“I’ll give you a clue,” he murmurs, filling my silence for me, moving in so close I can smell the brand of his whiskey breath. “I’m damn near close to losing myself in one.”
“Why the bad girl?” I whisper. My pussy is throbbing so hard I have to squeeze the tops of my thighs together to stem the ache. I’m so confused. I’d resigned myself to never feeling this gush of wetness between my legs again. To never wanting a man’s hands on me again, and yet here he is, laying siege to my ruins.
“Because a bad girl owns every fucking crime she commits, and I’m guessing you’ve taken that ownership to a whole new level tonight. Did you kill them yourself, or did the Colombian help?”
“I did it.” There’s no point in lying to a man like him.
“How did it make you feel?”
“I felt.” A single tear streaks down my cheek. “I felt, Joseph. I felt it all.” The same way you’re making me feel now.
“Don’t stop there.” He swipes my tears away with a rough finger. “Tell me everything. Every last detail... Did the compulsion keep building up inside of you like the greatest fuck of your life? Did the climax take your breath away? Spare me nothing.”
“I can’t!”
But I want to.
“Bullshit!”
“Please stop!” I beg him again.
“Never. I told you that before. I will never stop until you’re mine. Until you admit that you’re mine. You’re melting, Luna… And you started it. You started ‘making your own right’ by firing that fucking gun, not me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” But I forget my confusion as he brings his lips to within a hair’s breadth of mine.
“You’re not whole yet,” he confesses, blasting me with even more whiskey breath as he tilts his head, inviting me to claim him for myself. “You’re a—”.
“Crescent moon,” I finish, gently placing my hand on his chest, wishing it was even lighter in here so I could see if his chilly gray-blues are melting too.
He recoils. It’s barely a flicker of a movement, but it’s there. It’s the first time I’ve reached out and touched him voluntarily.
“I-I remembered what they did to me, Joseph,” I stutter. “The men… The Russians, six months ago. They were Russian, weren’t they?” Thick accents. Thick curses. How could I have forgotten that detail?
His pulls away a fraction more and nods, his stubble catching on my wet hair.
“I remembered how empty they made me feel. How I let that emptiness transpose and take over.”
“Go on.” He pushes his knee between my thighs, opening me up wide for him. I have to fight the urge to drop my hips and grind myself into his jeans to relieve some of the pressure.
“I replaced that emptiness with something else tonight. Call it payback… Whatever.”
“Are you scared?”
“Don’t you mean, “was I scared”?”
“Answer me,” he growls.
“Yes, I’m scared,” I whisper. Of what the Fernandez cartel would do to me if they found us? No. Of you, my shadow? So much. Too much.
“Good. It’ll keep you sharp. What else do you remember?”
It's like he’s angling for something deeper. Willing me to find some buried nugget of treasure.
“Their faces. The pain. It comes to me in fragments. Like a montage.” There’s a pause. “Am I a killer like you now?”
“You are nothing like me.” He dips his head again, his lips tracing a line from my cheek to my jaw, smudging his whiskey breath into my skin. “And I thank a non-existent god for that.”
I allow him access to my neck, a small whimper escaping my lips when I feel his stubble grazing me in a different place. The more he touches me, the more I feel it. The more I want to feel it.
“You’re not ready for me, Luna. Close, but not yet. I won’t be gentle. I can’t be gentle. Like I said before, I need you whole to take what I have to give.” My whimper turns into a moan. “That’s not to say we can't have a taste now, however...” He takes my hand and guides it down my body.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask him, my muscles stiff and reluctant.
“Taking you south of the border, sweetheart. How long has it been since you slipped your fingers inside that beautiful pussy of yours? She’s not so broken anymore, either.”
My brain stops functioning as he drops his knee to brush my fingers lightly against my slit.
“Come for me, Anna,” he urges. “Lose control right in front of me. Tip your head back and moan my fucking name to this dark room. I know you’re desperate to.”
“No.” Feigning disgust, I try and snatch my hand away, but he won't let me go.
“I can make you feel good. I can keep you safe, but I cannot heal you. I can chase you halfway around the fucking world, but I cannot put your pieces back together again for you.” He guides my fingers to the waistband of my panties. There, they seem to take on a route of their own.
I close my eyes as I slide a trail through damp hair, trembling beneath his scrutiny, but suddenly anxious to see if my body still works the way it used to; to see if it’s possible to relearn what’s been unlearned.
My panties are soaked, the moisture seeping out and coating the tops of my thighs. I brush over my clit, feeling that long-forgotten stab of pleasure, before I’m sliding my middle finger inside my body with another moan.
“Describe it to me.”
My eyes fly open again. “I can’t!”
“Do it!” His forearm hits the wall next to my head as he shifts his weight to the side to watch. The dark is almost light now. Naked lust is carved into his handsome face, making him look even more damned and beautiful.
My fingers start thrusting of their own accord. “Tight, so tight!” I whimper.
“Jesus Christ…”
I lean forward a notch to slide my finger in even deeper, feeling the soft muscles rippling and clenching. I’m so deprived I have to thrust a second finger, and then a third to fill my heat.
“Work those fingers, Luna,” he growls hungrily. “Imagine they’re my dick, and fuck yourself to pleasure. Let your greedy little cunt swallow them whole.”
“Oh, God!”
I do as he says, and soon the wet sounds of my desire are louder than my moans.
I’ve missed this—this fall, this rush—the black hole opening up below my feet and plunging me into a pool of pleasure. I’m so close… I slide my fingers out and rub my clit, faster and faster, until there’s only one destination, and then it happens. It happens.
“Joseph!”
I come so hard, my back arches away from the wall and my stomach collides with his erection. Stars burst behind my eyelids… My lungs feel like they’re about to explode. The molten heat between my legs spills out onto the both of us as he palms my pussy to catch the shudders of my orgasm.
I’m crumbling. I’m still weak and useless from the fallout when he crashes his lips down onto mine, pinning me to the wall, thrusting his tongue between my teeth, and reaching into the very heart of me as I ride out the final fragments into his mouth. He’s whiskey-wrong and salvation—burning me up, all over again, with the roughness of his kiss.
It barely lasts a second before he’s dragging his lips away again.
“Your reward,” he grits out, pressing his forehead against mine so hard it’s like he’s trying to push his way inside.
“What is this thing between us, Joseph?” I croak, steadying myself with a hand against his chest again. “Can you define it? Because I sure as hell can’t.”
“Why the fuck do we have to define it? Why the fuck do we have to define anything?”
I see the silhouette of a truth moving behind his eyes. It’s something I haven’t remembered yet, but I know, with inexplicable certainty, that the epicenter lies in the night he rescued me. Whatever went down between us six months ago was enough to drill a hole into my soul and lay a foundation of gray-blue stone.
Moon.
A promise.
/> “What am I to you? Why can’t you let me go?” Why can’t I turn away from you?
“You’re life, Anna,” I hear him say harshly. “So do me a favor and start living it.”
“What if I don’t remember how to?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Memories are like the surface of the water. Some have tidal waves that reach our shores. Others ripple before sinking, but they all flow back to the same source.” I watch his hand stray briefly to the chain around his neck, and then drop again. “Find the source.”
You’re the source.
Again, I don't know how I know this, but I do.
He opens his mouth to say something else when the bedroom light suddenly snaps on, followed swiftly by the click of a safety.
“Get the hell away from her, you pinche puto,” hisses a familiar voice, “or I’m decorating every surface of this motel room with your tainted blood.”
Viviana’s standing in the doorway, and she’s aiming a loaded gun at his head.
19
Anna
Holy shit.
“Vi!”
“You’re going to be okay, Anna,” she says calmly. “I’ve got you, parcera. I owe you.”
She takes a couple of steps into the room and kicks the door shut behind her, never once taking her eyes off Joseph. She’s a rainbow of color for all the wrong reasons. Her face is a mess of purple and red under the harsh yellow light, and the black edges of her tattoo are like a second threat. Her white dress gave up that claim to fame a few hours ago. It’s now streaked with dirt and blood.
“How the fuck are you awake so soon?” I hear him snarl at her.
“I guess you fucked up, you pinche puto,” she says, her expression souring into all the sharp contours of hate. “I guess you didn’t use enough sedative when you stuck your goddamn needle in my neck.”
No!
I slam my gaze into Joseph’s, letting him know that what he did is several steps removed from okay. His face is expressionless. His wall of cold is as dense now as it’s ever been. It feels even colder still half-pressed against me.
“Did you hear what I said, asshole?”
“Yes, I heard you,” he says irritably.
“Then what are you waiting for? An invitation?”
“You’ll regret this,” he warns, acting casual in his compliance. Sliding his arm off the wall as if it’s a huge inconvenience, and then slowly backing away from me. There’s no fear in his movements, just anger. “Where did you get the gun?” He takes up position against the opposite wall, a couple of meters away from me and equidistant to her. He may look calm, but his fists are clenched when he crosses his arms. The only thing scarier than playing with fire is betting against ice.
“I found it in your car, along with the bullet holes.” She swipes a strand of dark hair behind her ear in an edgy motion. “They match the blacked-out windows and the alloys. A real cartel special… Do you know who this is, Anna?” Her voice sounds weird suddenly. Softer. Scarier. Her hand is shaking as she walks over to the bed and picks up another weapon from the center of the brown quilt. Joseph’s. “Get the rest of your clothes, girl. We’re going.”
“What the hell happened to your arm?” I catch him staring at me—more specifically the blood-soaked towel wrapped around my wound. He may have distracted me from the pain for a while, but it’s back to full-force now, radiating up into my shoulder and neck.
“None of your business,” snaps Vi, ramping up her fierce tigress woman persona. “Anna, move it.”
“She’s not going anywhere!” he thunders. “She needs medical attention. And neither are you, for that matter.”
“Why do you care so much about her goddamn arm when you’re itching to carve up the rest of her? Did he hurt you, Anna?” she calls out to me.
“No, I—”
“Thank fuck… You deserve more than a bullet, El Asesino, for all the things you’ve done to the people of this country,” she says, switching on the hate for Joseph again. “You and your jefe.”
But she’s throwing stones at concrete. The threats are just ricocheting off him and dropping to the floor.
I can't stop glancing between them—to the woman who is just as much of a storm as I am to the man who’s a raging Shakespearean tempest inside.
He’s right about one thing. I’m not whole yet. This night has been revelatory, but I’m not done filling in my empty spaces.
“Anna?” Her eyes are pleading with me now. “He’s cartel, Anna. Santiago cartel,” she hisses, trying to convey a million things to me in the shortest sentence ever. “He’s been hired to track us down and bring us to Alejandro Fernandez, I’m sure of it.”
“Anna,” growls Joseph.
He’s growing tired of my silence, but I can't bring myself to confess why he’s really here. Vi would end up hating me. I’d be back in rehab by the weekend.
I just can’t.
So, I make a split-decision, then and there.
“Oh my God! Are you serious?” I spring away from him in mock shock. “How can you tell?”
“Look at his tattoo,” she cries triumphantly. “It’s Santiago ink. Get your ass in gear, girl! He may have alerted more men to our location already.”
“Okay, okay, the rest of my things are in the bathroom!”
Joseph’s not moving. He’s just staring at me with his eyebrows raised, my lie as thin to him as the motel curtains. He knows what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it. The question is: will he allow it?
All of a sudden, he lets out a dirty-ass chuckle, which jacks up my pulse rate even more. “As you wish, Luna. You keep running and I’ll keep chasing. Let’s keep this wheel spinning for another turn, shall we? The next time we meet, maybe you’ll be a quarter moon and not a crescent.”
“You’re never meeting her again, you bastard,” says Vi, tightening her finger on the trigger. “And quit with the enigmatic stuff. Shall we kill him, Anna?”
Joseph cocks an eyebrow at me. He knows we’re bound tighter than ever now. He fastened another knot by making me come all over my own fingers. I made it a double reefer by accepting him into my mouth. I can still taste the flavor of his whiskey kiss, and it makes me want to take up hard liquor drinking all over again.
“Too messy,” I say, ignoring another of his dirty-ass chuckles. “Have you got any rope? Tape? We can tie him up and leave him here.”
“Think that’ll stop me, sweetheart?”
Vi looks as if an alien just burst out of my stomach. “Did you hear what I said? He’s Santiago. If he catches us again, he’ll do way worse than Fernandez would.”
“I can’t do it, Vi,” I say wearily. “I’m done killing tonight.”
“Then let me—”
“No!”
“Fine.” I can tell she thinks I’m insane though, which I probably am. “It’s your call. I think I saw some gaffer tape in the car. Here, take this.” She motions to me with the spare gun. “Easy, now.”
I grab my skirt from the bathroom floor and brace myself as I pass by Joseph. I’m half-expecting him to grab me and shake some sense into me. Instead, he gives me a hit of that leather and musk that lodges our dirty little secret even deeper inside my wet panties.
Tugging on my skirt with one hand, I take the gun and adopt her position.
“He’s way worse than the men in the bar,” she warns me, keeping hold of the other gun for herself. “If he comes at you, fire, and then fire some more like you did back then.”
“I will,” I promise, feeling his barbed wire scrutiny as she backs out of the room.
But it’s him who fires first. The door shuts and he shoots me a lopsided grin that disarms me quicker than if I’d dropped the gun on the floor. Holy crap. The killing machine has a human chip. But he’s still a beautiful bomb—magnetic and destructive.
“Your friend is a delight,” he drawls, leaning back against the wall. “Remind me not to invite her to the states with us.”
“You sound like Rick Sanders w
hen you talk like that.” I lower the gun, but stay rooted to the spot. There’s no way he’s going to let me go this easily. Obsessions don't just relent, they blister and endure until there’s nothing left but smoking debris.
“Are you trying to ruin my evening?” His grin bows out quicker than it appeared. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through? You’re not only a fugitive of the law, but a fugitive of dangerous criminals.”
“Dangerous criminals like yourself.”
“Are you asking me to protect you?”
“No, I’m asking for my freedom. I need this, Joseph. If you take me back to the US now, I’ll drown in a void again. There’s nothing for me there, but here…” I trail off, trying to find the right words to justify my decision. “I’m not the same woman from the alleyway yesterday. In the last twenty-four hours I learned how to fight back.”
“Then you really are a bad girl,” he rumbles, sounding impressed. His lips start twitching again. “Do you know how fucking hard I am for you right now?”
I take a deep breath before answering. “Do this, and I’ll let you kiss my pussy better yourself next time.”
His expression stills, and I know it’s not anger he’s feeling.
“Careful, Luna… If you’re wanting me to throw you down on this bed and hammer the wanderlust out of you, keep on talking that dirty talk to me.”
“Please, Joseph.”
I see the muscles tensing in his jaw.
“Fine—go,” he says gruffly. “Own your crimes, but I’m not leaving Colombia without you. Bind me with a hundred cable ties; lock me inside this room with a thousand keys. I’ll break down every single one to reach you. If you can come half-broken on your fingers like that, imagine how hard you’ll be coming around my dick when you’re whole.”
“What if I don't want that?” I say quietly.
His fingers? Yes. His tongue? Yes. But having a man inside me again?
“You don't have a choice, sweetheart. You’ve been mine since the first day we met. Red dress, Anna… Red fucking dress. If you were trying to warn me off with that color, it didn’t work.”
Shadow Man: Grayson Duet: Book One Page 11
