by Jane Henry
A few seconds later, Donnie poked the unnaturally still woman at his side.
“Hey!”
“How long have you been pretending to sleep?” he demanded.
“How do you know I was pretending? I was resting,” she argued. She pushed up carefully, avoiding the burns, and her big brown eyes met his. She looked tired still, but calm. Not remotely afraid, despite what she might have overheard.
“How long?” he repeated, tickling her ribs until she squirmed against him.
“Erm… Somewhere before Irish-Surfer-Boy-Spiderman?” she giggled.
“So you heard what I said about leaving town.”
He hadn’t phrased it as a question, but Grace answered anyway, biting her lip and confirming with a nod. “I did. If that’s the way it has to be, Donnie, I’m okay with it.”
His head shifted against the back of the sofa to look at her more fully. “Before, you didn’t want to live looking over your shoulder,” he reminded her.
She ducked her head, pressing a soft kiss to his chest over the worn cotton t-shirt Slay had lent him. “That was before,” she whispered. “Before, when I was still the princess in the tower, and freedom was the most important thing to me. Before I really understood what it meant to live. Before… you. Now, I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.”
Donnie leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. A promise. But Grace opened her lips beneath his and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling herself closer. The soft, delicious scent of her—spice and sweetness, rich and honest—enveloped him, and he gave himself over to it. He set his coffee cup down on the end table, and wove both of his ruined hands through the soft strands of her hair, pulling her up and over to straddle him. His thumbs cradled her jaw, angling her so that his tongue slid more firmly against hers.
It wasn’t until he was hard and aching, until her breath was coming in short little huffs that drove him crazy, that he remembered where they were. A clink of china from the kitchen penetrated his brain and he eased Grace back slowly until she was sitting next to him once more.
“Wrong time and place, baby,” he told her reluctantly, his hand stroking over her hair to soothe her.
She nodded, but bit her lip. “Later, then? I really need you, Donnie. I need to feel connected to you.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not explaining it right.”
“I know exactly what you mean. After all that happened last night, you need a reminder that you and I are okay, that we’re alive, that no matter what happens, we will always come through it together. I need that, too,” he confessed. And there were other needs, as well. The need to mark her again, to claim her, to remind himself that anyone who wanted to harm her would have to go through him first. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“You are going to go upstairs, take a shower, and get dressed in the clothes Allie said you could borrow. Then we’re going to meet with everyone and let Elena fuss over us because she can’t fucking help herself. We’re going to make a plan for the short-term that will keep you safe. And we are absolutely going to make a plan for the long-term, too, because making sure that you are free to live life on your own terms is non-negotiable, Grace. And then, once all that shit is sorted?” His voice dropped to a deep rumble as desire thrummed through him. “Then I am going to find a place where we can be alone, and I am going to remind you who owns every inch of that body.”
She shivered, then sucked in a deep breath and stood. But before she left the room, she leaned down and pressed another gentle kiss to his lips.
“Order me around some more!” she teased, quoting Slay’s words from earlier.
In an instant, she was over his lap, face-down, laughing as he delivered three stinging slaps to her pajama-clad rear end.
“Anything else to say, Miss Diaz?” he asked as he let her up.
“Just that Slay’s right, baby,” she told him, her eyes glowing with love and mischief. She pitched her voice high and cooed, “You really are hot when you get all dominant!”
She scurried away before he could catch her again thanks to the stupid bandages on his feet, but that was fine. He had plenty of time to teach her a lesson about teasing her man.
An hour later, everyone seemed to arrive simultaneously. Grace had finished her shower, her damp hair was twisted up into a bun, and she looked fresh and clean in a pretty sundress that Alice had given her.
“Keep it,” Allie had told Grace with a wink at her husband, as the two women had sliced berries for fruit salad while Donnie and Slay sat at the kitchen island and supervised. “I doubt I’ll be able to wear it much before it’s out of style.”
Grace had seemed confused, but the way Slay preened at the news, Donnie guessed that there would be another Slater baby joining Charlie, Lex, Mason, and Slay in keeping Allie on her toes. Donnie grinned as he stole a berry from Grace’s bowl.
Elena did fuss over him, as expected, needing to ascertain for herself that his feet were properly bandaged, that he would keep his weight off his injured foot, and that he would wear a walking boot for the rest of the week as the doctor had suggested. Donnie assured her that he would, and then he and Blake exchanged a look of commiseration over her head that said Blake, at least, recognized that the boot would not be coming with Donnie when he left Slay’s house.
Heidi, Grace, and Hillary helped Tony, Tess, and John organize food in the kitchen, while Dom and Paul took seats on the couches opposite Donnie and continued an argument they’d apparently been having on the way in.
“Don’t get me wrong, Heidi and I love the place,” Dom was saying. “The baby loves it. Hell, even the dog loves it. But it’s a money pit. We try to get up there every weekend in the summer, but it’s tough to keep up the repairs.”
“You talking about your cabin up in the boondocks?” Donnie interjected.
Dom nodded. “You looking for a property? I can rent you one cheap,” he joked.
“I still say you should’ve gone South,” Paul told Dom. “Cape Cod’s closer to Boston, and I’ll take the beach over the woods any day. Plus, you’d have no trouble renting it out in the off season.”
“Yeah, but you know how Heidi feels about Maine,” Dom said, his voice softening as he spoke of his wife. “The cabin’s not just a financial investment, it’s an emotional one.”
The doorbell rang and Allie passed through the room to answer it, while everyone else piled in from the kitchen and claimed their seats on the sofas and the plush area rug.
Paul shook his head, bringing his knee up at an angle to sit sideways facing Dom with his elbow against the back of the sofa. “You know, Heids,” Paul told his best friend and business partner as she perched on the arm of the sofa next to Dom. “I wish I could tape this conversation and go back in time a few years, back to when you were absolutely panicked about getting involved with this guy, wondering if you could trust him and whether you could make it work.”
Heidi laughed softly and leaned against Dom. “Nah. Wouldn’t have helped. I had to go through all the confusion and craziness to get to where we are.”
Grace reclaimed her seat next to Donnie, cuddling up against his side. “You think that will be us, a few years down the line?” she whispered.
Donnie shook his head. “Nah.” He smirked when he saw her annoyed frown and tugged a lock of her pretty dark hair. “That’s us now, honey. You and me… we know each other inside and out. We already know we can trust each other. We already know we’re gonna work.”
She smiled, but then she looked beyond Donnie’s shoulder. Her smile fell and tension gripped her small frame.
“Pedro?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
Donnie turned his head to face the trio of men who trailed Allie back to the family room. Matteo gave him a chin lift before seating himself next to Hillary on the floor, but Donnie barely acknowledged him, his attention focused on the other two men; Pedro, who looked a thousand times better than the last time Donnie saw him, a
nd Diego Santiago, who looked a thousand times worse.
“Ah, Dios. Thank God you’re okay, Gracia Maria,” Pedro breathed, saying Grace’s name in Spanish, the way their parents used to. “I was so worried!”
The worst of Pedro’s visible wounds were all but healed now, though the bruising on his face would likely remain for some time. His hair was neatly combed, and his eyes had lost their hunted look. He seemed rested, almost cheerful.
Donnie felt his temper spike as he took in Pedro’s demeanor. Did the asshole have no clue what the past week had been like for his sister? He didn’t look particularly worried.
Diego shoved Pedro from behind, forcing him into a straight-backed chair near the fireplace. “Caillate, cabrón!” he spat. “Nobody wants to hear a word out of your mouth. Your sister wouldn’t have been in trouble at all if not for you!”
Diego looked absolutely exhausted. His skin had a sickly pallor, and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, like he hadn’t slept for days. His voice was thick, as though each word required effort to push past his lips, and he looked lost.
“Pedro, what the fuck are you doing back in town?” Donnie demanded. “You don’t think we have enough to worry about right now?”
Pedro scowled. “I didn’t bring myself, Don. I…”
“I brought him,” Diego sighed, sinking into another straight-backed chair. “Took him from Lucas’s safe house this morning. After last night… hiding don’t matter anymore.”
Alice, who had disappeared for a moment, came back carrying a mug of coffee, which Diego accepted with a grateful smile. He blew out a breath.
“You all know I’ve been, uh… an associate of Chalo Salazar,” Diego said, with a sideways look at Pedro.
Pedro nodded, seeming to accept this at face value. Clearly he’d had dealings with Diego in the past and known him in that capacity. Donnie sighed, wondering if he would have accepted Diego’s cover so easily if he’d still been on Mikey’s payroll. Everyone else in the room nodded, but remained silent, understanding that Diego didn’t want to share the undercover nature of his association with Chalo.
“Chalo Salazar was released from prison yesterday morning at eleven-fifteen,” Diego said. And although they had all been well aware that it would happen, he felt a new tension settle over the room. Even Pedro looked worried.
Then Diego continued, “And he was shot to death at seven-thirty yesterday evening.”
“Shot!” Allie said, looking to Slay for confirmation. Slay nodded at her, then looked at Donnie and nodded again. This was the information that would change Donnie’s plans to leave town.
Everyone else seemed stunned, too shocked to speak or even to move.
Jesus Christ. After everything the asshole had done… dead? It didn’t seem possible. And, Donnie acknowledged to himself, it didn’t seem fair. He wanted justice, for God’s sake. He’d wanted that bastard to pay a thousand times over for the harm that he’d caused to their little family.
“How?” Donnie demanded finally. “Who?”
Diego shrugged. “Double tap to the head. Professional looking. As for who… best guess is El Jefe, whoever the fuck he is. I don’t know. I just… don’t know.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, and Donnie wondered what images were playing behind his closed eyelids.
“In the past three weeks, each of Chalo’s lieutenants have been eliminated one by one. It started with Hector Montero, but they got to Osbaldo Nunez, Cas Reyes, and just a couple of hours ago, Joachim Calder. That’s it. They’re all gone.” His voice was bleak and heavy, and Donnie realized that despite the fact that the men Diego named had been Chalo Salazar’s lieutenants, they’d also been Diego’s daily companions for the past several years. However complicated Diego’s feelings about them had been in life, it was clear that some part of him grieved them in death.
Pedro sucked in a breath, staring at Diego appraisingly, but Diego paid no attention. His eyes sought and held Donnie’s. “Don…” he said solemnly. “They got to Mikey, too.”
Oh.
Now it was Donnie’s turn to close his eyes. To inhale deeply. There had been a time, before the blood and the killing, before the drugs and the money and the final exile, that Mikey Nolan had been his savior, plucking Donnie from the squalor of his dad’s house and giving him a purpose in life. Now Donnie understood all too well the complicated grief Diego seemed to feel. Donnie had been prepared to eliminate his cousin himself, if it had come down to it, but now, as the weight of the loss settled on his shoulders, he wasn’t sure if committing that act would have changed something fundamental within himself.
“Joe?” Donnie demanded, as a new worry occurred to him. “Karen and the kids?”
But Diego shook his head. “Nah, they’re fine. God, Don, Joe is small-time, you know? He’s not on anybody’s radar. Hasn’t done anything more serious than pass messages for years.”
“Until the part where he helped hold my sister captive,” Pedro said, sitting forward angrily. But Diego turned on him.
“Are you serious right now? Joe did what he did because going along with Mikey kept Joe’s kids safe! He didn’t steal three quarters of a million dollars from Mikey. Jesus. How have you managed to stay alive all these years when you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut, pendejo?”
Pedro shrank back in his chair, watching Diego with eyes that were suddenly wide and fearful. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked in a soft voice.
Diego’s jaw hardened and he stared at the wall. “I don’t fucking know.”
Do? What the hell did Diego have to do? His assignment was over now that Salazar was dead. Donnie shook his head and looked from Matteo to Slay for an explanation. Slay took a breath and shook his head sadly. Whatever Donnie was missing, it wasn’t good.
Pedro licked his lips, still watching Diego carefully, as though he were a snake who might turn and strike at any moment. “What does this mean for me? Or for Grace, I mean.”
Diego snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s what you meant. Mikey is dead, so your debt to him is cancelled. But for your own safety, Pedro, leave Boston and don’t come back. You hear me? And as for Grace…”
Diego looked up, caught Grace’s eyes, and his mouth twisted in a half-hearted smile.
“She’s free to do whatever she likes with whomever she likes. And if anyone says differently, they’ll answer to me.” His voice and eyes grew hard as he looked back at Pedro. “I’m going to make it clear that she, along with everyone in this room apart from you, is under my protection.”
“Under your protection, bro?” Tony laughed. “You setting yourself up an army?”
Diego turned to look at Tony. His eyes were solemn, though his face was expressionless. And as the bottom dropped out of Donnie’s stomach, he finally understood.
“He already has one,” Donnie croaked, sitting forward and grabbing his head with both hands. “Oh, fuck, Diego. You’re the last one left. The last of Chalo’s lieutenants.”
The entire room seemed to suck in a shocked breath as the implications of this dropped across their minds one after another, like dominoes. Diego was the last lieutenant, the last trusted member of Chalo’s organization. And while Donnie had somehow assumed that Chalo’s death would finally set Diego free from the undercover mission that had become his fucking life, the opposite was actually true.
If they ever wanted to find the identity of El Jefe, if they ever wanted to shut down the sex trafficking operation El Jefe was setting up in Boston, Diego needed to maintain his cover…
And become the new leader of Chalo’s organization, himself.
“The king is dead,” Pedro mocked softly. “Long live the king.”
The End
Epilogue
“Oh my God! They even have chocolates on the pillow!”
Grace squealed like a little girl and ran to the balcony of the huge, swanky, luxury suite Slay had managed to secure for them after a few phone calls. She hadn’t ever seen anything like it in her life. There was
a glass elevator in the very center of the hotel, a waterfall, a legit, bonafide, actual waterfall in the lobby, with fancy rocks and places to sit, and she half-expected fairies to flit about, it was that magical. And the room. It was honest to God bigger than the apartment she’d grown up in, with a bathroom big enough for a hot tub, a mammoth bed, a kitchenette, and a huge, wrap-around couch nestled in front of a fire place.
“You need a place to chill,” Slay had said. “Get your shit together.”
And boy did he have some connections. This place was astounding. The balcony overlooked the harbor, azure horizon touching the wharf in downtown Boston, a small table and chairs on the balcony beckoning them to come and sit in quiet. As she stood, her hands on the rail, looking out at the crashing waves, she felt Donnie come up behind her, his powerful presence tangible before he even touched her. He exuded safety, protection...love.
Warm, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and he cradled her up against his chest. She could smell the leather of the jacket he still wore, but only had a split second to register the scent before she felt his mouth on her cheek, then her neck, trailing kisses along the sensitive, bare skin. “You like chocolates on your pillow, angel?” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll put chocolates on your pillow every fucking day if it makes you happy.”
She closed her eyes, suddenly overcome with emotion. He must have felt the shift, and turned her around gently to look at him. Placing a hand under her chin, he lifted her eyes, and his own sobered. “Talk to me, Grace.” It was a soft command, but she knew now he expected to be obeyed, and though she didn’t know quite how to put what she felt into words, she decided she’d give it her best shot.
