I know who she is and why she’s upset.
It’s hard to lose someone you love—watch them take their final breath—while another close relative moves away without plans for a return. So many changes for a girl still in her teens surrounded by blood and carnage—her life path paved by the choices of others.
She’s a victim in this. A survivor of a night that killed one and left the young woman with a scar she’ll forever carry.
I see so much of myself in her.
And while my father didn’t directly pull triggers or slice throats, he did lead many toward their demise.
Our last name is a blessing and a curse. A weight we carry and a stigma we can never escape.
“The drive is about two hours.” Emiliano slips into the driver’s seat and presses the keyless start beside the steering wheel. He’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s frowning at Lourdes through the rearview mirror. “Do you need to stop for anything?”
“No.” At my curt response, he looks over with a questioning look, but I shake my head at him. “Does he know I’m here?”
“Are you okay?” Christ, men can be dense at times. It’s obvious his sister is uncomfortable and doesn’t trust me—she doesn’t know me—and shouldn’t be expected to open her arms easily. Not in our world. “You seem upset, Mariah.”
“Please answer the question, Emiliano.”
“Can you answer mine?” His expression is one of a lost puppy, but before I can respond, Lourdes takes her seatbelt off and leans forward.
“Oh, dear God!” she grits out, her head is closer to mine than his, and I see the moment her glare turns to tears. “She’s just saying lay off with the reprimanding looks my way. I’m not talking because I dislike her, but because I don’t have the energy. It’s all too much...” Her hiccupping pause is filled with pain and before the first tear falls, I’m jumping from the front to the back and hugging her tight. Thank God I’m small and flexible. A shuddering breath escapes her, and the small hands clenched at my sides open and grip; she’s holding on to me while letting go of what’s eating her inside.
“Lourdes, please. Not now, sis.” Emiliano pulls out from the curb, his voice tense as are his shoulders. “Just keep it together until—”
“Just drive. I’ll handle her.” If he’s inclined to argue, I don’t know. He simply zips his lips and nods. However, a few minutes later I catch the thankful expression at a red light when he turns to look at us.
His eyes soften when he sees his little sister’s tears and the way my arms embrace her. Thank you, he mouths, and I know at that moment I’ve made a friend in him.
After a while, when the sobs turn into sniffles, Lourdes tries to move back. Her face is blotchy, expression embarrassed. “My apologies. I don’t know what—”
“Stop.” Gently, I wipe my fingers under her eyes. “You have every right to be upset. Javi told me what happened, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through.” At the mention of his name, another round of tears fall. Her chest heaves and her tiny frame trembles, and it breaks my heart. “Breathe, Lourdes. No one is upset with you.”
“I should’ve done more to save Mama Ida.” It’s low, a whisper full of recrimination and pain that leaves her exposed. Lourdes blames herself because she’s here and my Javi’s mother isn’t.
“How?” Tipping her face up to meet my eyes, I raise a brow. “Sweetie, they sent men there with high-round capacity weapons and one goal. There was nothing you could’ve done, and it’s a blessing you weren’t harmed.”
“But Javi won’t even look at me!”
“Because he feels guilty for not being here.” That makes her pause. Her watery eyes are stunned and mouth open, as if to speak. She doesn’t, though. For the next few minutes, nothing comes out except the occasional sniffle and I leave her alone to dissect my words.
In all her guilt, Lourdes never paused to analyze what others might think, and she just accepted the worst. Especially about her cousin. A cousin, who in my understanding, is sometimes closer to her than her brothers.
“Does he really?” she asks after a while, leaning into me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight. My response is a sad smile, and her brows scrunch up. “But that makes no sense. How can he protect us when we were ambushed and—”
“Apply that same explanation to your situation, kiddo. You did nothing wrong.” Lourdes gives me a minute nod. “Good. Now rest up until we get there. Javi needs us to be strong and give him space when needed.”
“You’re good for him.”
“I hope I’ll be.”
“You will.” Her conviction warms my heart, and the sucker gives a harsh thump in agreement. This—us—is crazy and unpredictable and dangerous, but I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. In not making sense, we fit. In not being afraid to be who we are, we become stronger.
That man has become my person.
Mine.
“Thank you,” I say, and we both close our eyes after. She’s lost within her thoughts, and I vow to let him know how I feel soon.
Because I love him. Completely and unequivocally, I’m head over heels for that murderous sweetheart.
I’m shaken awake by a hand on my arm. The movement jostles me, pulling me from the nap the car’s movements lulled me into and my eyes snap open.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Lourdes smiles, and it’s genuine and she looks sweet. Nothing like the hurt girl from a little while ago. “Are you ready to see him, or want to freshen up first?”
“What has you in a sudden good mood?” I ask, stretching a bit before stepping out in front of a beautiful two-story home where armed guards stand at every corner with rifles strapped across their chests. “It’s a good look on you.”
“He’s going to flip when he sees you.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“I know he misses you.” She flicks her eyes behind us before leaning over conspiratorially. “Javier’s mentioned you at least fifty times a day since arriving and looks at his phone twice as much. You’re the half of his soul keeping him together.”
20
MY MIND IS a dangerous place to be, and losing myself within is taking its toll. I’m angry and hurting and still not able to fully process that the woman who brought me into this world is now gone.
That I wasn’t here to protect her as a good son should.
That Ida Lucas was taken from us by a selfish son of a bitch wanting revenge over the death of a thieving asshole I killed a few months back. The same thieving asshole that left her in a wheelchair.
Two brothers. Each stole from her things that could never be replaced:
Her ability to walk. Her life.
“We’ll find him, Javi,” Alejandro vows, the hand on my shoulder squeezing tight. “I swear on my life that we’ll find him.”
“Rats never stay hidden for long.” He nods and I pick up my glass, throwing back the last of the Aguardiente before standing. “Call Tito and up the reward through the surrounding barrios. I want his head on a spike within twenty-four hours.”
“Listo.”
“I’ll be in my room. Let me know if...” Fuck, my heart thumps and palms sweat at the sight of her. My beautiful little criminal with a coquettish smile and warm eyes is standing just inside the doorway to the study watching me. How did she get here? How did she know I needed her?
Mariah’s looking a bit nervous, a little rumpled from what I guess is traveling, but here. She’s here, and it hits me then just how much I’ve been yearning for.
Her. Just her.
“Hi.” Mariah’s voice is soft, and I let it surround me. Soothe me. “Miss me?”
“Come here.” My voice is rough with the sudden emotions rushing through me. I’m holding a hand out for her and every finger shakes, arm muscles twitching until her dainty hand wraps around my rough one.
Then it’s calm, and I breathe.
No words are exchanged as I lose myself in her seafoam eyes, letting her presence give m
e the one thing I’ve been missing since Alejandro’s call: peace. A small semblance of what I’ve had with her these last few weeks, and right now, I feel blessed to have her standing in front of me.
“You never answered my question, Javi.” There’s a playful tsk that comes from the back of her throat, a mock glare, but it’s the twitch of her glossy lips that pulls a chuckle from me. “Making me wait is unacceptable.”
“It is.” I lift her hand and kiss each knuckle. “I’ve more than missed you, sweetheart. I’ve been a little lost without you.”
It’s the truth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
There are times in our lives where showing weakness is a strength, and being honest with the woman that’s come to own my soul is one of them. So I let her see me. See the pain that’s settled into my heart and I can’t deal with alone.
“That’s because we don’t work well without the other.” Rising to the tips of her toes, Mariah kisses my chin and then pulls back, releasing my hand. “It’s why I’m here, Javi. I’m here for you...whatever you need.”
Without waiting for my reply, she looks over at a silent Alejandro and walks over, giving the usually serious man a quick hug. She says something to him—it’s too low for me to hear, but he smiles and walks toward the room’s entrance with a knowing expression on his face.
And when he’s right beside me, my cousin pauses his steps. “She’s one of the good ones, Javier. Treat her right.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Then it’s just the two of us, and the tension rises for a completely different reason. My missing her goes deeper than just the physical. It goes past carnal hunger or the way we challenge each other.
“Show me your room.” Hips sway toward me and I follow the movement, admiring how beautiful she is in a simple pair of jeans and an old Spice Girl’s shirt. “You look like you need some rest.”
“Let me show you around first. You have to be starving—” Her finger over my lips shuts me up, and I raise a brow.
“Room. Now.” Then the naughty little thing mimics my stance, brow, and all. This makes me want to bite her. “Comprende?”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“And you’re just lucky I’m a saint.”
“Saint, my ass.” With that, I toss her over my shoulder and walk out of the room with her whisper-cursing me all the way to the master bedroom at the top of the stairs with the large double doors. No one stops me or asks who she is, but I catch the smile on Lourdes’s face and Emiliano smirking. Even their mother looks amused during a time when sadness is all we’ve felt.
“I’m going to whoop you, Javi. Put me down.”
“No.” I kick the door closed with my foot and march over to the bed.
“Javier Lucas, I swear to all that…shit!”
I’m looking down on her breathless form now atop my bed, her eyes bright. “You were saying, Muñeca?”
Tiny fingers wave. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Lowering my body to hers, I nuzzle my nose to hers and peck those sweet lips. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Voice low and breathy, Mariah slips her arms around my neck and tugs on the hair at my nape. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too.” I skim my lips across hers, slowly, softly, while taking her upper lip between my own. A soft bite. A little lick. Mariah releases a tiny whimper then, exhaling against my mouth, and deepens the kiss.
She’s hungry. As desperate as I am, she pulls back a few seconds later and rests her forehead against mine. The soft look on her face makes my chest feel tight, and my heart beats wildly for her.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner, Javi.” Seafoam eyes turn watery, and I shake my head. Her tears are something I can’t handle at the moment and she sees that, fighting back her own emotions for me. I know how she feels without her uttering a single word. Can read her even when she hides behind a persona that’s cold and distant when Mariah is anything but.
“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me. To my family.”
A different kind of need settles in the room then and I let her wrap those small, yet strong arms around me and pull me close. There are no more words. No need to express.
For the first time since coming back to my country, I let myself sink into the bed and gratefully take comfort in my Muñeca. And as her fingers run through my hair, tugging a bit near the ends, I rest.
Fall asleep in her arms with her heart beating beneath my ear. I love you.
The next time my eyes open, the room is dark and yet, I know it’s early. There’s a rooster somewhere on the property greeting the sun while annoying everyone here. There’s a heaviness that settles in my chest knowing what the following hours will bring, but a soft sigh to my left calms me.
Soothes and comforts my soul.
Motherfuck, she’s beautiful. Mariah’s asleep while wearing an old soccer shirt from my teenage days she pilfered from one of my drawers with a bedsheet carelessly strewn across the back of her thighs. It seems I hogged the comforter. There’s also the matter of a leg bent at the knee and an arm wrestling the pillow beneath her head in a serious choke-hold from my viewpoint, and I’ve never been more jealous of a sack of cotton in my life.
I want my chest to be where she rests her head. I want to be who she seeks for comfort.
I love you. Three little words that slam back to the forefront of my mind as her arrival replays in my mind:
Seeing her standing at the entrance to my study here.
The feel of her lithe body against my harsher planes.
Hearing those words just before falling asleep, the way she lulled me with gentle touches and the soft scent of her favorite lotion.
My beautiful little Muñeca. “I love you, too.”
A soft knock on the door pulls my attention toward the bedroom door. “Javi?” Lourdes calls, her voice low. “You up?”
Mariah stirs on the bed, her eyebrows scrunching up, but they relax when I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. There are still a few hours before we leave.” She doesn’t answer; instead, she snuggles deeper into the covers I place over her.
“If you’re sleeping, cough, primo.” Lourdes taps her fingernails on the door. “One cough and I’ll—” The door opens before she finishes, and I chuckle at the small squeak she emits. “That’s rude!”
“Hush, kid. Let’s not wake her up yet.” Closing the door softly, I walk past her and down the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen. My little cousin follows silently, heading straight for the fridge to pull out the creamer and milk before turning to grab our mugs. We’ve done this a time or a hundred, and I’m surprised she didn’t seek me out before today. Her feelings of guilt are written all over her face and actions—she’s haunted by memories that break my heart. “Now or after?”
“After. I’m still trying to gather my thoughts.”
“Okay.” Alejandro is a true coffee snob, and every family member has a setup that rivals the most expensive coffee houses around the world. The blends are rich while mine is a darker roast than what the others prefer, but I’ll need the caffeine today more than other days. “Are you drinking from mine?”
“Not if I want to live.” Lourdes snorts, reaching inside a small drawer next to the Keurig my mother wanted and that I bought last Christmas. She pulls out a pod of the mild stuff and preps her cup while I make mine, meeting at the coffee island a few minutes later where she pours the cream into mine and I cut us a slice of pound cake to dip.
Taking a sip from my coffee, I wait for her to start, but she doesn’t. Instead, she fidgets and looks past me to the clock on the microwave. “Talk to me, Lourdes.”
A heavy sigh escapes her, but her sad eyes meet mine. Tears gathered at the corners. “I’m so sorry, Javi. So sorry for not protecting, Mamita Ida.” My mouth opens to refute her, to explain it’s not her fault, but Lourdes shakes her head while holding a h
and up. This is what she needs. To get this off her chest. “Rationally, I know I’m not at fault, but the fact I’m here and she’s not isn’t easy to swallow. She saved me that night. She pushed me down and fought with me to stay hidden at all costs and I…I should’ve done more. Dragged her out of the house if it came to that.” Tears fall freely from her face and her lips tremble, but I let her get it all out. Lourdes needs this. “I failed you, Javi. Please don’t hate me.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I—” Before the stubborn girl can finish her idiotic thought, I pull her into a hug and let her sob it out. Her body shakes and cries fill the room, and when Alejandro walks in to see what’s going on, I shake my head and he leaves. This has been bottling up inside her, and I feel like utter shit because thoughts like these should never have crossed her mind.
A teenager doesn’t stand a chance against high-caliber weapons and a group of men sent to kill. If anything, the men working security that night—two out of the three—who decided to head out for food instead of standing watch, are responsible. As accountable as the man who gave the order to kill an innocent woman.
Once her bawling turns to low sniffles, I pull back and take a seat. Lourdes does the same after I move her stool with my foot, and then she looks at me. “I could never hate you, bug. Never.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for something you had no control over. You didn’t pull the trigger.”
“I should have—”
“You did what my mother told you to do, and I’m thankful you listened.” Picking up my mug, I take a sip of coffee and grimace. She put way too much sugar in this, but I swallow with a small smile. The last thing I want is to hurt her feelings. “What happened is horrible and God knows I’d give my life to have been able to save hers, but I was elsewhere and that’s my burden to carry. I should’ve been here for you both and—”
Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4) Page 15
