Into Temptation

by Pam Godwin

  She felt vulnerable beneath the masterful demand of his stare, his breath, the way he controlled her time and space. His proximity did terrible things to her heart and the temperature of her skin. Like a hallucinogenic, he altered her senses. A temporary high.

  “Your ten minutes expired ten minutes ago.” She stepped back.

  “Listen to me, goddammit!”

  “I am listening. You sound like a lunatic.”

  “You think I’m making this shit up? For what purpose?” He angrily threw his hands in the air. “I’m risking everything—my life, Tomas’ life, our mission, the freedom of every woman here—to tell you the truth.”

  “Then you’re a fucking moron.”

  “Jesus Christ!” He grabbed at his hair and pulled, growling through clenched teeth. “You are so…”

  “What?” She fed on his seething rage and flung it right back, screaming, “What am I?”

  “Frustrating beyond words. Stubborn as a mule. The most irritating, hardheaded, quarrelsome creature I’ve ever met.”

  “Why are you here, Luke?”

  He went still, eyes locked on hers, the anger draining from his posture. “I knew the reason… I thought I knew. Until now.” He blinked, and his eyebrows furrowed. “It seems every path I’ve taken, every decision I’ve made, all of it was meant to lead me here just so I could hear my name pronounced on your tongue.”

  Her lungs tightened, requiring a gulp. And another.

  He drifted closer and touched her cheek. “Say it again.”

  She wet her lips, slipping, spiraling, losing her soul to four letters. “Luke.”

  “What are you doing to me?” He sought her with his hands, fingers gliding, fisting in her hair.

  “Luke—”

  “I didn’t fuck her.” He brought their foreheads together, his gaze digging deep. “I didn’t touch her or kiss her or do anything I wouldn’t want another man doing to you.” His voice cracked against her lips. “Believe me. I need you to do that more than anything else. I need you with me. Please.”

  It was his plea that penetrated the ice in her chest. His mouth latched onto hers, seizing, heating as if attempting to thaw the blood in her veins.

  She resisted for the space of a breath, then surrendered, opening upon a cry, her hands closing around his shoulder and neck.

  His deep, sweeping strokes simmered with desire and something much deeper. This wasn’t a kiss to satisfy a physical need. It was emotional. Poignant. Staggering. Sheer madness.

  As she took the warm, firm, skillful lick of his tongue between her lips, she replayed everything he’d said. In his arms, pressed against him, she tasted the truth. She felt it. Every conversation, look, and touch they’d shared backed up his claim, driving away all argument and leaving only her belief in him, in his strength and unstinting heart.

  This man, his body, his veracity, his gallant devotion to those he loved—he had endured the unthinkable, escaped the same hell she’d been trapped in, only to return so that he could make the world a safer place.

  She saw that man the night they met and his agonizing turmoil when he gave a tortured girl a merciful death. He wasn’t a killer of innocents. At his core, he was an avenging hunter.

  He hadn’t come for her specifically, but she believed him now. He wouldn’t leave without her. And she wanted it. All of him.

  In that defining moment between love and hate, heaven and hell, life and death, she lost her heart, definitively, irrevocably. It was his.

  The kiss melted into mingled breaths, the air heavy with unspoken words.

  “That man, Van Quiso…” She framed his chiseled face in her hands, absorbing his tragedy. “He raped you for eight weeks? That was your horrifying, unfortunate event?”

  “The unfortunate event that led to a fortune.” His expression showed no trace of shame. Only a pure appreciation for life. “Because of Van, I have the deepest friendships, a family who loves me, and a vital purpose. In that, I’m the wealthiest man alive.”

  He was the bravest man. Noble. Dauntless. Beautiful inside and out. She’d known it all along and had refused to accept it.

  “This purpose…” She ran her fingers through his hair, unable to resist the urge to touch him. “How can I help?”

  “I came here to find Vera Gomez and—”

  “Vera?” A chill froze her bones, and her heart slammed against her ribs. “You knew that name before you arrived?”

  “Yes. Her half-sister is Hector’s daughter. Tula Gomez—”

  “What do you know about her?” She staggered backward, pulse racing, emotions leaking, freaking the fuck out. “Where is she?”

  “Until a few months ago, she was in prison.” He stayed with her, eying her suspiciously. “She’s safe now. Protected by my team. What’s wrong?”

  She clapped her hands over her mouth, strangled by a torrent of rising sobs. Confusion, fear, relief, joy—it all collided in a jumble of face-drenching tears.

  “I’m not interested in Vera.” He caught her jaw, searing her with cold, angry eyes. “I only sought her out because her sister—”

  “Tula is my sister.” She grabbed his wrist, squeezing ruthlessly. “She’s mine!”

  “What did you say?” He shook his head, his face stark white as he stared at her, surveying her features as if seeing her for the first time. “That’s not possible.”

  “I’m Vera.” She closed her eyes, choking on the secret. “I’m Vera Gomez.”

  For the first time in nearly three years, Vera felt alive, electrified, and impossibly, wonderfully free. To say her name out loud, to verbally own it… What an empowering goddamn relief.

  And petrifying.

  She scanned the surrounding grove, her skin crawling with paranoia. The cartel couldn’t have heard her. But if they somehow learned that she’d broken the rules, they would kill her and the only family member she had left.

  Except Tula was safe?

  “You said your mother is a famous actress.” John…Luke stood unmoving, every muscle flexed to strike, his face an unholy sculpture of retaliation. “Vera’s mother is dead.”

  She flinched. “I had to give you something. You wouldn’t leave it alone. So I lied.”

  Panic paralyzed her, for even in the dark shade of the trees she saw the enraged glint in his eyes, the cruel set of his unforgiving mouth, the animosity in his stance. He was not happy about her dishonesty.

  Without warning, he grabbed her. Imprisoning her neck in a startling grip, he bent it roughly to the side and pushed away the hair behind her ear.

  “Stop!” She shoved at him, unable to free herself. “What are you doing?”

  “You can’t be Vera.” His thumb pressed against the back of her ear, folding it forward. “She has a tattoo. A small black—”

  “Petunia. My sister’s name is Petula, and when we were little, I called her Petunia.” The memory surged fire through her sinuses, searing the backs of her eyes. “Miguel had the flower lasered off when I arrived here. There’s a faint scar, like a stretch mark.”

  She knew the moment he saw it. His breath left him. His grip loosened, and he angled her face toward his.

  “You speak English flawlessly.” His gaze raked her, flinty with skepticism until it dipped to her lips. He lingered there then slowly returned to her eyes, his own widening with realization. “Tula is a teacher.”

  “Even before she earned her degree. She taught us both English when we were kids.”

  “You should’ve fucking told me.”

  “I couldn’t. The cartel is watching her. When she was released from prison, they sent men to follow her. Marco said they would leave her alone as long as I went along with Silvia’s ruse to be me.”

  “Silvia.” He said the name with disdain, his mouth a puckered grimace. “Who is she?”

  “She’s the half-sister of Omar, Miguel, and Alejandro. The four of them share the same mother. Hector La Rocha’s only wife. She died years ago. When Hector met her, he already had two c
hildren—Marco and Tula—from two other women. And his wife already had a child.”

  “Silvia…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “So she’s related by blood to Omar, Miguel, and Alejandro. Marco is her step-brother.”

  “Yeah, but the five of them grew up together. Raised as full siblings by Hector’s wife.”

  “Add in Tula, and it’s the fucking Brady Bunch.”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “Colombia. Hidden and protected with the Restrepo Cartel. With my friends. I swear on my life that she’s safe.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Her mind swam, and old guilt rose to the surface, unleashing a well of tears. “She served time in that brutal prison because of me. Years. If I hadn’t called her that morning…” Her voice broke as wet trails streamed down her face. “She would’ve stayed in Arizona. But no, I had to make that damn call, and she dove head-first right into my mess.”

  “And fell in love.” He cupped her face, his accent soft and rumbly. “Twice.”

  “What?”

  “Martin and Ricky, my roommates…”

  She remembered the names from his story. “Van’s ex-captives.”

  “Yes. Three years ago, they infiltrated Jaulaso Prison as part of our on-going operation to take down Hector’s sex trafficking organization. Tula was with Hector in that prison when they arrived. She went to Mexico because you called her for help. But if you were already enslaved here, how did you make that call?”

  “Shortly after I arrived, one of the guards left his phone unattended while using the bathroom. I had seconds to use it and didn’t know how law enforcement worked in America or if they would even believe my story and come. I didn’t even know where I was. But I knew Tula would know what to do, that she would find the proper authorities and get help. So I called her, whispering frantically, I’m in trouble. Need you. Come now. When I lowered the phone to look up the GPS location, Marco was there. He’d been watching me, waiting until I called her, and destroyed the phone before I could tell her I wasn’t in Mexico. It was a fucking setup, and stupid me, I fell right into it.”

  “Vera…”

  “It’s all my fault. I’m a worthless sister, and I know it. I never intended to involve her. God, I spent years keeping her oblivious to what was going on.”

  “Let’s talk about that.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Why were you in trouble and accumulating debt?”

  “Our mother…” Her scalp tingled, and though she was whispering, it sounded like a roaring gale in her ears. She searched the spaces between the trees and probed the field beyond.

  “Tomas did another sweep of this area today. No one is listening. And he’s out there just over that hill right now, guarding. He’ll let me know if anyone approaches. Your mother…”

  “Died of heart disease.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry for your loss.” He stroked her cheek, her neck, his fingers constantly brushing her skin as if he couldn’t stop touching her. “Tula gave us a comprehensive rundown of your background to help us rescue you. Hector tried to convince her that you were working for him, but she never believed that. She was adamant about your innocence.”

  “I miss her so much. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. We look alike.” She glanced down at the bones protruding on her frame. “Or, at least, we used to.”

  “She didn’t have recent photos. The teenage girl in the pictures we saw…”

  “I’ve lost a lot of weight.”

  “You were beautiful then. And now.” A heated look came to his eyes, lazy and hooded. Arresting. The transformation drugged her with narcotic desires, turning cravings into a full-blown addiction. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Sometimes, I look at you and think you’re an illusion. You can’t be real. Then you return the eye contact, and I feel like a teenage boy all over again. A fumbling, fuzzy-headed, walking hard-on.”

  The foolish, constricting organ in her chest jumped madly at his words, sinking deeper into him.

  “Your sister told me that trouble often found you. But she didn’t know about your debt.” His fingers feathered along her collarbone. “What did your mother have to do with that?”

  “Medical bills. So many. She was in and out of the hospital for years before she died. I had no money, no way to pay for her care. Doctors started refusing her, and I just… I couldn’t tell Tula. She made it out of Ciudad Hueca, escaped to America through hard work, brains, and legal means. If I told her about the bills, she would’ve forfeited the life she’d worked so hard to achieve. She would’ve come home. I couldn’t let her do that.”

  “So you lied to her.” He held his chin tight to his chest, green eyes sparking beneath thick copper lashes.

  “Don’t you dare judge me.”

  “Judge you?” He half-laughed, half-groaned. “I’m insanely turned on. It’s all I can do to not throw you on the ground and have my way with you. Your ferocity, selflessness, courage, outrageous beauty… I’m fucking beside myself with admiration. I won’t even apologize for it, because you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

  “No, I….” A pulse burst in her temples, and her mouth went dry. Desire. It tore through her belly, low, deep, and ill-timed. Focus. “I want to hear about Martin and Ricky.”

  “They’re two of my closest friends. I told you their histories with Van. They’re also bi-sexual, openly now, with Tula. The three of them are in a polyamorous relationship.”

  “You’re kidding.” She couldn’t imagine it. “My sister… In a threesome?”

  “From what I saw just a few days ago, she’s happily, ridiculously in love.”

  “Wow. How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t swing that way, despite what I went through in Van’s attic. I’m not the sort of man who shares women, not even with my best friend. But if they’re happy, I’m happy for them.” He leaned in, eyes glowing. “Ask me how I feel about you.”

  Heady warmth spread through her stomach and radiated to her thighs. He was so obscenely handsome and sexy, and that heady warmth gathered into a delicious ache. “How do you feel about me?”

  “I’m here to free Vera Gomez by any means possible.” He lowered his lips, settling his mouth upon hers, soft, barely touching, yet certain. “The task felt impossible because I didn’t want to help the woman who pretended to be you. I wanted to kill her. Still do. Especially now, knowing the part she played in making your life a living hell.”

  His voice was a deep caress with an edge of vindictive fury as he kissed her face, her neck, nuzzling and touching her everywhere. The yearning he stirred in her was frightening, scrambling her concentration.

  “I want the real Vera Gomez. Madly.” He started to remove her clothes.

  “Luke.” Torn between lust and needing answers, she twined her fingers through his hair and dragged his mouth against hers, the flavor of mint clinging to her lips. “I have so many questions, and you make it damn hard to think.”

  “Multitask.” He rubbed his thumb over her nipple through the shirt and slipped his tongue in her mouth. “I’m listening.”

  “I didn’t know Tula’s father was Hector until Marco told me.” She groaned, letting him kiss her for a long moment, soaring in a decadent fusion of lips and tongues. “My mother took the identities of both our fathers to the grave. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that my sister is La Rocha by blood.”

  “I can tell you what I know.” He lifted her into his arms only to lay her on a soft patch of grass. Then he stretched out on his side against her and toyed with the curly strands of her hair. “When Petula Gomez walked into Hector’s prison, her name keyed him off. So he had a paternity test done without her knowledge. He was as surprised by her incarceration as she was. We don’t know if her arrest was coincidence or—”

  “When I heard about it, I suspected that the Mexican military mistook her for me. There are a lot of dangerous people looking for me in Ciudad Hueca. The more money I owed, the deeper I entangled myself
with wanted felons. My sweet sister—”

  “She murdered Hector in his prison cell.”

  “What?”

  At her stunned gasp, a smile overtook his face. “She’s fierce. Just like you.”

  As she spluttered a million questions, he gave her a full retelling of how her sister, a Spanish high school teacher, outsmarted and cut down the capo of La Rocha Cartel in prison. His hands roamed her body as he narrated each heroic detail and reassured her about Tula’s safety and wellbeing.

  His mouth shared the story while his lips vibrated the words along her ribs and the undersides of her breasts, dampening the shirt. By the end, he had her shoes and jeans off, her top and bra pushed to her neck, and her breasts glistening with the moisture from his panting mouth.

  With impatient hands, his thumbs caressed the pink peaks. They rose to his touch, hardened for his mouth, and throbbed for his tongue. She arched to bring him closer.

  He was so heartbreakingly gorgeous. Everywhere. Sunlight dappled his skin to gilded ivory, his half-lidded eyes rich and gleaming with sensuous hunger. He slipped a hand between her thighs and stroked. She moaned, hot and clenching, even as she tried to focus on the conversation.

  “Before now, I didn’t know why the cartel was using me to bait Hector’s killer.” She smoothed a hand across his cheek.

  The day’s growth of whiskers tickled her fingertips, igniting sparks of delirious anticipation as she recalled the scratchy feel of that roughness along her inner thighs.

  “Hector’s sons knew all along that Tula was the killer.” He slipped his tongue around her nipple and down her flat belly. “If they followed her like you said, they’re aware she sided with the Restrepo Cartel.”

  “You know what that means, right?” Panic rose, and she sat up.

  He pushed her back down. “They’re expecting us to come for you.”

  “That’s why Silvia stole my identity, Luke! She’s waiting for you to seek her out under the belief that she’s me. And you did. You went straight to her. What if she knows who you are?” She clutched a handful of red hair and yanked, dislodging his mouth from her hipbone. “What happened in her room today?”