He tore through the curtain without giving her a chance to answer. He heard her call his name as he exited through the main door, pulled it closed behind him, and leaned against it.
Fuck, he sucked as a man, as a Dom, and as a cop. Maybe he should just move to some deserted island and live the rest of his life as a drunk. He went downstairs to find Richard, refusing to answer questions and making sure he had Lucia firmly in hand before he left the club.
He fired up the bike and headed toward the mountains. He didn’t want to go home and face the lurking ghost of Rodney Baker. He’d sleep on the fucking ground first.
Chapter 6
“You look like caca.”
“Fuck you, Sanchez. What do you want?”
Vince turned his angry glare on Sanchez, who took a step back, then threw some papers on Vince’s desk. “Here. You were right. Fingerprints on the door of Dulce Tienda matched two known associates of Dustin Jaymes. Did you use a crystal ball to figure that out?”
“No. Just detective work, Sanchez. Take a lesson.”
“Man, who crawled up your ass and died? I’m just trying to…”
“Get the fuck away from me.” Vince growled the words out, and Sanchez held up his hands and backed up.
“Fine. Stew in your own crap.”
Vince swallowed deeply. He’d slept on a concrete bench last night at a rest stop near Albuquerque, if you could call it sleeping. Mostly, he’d stared at the stars and wondered what the fuck was happening to him.
He was a strong man, or he had been. He needed to recover what he’d lost, and until then, he was no use to anyone, including himself. He stood and walked to Ortiz’s office, entering at the captain’s barked command.
“I need a leave of absence,” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Denied. You’ve got too much shit to do. Clear up all your cases and I’ll consider it.”
“No. Sir.” He added the last word quickly. “I need to get away.”
“What you need to do is get your ass out to Lucia Caro’s place and tell her what we’ve found. Talk to Black Hawk and see why Jaymes is targeting him. Do your fucking job.”
When Vince didn’t move, Ortiz raised his eyebrows at him.
“Why are you still standing there? Go. Now.”
Vince shook his head, returned to his desk, and snatched up his keys. He plucked his ringing cell phone from its case, recognized Knox’s number, and hit the ignore button. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash last night. It was bad enough he was going to have to face Lucia with his bad behavior lurking in the wings. Maybe she would be a good girl and ignore it. But he doubted that very, very much.
* * *
“Siéntese abajo, nieta. Diga a esta vieja mujer cuál es incorrecto con Ustéd hoy.”
Lucia stared at the chair her grandmother patted. It was amazing to her the woman could sense when she was needed. Lucia hadn’t called her, but she’d walked in the doorway at precisely one, ready for some flan and Café de Olla.
“How did you know something’s wrong?” Lucia fought back tears. She took Vince’s flight from the room last night as a total rejection of her. She’d read him so wrong. She thought he’d at least been attracted to her. Instead, he’d just used her for quick sex, then fled.
She shook her head. She knew that wasn’t true. Vince had something going on inside his head, something that had taken hold of him and needed to be exorcised. But she didn’t think he’d let her help with that.
She sat down and wiped away tears from her eyes.
“Abuela, pienso que he caído en amor.” Her voice shook.
“Love? With who? A good Mexican?”
Lucia shook her head.
“Not a gringo? Your father will die from the shame.”
“Screw him. He hates me anyway.”
“No, he doesn’t. Your father is just a very traditional man, and you are not cut out for that. He may scream when you bring the man home, but I will stand behind you.”
She patted Lucia’s hand, then took a bite of flan. “So, tell me.”
Lucia told her grandmother an edited version of the story, and of how no man had ever affected her the way Vince had, which was true. Lucia had cried herself to sleep last night, but before then, she’d thought quite a bit.
She’d been excited about what she’d seen at Jaguars, true, but the real excitement hadn’t come until she’d felt Vince’s breath on her neck, his hands on her hips. And then he’d rejected her, pushed her away. She’d seen the pain in his eyes, but when she’d reached for him, he’d let her know her help wasn’t wanted.
“It was just sex to him,” she whispered to her grandmother. “He doesn’t want me.”
“Then he’s a fool,” her grandmother replied. She took a drink and wiped her mouth. “Let me tell you a story.”
“A fairytale? Grandmother. You’ve told me fairytales my whole life.”
“I also taught you to be your own person. Do you think you learned that from my son? Or the doormat he married? You just listen.
“A father had two sons, one that he loved and one that he couldn’t stand. He doted upon one and gave him everything he could ever want. The other, he made work for everything.
As the boys aged, the favored son turned selfish, demanding things but refusing to work for them.
“The younger son knew his father didn’t care for him. Yet he served his father, worked his fields, and tended his cattle. When the father became ill, he made sure he was well cared for. When the father asked why, the son told him things that were meaningful in life were worth fighting for. Like a father’s love. When the father died, he left everything but a tiny bag of gold to the younger son.”
“As he should have,” Lucia said. “He worked for it.”
“The story is not over.”
“Of course not,” Lucia said. She refilled her grandmother’s cup and took a sip of her own.
“The older son, angry he’d received so little, demanded more, and the younger son gave him everything.”
“What? What is this teaching me, anyway? That you work hard and then don’t have anything to show for it?”
“No. You don’t listen. The younger son knew he had what was important. He had the love of his father. He’d worked for it and not let it slip through his hands. That, to him, was worth more than the gold.”
Lucia turned her tear-filled eyes toward the doorway. “This isn’t about my father, is it?”
“No. If you care for this man, then you need to fight for him. Don’t let him slip away from you. And if, God help him, he has demonios, then you find a way to help him destroy them.”
Lucia smiled as she watched her grandmother whisper a prayer and then kiss her rosary.
“What if he won’t let me help him, Abuela? What if I’m not what he wants?”
“You will know, dulce uno, whether or not he cares for you. You will know.”
* * *
Vince had put off his visit to Dulce Tienda as long as he could. He’d waited until after four, when Joseph Black Hawk would be there. That way he would have a bit of a buffer zone when dealing with Lucia.
He had hurt her so very badly last night, but it was just another example of why he shouldn’t have contact with people until he was back to his old self again. Going to Jaguars had been a bad idea. He had to find some way to make it up to Lucia.
The door chimed as he opened the door. The shop was full of people enjoying flan, buñuelos, Mexican bread pudding, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a chili brownie topped with ice cream and fudge sauce.
A quick survey of the shop showed Lucia at a table, talking with a woman and a teenage girl. They had a piece of paper in between them, both of them pointing to it at different times. She was smiling and laughing with them and his horrible treatment of her last night hit him smack in the face.
Even if he had acted badly, he shouldn’t have run like a scared child. He cringed at the impression he’d left her with.
Still, she didn’
t look the worse for wear today. But then again, she hadn’t seen him yet.
He slipped into a booth so he was in her line of sight. When she saw him, she paused momentarily, but the smile did not slip from her face. She continued to talk with the ladies, who looked to be customers.
When the lady and her daughter had left, she walked to Vince’s table and sat down across from him.
“Buenos tardes,” she said softly.
“Good afternoon to you, too,” he replied.
An uncomfortable silence fell; then she cleared her throat. “Let me get you something to eat. A chili brownie sundae? They’re delicious.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. We need to talk about your break-ins. And, we need to talk about last night, too.”
She nodded.
“And, I need to talk with Joseph.”
“He’s not here yet. He’s late, which is unusual for him.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s go to my office. We can talk privately there.”
“That sounds good.” He stood and walked toward the counter, his gaze straying to the brownies. He loved chili-flavored brownies. Sweet chocolate with just the right mix of chili peppers to give it a spicy kick.
“You go,” she said. “I’ll fix you one.”
This time he didn’t argue. He walked into her office and sat down on the chair across from her desk. When she came in and handed him the treat, with what he was sure was more than one serving, he dug in. He’d only eaten a few bites of a sandwich for lunch, and somehow being around Lucia made him hungry, and for more than food.
The minute he’d seen her, his cock had sprung to life, throbbing with memories of how she’d felt wrapped around him.
When he’d finished his last bite, he set the plate on the desk and took a drink of water.
“I failed you last night. I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. It was fantastic. I loved it.”
“Fantastic, yes. But it wasn’t submission. It was pure, unadulterated sex.”
“And for it to be perfect for you, it has to be submission?”
“No,” Vince said. “I’m less than perfect lately, trust me. But I told you I was going to give you lessons. Then I practically forced you to…”
“Hold it right there, buddy. You didn’t force me into anything. As I remember, I was the one begging you. If anyone is to blame for last night, it’s me.”
Their gazes locked for a few moments. Vince sucked his lower lip into his mouth to hide a smile.
“Your fault, huh?”
“Yes. Maybe you should punish me. Isn’t that what Masters do to their subs? Punish them for behaving badly? I led you astray. I think you should spank me. Tonight.”
Vince felt remnants of the old him pushing through. He had a beautiful woman in front of him, willing to submit to him. This time, however, he would do it right. He would hold on to his emotions, and his unruly cock.
“Maybe I should.” Even as he said the words, he knew he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t capable of being the Dom he’d been in the past.
“I did some reading last night, on the internet,” Lucia said. “I…”
“Stop. Lucia. We need to talk about the store. I wanted to apologize for last night, and I did. But we can’t continue this conversation right now. This needs to center on business. We identified prints on your backdoor as belonging to two thugs who work for Dustin Jaymes. Have you ever heard of him?”
“No. Who is he?”
“He’s a general all-around criminal. He runs illegal gambling casinos, a bookie practice, and launders money.”
She sat back in her chair. “Who were the men?”
Vince reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “José Marquez and Steven Butcher. Do you recognize either of those names?”
“No. Why would they be on the back door?”
“Because that’s where they broke in. Why don’t you go and get Joseph, and we’ll see how he reacts to those names.”
“That’s so unfair. He told you he had nothing to do with it, he said…”
“He works for Jaymes in his spare time. Did he tell you that?”
Vince watched shock spread across her face. She quickly masked it and cleared her throat.
“I knew he had other jobs. I told you about his father.”
“Yes, but his other jobs aren’t for men under investigation for gambling fraud. Jaymes is not a nice person. If Joseph crossed him somehow, then Jaymes has him fitted for a toe-tag. I can’t put it any plainer than that. Bring him back here. Now.”
Lucia jumped up and ran for the main room. She was back seconds later, diving for the phone on her desk. She looked up a number, then punched it in.
“Khayia, where is Joseph? He didn’t come to work today.”
Vince watched her click her fingernails together as she listened. After a few minutes, she muttered for the person, presumably Joseph’s mother, to call when she heard from him, then she hung up the phone and sat down.
“He didn’t come home last night. And she said two men came looking for him this morning. One Hispanic, the other white.”
“Shit.” Vince popped open his phone. “Sanchez. Put an unmarked unit on Black Hawk’s house. Tell them to watch for the kid, and for thugs. If the kid shows up, bring him in as a material witness.”
He clicked the phone shut.
“This is bad.”
“Yes, it is. But, Jaymes doesn’t have Joseph.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because his goons wouldn’t have come looking for him today.”
He watched relief spread across her face, and he felt horrible about having to complete his thoughts.
“Lucia. If Joseph has taken money from Jaymes, he won’t take it lying down. If he can’t find Joseph, he’ll come after people he’s close to. That means his family, and people like you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious. Jaymes is a nasty man. He’s slipped through the cracks for years. We can’t get enough on him to bust him because he uses people like Joseph, whom he considers expendable. If they get busted, he pays them off to keep them quiet. Or…” his voice trailed off.
“Or what?”
“He kills them.”
Chapter 7
“You don’t have to do this,” Lucia said, handing her keys to Vince.
“Humor me.” He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door to her house open. He ushered her inside, then held up his hand. “Wait right here. I’ll go and check things out and be right back.”
She watched him disappear through the kitchen doorway. He’d asked her to describe the house layout before they’d arrived so he’d know which room was what. Her stomach still felt queasy from his words at the shop.
He kills them. Her worry for Joseph increased. He was a good kid who’d had a hard life. He didn’t deserve a scumbag like Jaymes using him and then discarding him. She prayed he hadn’t stolen anything from the crook. But, he probably had. That could be the only explanation for why Jaymes was after him.
She wondered if they’d had problems at the Black Hawk house. Khayia hadn’t mentioned it when she’d called, but then again, she probably wouldn’t. Lucia had been surprised she’d mentioned the two men. The woman drank a little bit, which was part of the reason her husband had left.
Lucia sat down on the couch and waited for Vince. He came back a few minutes later. She’d noticed he hadn’t taken his gun out of his holster when he’d started to search. She knew from what Pam had told her the shooting had affected him. She wanted to know how. She wanted to help him. She wanted to be with him.
“Well?”
“Nothing. But I’m staying, just the same.”
“I like that idea.” She lowered her voice. “Then you can punish me.”
His laughter made her smile.
“Lucia, we need to talk, first. Submission isn’t something that can be accomplished in one setting. It has to be consensual; therefore, it needs to be discussed
. Groundwork needs to be laid, rules need to be discussed. Plus, as much as I like the idea, I don’t think I’m the man to…”
“I don’t want anyone else.” She rushed her words out before he could say he didn’t want to be with her.
“Last night showed my control is not as good as it used to be. The old Vince never would have fucked you like that. Not on an informational tour of the club.”
He sat down next to her and leaned back into the couch.
“Do you think it’s because of… the shooting?”
She saw him tense and she bit her lip. She shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“Yes. I know what I did was right, but just the same I keep second guessing myself. I wonder if I should have shot near the ground, or over his head, or his leg.”
“Vince. If you’d done any of those things you might have hurt someone else. Like your friend, Tatum.”
“Yes, but I could have hurt Tatum by shooting Baker, too. He was holding on to her. But when he lifted up, I saw my chance, and I took it.”
“You saved her life.”
“And I took another in the process. True, he was a murderer. But did I have the right to be judge and jury? Did he deserve to die in the dirt?”
Lucia reached over and caressed his cheek. She wanted to lean over and kiss him when he increased the pressure, tilting his head toward her hand.
“My grandmother likes to tell fairytales, parables really, to show us how things should be done in life. To show us right from wrong.”
“And what do you think she’d tell me?”
Lucia laughed. “I’m sure she’d pick the one about learning to deal with the hand God dealt you. She always says He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”
“I hope she’s right.”
“One of the things that she always told me was that you have to take responsibility for your own actions.”
“I take responsibility for killing Baker.”
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. Baker’s actions put him in a situation that resulted in his death. He’s responsible for that. Not you.”
Dark Redemption Page 26
