by Marie Carnay
Maybe that’s why it thrilled her. The thought of Damien’s arms pinning her to the bed. The ghost of his touch as they sank into the mattress. She only had one taste, but she might be addicted.
The door to the bedroom opened and Mia tugged up the sheet with a smile. “Good morning.”
Damien grunted a reply and sat on the chair by the door.
“What’s wrong?”
He held up a crumpled manila file folder. “What’s this?”
Mia wrapped the sheet around her body and slid off the bed. She padded up to him and glanced at the file. Her mouth fell open. “You got that for me? When?”
He wouldn’t look her in the eye. “After I knocked you out. I found it in the closet, thought it might be important.”
“It is!” She reached to take it from him, but Damien held it back.
“Not until you tell me what it is. What’s this guy…Watson mean to you?”
“He’s innocent.”
Damien snorted. “That’s what they all say.”
“This one really is. He was convicted of murdering his girlfriend, but he didn’t do it.”
Damien flipped open the file. “Says here they found him covered in her blood. The handgun had his prints.” He flipped it shut. “Sounds pretty solid to me.”
“That’s why my father refused to deal. He said it was an easy slam-dunk. He didn’t care if Watson did it or not, a conviction would up his rate. That’s why I stole the file. I need to get it to my professor before the hearing next week.”
“Professor?”
“I’m in law school. Second year. I’m in a clinic that works to free innocent people sitting on death row.”
Damien stilled. “This guy’s on death row and he’s innocent?”
Mia nodded. “He’s not the only one. Thanks to my father…Let’s just say enough innocent people were convicted on his watch to fill county lock up.”
Damien swore under his breath and flipped the file back open. He read a few pages. “The cops first on the scene. Hodges and Ontario. You know them?”
“No. I don’t know any police officers.”
He nodded. “How ’bout the lead investigator, Sanchez. Know him?”
She shook her head.
“There’s more going on here than just your crooked old man, Mia.”
She eased down onto the edge of the bed. “What are you saying?”
Instead of answering, Damien stood up. He walked over to the window and bent down a blind to peer out. “This town’s full of people who operate beyond the law. Bad people.”
“Like you.”
“And Marcelo.”
She blinked. “Are you telling me this guy has something to do with Marcelo?”
“He was a low-level dealer. Not real high up in the org, but high enough that I knew his name. He might not have killed his girlfriend, but he wasn’t innocent, Mia.”
Mia couldn’t believe it. Michael Watson had been so sweet in prison. He’d cried when they mentioned his girlfriend, talked about his mother and her homemade pie. He’d even told her about his little girl and how he couldn’t be there for her first day of school. All because of George Davenport.
Mia gripped the sheet so hard her knuckles blanched white. She turned to face Damien. “Do you think Marcelo had something to do with his girlfriend’s murder?”
“I’d bet money on it.” He let the window blind close and stepped up to the bed. “He was probably skimming. Pocketing a little of the cash for each deal before he gave it to the corner boss.”
“I take it that’s a no-no?”
“It means you’re not loyal to the cartel. It can get you killed.”
Mia swallowed. “Or your girlfriend.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
Oh my God. Her life was a million times removed from Damien’s. Her biggest worries were whether she had studied enough to ace her exams or whether she put enough gas in her car to make it to class on time.
Not whether a drug cartel would kill her significant other because she’d stolen from them. She shivered and pulled the sheet up higher. She really did live in a sheltered bubble.
“My father was right in the middle of it all, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m not sorry he’s dead. Not one little bit.”
Damien’s face stayed even. “Just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean the DA’s office is any cleaner. It could be worse.”
Mia thought about who would take her father’s place and she shook her head. Steven might be an asshole, but he wasn’t dirty. “Not everyone is a scumbag.” She reached for him. “You need to help me.”
“Excuse me?”
“With all that you know, you and I, we could go to the authorities. You could get the cartel taken down. They’d all be arrested. We’d clean up the city. Be heroes.”
Damien’s laugh rang hollow. “This is real life, babe, not the movies. Things like that don’t happen to people like me.”
“With me backing you up, it could.”
He walked to the door. “That’s where you’re wrong. Half the police department is on the take. The DA’s office is full of crooks. No one in this town gives a damn about stopping Marcelo or helping out all the people he’s hurt.”
“You just haven’t met the right people.”
“Don’t you get it?” He stalked toward her, waving the folder in her face. “People like Watson and me, we don’t count. We’re throwaways. No one gives a damn if we live or die.”
“That’s not true.”
He cocked his head. “Oh, really?”
Mia rose up on the bed and waited until he met her gaze. His gray eyes smoldered in the morning light.
She meant what came next. “I care.”
9
DAMIEN
He couldn’t tell if Mia was naïve or blind. How did she not see the corruption all around her? If a cop wasn’t on the take, then he was destroying evidence or cutting out early and getting paid double to look the other way.
The DA’s office was even worse. They cherry picked the cases to make examples of. Prosecuting this perp, letting that one walk, making a deal with another. If you threw enough money and influence around, you could get them to tap in front of the jury to a dance you choreographed.
He’d seen it over and over with the cartel. Got a heavy who had landed in jail? They would push money to the right prosecutor and he would be out with a misdemeanor assault charge and time served. One of the main traffickers get pulled over with a kilo in the back? If he snagged a dirty traffic cop, the officer would get a taste and send him on with a warning.
Enough of the bottom feeders got jail time that on the surface everything seemed fine. That’s how it worked with Marcelo. You earned your place in the cartel and worked your way up. If they needed to make an example of someone and appease the so-called good guys, a higher up would take the fall.
No one was safe. Especially not a gorgeous girl with a dangerous memory. Damien fingered the chain around his neck. “You’re in way over your head with this, Mia.”
“Then help me.”
If only it were that simple. “No.”
“Why not? What are you so afraid of?”
Damien rolled his eyes. “Don’t you get it? You’re the one who should be afraid.” He threw the folder on the floor and stormed up to her. His fingers dug into her arms beneath the sheet. “I’m handing you over to the cartel tomorrow. In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be their property.”
Her brown eyes shimmered and her lips fell open. The truth cut deep. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’m a dead man. If I hand you over, I can make a deal. You’re the only leverage I’ve got.”
“You don’t have to do this. I can help you.”
“Not with this.”
She reached for him, but he held her back. “Talk to me. Tell me why I’m so important. Maybe I can help.”
He let her go and staggered back. “I can’t.”
Her voice turned shrill. “If you’re handing me over, then what does it matter? I deserve to know why. Please, Damien.”
Fuck. He never should have told her his name. Mia Davenport was solidly under his skin. She wormed her way in sometime between trying to escape and letting him come inside her.
He could see the goodness in her. It sparkled like a crown woven through her hair. And he was sending her straight to the devil.
Damien had done some horrible things. After Melanie, whatever the cartel told him to do, he did it. What did it matter? Everything good in the world was gone.
Because of him.
He rubbed a hand over his buzzed hair. He was in so deep, he could never get out. Unless he gave Marcelo something he wanted more. A witness. A hot new piece he could sell to the highest bidder.
Mia was a tool. Nothing more.
He looked her in the eye. “Has there ever been someone you cared about so much that when they were gone, you wanted to die?”
Mia stared at him, the color draining from her cheeks as the seconds ticked by. At last, she answered. “No.”
“Anyone you ever loved more than life itself?”
“No.”
“Not once?” He looked her up and down. A pretty girl like her? No high school sweetheart or college boyfriend? He might have grown up on the streets, but he knew how the rich lived.
Someone out there had to care about this woman sitting in front of him. She was kind and passionate. Determined and full of life.
She shrank down on the bed, all at once so small and vulnerable. “Guess I’ve never mattered much to anyone.”
Shit. He fought down every instinct screaming at him to hold her. “I’m sorry, Mia.”
“I don’t need your pity.” She crossed her arms over the sheet. “You’re a murderer for God sakes.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“If you hand me over, you really think you’ll get whatever it is you’re after?”
“I don’t have a choice. It’s my only option.”
She wiped at her left eye. “You’re even more naïve than I am. If everything you’ve said about the cartel is true, they’ll never give you what you want. You’ll never feel whole.”
Damien clenched his fists. “You’re right, I won’t. But at least I’ll know the truth. I’ll know it wasn’t my fault.” He turned to the dresser and grabbed her clothes. They landed on the bed with a soft thud. “Get dressed. I’ve got to meet someone.”
“What are you doing with me?”
“Making sure you don’t leave.”
* * *
Damien strode out of the house and pulled his hood over his head. Meeting with JJ was a major risk. One that could get him killed. But he needed to know what he’d be walking into the next night.
Mia’s words kept repeating inside his head. If he handed her over, would Marcelo give him what he wanted? Would he tell him the truth and let him walk away?
He thought about her gentle touch. The way she curled up against his chest in the night like she needed him. It had been years since he’d held someone else like that.
Those nights still haunted him. The bitter cold. The hard concrete. The grunts and fast shuffles of feet as strangers passed them by. People rushing home to their houses and heaters and fireplaces. To waiting blankets and warm soup and love.
Men and women stepped over the tiny pair huddled into the walls like they were weeds that needed pulling. Damien shoved his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. It wasn’t all from the night air.
People like Mia would never understand what it meant to be scared and hungry and so damn desperate you’d do anything to survive.
The headlights of the car in front of him flicked on and off. She would understand soon enough.
He slid into the passenger seat. “Hey, JJ.”
“S’up, man, you look rough.”
“I was with Angelo at the DA’s place.”
JJ hissed and shook his head. “That shit’s not good, man. Cops are everywhere. Media’s a fucking circus. You need to get the hell outta here, man.”
Damien glanced at JJ. Built like a tank and a half, the man took up all the space on the driver’s side of the Crown Vic and then some. His massive forearm sat on the center console, bulging with veins.
With a reputation for hitting first and not bothering to ask questions, the guy had one serious temper. But he’d always been chill with Damien. One of the few guys in the scene who took him at face value.
If JJ said shit was bad, it was a God damn cesspool.
“How’s Marcelo?”
JJ snorted. “Foaming at the mouth. He wants someone to pay for this fuck up. It took him years to get in with the DA’s office. Now he’ll have to start all over. With the turnover in cops, he’s feeling the heat.”
Damien nodded.
“He finds out you were involved, he’s gonna want your head.”
“Gotta ask for a favor.” Damien knew it was a risk, but there was no one else he could trust.
“Depends. What’s in it for me?”
“If it goes down like it should, you’ll be a fucking hero to Marcelo.”
JJ twisted in the seat. “Yeah? Then talk.”
“After Angelo fucked it all up, I showed up. Took him out.”
JJ leaned back. “You shot Angelo? Yo, man, that’s…bad.”
“Hear me out.” Damien turned to face the other man. “Now it looks like the DA shot him. Couldn’t risk Angelo talking to the EMTs. If they found out Marcelo was involved…It was the best way to keep it quiet. It looks like a robbery gone bad.”
His fellow criminal thought for a moment. “I got you. All right. So, what you want me to tell Marcelo?”
Damien shook his head. “That’s not it. He already knows.”
JJ frowned. “Then what is it?”
“There’s a witness. I took her.”
“Shit.”
“I don’t trust Donny not to play me. I need you to get word to Marcelo. Tell him I want to set up a trade.”
“You’re playing with fire, Damien.”
“I know.” He ran his fingernails over the seam in his jeans. “But will you do it?”
The way JJ looked at him, Damien wasn’t sure whether he’d gone too far. You could never trust another criminal. Not all the way.
At last, he answered. “Yeah, I’ll do it. But that’s it. I’m tapped out on favors for your sorry ass. Don’t ask me again.”
“With any luck, I won’t need to.” Damien leaned in and gave JJ a quick pat on the back. “Thanks, man.”
“Keep your phone on. Marcelo doesn’t like to wait.”
Damien nodded and got out of the car. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched against the wind. If he knew JJ, the man was already on the phone, relaying what Damien had told him.
He opened the door to the safe house and slipped inside as his phone rang. “Damien here.”
“You wanted to speak with me.”
“Good evening, Mr. Marcelo. Thank you for calling.”
“Spit it out.”
Damien pushed back his hood and turned toward the window. He looked out at the darkness as he spoke. “I took care of Angelo for you. I’m sure Donny told you.”
“Yes. I appreciate your quick thinking.”
“When I was cleaning up, I heard a noise and went to investigate. I found a woman hiding in the coat closet. She watched the entire thing through the slats in the door. She knows you hired the hit.”
Silence.
“She’s alive. I’m holding her at the safe house.”
“Who is she?”
Damien ground his teeth together. “The district attorney’s daughter. Mia Davenport. She’s a real stunner.”
Even over the phone, he could hear Marcelo suck in a breath. “What is it you want?”
“I want to make a trade.”
“You give me the girl, alive, and I give you what?”
“Two things. The truth about what happe
ned to Melanie and payment for all my debts. I want out. Angelo was my last hit.”
Marcelo didn’t say a word. As the seconds ticked by, Damien’s apprehension grew. The man knew where he was. He could take him out at any time. A bomb. A shootout. But then the cartel would lose one of the best safe houses in the city. Risk more media attention.
“You have a deal. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. You bring the girl to the Derrick warehouse on the pier. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Damien exhaled. “I’ll be there.” He pulled the phone from his ear to end the call when Marcelo spoke again.
“Getting out’s not as easy as it sounds, Damien. You know how hard it is to break away.”
“I’m older now. It’s different.”
“If you do this, there’s no coming back. You’ll be dead to me.”
Like I’m not already. “I understand.”
The call ended and Damien shoved the phone in his pocket. Twenty-four hours. That’s all he had left before he found out the truth and had a chance to start over. He shrugged off the hoodie and hung it on a hook on the wall before walking back to the last bedroom.
Mia lay on the bed, hands cuffed to the bed frame, feet tied together. She’d knocked the lamp off the table, kicked the bed sheets off the bed, and almost managed to topple the whole frame onto its side.
A vicious little thing when she wanted to be. But in her sleep? With the fire of her eyes hidden by a thicket of black lashes and her golden skin glowing in the dim light?
She was a princess in one of those stories Melanie used to go on about. Too bad he wasn’t a prince who could kiss her and make her dreams come true.
He was a bad guy in those stories. Not a savior.
10
MIA
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Be quiet.”
Mia tugged on the rope wrapped tight around her wrists. “They’re going to kill me.”
Damien’s lips thinned into a line. “Not right away.”
Oh, God. This was worse than any nightmare she’d had as a child. No boogeyman could compare to Anthony Marcelo and his gang of thugs. She’d read the papers. She’d heard enough from the lawyers in her father’s office.
