by Jax Hart
I feel him hot on my heels as I exit the club feeling the salty night air cling to my skin. I pull out my phone attempting to open a car service app when a huge SUV pulls up. “The night’s still young, Red. Dare you to spend it with me?”
I pretend to fiddle with my phone, shifting my weight on both feet. “I have plans.”
“Netflix and Cabernet?”
“Malbec and Prime Video,” I snicker.
He opens the door caging me between the car and the club.
“Ugh, fine.” I roll my eyes. “I guess you’re better than my battery-operated boyfriend.”
“See? I knew you missed me.”
I’m not surprised at all as the driver pulls away from South Beach, toward the highway that leads to the bridge taking us across the harbor to Key Biscayne. He’s been watching me this whole time, waiting until I ventured into his friend’s lair to ambush me. Classic Roque. I look out the window at the passing lights, not trusting myself to look at him. He indulges me and sits back; like the relaxed, sated predator he is.
“What are you doing here, Romina?”
Just like that he’s back to business.
“Taking a vacation. I’ve never had one.”
He stops me from entering my rental, letting his men go inside. I turn my back on him, choosing to stare out at the swaying palms and starry sky.
“Clear,” one of his men calls out, exiting.
“Goodnight.”
“Nice try.”
I brush past him, inside my rental and go straight to the shower needing to wash away the scene at Eden. I feel his eyes on me as I strip then enter the shower.
I hide my smirk as the glass door opens and he enters behind me.
“What?!” I shriek as he lands a hard smack on my ass. “You’re so dead!” I rub my hand over the sting as I face him. He grins as he hogs the spray, forcing me aside. I watch as the water falls over the hard contours of his body. He’s in better shape than he’s ever been. He’s a bit bulkier, obviously power lifting. He has more ink on his biceps and chest and my eyes wonder what each one means. Unable to stop myself, I lift my hand bringing it down on the left cheek of his muscular ass.
He’s as shocked as I am.
His incredulous eyes turn to me. “You’ve done it now.”
I shriek as he turns the water all the way to cold, holding me under the freezing spray. My tiny slaps don’t even register as he laughs at my attempts to get free. “Come here, let me warm you. I wouldn’t want my baby doll getting too cold.”
He turns the spray off, wraps a huge towel around us and throws me down on the bed. “Time to get to work, eh?” His lips find my breasts, his hands pull me close. I get lost again in all his sin. I shut my eyes. There will be no redemption for me. It’s time I finally admit to myself that I’ll never want anything or anyone else but him.
He holds me tightly in his arms, probably thinking I’m going to run again. I turn, with a confession on my lips, about to tell him about my deal with the Feds. But he’s asleep. His face finally relaxed with a peace I’ve never seen on it. My finger traces his cheek, plays with the one lock of hair over his forehead. I sigh softly. He thinks I’m his peace. Either that or I wore him out between the sheets.
“I love you,” I whisper. Finally admitting what I’ve fought so hard to deny. “Every broken, dark twisted part of you. I accept you as you are.” A tear finally escapes. I lay my head against his chest, letting the sound of his steady heartbeat lull me to sleep.
“Mmhhhmmm,” I snuggle deeper under the sheets with his smell on them. Birds chirp outside the window. The rays of sunrise reach through slats of the fancy shutters of my rental. I stretch out running my palm over the mattress in search of my alpha’s hot body.
“Roque?” My eyes pop open. His spot next to me is empty. The bathroom door is open, and the lights are off.
Blinking, I sit up, ignoring the fact that I still feel the burn from him inside me. Getting out of bed, I find the discarded towel from last night and tuck it around me. He’s probably making coffee. His name echoes off the walls bouncing back to me as I call out for him.
The place is empty. Deserted. I peer outside; there’s no dark SUV waiting for its master.
He’s just gone. Vanished. Left. There’s no note. No explanation. I’ve been burned. Had. Literally. I sink to the floor putting a fist to my mouth to stop the cry tearing through me from escaping. The angry, devastated tears make it through my barricade, falling like a hard rain down my face. I finally know what it feels like when the person you love runs. Like shit. I’m bereft. The other half of my soul slipped away like a thief in the night. Damn him for always needing to come out on top. For always needing to win his hand in our sick game. A game I was trying to tell him I didn’t want to play anymore.
I use the guest bath to shower. I can’t bring myself to even enter the bathroom where his presence still lingers. After that I pack my shit and roll out, too. I refuse to sleep in a bed with the ghost of my lover in it. Payback is a bitch and it hurts like hell. I hurt even more because now I understand what he felt every time I ran from the destruction of us.
I check my app, finding another rental close by. I need to regroup and rethink and decide if I’m ready to get on my knees for my dark king and chase him the way he always chased me.
15
Roque
I didn’t want to leave her. Hell, I never intended to even see her last night. But her siren’s call was always too hard for me to resist. I’ve stopped thinking about my demise since the day I left Constantine to die. But if it could happen it would be on a run to the Bahamas to rescue sex slaves from the Russian mob. That prick Russian from last night is part of the crew keeping captive women. He brings them in cargo ships, sneaking them into ports. I had to ask Dimitri if he was also involved; to make sure he wasn’t part of that shit. Especially given his preferred lifestyle. Finding Red down here was a surprise. I need to figure out what she’s up to, but I already have this mission planned. At least if I die today, it’ll be with the smell of my love still infused in my soul and the feel of her touch on my skin.
Johnny shakes his head at me. “You fucked her, didn’t you?” I give him my best “you’re fucking dead” look as I swipe a hand over my tired eyes. “You have that stupid stars and that shit look on your face. The one you always get after one whiff of her p—" He breaks off as I slap him.
“Did you just bitch slap me?”
I smirk. “You deserved it. Clean up your mouth.”
“Dude. I’m mafia from Brooklyn.”
“Yeah? And I’m the real mob from Italy, dip shit.”
“Oh yeah? Well a real mobster wouldn’t risk his neck to stave a dozen p—” He pauses as I cock a fist.
“A real man knows the difference, Johnny.”
“Love’s made you weak.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s my redemption.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He looks away red-faced. He almost knew redemption, too. But the girl he carved up his heart to on a platter… was also a narc. A friggin’ undercover agent for the FBI in New York. She almost took me down alongside him. His own family put a hit on his ass, but I intervened—saving my best friend. But he lost everything when he was forced to become my number two, instead of on his way to inherit the number one place at the head of his family’s outfit.
If he ever redeems himself, I have a surprise in store for Johnny. “When the mission’s over you’ll be rewarded.”
“Whatever, fuckface.”
I grin, “You know you love me.”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed today. Ever since you adopted Chloe and ran into Red, you’re going soft. Walking around like you’re on clouds all the time smiling like a dumb drunk.”
I take my Glock out of its holster to check the clip. “I’m your number one and don’t you forget it. Your ass would be at the bottom of the Hudson if it weren’t for me.”
“At least I’d be with her,” he mutters under his brea
th as he checks his own gun. He moves to the back of the plane to check our weapons and gear, leaving me alone with my memories from last night. And what a night it was. She was magnificent—all fire and spitting sparks. She threw me off my game when she got on her knees in the club and went for me. I knew there was a chance I could die today and so I took my chance with her. I needed it. She needed it. As soon as this shit is over, I’m putting a ring on that shit and locking her up for life as Mrs. Roque Salvatore. We can go back to Palermo and our children’s legacy will be an epic one.
The plane starts our initial descent. Out the window the ocean stretches to the horizon. The same blue of my eyes reflects back to my place in the sky. The island is coming up to our left. They think I’m coming to purchase fresh girls for a sex club I’m supposedly opening in Chicago. Little do they know I’m coming to pop two clips in each of them. The first will be emptied in their dicks. “For Chloe and all the girls…,” I whisper kissing the barrel of my gun before strapping a knife to the inside of my Armani sock.
The Pilot radios that it’s clear for the raft and jumpers to go. I grin like a mother fucker. I’m dumping my men in a raft Navy Seal style and letting them surround the island house by swimming in. I’m only approaching with my usual five guys like I did last time. Only this time Johnny’s coming to “sample” the goods. His rep as a dirty as fuck playboy is actually coming in handy for once. Especially since it’s well known what happened between him and the Feds. No one will suspect us for breaking up a sex trafficking ring.
The cabin de-pressurizes as the jump door to our plane is opened. We’re only at two thousand feet. The first guy jumps followed by three more. In case our plane gets shot to shit, they have orders to secure one of the many luxury speed boats as a second getaway option.
I check my cufflinks and slide into my jacket, smoothing out the rich fabric. The plane banks left and circles as we land. Below me, a dozen men dressed in suits are waiting our arrival.
“Showtime,” I mutter to myself. Reaching into my pocket, my hand closes over the hair ribbon I took from her room years ago. I take it with me wherever I go. Maybe I’m superstitious but I’ve never taken one bullet yet and there have been more than a few close calls. The jet doors open as I slowly put on my aviators.
“Salvatore.”
I nod, arrogantly snapping my fingers for my men to open the door to the tinted SUV idling off the tarmac. It’s a prick move that relaxes the Russians sending a signal I’m here for business not war.
“Eager to see the pussy, yes?”
“As long as it’s fresh.”
The Russian slaps me on the back. “You funny, boss man.”
Johnny climbs in the passenger seat. If shit goes sideways, I can trust him to off the driver and take control of the vehicle.
The drive to the isolated compound is short. There are guards here but they don’t even tighten their fingers on the triggers of the guns they hold as we enter. Big mistake. The handler is going on and on bragging about their “inventory” and how exotic it is. There must be women from every race and nation here. The handler turns his back to us as he enters a code to unlock the door. That’s when my knife slides into his ribs. Johnny snaps his neck and we slide him out of the way, hiding him under the bushes against the side of the house. “One down,” Johnny mutters.
16
Romina
I’m a fool. A colossal one. Why else would I still be in Miami waiting for my lover to return. I hate him. I’ve called him a dozen times, my calls going straight to voicemail. I’ve even gone back to Eden, but Dimitri’s goons refuse to let me in. Apparently, he’s not even in South Beach. He disappeared right after Roque.
Maybe Roque is really over me and that night was his way of proving it to me by giving me a taste of him and then dropping me flat. It’s only been three days since the morning I woke up in a bed with his head still imprinted on the pillow. but the way my body yearns for him it feels like it’s been years.
My cell rings and my heart leaps. But it’s not Roque. It’s Chloe. He’s forbidden her from talking to me…
“Chloe?”
“Romina! Something’s wrong! I can’t get ahold of Roque. He calls me every night and his calls go straight to voicemail. Johnny won’t tell me where he is…”
The hair on my arms rise. “Tell me everything. When was the last time you spoke?” She tells me he texted her the same morning he left me. “Stay calm. I’ll find him.”
“If anyone can. It’s you.”
Biting my lip, I dial the Feds. “Romina. Tell us you have something?”
“I’m working on it. Do you have eyes on our mark?”
“That’s supposed to be you. But if you can’t get the job done… I have no problem bringing you down. I have your cell all picked out and waiting. Have you even been able to make contact?”
“Of course, I have.”
“Don’t bullshit me!” Agent Jack Ass roars. “Check your texts.” My stomach rolls. Downloaded on my phone are fresh pictures of Roque inspecting naked girls on their knees. “These were sent from my source on the inside, three days ago. Then he went dark. I’ve lost contact. No one can find Roque either. He vanished. Went off the grid. I also need more to get a conviction. I need proof he paid for the women. Get him to admit it on tape, find out where he laundered the cash from. Get it done. But first, I need proof you can get close to him or I’m hauling your ass in. Today!”
I swallow hard. The man who loved me so tenderly is actually a breathing monster. How could he? Some of the girls in the photo look no older than Chloe.
I scroll through my pictures finding the one I took of him when he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful I couldn’t help myself. The sheet is down to his waist, leaving his abs and ink on full display. The only pictures I had of him were the ones I took when I was “Blue.”
Without thinking I send the pic to the agent.
“Good work.” He responds.
Biting my lip, I pace. Where is he? I scroll through the contacts on my old phone, finding Johnny’s number. It goes to voicemail. I try Roque’s, same thing. My hands shake by the time I find Tati’s.
“Hello?”
“Tati. It’s me, Romina.” There’s a short pause. “I-I know I’ve been a real shit friend. If we’re even friends anymore…”
“Is this about Roque?”
“Yeah…,” I suck in a breath feeling like such a fuck. She married Le Blanc and I’m hoping he’ll know something.
“Seb flew down to the Bahamas two days ago. He said it didn’t look good.”
“What didn’t look good?”
“Roque was shot. That’s all I know. Rafe picked up Seb on his way down.”
“Th-thank you.”
“That’s it?”
“I need to go. I need to tell him…”
“That you fucked up when you walked away from him all those years ago?”
“…and every time since. Please can you text me Rafe’s number? Or at least tell them I’m coming and where they are?”
“Sure. But I expect better from you. So, does he. There is a problem. He needs blood and they are low on his type. Apparently, it’s rare.”
“What is it?”
“O- negative.”
“That’s what I am.”
“Are you serious?”
“It must be a Palermo thing. Most of us there were. Yeah, I’m sure.”
“In that case I’m sure they’ll send an escort for your ass. Hang tight. Don’t disappoint us.”
I don’t respond. I doubt Tati and Seb know just how dirty of a business Roque runs or why he was in the Bahamas in the first place. All they want is to save the life of their best friend.
In a rush, I throw my things in a bag, pull up my travel app and find a flight to Nassau. Somehow, I hold my emotions together, hiding my anxious eyes behind my oversized sunglasses. Roque always seemed indestructible. Nothing ever touched him. How stupid was I for thinking I was the only enemy who could get
close enough to take him down?
17
Roque
Three days earlier…
I’m fading in and out of consciousness. Johnny’s face hovers over me but I can’t hear anything he’s shouting. I knew I was hit. The bullet somehow found a gap in my vest. I remember thinking my blood was the same color as her hair in the sun as it spread across my crisp, white shirt.
Chopper. They’re carrying me onboard a chopper. I look left, out the open door. I’m flying home. The water is the same blue as the Med. I see her face. Her blue hair; her blue eyes in the rolling waves. My thoughts aren’t making sense. I laugh to myself. It’s her face I see as I die, but it’s as my baby Blue.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as we lift into the clouds. “I thought we could still have it all.” Then I turn my head to Johnny as he presses his hands against the blood pouring from me. “Take care of Chloe. I never killed her Johnny. Your woman, she lives. I kept her safe… my prisoner until you could get your head straight.”
I still can’t hear him, but I can read his lips as he screams, “Don’t die on me you fucking bastard!” The light that he lost in his eyes this past year is back.
“She’s in Oregon. I stashed her with Creed, in a room under Rog’s bar.”
“I love you, brother.”
“Love your stupid ass, too. Keep both my loves, safe. I know you can’t stand Romina but she’s my….” I fade out, losing all vision as the darkness finally comes for me.
In a flash, I see it all. My childhood, the closet, my days with Constantine…. Her. Blue then Red and the chase in between.
Then I’m gone. Fading to black… sailing past stars.
“You stupid fuck. You hid my girl from me and knew I was pining for her… letting me think she was dead? I’m tempted to smother your ass with a pillow then feign all innocence when the machine beeps. I almost dumped you on the hospital doorstep, and took your jet to Oregon.” I’d smirk if I could move. Well I guess this is hell. I’m trapped in my own body. I can’t see or feel much—these drugs are good. But Johnny reeks of his cigar and my top shelf scotch. “Rafe had to restrain me when she walked in here like she was your wife. She looked down her nose at me and damn I almost grabbed the nurse’s scissors to chop off all that red hair. Her blood is running through your veins, so I guess there’s no getting her out of your system now. Wouldn’t that be some funny shit if you two share an ancestor? Cause no one here is the same blood type as you.” Johnny cracks himself up, slapping his knee.
