by Julia Sykes
“Give us your ride, and we’ll leave,” Medina sneered.
“If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.” He was already dead, but I would have to wait until Sofia was out of harm’s way. Medina wouldn’t live to see the end of the day.
“Consider it a trade, then. Your whore for the Porsche.”
An enraged, purely animal sound tore from my chest. He would die extra slow for that insult to my sweet Sofia.
“Keys. Now.” I heard Ruiz’s rasping voice behind me. He’d gotten back on his feet while I witnessed my nightmare playing out before me.
I managed a stiff nod and retrieved my keys from my pocket, moving slowly so I didn’t spook Medina. My heart slammed repeatedly against my ribs, pumping enough adrenaline through my immobilized body to enable me to face an army.
I kept my focus trained on Medina and the knife at her throat. If I allowed myself to look into her lovely eyes, her terror would break me, and I might do something impulsive that would get her killed.
I let my keys drop from my fingers, sensing that Ruiz caught them before they hit the pavement. I couldn’t take my attention off Medina, even though it made my skin crawl to have Ruiz at my back while I remained motionless, neutralized far more effectively than he could have managed with a gun to my head.
“Let’s go,” Ruiz wheezed to Medina, his throat bruised from my crushing grip.
I was glad I hadn’t killed him quickly. Once I had Sofia safely inside the house, I could return to the hellhole where I was born and eviscerate Ruiz properly.
“Move.” Medina pulled on Sofia’s curls, forcing her to walk with him to my Porsche. He used her as a shield, knowing that I’d tear him apart the moment he released her.
Her soft whimper as he yanked at her hair pierced my chest and twisted as cruelly as the blade that threatened her life.
Ruiz unlocked the Porsche and slid into the driver’s seat, his freshly-ruined teeth flashing in a red, broken grin.
Medina moved awkwardly when he reached the car, maintaining his hold on Sofia while fumbling at the passenger door handle. As soon as he managed to open it, he shoved her away from him and slammed the door. The Porsche’s roar echoed my own savage rage as Ruiz pushed the car to accelerate, as though putting distance between us would somehow save them from me.
Sofia stumbled, and I barely managed to catch her before her knees hit the sidewalk. I lifted her into my arms, crushing her close to my chest to shield her from further harm. Her delicate body shook, and she tucked herself against me, seeking protection.
My muscles bunched and flexed, already anticipating the slaughter of the men who had dared to frighten her.
Focusing the feeble capacity for conscious thought that remained, I rushed her to safety, never releasing her for so much as a second as I unlocked the front gate and hustled her into the house.
“Mateo?” Mom called out, the fearful hitch in her voice stoking the imperative to mete out violence.
She must have heard me shouting outside her house. Ruiz and Medina had terrorized two of the three people in the world who mattered to me. The only two who were completely defenseless without my protection.
Impotent rage pounded through my system. I hadn’t felt this debilitating powerlessness since the night I’d met Adrián. The only thing tethering me to sanity was the knowledge that Ruiz and Medina were going to beg for death very soon.
I rushed toward the living room, where Mom liked to spend her afternoons reading. When I entered the room, I found her struggling to stand, trying to come to me and offer solace. The pain that twisted her ruined face incensed me, driving me to new heights of fury I’d never known before.
“Don’t get up.” My command was so gravelly that I wasn’t sure how she understood me.
Mom eased back down onto her couch, grimacing at the permanent agony inflicted by the man who’d almost destroyed her.
I shot a glance at her live-in caregiver, who was dithering at Mom’s elbow, assisting her in getting into a more comfortable position.
“Get out,” I snapped at the woman, making her kind gray eyes widen in alarm.
Beatrice was a quiet, nurturing woman with a round face and gentle manner. She knew nothing of my criminal enterprises, and I intended to keep it that way. I’d hired her to make Mom’s life as easy as possible, and revealing dark truths to Beatrice would complicate things.
“What’s wrong, mijo?” Mom asked as soon as we were alone. Her chocolate eyes were dark with worry, the scars carved into her face drawn deep.
I took a breath, struggling to function on a civilized level. I at least needed to reassure her before I went tearing off after the men who had threatened Sofia.
“Ruiz and Medina followed me here,” I ground out, clutching Sofia closer to my chest, as though the men might materialize and try to take my precious possession away from me again.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, but her concerned gaze shifted to Sofia.
My little flower was still trembling in my arms, but she reassured my mom. “I’m okay.”
Her emerald eyes fixed on mine. Tears still glistened on her pale cheeks, but she wasn’t crying anymore. Her delicate features were soft and calm, all traces of tension and anxiety gone.
She lifted her hand to my face, tenderly caressing my cheek. My sweet girl was comforting me.
“I’m okay,” she promised, her voice low and soothing.
The crushing panic that had weighed on my chest lifted, and I drew in a calming breath. My rage didn’t abate, but she grounded me enough to harness it, focusing my wrath with purpose. My fury was a tool, fuel that would sustain me while I destroyed the men who’d threatened her. The sense of powerlessness that had debilitated me faded, and I was fortified with renewed strength and white-hot purpose.
“I have to take care of this,” I told her. I would spare her the details of my brutal plans for Ruiz and Medina, but she had to know that I would ensure they could never touch her again.
“You’re going after them.” She knew my response, and it wasn’t a question. “You shouldn’t go there alone,” she said quietly. “That place isn’t safe for you.”
“I can handle myself,” I vowed. “I’ll come back to you without a scratch on me.”
Her thumb traced the line of my cheekbone, and her eyes darkened with something like sorrow. “That’s not what I meant.”
Her concern hit me like a blunt force to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. Sofia was worried for my emotional wellbeing, not my physical safety. She’d seen firsthand how that place had fucked me up, and she didn’t want me to hurt anymore.
Something hot and bright surged through my being, eclipsing my rage. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, an instinctive display of my affection for her.
She didn’t flinch away.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I murmured, inhaling her rosy scent for the first time in weeks. “I have you to come back to. I don’t belong there anymore.”
I echoed her assertion that she’d uttered while we visited the shithole where I’d been raised.
“I have to go.” Calm settled over me, centering me. With my primal, volatile emotions soothed, I felt stronger than ever before. “They know where Mom lives now. I have to send a clear message that no one comes here without facing consequences. They can’t threaten either of you without suffering for it. I’ll keep you safe.”
“I understand,” she said softly. “Be careful.”
“Sofia can stay here with me,” Mom said. I didn’t have to introduce Sofia for her to recognize the woman in my arms. I’d been consumed by desire for my little flower for years, and although I didn’t often emote, Mom was well aware of my obsession.
“We’ll be fine, mijo. Sofia and I can get to know one another while you take care of this.” Mom was reassuring me gently, too.
When I was a boy, she’d tried to spare me from a life of violence, but she’d long since accepted what I’d become. She loved me unconditionally, and ther
e was no gruesome task I wouldn’t carry out in order to protect her.
“You can put me down now, Mateo,” Sofia urged. “I’m safe here.”
I was reluctant to break contact after being denied her nearness for long, cold weeks.
But the imperative to punish the men who had frightened her was more powerful than my desire to continue holding her. Touching her was a selfish impulse, but protecting her was an absolute necessity.
I carefully shifted her in my arms, keeping my hands bracketed around her waist once I set her on her feet. When she stood steadily, I allowed myself a single, swift taste of her lush lips. She tipped her head back, returning my kiss without hesitation. I could lose myself in her, but my prime objective was more consuming than my hunger to take more.
I forced myself to release her, so I could go eviscerate the men who dared to threaten what was mine.
I slipped back into Mom’s house, moving quietly so I didn’t call attention to my arrival. I’d taken several hours with Ruiz and Medina, and bits of them clung to my clothes.
The sun had set, and I’d managed to conceal my bloody clothes from the neighbors by sticking to the shadows. It had taken me less than thirty seconds to cross the distance between my parked, reclaimed Porsche and my mom’s front gate.
I would have to replace her Lexus that I’d ditched back in Boyle Heights, but recovering my Porsche had been symbolically important. I could afford to leave behind the luxury sedan that was rarely driven, anyway.
Besides, her Lexus’ upholstery would have been ruined by the blood that had soaked into my jeans and t-shirt. The Porsche’s black leather interior would wipe down clean.
I’d successfully evaded the prying eyes of the neighbors, and I would spare Mom and Sofia from the gory sight of me, too. I kept spare clothes in one of the guest bedrooms, so I intended to sneak past the women, take a shower, and return to them with clean hands.
Before I made it past the threshold to the living room, I caught the sound of my name. I paused, lingering just down the hallway, where I could eavesdrop and remain totally out of sight.
“Thank you for sharing all this with me,” Sofia said. “Mateo told me about some of it, but I don’t think he would ever open up this much. He probably wouldn’t want to tell me everything you went through in order to provide for him.”
My stomach turned. Had Mom told Sofia all the dark details about her past? About how she paid our passage into America with her body and continued selling herself to keep food on our table?
“My son has always been quiet,” Mom told her, talking about me as though I was still a child. “He doesn’t say much, but he’s a sweet boy. He has a good heart.”
“Yeah,” Sofia agreed on a sigh. “I haven’t been fair to him. I understand him better after today. I was just scared of getting hurt again. All of this is so new to me, and the transition has been hard. I still don’t like that I’m part of this world, but that’s not Mateo’s fault. I’m conflicted about him working for Adrián, but I can see now that he’s a good man.”
I looked down at my body, considering my appearance through Sofia’s eyes.
She wouldn’t say I was a good man if she could see the guts on my clothes and the torn flesh embedded beneath my fingernails.
Maybe she could accept that I’d gone after Ruiz and Medina to protect her. But I was certain that she couldn’t begin to fathom what I’d done to their bodies, how I’d made them suffer and scream before I’d finally allowed them to die.
A good man wouldn’t have killed them at all.
A man with a shred of goodness in him would have granted them a quick death.
I was not a good man.
And I’d been touching my sweet, pure Sofia with greedy, bloody hands.
Ever since I’d taken her as my hostage, I’d placed the blame at Caesar’s feet. I reasoned that I never would have ripped her out of her safe, happy existence and dragged her into my dark, dangerous world.
I might be blameless for pulling her into this world, but I wouldn’t be innocent if I kept her trapped in it.
I’d been so pleased for the excuse to act on my selfish desires, to claim and cage the woman I’d always wanted without having to accept any of the guilt.
She wouldn’t be married off to Ronaldo, not even over my dead body. She wouldn’t be given to any criminal.
Including me.
Until Caesar had forced Adrián’s hand and I’d kidnapped Sofia, she’d lived completely separate from our criminal organization. She had her simple college life, plenty of creatively-minded friends, and a dream for a future where she pursued her passion for music.
That life still existed, waiting for her to step back into it. Once Ronaldo was dead, I could put her back there. I’d have to make it clear to Caesar that she was to remain outside our world, or he would suffer at my hands.
But I could return her to safety and a life untainted by moral compromises. Even now, I could hear her making excuses for me, rationalizing how it would be best for her to give me a chance.
I was going to have to break this infatuation that I’d fostered if I was going to ensure her future happiness.
Sofia was better off without me in her life, and it was time for both of us to accept that unpleasant truth.
Chapter 19
Sofia
I still wasn’t thrilled that Mateo had made a bargain to claim my virginity, and I would rather not think about all the killing and maiming that was part of his job, but everything I’d witnessed today had softened my heart toward him.
Mateo might do bad things, but he wasn’t a bad man. He didn’t hurt people for fun. This was how he’d survived the hell he’d been raised in. It was how he’d saved his mom.
I didn’t like the dark underworld I’d found myself in when Daddy had chosen to kidnap Valentina, but I’d always been part of it, even if I hadn’t been aware.
Transitioning into this reality would be a difficult process going forward, but I was willing to face it. With Mateo’s help and support, I would survive it. I knew he was strong enough to carry me through it and shelter me from the worst parts of it.
He was quiet on the journey home, but I didn’t press him to talk. I sensed that his dark mood lingered; the aftermath of revisiting his traumatic childhood. I wanted to at least hold his hand to offer silent support, but that was hindered by his attention to driving.
When we pulled up in front of his house, he got out of the Porsche and walked straight to the front door. He didn’t open my car door and help me out.
Even when I’d been emotionally withdrawn from him over the last three weeks, he’d still opened the door for me every time without fail. No matter often I refused his offered hand.
My heart ached for him, knowing he must be completely trapped in the nightmares inside his head. That was the only explanation for his sudden neglect.
In the past, I would have overanalyzed this behavior and interpreted it as rejection. I would have shrunk away and settled for scraps of affection when he deigned to give them to me.
Not this time. Mateo was in pain, and my insecurities paled in comparison to his anguish.
He had encouraged me to lean on him for support numerous times. He’d held me and coaxed me to confide in him about my cutting, reassuring me that my scars hadn’t ruined me forever. Even though I’d shut him out after that night, my internalized shame and disgust had abated.
Today, he’d revealed his own scars. It was my turn to prove that he could lean on me, too.
I got out of the car and hurried after him, walking through the doorway he’d left open for me. By the time I closed it, he’d already made his way into to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Hey,” I said softly, trying to call his attention to me.
He popped the cap and tipped the bottle back, draining half of it in one go.
I closed the distance between us and put myself firmly in his space. He didn’t so much as glance down at me.
I grasped his wrist when he raised the bottle to take another gulp. He could have resisted me with zero effort, but he froze as soon as I made contact.
“Mateo.” I said his name slowly, calmly demanding his attention. “Look at me.”
His black eyes snapped to mine, and I caught a flash of longing in their depths before his expression smoothed to something cold and hard.
I lifted my hand to his face, trying to ground him with my touch. When he’d held me after I’d been threatened, I’d been able to soothe him with tender contact.
He scowled and snatched my hand, forcing me away from him.
He’d lashed out at me while we’d been parked outside his rotting childhood home. I hadn’t flinched then, and I wouldn’t give up so easily now.
I reached for him with my free hand, but I barely brushed his cheek before he slammed his beer down on the counter and captured that wrist, too.
“Back off,” he growled.
I lifted my chin, meeting his dark glower head-on. “No.”
“No?” he repeated, a dangerous hiss.
“That’s right.” I defied him. This could earn me some consequences, but if that was the kind of interaction he needed right now, I was willing to engage. “No.”
He blinked, and his eyes went cold. Rather than reacting with aggression, he simply dropped my hands, turned from me, and walked away.
The familiar sting of rejection cut at my heart, but I resolutely followed him. I grabbed his corded forearm, but he kept walking, shaking me off like a gnat.
I darted around him, blocking his path and refusing to allow him to retreat from me.
“I know today wasn’t great,” I said firmly. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being held at knifepoint, and I don’t like that visiting your old neighborhood was so difficult for you. But don’t shut me out right now.”
His muscles tensed, his massive frame swelling to tower over me. “Move.”
