by India Kells
Instead of reassuring her, it felt like a punch in the gut. “And the second thing?”
Cleo’s face softened. “There is only one place Malco would go to regroup, that he deems safe enough, apart from the Agency, and that’s his place.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “The first number is the security code for the front gate and outside perimeter, the second one is the code for the house. Please destroy it once you’re inside, and I’ll deny giving you the codes if he ever asks me.”
For the first time in several hours, Frida felt like smiling. “Thank you, Cleo.”
With a wink, the manager returned to her desk, and Frida finally felt she had a plan to corner Malco and get the answers that were haunting her.
It felt like she was in a Mission Impossible movie from the moment Frida stepped out of James’ truck. As she entered the first code at the gate, the annoying hunk rolled down his window to advise her to remain on the path to the house, as it was likely Malco had planted explosives in the garden. She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
Instead of answering, she closed the gate in his face and headed to the front door and another keypad. After entering the second code, Frida heard the lock click. There was no turning back now. Shoving the piece of paper in her pocket to dispose of later, she stepped inside. The place was dark as it was late in the afternoon, and rare storm clouds dimmed the sunlight.
She remembered the way to the kitchen and the hallway to both bedrooms, but as they were empty, Frida decided to venture deeper into the house.
The house was all on one floor and was bigger than it appeared from outside. Once she passed the garage door, she heard a muffled noise. And then another followed by a groan and shout.
Moving faster now, Frida followed the sound that led to a half-closed door and peeked through the crack. Her breath caught when she saw Malco inside.
She couldn’t see the whole room from her position, but what was visible was Malco hitting a punching bag as if he wanted to tear it open. Shirtless and dripping with sweat, he’d taped his fists with a red bandage. The only light came from the side window, and it cast an erotic glow over him.
Each muscle bunching because of the effort, his handsome face looking intense and threatening in the dim light, Malco looked every inch of the warrior she knew he was. He had been a Green Beret, and that was no small thing to accomplish. They were special operatives involved in dangerous missions and only carefully selected men got to that level. Malco was one of them.
Fascinated, she watched him pummel the bag with even greater force, lust quickly mixing with admiration. When he moved and came into full view, Frida froze as her she caught sight of his right leg. The black sports prosthetic started below his knee and encased the limb before curving into some sort of blade. Even with this extension, he moved with lightness and purpose, much more than she would ever be able to do with both her limbs intact.
Her head pounded as more questions hit. Despite her initial intent to confront him, Frida felt foolish now. She was intruding on a man who had more layers than she’d initially thought, and he probably fought his own demons. Maybe hearing about her pain triggered something, maybe even PTSD, and he needed time to process. She was such an ass.
Deciding Malco needed this moment for himself, and that she would catch up with him later, Frida moved backward and turned away as silently as possible. Maybe she could call the Agency and have James come back and fetch her. She could see where Rina was and return to the center. Maybe talking to the kids again would bring forth more information.
She didn’t have time to take another step before she was body-slammed into the wall. Her ears ringing, a wide hand squeezed her neck for a second, making it hard to breathe until it relaxed enough to allow her to draw much-needed air. Her heart beating hard, her eyes went to the towering figure and she recognized Malco.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Her question felt dumb as soon as she asked it.
Malco was breathing harshly, his sweaty skin plastered against her, heat pulsing from him like a furnace. Frida expected him to step away, but he kept her prisoner.
“That’s my question. How did you get inside my home without setting off the alarm? What are you doing here?”
Anger was clearly etched on his face, and Frida felt even worse for intruding. “I’m sorry. You disappeared on me at the Youth Center, and I couldn’t find you.”
Malco immediately released her and retreated back into his home gym. Frida didn’t know what to do. Should she leave? Apologize again? Her body leaned toward the exit, but her stubbornness stirred her toward the man who was once more pounding the punching bag.
When she entered the room, Malco seemed even more enraged than before; the violence of it almost made her step back. He didn’t acknowledge her for a long moment, and she started to notice pain piercing through the fury. He fought like a man possessed, his harsh breathing turning into painful moans and half shouts until he threw his head back and roared like an animal.
Frida trembled, but felt like her feet were in cement, unable to look away from the man who was now pacing the length of the room.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I needed time to process what you said.”
Frida wasn’t sure what to say and forced herself to step forward. “I’m intruding. I’m sorry. But I had to know why you were so angry at me, why you left me there and called James.” She didn’t leave him time to answer. “My name change is official, and it’s the one I use everywhere and passed the bar with. I don’t really talk a lot about my past, about what my father did, it’s… people are quick to judge, and it always kills the mood. I would have gotten around to telling you, but I can’t change my past, and…”
“Stop!”
Frida jumped at his order and closed her mouth. He’d stopped pacing and was now six feet in front of her, standing straight in a military pose. It took a minute or so until he exhaled, and his body relaxed.
“I didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just that this afternoon, figuratively speaking, you punched me in the gut. It’s not about your family being in an LA gang. It’s… Sometimes life is a fucking bitch, and plays the most awful tricks on people.”
As he talked, Frida saw his shoulders hunch a little, as if a heavy burden slowly settled in on him. “Shane assigned me your case because not only do I have a keen interest in the gang wars here in Miami, and those kids at the center, but because I, too, grew up part of a gang. Not to the extent you did, but my older brother and I were in deep at a young age. We knew nothing else and would probably still be there if it hadn’t been for Jay being killed by a rival gang. That was such a shock. I grieved for him deeper than I did for my mother.”
He shook his head and sighed. “I wanted to kill those bastards. All I could think about was revenge, but what could I do? I was just a kid, and without my brother, I was even more vulnerable. And then I remembered Jay always said that being in the gang was only a stepping stone to a better life. It was to honor his memory that I eventually joined the Green Berets because I knew how much he admired them. Life moved on, but I never forgot. The emotions just dimmed a little… until I heard the name Garroyo.”
Frida swallowed her throat dry as sand. Small threads of understanding started to link inside her brain, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for what would come next.
“My brother fell head over heels in love with a girl involved with the Dead Kings. He told me about her, and we dreamed up plans at night, so Jay and his girl could escape and be happy together. But things went south, and it nearly destroyed me. And you.”
He took a step toward her, and she took a step back as if to flee. This couldn’t be real.
“His sweetheart was Camilla Garroyo, and I remember she once told me she had a little sister and joked that I should hook up with her. I remember it made me blush. But I never thought in a million years I’d meet her until you said your name. I was taken back in time, all the sorro
w, the pain, and the rage exploded inside me. I couldn’t contain it, and I didn’t want you to see. I had to get myself together.”
And for the first time, a tight smile came to his lips. “And you turn up here, and it’s worse. Not only was I losing my mind, but I wasn’t prepared for you to see…” And then he shook his prosthetic.
With this overload of information, Frida didn’t know which emotion to latch on to. Anger, sorrow, fear—all those feelings she’d felt as a tween when she was told Camilla had died came back. And all those sacrifices she’d made to avenge her sister. “Camilla told me she was seeing someone but was tight-lipped about who he was. She never said his name. Later, I couldn’t bring my father up on charges for Camilla or her boyfriend’s murder as their bodies had disappeared. I swear if I’d known, I’d have reached out to you.”
“I was overseas on a mission when you brought your father down. I was so fucking happy. It didn’t bring Jay back, but at least the Dead Kings were either rotting in jail or dead and wouldn’t hurt another family again. You’re the one I have to thank for that.”
Lightheaded, Frida took a couple of steps back until she leaned against the wall and then sank to the floor. She looked at her hands on her knees, lost for a moment. No wonder the guy had left if he’d experienced the same emotions she felt now. Life was a bitch, as he said. Couldn’t be truer.
Malco came forward, and then her eyes caught on his prosthetic before she looked up. “You’re wrong. I don’t care about your leg, except I know it caused you pain. I hate to think of you hurting.”
He towered over her for a second before sitting beside her on the floor. “You say that, but I’ve learned over the years that not all women are comfortable with a veteran, even less with an amputee. It generally turns them off.”
His tone turned a little sarcastic, and somehow, it lightened the mood. She elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s a lot to process… I don’t know what to think about everything, but as for your leg, it’s not turning me off, because I don’t get turned on or off by feet or legs. They’re not my fetish. That mouth of yours, though, that’s real sexy. I’m still tingly from this morning.”
Even if there was still a lot to discuss, at least they’d cleared the air.
Malco leaned a little closer, his eyes smoldering. His heated body was getting to her, and she knew they had come to an understanding when his lips pressed against hers in the sweetest kiss.
She regretted everything he’d suffered but knew they could only move forward. They weren’t kids anymore and they had the power to save those kids from the Youth Center and clean the crooked cops out of their city.
Chapter Eleven
After taking a quick shower to get rid of all the sweat and stress from his workout, Malco felt more human again. The shock of finding out Frida was related to the Dead Kings, and his brother’s murderer had rendered him speechless. He’d felt trapped, all the pain and helplessness of losing his brother coming to the forefront of his mind like a hammer to the head. It was difficult to fight the darkness, which was why he tried to remember happier times with Jay. How much he’d liked to laugh, the love he had for his Camilla. How he’d dreamed of a life with her away from all the danger, traveling with her, especially to Africa for a safari. That had surprised him, but Jay shrugged and said that it was Camilla’s dream and so it became his, and it made him happy too. Now that dream was dead with the two young lovers. A tragedy that brought him back to the present and Frida.
Running had been a dick move and not one he was proud of. Even as he’d left, he’d seen the confused, hurt look on Frida’s face and known he was an asshole for doing it. Regardless, he knew he wasn’t fit to be around anyone until he could process how he felt about this turn of events.
After losing his leg to a landmine, he’d spent hundreds of hours processing the loss. Guilt because others had been less fortunate and lost their lives and yet angry that it had happened at all. It had taken a long time to accept the loss of his leg and longer still to not let the pitying looks make him want to throw something. It was why he didn’t date a lot or actively tell people.
It changed how they saw him, and he didn’t want that. It had nothing to do with embarrassment or shame. He’d lost his leg defending his country and saved a young boy in the process. Shame never came into it; he just couldn’t be bothered with people who only saw his prosthesis and felt sorry for him.
He was a lot better off than most, and he lived his life proud of who he was. Alliance and the team were the only ones he felt comfortable enough around to not hide it. They understood it. They were all veterans in some way or other and treated him exactly the same.
He should have known Frida wouldn’t care either. She was as real as they came, and her attitude toward his leg cemented what he had come to realize as he’d pummeled the punch bag. He liked her—a lot. They fit in a way he hadn’t seen coming, and her being who she was, although a huge shock, seemed as if perhaps somehow the universe was righting a wrong.
Malco walked from his room and found her on the phone. She smiled as she caught sight of him, and her look made his blood heat. Moving forward, he slipped his arms around her waist from behind, giving her ample room to pull away if she wanted. He wanted to make it up to her, going off as he had was not okay, and he needed them to be okay.
She leaned back into him as she spoke with her assistant on the phone, and he laid his chin on her shoulder.
“Rina, can you scan those files and send them over on a secure server, please?” He felt her nod. “Yes, ask Shane or Cleo if you need to. I need to see them ASAP.”
Frida hung up and settled into his body with a small sigh.
“Everything all right?”
She nodded, but when she spoke, she sounded worried. “Rina found details of large payments to an MPD Union fund from the DA’s office.”
“Is that allowed?” Malco freely admitted that politics wasn’t his cup of tea. Frida tilted her head to him, and her lips turned down as she pulled free of his arms. “Yes and no. It isn’t illegal per se, but it isn’t exactly ethical either. What is interesting, though, is that Rina found links between a number of cops in the Union and questionable treatment of alleged gang member victims.” Malco moved to pour them both coffees, lifting the pot in question. “Yes, please. I have a feeling it may be a long night.”
He poured them both one and moved toward the back of the house where his home office was set up. It was large and sleek, with a couch, a massive glass desk along the left wall, and floor to ceiling windows facing the back-deck area, with a sliding door to the right.
“Wow, this is impressive.”
He turned and winked. “You should see my Star Wars collection.”
Frida looked at him, unsure if he was joking or not. “You do not have a Star Wars collection.”
“I most assuredly do. If you’re good, I’ll show you later.” He moved closer at her flirty smile and took her mug from her and set it beside his on the desk.
“I want to kiss you, but I’m scared I may have frightened you off with my outburst earlier.”
Frida cupped his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her soft palm.
“You didn’t scare me off. I’m made of tougher stuff than that. I had to be.”
“I’m sorry I ran. I just needed to process it, and I didn’t want anyone to see that.”
“I understand, I do, but even if we’re just having wild sex, you can’t run without telling me. You scared me and hurt me, and I won’t allow that from anyone, not ever again.”
“Deal. Next time, if there is a next time, and I hope there isn’t, I’ll tell you I need a minute.”
“Good, now kiss me before Rina sends this paperwork through, and I have no more time for kissing.” Malco dipped his head and, with his lips against hers, whispered, “Oh baby, there’s always time for kissing.” Then he did just that, kissing her slowly, deeply until he felt her sag in his arms, as hers came around his neck and she pushed her breasts
against his hard chest. He broke off with a heaving groan before he took it any further. They didn’t have time for what he wanted to do to her, not until the kids were safe from the gangs and the trouble that was brewing. With one more touch of his lips to hers, he stepped away, steadying her as he did.
“Time to go to work, Counselor.”
Opening his laptop, he went to work as Frida settled in at the desk beside him and did the same. They worked silently for a few hours before the ringing of his phone broke the silence. Standing, he stepped into the hallway to take the call, not wanting to disturb Frida.
“Hello.”
“Malco.” The voice on the other end of the line was barely discernible, and he had to listen hard to hear it.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Ty.” Malco went deathly still as he tuned out everything except the boy on the line.
“Tycen, Jesus, where are you?”
“Can’t talk long. People are watching me.” Malco could hear the fear and pain in the boy’s voice, and it made him grip the phone harder.
“Where are you? I’ll come to you.” Malco walked into the office and clicked his fingers to get Frida’s attention. She looked up in surprise, but his face must have said more than his words ever would because she was next to him in a second.
“Can’t. They’ll kill you.”
“Don’t worry about me, Ty. Just tell me where you are.”
“No, they’ll hurt my family if you do. Just tell my mom I’m sorry and I love her.” Malco was losing him, and he knew it. Whatever this kid was going through, someone had put the fear of God into him.
“Just tell me you’re okay.”
“I will be. It was just a flesh wound. I have to go.”
“Wait, call me tomorrow, and I’ll try and make it so you can speak to your mom yourself.” The line went silent, and he wondered if the draw of speaking to his mother one last time would be enough to make Tycen call them back.
