wind was knocked out of him. The rest of the fight was a blur—he didn’t remember much—but he did know that even after a week’s suspension, when he returned to school, the player had the remnants of a black eye and a busted lip. And he never called Dean’s girlfriend a derogatory name again.
This wasn’t exactly the same, he knew that. But the one good thing he had gotten from his father was just enough stubbornness to not back down even when he knew what he was doing was dumb. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good trait.
A black sedan with tinted windows parked next to him, and the tension in Dean’s stomach knotted. No backing out now. Fisting his hands several times and exhaling all his breath, he braced himself for the confrontation about to take place. Climbing from his car, he forced a smile as Darrin rounded the trunk of his car and held his hand out.
They were supposed to act like friends. That was what Darrin had said in his message. Cameras are everywhere, he’d warned Dean.
Gotta make it look like we’re buds, okay?
Buds. Yeah. Okay.
The man’s smile was friendly, warm, and welcoming. On the surface, he had the kind of face that would make him approachable in a bar. The kind of guy someone looking for a beer and a little surface chat would sit next to. He didn’t seem threatening or intimidating in any way. He was clean-cut but without the hard line of looking like a jock or cocky. He just looked like a normal, confident guy.
No wonder Mandy never had any red flags going off in her mind. Dean wouldn’t either if he didn’t know the truth. This man was the perfect bait for an innocent young girl.
Dean held Darrin’s hand when he started to lean back. Clutching the other man’s shoulder, he held him close. Darrin narrowed his eyes at him, clearly questioning the actions.
Dean stared into his eyes as his adrenaline flared and anger filled his veins. “Do you ever feel guilty for what you’ve done?” he asked, his voice echoing through his ears with a hard edge that he’d never heard come from his lips before.
“For selling pot?” Darrin asked.
“For entrapping women in a world of drugs and prostitution.”
Darrin’s breath caught and denial clearly played on his lips, but then he smirked. “No. Never. Because they get exactly what they ask for and they love me for it.”
Like a lit fuse, Dean exploded. He did some kung fu move he didn’t even know he held in his repertoire, something he’d probably seen in a movie. He took a step back, still holding Darrin and attempted to turn the man into a headlock so he could pound his fucking face in.
Dean, however, wasn’t nearly as successful as a fictional superhero with the move. He twisted Darrin’s upper torso, but before he could pin the man to his side, he felt the crush of a fist to his ribcage. His breath rushed from him and he grunted with surprise, but he didn’t let go. He wasn’t about to let go. He swung his fist, making contact, but probably even less effectively than the twist-hold-punch move he’d attempted.
Darrin fought back, landing another hit to Dean’s side. The pain shot through him this time, and he instinctively eased his hold. Shoving Dean back, he chuckled mockingly.
“Let me guess,” he taunted. “You must be Mandy’s brother. She told me about you. How worthless you are. How you didn’t care about her.” He swung as Dean was standing, catching his breath, and his fist hit Dean’s jaw.
That hurt. Bad. His teeth ground against each other, but he held his ground. He swung as well, landing a hit square against Darrin’s nose. The man grunted, grabbed the wound, and then shook it off. Blood oozed out of his nostrils, but he seemed unfazed. He smiled that asshole smile of his before spitting.
“It’s your fault, you know,” Darrin taunted. “She needed the drugs to escape you.”
Grunting, Dean lurched forward, tackling Darrin around the chest. They landed on the ground, skidding a few inches as Dean leaned back to slam his fist into Darrin’s lying face. He didn’t get a chance. Darrin clung to him and rolled him over, taking the advantage. Dean took three solid punches to the face before Darrin stood, pulling him with him.
Shaking Dean, Darrin held his gaze. “Did she send you? Huh? That little bitch send you to settle a score?” Dropping his hold on Dean, he shoved. “She’ll be back. She’s weak. Like you. She’ll be back. And when she comes crawling to me,” he said, smiling with blood in his teeth, “I’ll put her to good use while she’s on her knees.”
Dean actually felt something inside him snap. He embraced a level of insanity that would have scared a normal person. Screaming like a maniac, he attacked. Dean’s fist met Darrin’s flesh; he tightened his fingers around Darrin’s neck. He slammed the dealer’s head forward, cracking his own skull against that fucker’s so hard that Dean saw stars. He didn’t care. He wasn’t bothered by the pain. He tightened his hold as Darrin gagged. He would kill him before he let him touch Mandy again. He would choke the life out of this bastard and never regret it. Never.
Darrin’s eyes rolled back, and he seemed to be growing weaker when someone grabbed Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t let go. In fact, he squeezed Darrin’s neck tighter.
“Enough!” Alexa screamed, and he finally heard her. “Dean! Enough.”
He didn’t relent until she wrapped her arm around his throat and dragged him away, gagging and resisting with each inch. She practically tossed him aside, and he landed on the hard parking lot, glaring up at her. He wasn’t angry at her; he was pissed she’d shown up before he could finish what he’d started.
“He isn’t worth it,” she stated. “He isn’t wort
h it!”
“He destroyed her,” he justified.
“And killing him will destroy you.” Her furious eyes softened. “Let the police handle it.”
Dean sagged, breathless and suddenly exhausted.
“Stay down,” someone ordered.
Dean looked beyond Alexa in time to see Darrin get to his feet and lurch. He reached up, ready to shove Alexa aside so she wasn’t between him and the bastard he’d tried to choke to death, but she stepped forward.
Where his kung fu moves had failed, hers were on point. She didn’t even grunt as she slammed her hand against Darrin’s chest to knock him back, twisted his arm, and pushed him to his knees. “Do you want me to let him finish you off?” she screamed in Darrin’s ear. “I’ll break your fucking arms and let him at you. You bastard.”
Darrin screamed out in obvious pain before promising not to move again. Standing up, Alexa shook her head at Dean. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
He didn’t answer. He’d known what he was doing was stupid, but for the first time he felt real shame for his actions.
Rene moved to stand guard over Darrin as Alexa stood over Dean. She shook her head at him again. “Who swung first?”
Dean thought for a moment. “I did.”
“That’s great. Now he can press assault charges against you. Do you realize that?” She gestured around them. “The mall security cameras got it all on tape, Dean. He has all the evidence he needs to put you in jail. And he walks.”
“He has drugs on him. He came here to sell me drugs.”
“Oh, so a drug deal gone bad. That defense really isn’t in your favor.”
Dean exhaled harshly. “He sold my sister.”
“You came here with the intent of assaulting him.” Alexa kneeled down and held his gaze. “Make a deal with him. You won’t go to the cops if he doesn’t.”
“No.”
“Make a deal with him so you both walk.”
“He’s not walking.”
She whispered, “He’ll get a slap on the wrist and disappear before the cops can nail him for anything more than distribution. Let him go so they can nail him on something bigger. Dean,” she whispered harshly. “Let him go.”
He looked at the son of a bitch and noticed Rene having a heated discussion with him, too. Probably the same context. Walk away before anyone gets in trouble for something bigger. Darrin looked across the lot. Dean met his gaze and knew agreeing to turn his back on the man was the only way to catch him in the end.
Alexa didn’t feel a bit guilty when Dean winced in pain. She pressed the ice pack against his bruised and swollen eye and took pleasure in knowing the pressure hurt. That was what he deserved. The idiot.
She’d taken him home while Rene and Holly followed. Rene dropped his car off in the driveway, and then Holly took them back to the office, leaving Alexa to clean up the mess Dean had created.
“He could have killed you,” she snapped, no longer able to hold in her anger.
“I know.”
“He could have had a knife or a gun, and what did you have, Dean?”
“I was winning the fight when you showed up.”
His reasoning didn’t appease her. In fact, his sarcasm ignited her temper, and she realized how her mother must have felt when Alexa was a defiant teen, snapping back when she should have just kept her mouth shut. Pressing the ice pack harder against his face, she narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you call it? What would you have done if you had killed him? Gone to prison. For what?”
The light of amusement in his eyes faded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” she bit back. “You’re the one who would have done time. You’d just better hope that he sticks to the agreement and doesn’t go to the cops.”
“He has a lot more to lose than I do.”
She sighed. “Do you know how much more difficult it’s going to be to nail him? He’s going to be very careful going forward.”
“No, he won’t.” Dean pulled his face back and took the pack from her hand. “He’s too cocky to think that he could get caught. He was gloating about what he does. He’s proud of himself. He’ll slip up, and now that we know who he is, someone will catch him.”
Alexa heaved another frustrated breath. She had called the officer she’d spoken with the day before, the one who had taken her information on Darrin, and given him the make, model, and plate on his car…after letting him know that her client had intervened and likely tipped the criminal off that he was being looked into. She’d passed that bit of information along while giving Dean a disapproving side-eye that had caused him to moan and roll his head back.
She filled a glass of water and slid it to him so he could take the aspirin he’d gotten from the bathroom while she’d wrapped an ice pack in a towel. “You snooped through my bag.”
He lowered his gaze and nodded. “I did. For that, I really am sorry. I just… What would you do?” Meeting her eyes, he pleaded, “If you found the man who hurt your sister, what would you do?”
Alexa swallowed as she put herself in his shoes. “I’d hunt him down and gut him like a fish.”
He nodded, one solitary but confident nod, before taking the pills that would help ease the ache she was certain he was feeling.
“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, Dean. I can’t lose anyone else. I won’t survive it.” She blinked, surprised by her own words. But there it was, her darkest fear voiced. “I don’t care if this thing between us is new. It’s real. I feel it my soul. We were supposed to find each other. I wouldn’t survive losing you.”
His eyes saddened, as if he finally realized the depth of his mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He pushed himself up, rounded the counter, and pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Wrapping her arms around him, she inhaled his scent deep into her, memorizing his warmth and his body against hers. After her father died, she’d started writing little moments like these to her memory so she could reflect on them later. She’d never taken the time to soak in her sister like this, or her father. But she had her mami, abuela, and all the HEARTS tucked away in her heart. And now she had Dean there.
Easing his hold on her, he leaned back and brushed his hand over her hair. “I feel it, too. That we’re here for a reason. I think I’ve been looking for you my entire life.”
Smiling, she brushed her hand over his beard, careful of the wounds. But then she wiped the grin from her face. “If you ever ignore my calls again, I’ll kick your ass, and I’ll do a much better job than was done today. Understand?”
“I understand.” Cupping her head, he pulled her closer. “I love you.”
Alexa’s breath caught. “Dean,” she whispered. “Don’t say that unless—”
“You say, ‘I love you, too.’”
Brushing her hand over his hair, she stared into his eyes, needing to see the truth there the way she could so easily see the love in her papi’s eyes when he looked at her mother. There, she saw the deep affection in his eyes she’d needed to see. Pressing her mouth to his, she kissed him hard. “I love you, too.” Breaking the connection, she nabbed the ice pack and pressed it to his face. “But I still think you’re an idiot.”
* * *
The End
Continue HEARTS Series with Secret Hearts
The Women of HEARTS Series Book Four
The Women of HEARTS Book Four
Secret Hearts
U.S. Marshal Quinn Stanton took in the scene at a so-called federal safe house. Blood spatter covered nearly every surface of the living room. The couple he and his team had been protecting had clearly been tortured prior to being killed. Richard Bantam’s stomach had been slit open and his innards placed on his chest. Disemboweled. The method of choice for killing snitches in the circles Richard had run in for decades. Sharon, his wife, used to talk a mile a minute. Now her tongue was gone and her throat slit. Their deaths had been violent and painful. Even more—the grisly kill
ings would send a message to anyone else who might be thinking about talking to the feds.
The marshals were responsible for keeping witnesses safe until they could testify and relocate with new identities. In exchange for their cooperation catching bigger criminals, the witnesses’ past sins were forgiven and the government helped them start over.
Quinn had been with the agency for almost a decade now. This was the first time one of his witnesses had been murdered in all those years.
This was bad. On so many levels.
Richard had laundered money for the better part of twenty years for a Columbian crime organization based in New York. His wife had bragged about their ability to keep the IRS off their trail a little too loudly, which led to a long federal investigation of the Bantams and their connection to the ring. Thanks to Sharon’s big mouth, the feds got the information they needed and in exchanged offered the family a cozy new life via the Witness Security Program. WITSEC was supposed to keep them safe. But soon after the family was reborn in a new city with new names, Quinn started to suspect they weren’t as safe as they should have been. He insisted on staying with the family long after the witnesses would normally have been passed off to local marshals. Quinn’s gut had told him to keep close. Too bad that instinct hadn’t been enough to keep them alive.
Just last week, he’d asked that the family be transferred to the WITSEC Operations Center where they could be better protected. His request had been denied. Other than a hunch, Quinn didn’t have proof to substantiate his concerns. Another relocation would have been expensive and inconvenient for all involved. He felt sick to his stomach, but not because of the gory crime scene. The only way the Bantams could have been found and murdered was if his gut had been right. Someone with inside information was responsible for this.
