by Aaron, Celia
“I hit you.” I dropped a kiss on her swollen lips. “Can you cry?”
She shot me a sly smile, then hid her face in her hands.
I backed up a few paces right as the door opened. “There’s more where that came from if you ever disrespect Mr. Blanco or Mr. Genoa like that again!” I did my best glower as her shoulders slumped and she began wailing into her hands.
Jorge stormed in and stopped right in front of her. “That’s it, you spoiled little bitch! Hector has instructed that you are confined to your room until the wedding.”
“Tell Daddy I’m sorry.” She sniffled and looked up at him, her eyes impressively teary.
“That won’t work. Not anymore.” He pointed a finger in her face.
I eased a hand to the knife I kept in my waistband. If he touched her, he would die.
“I was just scared.” She wiped her eyes, but more tears spilled over.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re staying here. Then you’re marrying Lorenzo, and we’ll finally be rid of you.” Jorge shot me a glance as if he wanted to say more but didn’t want me to hear it, then glared at Angel. “Get used to these four walls.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t leave me here with him!” Angel should have been an actress, because the way she looked at me—I almost believed she was afraid. “He hit me. Please don’t let him hurt me anymore. Tell Daddy I’m sorry, that I’ll be good. Just don’t let him hurt me anymore!”
“You should have thought of that before your little outburst. Blanco wants him to hurt you. I’m just pissed I’m not the one who gets to put you in your place this time.” I didn’t miss the sexual overtones in his voice, the implicit threat. The need for blood washed over me, my hand moving to the hilt of my blade, but Jorge’s next words saved his life. “I’ll defer to the Butcher. That’s what they call him. Did you know that?”
Angel flinched. “Please, Jorge—”
“Beg somewhere else.” Jorge turned to leave, but paused in front of me. “Work her over some more, but no bruises on her face. Got me?”
I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest.
Angel gave a frightened wail, and Jorge slammed the door on his way out.
Her wail turned into a smile as she stood and walked over to me.
I gripped her hair and yanked her head back, then nipped along her throat. “I’m going to have to work you over, sweet thing.”
“Oh no.” She pressed against me, her body so fucking soft. “Not that.”
“Boss’s orders, I’m afraid.” I licked her skin, needing to devour this woman of mine. Devious and fierce, she’d come back to me, and I’d never let her get away again. “I’m going to need to take my time, really make you feel your punishment.”
She shivered as I kissed to her collarbone. “Do your worst, Butcher.”
22
Angel
House arrest turned out to be more of a blessing than a punishment. Sure, Jorge stopped by to glower at me at least once a day, but David always seemed to haunt his steps. Knowing he was there kept me going, even when Hector came to visit the day after the dinner incident. He’d kept his words clipped, his demeanor calm, but he’d made clear that the sooner I belonged to Lorenzo the better.
My door opened without a knock, and I let my smile show as David walked in.
“Hi.” I bounced up from my bed and rushed over to him.
He claimed me in his arms and kissed me, his lips a revelation every time they met mine. When I was breathless, he let me go, then dropped another kiss on my forehead.
“You okay?” He stroked my hair then peered into my eyes.
“Fine. I’ve been reading.” I’d lost myself in my Kindle instead of thinking about my precarious situation. “You?”
He grimaced. “They’re working on the landscaping, ripping up plants and putting in new ones so the grounds are perfect for your wedding.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“We can’t avoid it. This is real, and it’s happening.”
“I just want to be with you.”
“Angel.” He tilted my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. “We need to talk about it. About what’s going to happen.”
“Why? What’s the point? I’m here in this prison, no way out, no escape. Why do we have to talk about the bars of my cage? They’re there whether or not we discuss them. Let’s just be together.” I cradled his face in my palms. “All that other stuff doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. We need to talk about eventualities here.” He softened his tone, but I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to get as much joy out of being with him as I could, not discuss a wedding night with Lorenzo or whatever hell would happen after that.
I tried to pull his lips to mine, to get another dose of the painkiller inherent in his kiss.
He didn’t move. “Angel, this is a little bubble we’ve got going. It’s not real. If we want to have any chance at making it real, we need to talk about Blanco.” His jaw tightened, but he continued, “And Lorenzo.”
“I won’t marry him.” I met his icy gaze. “I’ll kill myself before I let that happen.”
“Hey!” He gripped my arms almost to the point of pain. “Don’t ever say shit like that, you got me? You aren’t leaving me.” The gruffness in his voice—scary to anyone else—was a tell that only I could read. He was afraid. “I only just found you again. No way in hell you’re going anywhere.”
I bit my lips, pinning them together.
“Angel? I need you to tell me you won’t ever hurt yourself.” He didn’t relax his grip.
“I can’t marry him, David. I won’t.”
“I’m not saying you are, but even if it happened, you would need to carry on, understand?” He pressed his forehead to mine. “No matter what, you live. Got it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. Either you’re alive or you’re dead.” He seemed to realize he was gripping me too hard and let go a little. “And I can’t live in a world without you in it.”
“Even if I’m married to another man?”
“Even then.”
I’d tried so hard to block out my future, to focus only on the present I inhabited with David. But he was right. I’d been fooling myself all along. This wedding was happening.
“I wish there was some way out.” I sighed and pressed my cheek to his chest.
He pulled me into his embrace. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you out of this, but I can’t function if I’m worrying about you doing something drastic. Just the thought of—” He choked on his words and halted into silence.
I wrapped my arms around him, my heart breaking that I’d brought him to this. “I’m sorry.”
His breathing shuddered for a moment until he got it under control. Swallowing hard, he said, “I have to know you’re safe.”
What did I do to deserve this man—one who would happily commit untold violence on my behalf, but who could also be brought to tears at the thought of losing me?
“I won’t do anything.” I kissed his chest, pressing my lips against the fabric of his shirt. “I promise. No matter what.”
“Thank you.” He stroked my back slowly. “I have a plan for—”
The sharp knock at my door had David stepping back quickly and me turning toward my bed and grabbing my Kindle.
“Come in.” I flipped on the screen as Jorge walked in.
He stopped short when he saw David looming only a few steps away. “What are you doing in here?”
David didn’t respond, just pinned him with a stony glare.
Jorge let it go and strode over to me. “Your fiancé is coming tonight.”
“What?” I looked up. “Why?”
“Why the fuck would I tell you?” Jorge pointed to my closet. “Hector wants you dressed appropriately. I’ll bring Lorenzo up at eight.” He turned and spoke to David. “You won’t be needed tonight. She has enough protection with Lorenzo and me here.”
David snort
ed and didn’t move.
Jorge turned back to me. “Do yourself up nice, like the little baby girl slut I know you are.”
I ignored the jab. “What does he want tonight?”
Jorge licked his lips and glanced down my body, my t-shirt and shorts feeling utterly see-through. “What do you think?”
“But the wedding—”
“Is two weeks away. Lorenzo needs some assurance that this is going to happen.” He bent down, his hands on his knees. “So go ahead and limber up that jaw, Angelica. It’ll be getting a workout tonight.”
David had silently eased his hand inside his jacket. Did he even know he was doing it? I wondered what sort of weapon warmed his palm.
“Fine, just go.” I would’ve been happy for David to filet Jorge right in front of me, but that would put both our lives on the line. I couldn’t handle the thought of him being harmed or worse, all because of me.
“Miss High-and-Mighty will be on her knees tonight.”
“You’re disgusting.” I stilled my hands, though the instinct to slap his filthy mouth rode me hard.
He smirked. “Get ready. I’ll be back with him in a couple of hours. Hope he lets me watch.”
David pulled out his hand, a knife glinting faintly in his palm.
“Don’t.” I shook my head. The knife disappeared.
“Don’t watch?” Jorge laughed. “Fuck that shit.” He turned and left, never knowing how close he came to bleeding out on the floor.
23
David
“Who do you trust?” I raced along the highway, heading for Peter’s place.
Peter coughed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, who would be on our team if I wanted to do something stupid?”
“David, I’m going to need more to go on.” His voice pulled tight like a piano wire.
“Blanco invited Lorenzo over tonight.”
“So?”
I took a curve too fast, the back tires screeching before gaining ground again. “I can’t let him touch her.”
“Fuck.” He muttered a dozen other curses before saying, “She’s marrying him. We can’t do anything about that.”
“We can.”
“David—”
“Either you help me or you don’t. Simple as that. But I’m not letting anyone hurt her or use her. Not ever again.” I squeezed the steering wheel, imagining it was Lorenzo’s pencil neck.
Peter’s heavy sigh came from somewhere deep, then he was silent for a long while as I exited the highway and entered downtown. Finally, he said with all the oomph of a deflated balloon, “Let me make some calls.”
* * *
The arsenal Peter kept in his walk-in closet was impressive, but I preferred to work a bit more close range. I sheathed some knives and grabbed a few extra rounds of ammunition for the pair of Glocks I had holstered beneath my coat.
Time was ticking, and I had to be back at Blanco’s home before Lorenzo arrived. I’d already mapped out what it would take to get Angel free—half a dozen casualties at a minimum.
“Do you even have a plan?” Peter seemed to have aged five years since I last saw him. He leaned against the closet doorframe, his face haggard.
“Extract her.”
“How?”
“Violently.”
“And then what? So you go in guns blazing and kill Blanco’s men and Lorenzo, then snatch her and run? Where? They’ll find you.”
“Then let them find me.” I met his gaze. “I can’t leave her there.”
“You only just met her again!” He stretched his arms out wide, his hands grasping at air. “You don’t know her.”
“I know her better than I know myself.”
“You’re acting like a lovesick idiot, and you don’t have that luxury. Blanco and Serge will put out a hit on you for this. On me, too.”
I rolled my shoulders, testing the weight of all the weapons. It felt good. “You don’t know anything about this.”
He gaped at me. “What?”
“You are staying here, watching a movie, painting your nails—whatever it is you like to do—or better yet, head over to Serge’s so he can see you in the flesh. All this is going down without you.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
“No, but I may lose my life. I won’t have yours on my hands, too.”
“Oh, here we go again.”
That got me to snap my head around. “What do you mean by that?”
“You and your fucking martyr syndrome. Always trying to save me. The same thing that happened five years ago. I’m a grown-ass man, David. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to put yourself on a pike just so I can live.”
Now that was a goddamn blindside. “That’s not what—”
“That’s exactly what you do! Ever since we were kids. You don’t value your life at all, but you put all this weight on my shoulders, like I’m the one that has to carry on even though you’re in prison, or worse, dead. I’m over it. Fuck it. If you go, I go. That’s it.” His voice had risen right along with the color in his face, the vein pulsing at his temple. “No more martyr bullshit. We’re in this idiotic plan together, and you’re just going to have to fucking deal with it!”
Someone coughed in the bedroom.
We both whirled on the sound, a gun in my hand as I pushed past Peter.
Nate smirked. “Sorry to interrupt the lover’s quarrel, but I heard you needed help to do something really, really dumb.” He hitched a thumb at himself. “If so, I’m your guy.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumbled.
“We can trust him.” Peter scrubbed his face too hard with his palms.
A shadow passed by the door to the living room.
I pulled my gun up again.
“Whoa, Butcher. Take it down a notch.” Nate turned. “Con, come and meet the Butcher.”
Con stepped into the room, his black suit giving him the air of an undertaker, but the ice in his eyes letting you know he wasn’t about to comfort any grieving widows. He seemed older, maybe late twenties, but I couldn’t be sure. His demeanor was stoic, hard, and we sized each other up as if our thoughts about each other echoed back and forth. Though I’d never met him, I knew him. Kindred. That’s what he was. His need for blood matching my own—like called to like, it seemed. I’d only felt the same familiarity once before, with my mentor Rudy. Men like us weren’t common, which was a blessing.
Con dipped his chin only a fraction, his eyes meeting mine without any sort of pretense. I gave him the same respect.
Nate clapped his hands. “Okay, we can stand here eye-fucking each other some more or get down to brass tacks.”
“Why are you two on board?” I returned my gaze to Nate.
“Peter has been a good friend to me.” Nate’s grin resurfaced. “Especially that time I got my dick wedged in Serge’s niece Penelope. Aw fuck, that was a fun time. At least it was until her husband showed up, and I had to hide in the goddamn wine cellar for two whole days until Peter rode in to the rescue.”
Con leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, boredom oozing from him.
“Don’t forget Laura Salvatello.” Peter re-entered his closet arsenal.
“Oh, yeah.” Nate practically cackled with glee. “That was a good one. Aw, yeah. That one knows what she’s doing. The ass-play was choice.” He did a chef’s kiss on his fingertips. “And I’m talking she played with my ass. Like a fucking professional. I was beginning to think she was a nurse except she didn’t use gloves, you know?”
Con cleared his throat. “I’d like details.”
“Well, see she does this thing with one finger and then adds—”
“Details of the job for tonight, Nate.” Con pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve had enough of your details to last a lifetime.”
I scrutinized the angel of death. “You don’t owe Peter any favors, so why help out?”
Con glanced at Nate. “I have obligations.”
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Nate nodded, his grin still in place. “Good to have friends, you know? Ones that always got your back.”
I wouldn’t know, but it didn’t matter. These two were on board, and that’s all I needed.
“This is an extraction. Blanco’s girl, Angel. We need to get in quick and get her out. I’ll take it from there.”
“Why?” Nate asked. “What’s the deal with this girl?”
“That’s not important.” Peter reappeared from his closet. “This is just the job we need you to do.”
“If Serge finds out we worked against him like this.” Con maintained that dead-eyed stare. “Not good.”
Peter tossed a black mask to Nate and then Con. “You won’t be identified.”
Con caught his. “And if one of you gets pinched?”
“You think we’d talk?” I cocked my head at him.
He considered for a moment, then pocketed his mask. “No.”
Correct answer.
“So the girl, what are you going to do with her?” Nate poked his fingers through the eyeholes of his mask.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s not your concern.” I wasn’t telling them any more than necessary in case one of them got pinched. The less they knew, the better.
Nate used his mask like a puppet. “One of you balling her? That’s the deal here, right? Gotta be the deal.”
“This is just business.” Peter glowered.
Con gave me another piercing look, as if he knew exactly what was going on inside the fortress of my heart. “Drop it, Nate. Let’s just get this done and move on.”
“Sure thing, man.” Nate stuffed the mask in his pocket. “I’m ready to go kill some people.”
24
Angel
The constant bang of hammers filled the early evening. Whatever they were building behind the house for the wedding was going to be huge. That was just like Hector—create something disgustingly over-the-top and invite everyone he knows to worship it. The Titanic. And this marriage would go down just like the ship.
