by Karina Halle
I should follow her to the door, tell her I’m just looking out for her. I should insist on meeting her parents. I should drop the charade.
But I don’t drop anything. I’m becoming the charade.
I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.
Then I drive off.
Chapter Seven
Javier
Sinaloa, Mexico
Javier Bernal stands at the edge of his property, where the lush lawn starts to peter out into the thick jungle that continues all the way down to the ocean’s edge. He narrows his eyes at the lumps of rocks that scatter along the grass and feels his heart rate go up a notch.
This was where he was going to put in his beloved koi pond, one of the first things he vowed to do when they took over this land a few years ago. But time, as usual, got away from him. Now there is just a pile of rocks that represent the best of intentions.
He’s surprised at the bitterness welling in his throat. It seems the older he gets, the more his intentions lose their hold. It’s been a nonstop climb back to the top and he’s getting tired. He needs someone with new life to run the show.
Someone like Vicente.
But Vicente hasn’t yet been broken. Javier knows you have to break the boy to create the man. And there’s no one to break him but Javier. Sometimes you have to hurt the ones you love to make them stronger, and while Javier would fight to the death to protect his son, he also knows he’s the only one who can make Vicente the man he needs to be, even if it destroys both of them in the process.
It breaks Javier’s heart.
Having to do this to him.
“Javier?” Luisa calls out softly from behind him. He doesn’t turn around but he relaxes slightly when he feels her thin, soft arms wrap around him from the back. “What are you doing?”
“Dreaming,” he answers. The more in the dark his wife is, the better. She wouldn’t quite agree. Then again, she babies Vicente too much. “Do you remember when we were first together, that old compound? I would find you down by the pond, staring at the fish.”
“I was planning my escape,” she says mildly.
He nods. “Do you think you would have been better off, in the end?”
“Are you serious?” She lets go and comes around in front of him. The dire puzzlement on her face is a tonic to him.
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “If you had escaped, you would never have had to live the life of a wife of a drug lord.”
Her puzzlement turns to annoyance, which makes him chuckle inside. There’s no one more beautiful to Javier than his wife, yet when she gets feisty and riled up, her beauty is increased tenfold. He’s nearly in awe of it, even still.
“Need I remind you that for the last twenty years or so, I’ve been an equal partner in these operations, not just your damn wife,” she says viciously, poking a long-fingered nail into his chest. “I’m not like the rest of those fucking women, sitting around with the other wives and talking gossip and discussing your mistresses. Without me, you never would have risen up.”
Javier raises his brows, wondering briefly if that’s innuendo or not. She does tend to get turned on when she’s on fire. “You’re very right, dear Luisa.” He grabs her finger and raises it to his lips, gently sucking on it.
She tries to glare at him but her eyes soften into liquid pools, dark as teakwood, and he can see her pulse moving delicately along her throat. He’s been worried about her lately so to see this zest return is nothing less than comforting.
“And need I remind you,” she says, hesitantly taking her finger away, “that I chose not to escape. I chose to stay with you. I chose you and all of this, all the ups and all the downs. If I had left, we wouldn’t have Vicente or Marisol. I would have never known this peace.”
“Are you at peace?” he asks curiously. He’s not sure if he’s felt peace for more than a minute of his life. Maybe while he’s coming inside Luisa and the seconds afterward, or the moment he pulls a trigger, ending someone’s life. That peace is fleeting though.
But Luisa doesn’t seem so certain either. She looks away, toward the rocks where the pond should be. “I have moments of it. That’s enough.”
“Javier,” Oscar Barrera’s voice comes from behind them.
What fucking now? Javier thinks. Can’t I stand here and admire my nonexistent pond in peace?
But when he turns around with a heavy sigh to face Barrera, he sees he has news.
“Vicente’s card has been used at the Intercontinental,” Barrera says. He’s Javier’s right-hand man now that Vicente is gone, and has been monitoring his whereabouts when he can. Not that there have been any whereabouts to go by.
Javier wasn’t that surprised to lose contact with Tio and Nacho though he admits it happened rather quickly. It only made him admire his son more.
“Oh, thank god,” Luisa says, hand to her chest. “Can you be sure it’s Vicente using the card and no one else?”
Ever since they lost Tio and Nacho, she’s been worried, too worried, Javier thinks, that something happened to Vicente as well. She doesn’t seem to understand exactly what Vicente is capable of, and it’s quite clear by now that their son has no problems disposing of the people who were meant to protect him.
Then again, Javier knows they were never meant to protect him at all, merely watch and report. Vicente doesn’t need protection over there, not yet.
“We can’t be sure,” Barrera says patiently, “and Vicente is most likely booked in the hotel under another name. The hotel was booked through a website. Two thousand dollars a night.”
“Jesus,” Javier swears, exchanging a look with Luisa. “The girl better be worth it. All right, well. This is good news. It tells us he’s still in San Francisco. Let’s send Parada out on the first flight tomorrow morning.”
“Why tomorrow when he can go now?” Luisa says.
“Patience,” Javier says, giving her a slow smile. “These things take time. You know this by now.”
She lets out a ragged sigh and heads back toward the house with Barrera. Javier turns back to face the rocks and starts mentally landscaping the place all over again.
Dear son, he thinks, let’s see how alike we really are.
Chapter Eight
Violet
I must be getting played.
There’s no other explanation.
I mean, seriously.
Vicente is handsome as hell, loaded, beyond charming, and exceptionally smooth. Half the stuff that was coming out of his mouth yesterday would have made any girl groan at the inherent over-the-topness.
But I didn’t groan. Because I know they aren’t just lines. He means them.
Doesn’t he?
I’m staring at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning, trying to figure out what he could possibly see in me. Don’t get me wrong—I might be a snowflake but I’m no Mary Sue. I know I’m attractive in my own way, it’s just that way doesn’t always attract the right men, at least not the men I want. I’m not tall, skinny, blonde and tanned with big lips, flat abs, and perky boobs. Okay, maybe my boobs are on the perky side, and so is my ass, but that’s from all my kickboxing and training. It’s big, all muscle, as are my thighs, and I do have strong arms and a strong stomach (covered underneath a layer of pinch-worthy flab, of course).
Body aside, I do have a good face. But it’s not sunny, sexy, and open. It’s the face that either makes men shrivel away from me or prompts them to say, “Smile, it’s not all bad.” I wish I had a clever comeback for every time I’ve heard that.
I honestly have never had a man so into me and so bold about it, and who also makes my heart do somersaults.
I know I shouldn’t question it. I should just accept it.
Easier said than done.
“Violet!” my mom yells from downstairs. “I’m going!”
I glance at my phone. My mother is driving me to school today on the way to the studio. My makeup is only half done, so I shove the rest into my makeup bag and pull my hair back
into a low ponytail. I don’t know exactly what I’m expecting tonight other than dinner, but I did shave my legs and bikini line, so there is that. Just before I’m out the door, I grab a couple condoms from my drawer and put them in my purse.
Just in case.
I totally just jinxed myself, I know.
My mom is waiting impatiently by the door with her arms crossed. She looks more stressed than usual, her mouth set in a firm line. When she sees me, her expression softens.
“You look nice,” she says, eyeing me up and down.
“Thanks,” I tell her as casually as possible as I walk out the door and down the steps to the street. I’m wearing pointy studded black boots with kitten heels, probably the nicest boots I own, having haggled on eBay for them, black leggings, and a maroon long-sleeve dress with a low and lacy neckline. I left my beloved leather jacket behind since it’s probably too faded and banged up for a fancy restaurant, and I have a black satin bomber jacket on instead (a cheap find but it doesn’t look it).
“Going somewhere after class?” she asks, suspicious, wheels turning.
I shrug as I stop by the passenger side of our grey Jeep, waiting for the doors to unlock before getting inside. Dad has an old muscle car similar to Vicente’s, a black ’73 Challenger, but it’s in our tiny garage and he never takes it out.
“Why so secretive?” she asks as she starts the engine, not letting it go.
I give her a look that says, Are you kidding me? You should talk.
“What?” She wiggles her fingers around me. “You’ve got this mysterious aura about you. I’m just curious. It’s a good thing.”
“That you’re curious?”
“That you’ve got something going on.”
“I never said I have anything going on.”
I’m not even sure why I’m keeping Vicente from her. I mean, he did say he wanted to meet my parents, which is both crazy and promising all at once. I guess I’m afraid that since I just met him and we haven’t really been on a date, I don’t want to jinx anything. I feel like I’m already doing that with my shaved legs and matching bra and panty set.
My mom doesn’t say anything else. She looks a little crestfallen as she drives down the hill, enough that it makes me feel bad. It makes me shove my animosity over my grandfather aside for now and try and reach out.
“I met a guy,” I tell her, resisting the temptation to pick at the edges of my nail polish.
“Oh?” She sounds surprised. I can’t blame her. I think at one point she assumed Ginny and I were dating, and it probably made her happy.
“Yeah. As in literally just met him. So don’t worry, I haven’t been keeping you in the dark.”
“That explains why you’re looking hot,” she says, glancing at me with a small smile.
“Mom.”
“So when did you meet him? What does he do?”
“I met him on Monday. He’s an aspiring photographer and he was trying to get Anderson to accept him into the school.”
“Oh, really?” Now she sounds impressed. I usually dated musicians. This would be the first time for a photographer.
And you’re not dating, I remind myself.
“And did he get into the school?” she asks.
“I don’t think so. He was willing to pay his way in, but Anderson wasn’t having it. But I said I would teach him what I know.”
Now my mom is grinning at me. I wish she would do it more often since it makes her look a decade younger. “That’s my daughter. Hey, maybe you’ll find that teaching is your calling.”
“Maybe.”
“So what’s his name? How old is he?”
“His name is Vicente. I’m not sure how old he is, maybe mid-twenties?”
“Vicente,” she muses, then shrugs a shoulder. “Nice name. Very poetic.”
“He’s Mexican. Born in the U.S., so I guess he’s a dual citizen, but he spent most of his life in Mexico.”
Her posture stiffens at that. Her jawline twitches. “Do you know where in Mexico he was raised?”
“No idea. I know his dad is like a farmer. Or something to do with selling avocados.”
She nods at that, seeming to relax. I guess she’s back to acting odd again. “And he’s here for the school or…?”
“I don’t know. He said he came here to discover his roots, where he was born, and that it’s the perfect city for photography.”
“That’s very true. Well, I’m glad you’ve met a nice guy.” She gives me a sideways glance. “He is a nice guy, right?”
“Yes,” I say, exasperated. “Very nice. Very…smooth. Says all the right things.”
She cocks a brow. “Oh yeah? You better watch out for guys like that.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” I look at her. “Is that how Dad won you over? Smooth lines?”
She laughs, loud. “Oh Jesus. Violet. You’ve met your father, haven’t you?”
I can’t help but laugh too. “I guess since you met him in high school, he probably wasn’t the coolest.” I’d seen photos of my parents back then. Dad looked like a Marilyn Manson wannabe with nerd glasses to boot.
“Hey, your father would surprise you in more ways than one,” she says.
The image of the newspaper clipping pops into my head. “I have no doubt about that,” I tell her.
“Anyway, I just want you to be careful with this guy. That’s all.”
“Why? You’re always badgering me to go meet someone.”
“First of all, I don’t badger you. Second of all…I know you can take care of yourself. That’s why we rarely worry about you in these kind of situations. It’s just…trust me, sometimes the guys who have all the right things to say have the right things to say for a reason.”
“I’m pretty intuitive. I’ll back out if things get weird.”
She nods a few times, chewing on her lip. “I know you are. And I’m glad. But…trust me. All the intuition and intentions in the world can go out the window when you sleep with someone. Especially if you’re stupid enough to fall in love.”
“Mom…”
“Just try and keep your mind intact, that’s all. Don’t let a few orgasms shield you from the truth about someone.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Who said I was going to sleep with him?”
“Violet, you have a whole bunch of condoms in your bag and you already have that glow going on.”
I glance down at the purse at my feet, the condoms visible. Damn, she’s observant.
“And, sweetie, it’s fine. I just know how easy it is to be charmed by someone.”
I stare at her oddly. “Other than Dad, you mean? Because you were high school sweethearts…”
She swallows. “Yes. But don’t think other people haven’t come and gone in my life. Everyone meets a silver-tongued serpent at some point.”
Silver-tongued serpent. I know the phrase is supposed to make me feel wary about Vicente but instead it only turns me on. I envision him licking the glass the other day and wonder what it would feel like to have him lick up the sides of my legs, those intense eyes staring right into mine.
I’m not even sure I can handle that. That’s where my mom has pegged me wrong. She thinks that I’ll lose all control over my emotions and judgment the moment I sleep with Vicente. The fact is, I almost wish for that happen. With all the guys I’ve slept with—and there’s only been three—I’ve never been able to disconnect from my brain and logic, which unfortunately means I’ve never experienced sex the way it should be.
Unless things change with Vicente, I think. But as smooth and sensual as he may be, I think he’s going to have an uphill battle.
Once at school, I have a hard time focusing on the tasks at hand. Usually I’m such a perfectionist in my work, but my thoughts keep drifting to Vicente, and the more I think about him, the more nervous I get. He said he was going to come get me when class is over at four, which barely gives me any time to prepare.
Even Ginny, who is normally oblivious, picks
up on it. “What’s going on with you?” she whispers to me, leaning across the aisle. “You’re jumpier than normal. And that’s saying a lot.”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her, trying not to fidget and to concentrate on whatever the hell Anderson is talking about.
“Nothing, my ass,” she says. I feel her eyes on me, staring. “What’s with all the cleavage?”
“Why, am I turning you on?” I say dryly.
“Phhfft, you wish.”
At least that gets her off my back.
But when class is finished, I’m drowning in my nerves again. If he doesn’t take me for a drink before dinner, I’m going to insist.
Ginny still knows something is up because she’s hanging around me as I grab my books, eyeing me like a detective on a case. I can only hope that Vicente is across the road.
Nope.
The moment we get out the door and onto the street, Vicente is right there, breaking into a gorgeous grin when he sees me. I swear I can feel it all the way to my toes.
“Hey,” he says, coming over to me. To my complete surprise, he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I can feel that deep inside too.
I nervously look over at Ginny who’s staring at us in both shock and annoyance.
“Hi, I’m Ginny,” she says, roughly sticking her hand out between us for Vicente to shake.
“Ginny,” Vicente says, taking it in stride. “I’m Vicente. Violet’s friend.”
Friend? Well, at least he’s not assuming anything.
“I’m also Violet’s friend.” She shoots me a glance through narrowed eyes. “Though apparently not a very good one since this is the first I’m hearing of you. Vicente.”
“Perhaps she didn’t want to make you jealous,” he says lightly.
She snorts. “Right. You’re obviously new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Violet has been kind enough to show me around. Tonight I’m taking her out for dinner to return the favor.”
“Top of the Mark,” I tell her gleefully.
