From Evil: Books 4-6

by Pam Godwin

  When Boones finished the last bandage, he nodded at the driver waiting in the front seat.

  The engine rumbled to life, and the van shot into motion, speeding toward Caracas.

  She took in Tiago’s rapid breathing, slack face, and bruised body, willing him to look at her. But his lashes didn’t stir.

  It tightened her chest. “Is he going to live, Dr. Frankenstein?”

  Boones cut his eyes at her, his expression disgruntled.

  “You didn’t create the monster.” She clutched Tiago’s limp hand, linking their fingers. “But you’ve been patching him up for twelve years.”

  “He’s not a monster.”

  Flashbacks of the past few hours peppered her mind in blood and bullets. “He is when he needs to be.”

  His face softened, relaxing the scars on his cheeks. “I’ve been his accomplice through it all. He will always have my support, even when he makes mistakes.”

  “He’s made a lot of mistakes, Boones. Just in the past couple of months. With me.”

  “Yes, but he’ll learn from them. I don’t always agree with his actions, but I believe in him.” He crooked a finger at her. “Let me look at you.”

  She scooted around Tiago’s body and let Boones clean the injury on her face. Then he removed the bandages on her thigh. His body language gave nothing away as he cleaned the swirling cuts and applied a tingling cream.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She searched his eyes.

  “Yes.” He redressed her leg with clean bandages. “You’re healing him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s been hurting for a long time. I can only heal the body. But you…” He clutched her hand and placed it against Tiago’s chest. “You heal the rest.”

  She didn’t know about that, but there was one milestone she could share with him.

  “He’s giving up the kidnapping business.” At the widening of his eyes, she felt a shimmer of pride. “He made that deal with me last night.”

  Boones studied her with an unreadable expression. Then a smile broke through. “See? You’re good for him.”

  She nodded, accepting the truth in that. “So how about helping me out of these handcuffs?”

  “Not a chance.” He turned to his medical supplies and started putting things away.

  “Why not?”

  “He secured you that way for a reason, and they will stay until he decides to remove them.”

  Dammit.

  “You didn’t answer my first question.” She took in Tiago’s pallid complexion and the bandages that covered half of his torso. “He’s going to live, right?”

  “He’s very lucky. If the bullet hit anywhere else on his chest, even just slightly to the left, it would’ve damaged organs or bones. Surgery in a van is less than ideal.”

  “He would’ve died.”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the blood loss?”

  “No arteries were nicked. He’ll be weak for a while, but he’ll recover. The priority right now is getting him to safety.”

  The hairs on her nape lifted. “Are we in danger?”

  “He’s a wanted man.” He stared down at Tiago’s face with a troubled look. “There will always be danger.”

  She considered the long list of enemies he’d acquired over the years. No matter what he did going forward, he would never escape what he’d done.

  “He can’t leave this life, can he?” She swallowed. “Even if he wanted to?”

  “When he avenged my daughter’s death, he was labeled as a criminal and forced to live like one. He’s safer here, among other criminals, than out there in normal society. Here, in the heart of hell, he’s protected.”

  She shivered at what his words meant. What they meant for her. If she didn’t escape, his violent world would become her life. If she managed to get away, she would lose him.

  “Are we going to his compound?” she asked. “That’s where he lives, right?”

  “He did.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m taking you to his penthouse in Caracas.”

  “He has a penthouse?” She couldn’t imagine it.

  “It’s a luxury he owns but never indulged in. He kept it for my brothers and me. He didn’t want us sleeping in the filth of his slum, and he doesn’t want you sleeping there, either.”

  “No more mattresses on the floor?”

  “He has a very nice, very large bed in the penthouse that has never been slept in.” He cast her a knowing look. “Or used in any way.”

  She refused to acknowledge his response and held up her shackled arm. “What happens when we get there and I need to pee?”

  “Hold it or release it. The handcuffs stay on.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Tiago woke to the immaculate face of an angel. She floated over him, her vivid blue eyes backlit by a halo of golden hair. The seam of her cupid lips separated, and he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice, taste her kiss, and lose himself in her ferocity.

  “I must be dead.” Confusion poked at his muddled brain. “Except angels don’t exist in hell.”

  “Not dead.” The angel scowled. “But you should be.”

  Kate.

  Alive.

  Relief cut through the dull pain in his chest. “Where are we?”

  “The garage of your penthouse.” She leaned to the side, revealing the interior of a cargo van.

  At the rear, Boones stood in the open doors, flanked by two men. Tiago didn’t know them, but he trusted Boones to choose only the best for his personal security.

  There would always be traitors, but Iliana’s death should serve as a deterrent for the time being.

  He flexed his arms and rolled his neck, testing his strength and mobility. Muscles protested, but the pain didn’t make him want to hurl his guts. Definitely an improvement from the jungle.

  “What’s the damage?” He glanced down at his torso but could only see clean bandages.

  “You’ll live.” Boones stepped back and motioned at the men. “They’re going to carry you up.”

  “Fuck that.” He pushed to a sitting position and swayed beneath an onslaught of vertigo.

  “Tiago.” Kate gripped the metal bracelet on his wrist and tugged at the other half still attached to her. “Remove the handcuffs. It’ll be easier if you’re not dragging me along beside you.”

  No way would he release her until she was safely locked behind the doors of the penthouse.

  Shifting to the rear of the van, he lowered his boots to the ground, rose to his full height, and waited for the dizziness to pass.

  The walk to the elevator was a short trip of staggering steps, grabbing hands, and glowering disapproval. Most of the scowls came from Kate, but her fingers gripped his arm with the kind of support no one could give him but her.

  By the time he entered the top floor, his body was drenched in sweat and the pain had morphed into a fire-breathing entity inside his chest.

  “Idiot,” Boones said in his native tongue and walked past him, heading toward the master bedroom.

  “If the roles were reversed…” She trudged along beside him, surveying the contemporary interior of the penthouse. “I’d be draped over your shoulder like a caveman’s whore.”

  “Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll carry you like that again.” He caught himself on the doorframe of the master bedroom.

  “A couple of hours?” She gaped at him. “You’re going to be in bed for days. Maybe weeks.”

  He refused to admit she was right.

  The rush of water sounded from the master bath as he forced his heavy feet across the bleached wood flooring.

  Bold, colorful artwork punctuated the white walls, and the sleek, minimalist furniture satisfied his modern aesthetic. The penthouse didn’t drip in gold accents or conform to the lavish styles of a moneyed Venezuelan, but it was exorbitant, nonetheless.

  “I ran a hot bath.” Boones stepped out of the en suite. “Use it, but keep you
r chest above the water.”

  A bath sounded perfect, especially with the woman handcuffed to his arm.

  “You can’t leave the penthouse.” Boones ambled toward the hall. “No one knows you’re in Caracas, and it needs to stay that way until you’re recovered.”

  Because of Kate.

  Word of Tiago’s return would spread, and when that happened, Matias Restrepo and Cole Hartman would learn her location.

  Tiago had planned for this complication upon his return, but those plans hadn’t included getting shot and stabbed.

  He needed to meet with the biggest, most powerful constituents in his network, attend their parties, and prove to them he was still strong and undefeated. Only then could he petition them for their support in keeping her friends out of Caracas. If he didn’t, Matias Restrepo would snake his way in and turn the entire city against Tiago.

  “I want you in bed after the bath.” Boones gripped the doorframe, looking as tired as Tiago felt. “Breakfast will be brought in shortly.”

  “Thanks, Boones.”

  The penthouse had a full-service staff, such as an on-site maid, cook, and personal guards who had been here for Boones since the beginning.

  Tiago owned the entire building, and the security was the best money could buy. No one could penetrate these walls without getting blown to bits in the process.

  He made his way to the desk in the corner of the bedroom, with Kate keeping pace at his side. She angled toward the nearby window that overlooked the violence, poverty, and despair of the slums below.

  “It’s weird.” Her brows pinched as she took in the view of crumbling concrete and rusted metal roofs. “The top floor of this building feels like a palace, and it stares down at that. It feels wrong.”

  He agreed, which was why he’d never stayed a single night here. He deserved to be down there amid the strife and misery, but she didn’t.

  “When the economy went to shit, many of Venezuela’s aristocratic families moved to Miami, including the untouchable enchufados.” He dug through the desk drawer and grabbed a paper clip. “I bought this abandoned tower for a steal and fortified it to keep Boones and his brothers safe.”

  “Do you think Boones will ever go home to be with his brothers?”

  “No. I’ve tried to make him leave. He’s stubborn.”

  She nodded, her expression contemplative. “What now?”

  “Bath, food, sleep. In that order.” Forcing his heavy feet across the room, he pulled her along.

  When he reached the massive tub, steam rose from the water, infused with the calming scent of Boones’ herbs. She hung back, as far as the handcuffs allowed, and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

  “I need to pee.”

  He pivoted, somewhat clumsily, and led her to the toilet. “Sit.”

  “How about you use that paper clip you’re hiding in your fist and unlock the handcuffs?”

  Christ, she was perceptive. And sexy as fuck.

  If he weren’t seconds from face-planting on the marble floor, he would plant his face between her gorgeous legs.

  Instead, he hardened his expression in silent command.

  Her glare sparked with objections as she kicked off her shoes, shoved off the shorts, and plopped down on the toilet with an urgent release of her bladder.

  While she peed, he stripped his clothes from the waist down. He was already shirtless, but every movement ignited an inferno in his shoulder. He gripped the edge of the counter and breathed through the pain until it passed.

  “If you removed the handcuffs, I could help you into the bath.” She hit the flusher and stood.

  “You’re getting in with me.”

  A tsunami of resistance came at him, emanating from her rigid posture.

  He nudged her to the side, braced a straight arm on the wall above the toilet, and used his shackled hand to angle his dick while he peed.

  She watched for a second before pressing her lips together and looking away.

  “I want to piss all over your tight little pussy,” he said, just to further ruffle her feathers.

  She ground her teeth.

  “I’m going to cut you again.” His tone was flippant, but there was nothing casual about his intentions. He meant every word.

  She tensed. “Can we just…not have this conversation right now? I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for it and could really use a couple of days without any blood or violence.”

  The cynical side of him wanted to push her even more, but there was a stronger impulse to do something completely foreign. She needed rest as much as he did, and he felt an overwhelming need to simply take care of her.

  He flushed the toilet and led her to the edge of the bath.

  Adjusting the paper clip in his hand, he bit the end of it and made a dent. A quick twist inside the keyhole on her bracelet released the ratchets of teeth.

  When the cuff swung open, she yanked her arm free and rubbed her wrist.

  “Remove the shirt.” He picked the lock on his and set the handcuffs aside.

  She obeyed without argument and stood before him wearing only the bandages on her thigh.

  Crouching to one knee, he peeled away the medical tape and unwound the gauze. A fresh sheen of ointment coated the clean incisions. Boones must’ve treated her on the way here.

  Tiago took his time examining her, admiring his work, and memorizing the stunning contrast of deep red lines against her pale skin. Then his gaze drifted to the flawless shape of her body, traveling along the sexy curves of her hips and smooth undersides of her pert tits.

  He leaned in and skimmed his nose along her flat stomach. Her fingers feathered through his hair, and the soothing contact made him lightheaded.

  Too soon, her touch retreated. She stepped into the water and held out a hand, offering to help him in.

  The gesture surprised him, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. She was too nude to conceal a weapon. Maybe she intended to drown him. But even in his weakened state, she would never be able to overpower him.

  Perhaps she was just tired and wanted to get this over with.

  He rose to his feet, gripped her offered hand, and lowered into the water.

  Shifting to face him, she fit her legs on the outside of his and straddled his thighs. Then she went to work, lathering a washcloth with soap and cleaning his arms and the exposed skin around the bandages.

  Assuaging fingers washed every inch of him, her mouth a kiss away as she finished her task with concentrated focus.

  “Careful, Kate.” He sank deeper into the water, his body giving into the tranquilizing comfort. “I might get the impression you care.”

  “Well, don’t. I have Stockholm syndrome.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “When I stepped into that parking lot with no guards, no shackles, and no confinement, freedom was right there.” A tumult of emotions scrunched her features before settling into the vertical grooves between her eyes. “All I had to do was run. I wasn’t even thinking about your threat against my friends. I want to escape that badly. But I didn’t.” She stared at her hands. “I looked back.”

  His pulse thumped in memory. He’d sensed her escape from across the garage and started to go after her. The distraction had earned him a knife in the shoulder and a crippling drop to the floor. If she hadn’t come back for him, he would still be lying there. Dead.

  She lifted her head and wrecked him with her crystal blue gaze. “This isn’t real. It’s just my mind’s way of coping.”

  A fist of hurt slammed through his chest, one he’d earned through a lifetime of destructive choices. “What do you feel when you’re with me?”

  “Fear.”

  “What else?”

  “Physical attraction. Desire. But you already know that.”

  “You don’t think those feelings are real?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not just that. I…” She closed her eyes
, drew in a breath, and looked at him. “I feel protective of you, like I would choose your life over all else. I mean, I already did. I chose you over my freedom, and it doesn’t make sense. If that’s not Stockholm syndrome, I don’t know what is.”

  He hated it, fucking despised her assessment of the intrinsic tether between them. But he knew what he was and what he’d done to her. Expecting her to hand over her heart to a warped bastard was inconceivable.

  That didn’t, however, change his feelings for her.

  “You’re probably right.” He toyed with a lock of wet blond hair that curled around her nipple. “But I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. For me, this doesn’t get any more real.”

  Her expression fell. “You only feel that way because I’m the first person you’ve had sex with in twelve years.”

  “No, Kate. You’re the one I had sex with because I love you.”

  A quivering twitch pulled at her mouth, and her gaze dropped to the carving on her thigh. “You can’t love me. If you did, you would let me go.”

  “Bullshit. You’re fucking essential, as necessary as water, air, and blood. I can’t give you up.” He gripped her chin, pulling her face to his. “If you truly love someone, you don’t let them go without a fight.”

  “Even if not letting me go makes me miserable?”

  “Are you? Miserable?”

  “I have no freedom, no independence, no rights.” Resentment leeched her voice, sucking the calmness from her words. “If you loved me, you would at least let me leave the penthouse to take a walk or—”

  “Absolutely not. You would be kidnapped within seconds.”

  “Kidnapped by people like you? Or taken by my friends?”

  “Both. If Matias Restrepo found you, do you know what he would do?” He clamped a hand around her nape, seizing her gaze. “He would confine you to his compound in Colombia, with no way to leave, no access to the outside world, no freedom.”

  “He would only do that so you couldn’t take me again!”

  “Think through that, Kate. He doesn’t want me to take you from him. I don’t want him to take you from me. Same. Fucking. Thing.”

  “He’s never hurt me.”