by Pam Godwin
“You showed up.” Luke slid a thumb across her cheek.
“Not soon enough.”
“I’m alive, Vera. With all my body parts intact.”
Her throat tightened at the memory of Marco holding pruning shears when she’d charged in.
“I saw the instrument Silvia used on you.” She lowered her voice. “You should let the doctor examine you.”
“What instrument?” Tate asked.
“Strap-on.” Luke met his friend’s eyes. “It had been a while since…”
“Eight years, man.” Tate blew out a breath. “It’s not easy to relive a second time, is it?”
“No, but I remembered the training, everything Van taught us. It helped.”
“Are you injured?”
“It’s minor. I’ll heal.”
She watched their interaction, recalling everything Luke had told her about the captives in Van’s attic. The nine of them shared such horrific memories, but she found comfort in the ease in which they could talk about it.
Lucia set her laptop aside and crawled onto Tate’s lap, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling her face in his neck.
For a group of vicious killers, their empathy was palpable, their deep friendships undeniable. Vera respected them for that. Quite frankly, she was in awe of how these proud, dominant males could undergo such trauma and not lose themselves on the other side of it. Some victims never recovered.
“I betrayed you, Vera.” Luke’s roughened voice drew her gaze.
“What?”
“Silvia…put hands on me. Her mouth.” His jaw went rigid. “My body reacted. I couldn’t control—”
“Did you want her? Did you give your consent?”
“No. Fuck, no. But I wasn’t strong enough to—”
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Luke.” She pushed herself up to meet him at eye-level. “I was raped for three years. You don’t have to convince me you didn’t want it. I’ve been there.”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes hardened. “I raped you.”
“I forgave you. You don’t have to forgive Silvia. In fact, I’ll be royally pissed if you do.”
“Dayyy-um.” Lucia grinned. “I like her. It’s about time someone put you in your place, Luke.”
“When her leg heals, my place will be standing behind her upturned ass while I blister it red.”
“Promises, promises.” Vera lay back down, returning her head to his lap.
She slept off and on through the duration of the flight. During moments of alertness, she listened to them wrap up the details of the mission and discuss the status of another one Camila was running in Mexico.
But mostly, they talked about Tomas.
Cole asked a lot of questions about the email, its origin, and Tomas’ childhood. Luke and Tate didn’t have the answers. Tomas had never told anyone he’d loved and lost a girl. He’d certainly never told anyone he’d been writing to her ghost all these years.
It sounded like they were going to give him a week to make contact. Then Cole would fly back to America and go after him.
“Who are you?” Vera cringed at the rudeness of her question. “Sorry. That came out wrong. But seriously. You’re not one of Van’s captives. You’re not related to them by blood or marriage. You’re not a Restrepo cartel member. So… Who are you?”
Cole flashed her a wolfish, bearded smile, all teeth, and no answers.
“If you ever figure it out…” Luke stroked the curve of her hip. “Tell the rest of us.”
Vera spent the next week in a blur of recovery and acclimation. She’d been dug out of hell, dropped into a brand-new life, and she embraced it with her entire being.
The Restrepo Cartel headquarters in Colombia was even more lavish than Casa de La Rocha. Nestled in the Amazon rainforest, it boasted top-notch security, freedom to roam without consequences, and the best part? The cartel didn’t traffic humans. They sought and destroyed those who did.
Matias and Camila were in Mexico right now, running another mission. But she met the rest of the crew. Liv and Josh, Van and Amber, Kate and Tiago, Martin and Ricky. And Tula…
Her sister had greeted her on the helicopter pad, arms wide, black hair whipping in the turbulence, and tears streaking down her face. They cried together, blubbered their regrets, and reconnected for days.
Tula’s guys, Martin and Ricky, had greeted Vera with warm, hard-muscled, masculine-scented hugs. Then they hung around, listening to her and Tula exchange questions and reminisce for hours. They were good-looking men. Attentive. Devoted to her sister. But dangerous.
Everyone she encountered vibrated with ruthlessness and menace. A sense of danger hung in the air and lurked around every corner. But not like it was with La Rocha. The danger here wasn’t directed at her.
Luke’s friends protected their own, followed their own laws, and viciously destroyed anyone who threatened their loved ones. She felt it in every handshake, embrace, and flinty-eyed look.
For the first time in her life, she felt safe among criminals.
Tula monopolized her first week here, showing her around the fortress and introducing her to everyone they passed. Vera hobbled along on her crutches as Tula shared the brutal details of her time in prison. But when she spoke of Martin and Ricky, her eyes lit up, and her cheeks rose with a goofy smile.
Love.
Vera sympathized with that ailment.
Luke was giving her space to catch up with her sister. He was using that time to work on a strategy with Cole, who was leaving tomorrow to return to the States.
Tomas still hadn’t made contact.
So she stayed out of Luke’s way and formed a delightful friendship with Tiago’s wife, Kate. The pretty blonde only stayed here part-time. She was shadowing Picar, learning medicine, and working toward her degree. She wanted to be a doctor.
She didn’t have the experience to treat Vera’s wound, but she always accompanied Picar, absorbing his broken English while he examined Vera. Then she hung around after, chatting and sharing stories about her captivity with the Venezuelan crime lord, Tiago Badell.
Everyone here had a story, and Vera loved learning about their survival, their triumphs, and how they all interconnected.
There was so much she’d yet to learn about Luke.
She wanted to know all his quirks and complain about them. She wanted more Klondike and rap-song moments. She wanted to bicker with him over nothing and whack him with a pillow when he snored. Because that was what couples did, right? They drove each other crazy.
Crazy with Luke was going to be crazy amazing. She couldn’t wait.
She missed him.
“Do you love him?” Tula pushed her sunglasses to her forehead and squinted in the afternoon sunlight.
“Yeah. Terribly.” Swallowing a sip of beer, Vera stared out across the crystal-blue pool. “I’ve barely seen him all week.”
“He’s busy. But you’re sleeping in his bed, right?”
Every night, he tucked her against his chest, kissed her everywhere, touched her over her clothes until she was wet, and… “No sex.”
“Well, hello? You were shot. With a bullet.”
“In the leg. Not in my vagina.”
Tula burst into laughter. “Haven’t you figured out that these guys are different? They’re not like those selfish, abusive boys back home. They want us healed and healthy and begging for it before they beat us.”
They stared at each other, biting back smiles.
“Never thought you’d crave a fist around your throat, huh?” Tula gave into her grin. “Or a stinging-red ass, bite marks, bruised thighs…”
“Never in a million years.” She leaned back on the lounger and sighed. “It’s been a rough road for us, you know?”
“Don’t you feel like the hardest part is behind us?”
“Yeah. Even if it isn’t, the hard stuff feels a lot less hard with someone you love at your side.”
“Or two someones.”
“You
’re such a whore.” She knocked the sunglasses off Tula’s head.
“A happy whore.” Tula chuckled.
“Who’s a whore?” Amber strolled up to their loungers.
“Your mama,” Tula said.
“Doubtful. She spent a lot of time clutching her pearls. Can I join you?”
Tula dragged over another lounge chair. Meanwhile, Vera couldn’t take her eyes off Van’s wife. The woman radiated head-to-toe beauty, from her shiny chestnut hair and rosebud lips to her flawless, hourglass figure on full display in a tiny black bikini. Good God, she was gorgeous. Beauty queen gorgeous.
It was hard to imagine her with a man like Van Quiso. Vera knew their story and couldn’t help but resent the man for everything he’d done to Luke and the others. She also knew they’d forgiven him.
He was among their kindred, which meant she would learn to accept and forgive him, too.
“I’m just going to put this out in the open.” She shifted on the lounger, adjusting her injured leg before meeting Amber’s eyes. “Your husband terrifies me.”
“Me, too.” Amber moved the coasters around on the small table beside her, arranging them in neat groups of four. “He’s meaner than piss.”
“With you?”
“Hmm. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“No, that’s—”
“Van!” Amber leaned to the side, shouting toward the open door of the veranda. “Come here!”
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Tula groaned. “You call one of them out here, and they’ll all show up.”
Sure enough, as Van ambled into the pool area, Joshua and Ricky trailed behind. They wore swim trunks and carried beers. Sunglasses and sexy hair. Shirtless and shredded with stacks of muscle. Where was a camera when she needed one? They belonged on a vigilante calendar. She would call it Freedom Fighters, the Weapons of War edition.
Van paused beside Amber, gazing down at her, and his smile stretched the scar that curved from his mouth to somewhere beneath his shades. As he leaned down to kiss her fully on the mouth, his hand swiped over the coasters she’d arranged on the table.
When he straightened, her eyes zoomed in on the mess he’d made.
Apparently, Amber’s OCD was a work-in-progress.
“Vera wanted to know,” Amber said, without looking away from the scattered coasters, “if you’re mean to me.”
“Nah.” He removed a toothpick from his pocket and set it between his teeth. “I’m a big sappy baby.”
Joshua laughed as he stepped into the pool. “He’s an asshole. With everyone.”
With an unapologetic shrug, Van rolled the toothpick to the corner of his smirk. “Anything else you want to know? Like if I’m mean when I suspend my wife from the trees out there?” He nodded at the rainforest. “When I whip her and welt her pretty skin? Or when I bring her to orgasm, and she screams so beautifully everyone in the estate can hear her?”
“No, I…really didn’t want to know that.” Vera squeezed thighs against the warmth that rushed between them.
During that brief and disturbingly hot exchange, Amber had discreetly started moving the coasters back into symmetrical groups.
Van tossed his toothpick next to her busy hand. Then he kicked the table, just enough to jostle her attempt at order.
“Excuse us.” He grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and walked straight into the pool, submerging them both as she screamed.
Vera shook her head. “Well, that was…”
“Typical Van.” Ricky took Amber’s chair, stretching out his legs and closing a hand around Tula’s knee. “You’ll get used to him.”
Not likely.
For the next few hours, she hung out with Tula, Ricky, and Joshua. Van and Amber stayed in the pool until Van started removing her bikini. Then they disappeared, taking their foreplay elsewhere.
Beer flowed. Platters of food arrived, and the air buzzed with laughter and conversation.
Until Tula started harping on Vera for hiding the magnitude of their mother’s medical bills. They both had regrets and hashed it all out over multiple beers. Then Tula revisited the topic of Luke.
“He hasn’t fucked her in a week,” she said to Ricky.
Vera gave her the stink eye.
“She has a gunshot wound.” Ricky scraped a tortilla chip along the bottom of a salsa bowl and crammed it into his mouth. “I’d be the same way. A wound like that needs time to heal.”
“That’s what I told her. You’re all so overprotective.”
“Okay, first of all…” Vera picked at the gauze on her thigh. “I’m not a sex addict. There’s more to Luke than his body.”
Tula snorted. “You’re in the honeymoon phase of your relationship. It’s all about the fucking. I mean, the guys and I still go at it like rabbits.”
“You’re wet just thinking about it.” Ricky winked.
“You know I am.”
“Not helping,” Vera muttered.
“Go to bed naked.” Joshua arched a brow and reclined back in the chair. “Trust me. All chivalry will fall by the wayside the moment he reaches over and finds his woman laid out and bare. It’ll trip the wires in his stubborn head.”
That night, she took Joshua’s advice. No t-shirt. No panties. No bandage on her leg. She slipped beneath the covers, wearing only her skin, and shut off the light.
Luke hadn’t come in yet. He’d been tied up with Cole and Tate all day.
As she started to drift off, the door opened. He crept in quietly and removed his clothes in the dark. Then the mattress dipped.
Lying on her side with her back to him, she held her breath, her blood heating in anticipation.
His hands went directly to her ass, as they always did. Only this time, they froze on contact.
Keep going, Luke. It’s all bare.
Slowly, his clever fingers slid up her spine and back down, questing, hunting for more nudity. His breaths grew shorter. His body inched closer. Within seconds, his hands were everywhere, trailing along her neck, molding around her breasts, and dipping between her legs.
“Killing me, Vera.” Panting against her shoulder, he reached the vicinity of her gunshot wound and stopped. “Where’s your bandage?”
“Don’t need it.” She wriggled her backside against the iron proof of his arousal. “Just need you.”
He groaned hotly against her nape. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Denying me hurts me.” She shifted onto her back and found his gaze in the moonlight. “If your hesitancy has to do with what happened with Silvia, we need to talk about it.”
“No.” His eyes widened. “I haven’t thought about that once. It’s your leg. Picar said you need to go easy on it.”
“Go easy on it.” She pulled off the covers and spread her thighs in a wanton display. “But don’t go easy on my pussy.”
In a flash, he was up, stripping off his underwear and straddling her hips. His mouth came down on hers, his tongue pressing in. He kissed her maddeningly, passionately, unleashing the depths of his need.
“I missed this.” He rocked against her as he ate at her mouth, dragging his erection along her stomach. “I love you.”
“Love you.” Pre-come smeared her skin, and she basked in the sensation, reaching down to caress the heavy sac behind his cock.
He grunted against her lips and leaned back a few inches to stare at her. His hand caressed her face, clearing away the hair that had fallen over her cheek. Then he dipped his head and attacked her mouth again.
They kissed like teenagers, grinding, groping, and making out with tongues and teeth. Then he turned his attention to her body, licking and biting every dip, working his way down her breasts, down her belly, down through the slit of her cunt to burrow into the wetness between her legs.
She moaned guttural sounds and writhed against his mouth. He spread her apart and lapped at her flesh, fingertips flirting and rolling alongside his wicked tongue.
When he finally sank a pair of fingers in
side, she cried out, clenching, and that was all it took.
She came instantly and with wild abandon, bucking and trembling and screaming, “Luke! Luke! Luke!”
“Christ, you have a magnificent cunt.” He dipped his fingers in and out of the pooling moisture, making her shudder and ache all over again. “Swollen and pink. Primed for my cock.”
“Fuck me, you redheaded sadist.”
“In good time.” He crawled back up her body and slid his nose along hers. “How’s your leg?”
“Same as the other one. I need you between them.”
He grinned, and she whimpered, knowing he had every intention of making her wait.
As he leaned in to kiss her, she took a mental picture because damn, he was sexy. The way he rolled his tongue past his parted lips just before their mouths collided… It got her every time.
That irresistible tongue felt so perfect against hers. So warm and controlling and him. She loved everything about him—his kisses, his touches, the heat of his body, and how it made her feel when he was moving inside her. She would never tire of this. Never tire of him.
He made the world a better place, and he was the only place she wanted to be.
His mouth left her lips to kiss over her face. Then he straightened on his knees and shifted until his sculpted thighs bracketed her head.
She devoured the sight of him towering over her, a powerful symbol of sexuality. His crowning glory jutted outward, bobbing above her head, thick and swollen, and tipped with a fat bead of pre-come.
Her inner muscles convulsed around nothing, throbbing to be stretched and pounded by that long, beautiful cock.
His hand wrapped around the root and slid up the broad shaft. He watched her, eyes smoldering beneath hooded lids, as he glided his palm around the head, gathered the moisture, and began to stroke with vigor.
Erotic didn’t begin to describe the sight of this man pleasuring himself. His brawny legs trembled. The bricks of his abs contracted. Veins bulged in his forearm, and his eyes…
They were predator eyes, molten green, bold and hungry as ever, deadly dominant, deadly overbearing, just plain deadly.
He smacked the plump crown of his cock against her mouth. Then he did it again. And again. When she gasped, he shoved himself in, past her lips, her teeth, and straight to the back of her throat.
