by Aly Martinez
I honestly didn’t. I didn’t even know what he was so faithfully promising. Or, better yet, why he was promising it to me.
“You’ve known me for just over a week.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Is it?”
His hand slipped higher up my back until his whole palm was warming my skin—and scrambling my thoughts. “It’s gonna be okay, Cora. From here on out, I swear on my life, you’re gonna be okay.”
I wanted to believe him. That was the dream, right? A white knight riding into town, saving the damsel in distress. But I didn’t live in a fairytale. I lived in a world where good people died, got arrested, or just flat-out disappeared. And I couldn’t live with myself if I added Penn to that list. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that keeping him off it wasn’t going to be all that easy, either.
And, for that reason alone, I looked him straight in the eye and told him a lie. “I trust you.”
He breathed an audible sigh of relief, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.
Until I added, “But I need you to trust me too.”
That smile vanished. “Cora.”
I lifted a hand to silence him. “I was there the day you and Drew got here. It was obvious that there wasn’t a whole lot of family love between you two and Marcos and Dante. But what you don’t understand is I can handle them. I’ve been doing it for over half of my life.”
His jaw went hard, and his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah. Do the math on that. I was sixteen when I married Nic, Penn. Sixteen when I became a Guerrero, and sixteen when I buried a Guerrero. This isn’t my first rodeo. Marcos and Dante are terrible, disgusting assholes. But they won’t kill me. They will, however, kill you. You gotta trust me on that.”
His face got dark. “Fuck that. Manuel—”
“Is in jail because his own daughter flipped on him. And you know what? He, Dante, and Marcos have been hunting her ever since. So don’t for a second think that the Guerreros aren’t capable of killing the people who cross them. Enemies, friends, and family alike. Do you understand me?”
His jaw ticked as he scowled down at me. I prayed I was actually getting through to him. Clearly, though, I wasn’t.
“Where’s the girl?” he asked.
My head snapped back in surprise. “What girl?”
He licked his lips and then cut his gaze over my shoulder, but he never loosened his increasingly tight hold on me. “The girl… Manuel’s daughter.”
“Catalina?”
“Yeah. Her.” His gaze came back to mine. “Drew and I, we know some people. We could get someone on her. Keep her safe. Just give me an address.”
A knot of unease suddenly twisted in my stomach as alarm bells started a distant ringing in my ears.
Before Cat had testified against Manuel, she and I had been close. She was the only Guerrero who didn’t treat me like a waste of oxygen or trash who had purposely robbed them of a brother. She believed in me. She couldn’t do much to help me, considering that the whole family acted like she was nothing more than an imposition too, but she tried. Nic and I had been there the day her daughter, Isabel, was born. I’d held Cat as she cried in her hospital bed, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to keep a sweet baby girl away from her brothers and her father. And I guessed, ten years later, when she’d disappeared into the night, she’d finally figured it out.
They’d never stopped looking for her. And not because they were missing their little sister. If and when Catalina was found, it would be the last day of her life.
I was good at lying, but it’d taken a full month of constant abuse at the hands of Marcos and Dante to convince them I had no idea where she’d gone. And that didn’t include the time I’d been cornered by Isabel’s biological father in the grocery store parking lot. He’d been furious that Catalina had taken off on him too. I guessed I was the closest thing he could get to beating her again. Thomas Lyons was worse than any of the Guerreros though. He didn’t have to hide from the law. As the District Attorney and the man responsible for locking Manuel away, he was the law.
It was true. I didn’t know where Cat had gone. Yes, she contacted me fairly frequently. Yes, we met up at a hotel once a year on the anniversary of Nic’s death. Yes, I’d funded her escape with Guerrero money right under their noses. And yes, I would go to my grave if they ever found out. But if I was going to break free of that life too, I needed someone on the outside to help me.
At that moment, though, with a strong and mysterious man staring down at me, asking questions about a woman who shouldn’t have been a blip on his radar, I had the strangest fear that maybe she was the only blip on his radar. “I…I have no idea where Catalina is. From what I can tell she took her daughter and ran off right after the trial. Thomas reported her missing years ago. It got some national coverage, but no one has ever heard from her again.”
“If she’s in danger, you can tell me, Cora. I’ll take care of them, just like I’m gonna take care of you.”
“Just like I’m gonna take care of you.”
I’d begged the universe more times than I could count to send me someone to say those words to me. And there he stood, gorgeous, compassionate, kind—everything I could have wished for—saying them to my face in the biggest lie I’d ever heard.
It felt like a punch to the stomach, tearing the breath from my throat.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d survived a lot in my life at the hands of the Guerreros.
A lot of pain.
A lot of suffering.
A lot of…fighting.
But this? This was a whole new level of emotional terrorism.
Pushing on his chest, I fought to get free. “Let me go.”
His hands instantly fell away. “Cora?”
Bile rose in my throat, causing me to swallow back the urge to puke. Racing out of the kitchen, I went straight to the front door. With frantic hands, I snatched open each and every lock keeping the world out—or, in this case, me trapped inside.
I swung a pointed finger into the breezeway and ordered, “Get out.”
“What the hell?” he grumbled, planting his hands on his hips, the defined muscles of his forearms making an appearance.
Of course I’d been attracted to him. The Guerreros had custom chosen him for me.
And hook, line, and sinker, I’d taken the bait.
God, I was such a fucking fool.
Barely able to get the words out around the lump of emotion, I spoke with an increasing intensity. “Get out. Get out. Get the fuck out!”
“What just happened?” he asked while not getting the fuck out of my apartment. “Talk to me.”
My hands shook as I reached up and caught my necklace.
I would not cry.
I would not cry.
I would not…
Shit. Why did this hurt so much?
Oh, that’s right. Because I’d dared to dream that maybe I hadn’t lost the only decent man left the day Nic died.
I’d dared to hope that I could actually have a genuine connection with another human being.
I’d dared to feel, because when Penn touched me, no matter how chaste, I had no other choice.
And, now, it was over. Before it had even gotten started.
“How much are they paying you?” I asked.
His brows sank. “To work here? Like two-fifty a week. Free rent.”
I crossed my arms over my chest to hide the trembles. “And if I give up any information on Cat, how much, then?”
His eyes darkened and his already large body swelled until it was daunting, but I’d faced far bigger men than Penn. And while I wouldn’t say I’d come out of those interactions unscathed, I’d come out alive all the same.
“How much!” I exploded.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “I have no idea what you’re accusing me of right now.”
“Liar!” I yelled, my traitorous voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know where Catalina is, okay? Go.
Run back to Manuel and let him know. And then take your brother and get out of my building.” I gasped for breath, but according to my burning lungs, there was no oxygen in that room anymore.
And then the strangest thing happened. His face softened. His eyes lit. And his entire body slacked.
Taking a cautious step toward me, he kept his voice low and even as he said, “You’ve got the wrong idea. Hear me out. I’ve never met Manuel. I sure as hell am not here to relay information to him.”
I was something of an expert with lies, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t look like he was telling the truth. But my gut had been wrong for over a week.
“Bullshit.”
He took another step toward me. When I instinctively backed away, he threw the brakes on. My back T-boned on the corner of the doorjamb, but I locked down the wince.
“I’m not going to touch you.” He lowered his hand. “I just want to talk.”
I shook my head and whispered, “Please leave.”
He folded his hands in prayer, bringing them up to tap his lips. “I’m not here because of Manuel. I only offered help because you told me she’s a woman with a kid on the run from her fucked-up family. You don’t know much about me, but I have some pretty strong opinions about a man putting his hands on a woman. It’s the reason I’m so hell-bent on making sure Marcos and Dante steer clear of you. And it’s the reason why I’d be willing to put my ass on the line for this Catalina chick, who I’ve never even met. Just stop, take a deep breath, and think about it. I’ve spent the last week trying to make you stay away from me, not pumping you for information. This doesn’t make sense.”
I blinked, all the gears in my head spinning in different directions. God, why did it look like he was telling me the truth? Not the first flicker of deception was showing on his face.
Or maybe I just couldn’t see it. Hope could blind the strongest of radars.
“Why are you here, then?”
“Currently? Because a beautiful woman asked me over for dinner.”
“And a week ago? What about then? Don’t bullshit me. You’ve got marketable skills, you don’t have a record, and you say you owe nothing to the Guerrero family. So explain to me what the hell you’re doing here.”
His eyes flared, and he shook his head. “Cora, don’t.”
“This is a simple question.” I bent at the hip, bringing us closer without ever moving my feet, and demanded, “Why…are…you…here?”
The air in the room took on an icy chill, and his face filled with dread. “Don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not making you do anything. You don’t want to explain to me why I should trust a single word that comes out of your mouth, then we’re done here.”
I stared at him.
Challenging him to lie.
Begging him to tell the truth.
Praying he wasn’t the type of man I feared he was.
And hoping beyond all reason that he was the type of man I so desperately needed him to be.
It was that part of me that whispered, “Please, Penn.”
His whole body jerked, his forehead crinkling as he swayed his head from side to side before looking down at the floor. His powerful shoulders rounded forward and he raked a hand through the top of his short, brown hair.
And then Penn told me a truth I never wanted to hear.
“I watched her die,” he rumbled. His head came up, his gaze as heavy as the day I’d met him, but it was no longer hollow and empty. His eyes were filled to the brim with every emotion under the sun, and each one of them was slicing him to the core. “Lisa. My wife. I watched her die.”
My lungs seized, and my hand came up to cover my mouth. I’d had my suspicions, but confirmation still felt like a blindside.
“She was a freelance journalist away on a job. I use the term ‘freelance’ lightly. She really just loved to travel and to meet new people. I swear we spent the majority of our marriage on Skype or FaceTime. I’d asked her to quit a million times, but she couldn’t. The adventure of it all was a part of her.” He almost smiled at the memory—until it devoured him. His hands began to tremble as though the emotions were seeking a way out, frenzied to find a breach. “We were talking on a video call when…” He paused to clear his throat. “I watched two men break into her hotel room and slit her throat, but not before they spent twenty-nine minutes beating and stabbing her like a twisted game.” A rabid snarl contorted his face, but his anger was aimed inward. “And I could do nothing to stop them.”
“The drop of water to put out her fire,” I breathed with an aching chest when I remembered his words from that night in the hall.
He nodded. “If I could have gotten to her, I could have saved her, Cora. I was just too far away. She was begging for help. Crying, pleading, choking on blood, and I didn’t even know what hotel she was at. What kind of husband doesn’t know where his wife is staying for the night? One question and I could have stopped it. I had her on my cell phone while on the landline, feeding the cops the tiny bits and pieces I could see about the room. It took thirty minutes for them to find her. But it’s that one fucking minute that they were too late that haunts me.” He stabbed a violent finger at his chest. “And that’s on me. For the rest of my life. That failure is on me.”
I reached out as if I could perform the impossible task of soothing the gaping hole in his heart. I knew that feeling. The helplessness. The anger. The pain. I remembered it all clear as the day I’d watched my husband take his dying breath, riddled with bullets, while sprawled out on top of me, his final words asking if I was okay. Even in death, his first priority was my safety.
Catching my hand, he tugged me toward him and rested my palm over his chest before covering it with his own. “That’s why I’m here, Cora. I’ve spent four years trying to outrun the memories of that night. And when Drew got out of jail, I pounced on the opportunity to start over.” He leaned into me, pressing my hand hard against his chest as though he could make me feel the truth in his confession.
To a degree, it worked; the rhythm of his heart was not one that could have been faked. It was the same staccato that played beneath my ribs every night as Nic’s dark, dead eyes strobed on the backs of my lids with every blink.
“Did they catch the guys?” I whispered.
Penn nodded. “The cops killed ’em.”
“Good.”
We stood in silence, his heart gradually slowing along with my fears. It made sense. I’d have done anything to start my life over after losing Nic. I’d tried, only to be dragged back into the pits of hell. And then I’d tried again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Each time ending in a different variation of the first.
And then I stopped trying—and made a plan.
“I lost my husband, too,” I admitted for some ridiculous reason. However, at the time, it didn’t feel ridiculous at all.
The two of us shared different, yet tragically similar experiences few people could understand. And we were forced to carry them, like a five-hundred-pound backpack cementing our feet to the Earth far more than gravity ever could. Suddenly, the heaviness in his eyes made sense. It was the same burden that had settled in my chest.
I understood Penn in ways I didn’t want to. And, suddenly, for the first time since Nic died, I wanted someone to understand me too.
“We were just walking down the street when he was gunned down. God, Penn. The blood was everywhere, covering me from head to toe, seeping into the cracks in the sidewalk. He asked if I was okay, and then…he died right on top of me. But it was my life that ended on that sidewalk too. Nothing was ever the same after that.”
“Jesus, Cora,” he breathed, slipping his arms around my waist and pulling me into the curve of his large body.
He was offering comfort in his arms, and I was taking it without question.
“In a way, Nic saved me twice. My dad was crazy religious. Emphasis on crazy. As far as he was concer
ned, my only place in life was barefoot in a kitchen, serving the Lord and whatever man would take me. Meanwhile, from the time I was old enough to look out the window, I wanted to see the world.” I laughed sadly. “I was going to be famous, with plenty of money, and gallivant around the globe. I just knew it. Instead, I found a star in Nic and then fell into an even bigger black hole than my father ever could have created. The entire Guerrero family tried to stop us from getting married. We were kids. Sixteen and eighteen. But there was no arguing with Nic when he got his mind stuck on something. And, for some reason, from the day we met, he was stuck on me—a troubled girl on the run who counted on him for everything.”
“That why you took in Savannah?” he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “She remind you of yourself at that age?”
Fighting back tears, I turned my head and planted the side of my face against his chest so he couldn’t see my eyes. “Yeah. And River too. A few more years and that child is going to land me in a padded room, I just know it.”
“That’s why you take care of all the girls here.”
I shrugged. “Somebody has to.”
“Shit, Cora.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “So Nic took care of you, and then he was gone.”
“Pretty much. I’ve been on my own a lot. And then you… This thing. You don’t know me, and technically, I don’t know you, but just standing here while you hold me, somebody having my back… Well, it’s more than I’ve had in over thirteen years.”
Penn gathered me tighter, and I thought I felt his lips press against the top of my head, causing the most beautiful calm to wash over me.
This part of me, very few knew about. I kept it close to my chest. It was safer that way. But telling Penn didn’t feel like I was exposing myself.
With him, they didn’t feel like secrets at all.
“It’s stupid. I know. And I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you to make something happen here. But I needed this. Whatever it is. For however long it lasts. I needed it.” My voice broke at the end.
“Shhhh… Maybe I needed to be pushed.”
There was no denying that I felt his lips on the top of my head that time. I would have recognized it even if the shiver hadn’t traveled down my spine.
