Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3)

by Nikki Belaire

  “I did! I’m here!” He gives her a gentle shake, her limp body flopping against the concrete. “I was going to save both of you.”

  “Come on, babe.” A familiar voice drifts from the shadows. “I’ve got the money. Let’s go.”

  Katrina’s humorless laugh burns his ears, conflicting with the quiet cries floating deep in darkness. She swings the small duffle bag full of cash over her arm, their reward for the hit. Bile churns in his belly, running up his throat at her indifference. “You killed her. Don’t you even fucking care?”

  Her shoulders rise and fall before she turns away. “It’s a job like any other.”

  Gina remains lifeless, her warm blood flowing over his arms. “I swear to God I was going to save you too. You have to believe me!” He screams into the emptiness. “Gina! Gina!”

  His eyes fly open, and he shivers in the damp sheets tangled around his legs. He sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face, trying to squelch the panic. Blowing out a deep sigh, he checks the clock: 4:28.

  Faint crying floats through the dim light. What the fuck? His hand slides across the blanket, her side of the bed empty.

  Ignoring the sting in his thigh from clipping the corner of the footboard, he races to the French doors, yanking down the black handle, and steps onto the terrace. His stomach drops at Gina curled into herself on the floor of the open-air shower, the confident woman from a few hours ago long gone.

  Fuck! The wall’s crumbled, and she’s exposed. Broken. Spent. Shattered. Because of him.

  His hands fly to the knob, wincing at the icy water hitting his bare skin. No reaction, no movement as he jerks the towel off the bar and wraps it around her shivering body. Fear burns in his chest, his muscles clenching at her empty eyes staring at him, watching him before he scoops her up and cradles her against his chest. He sits them in the side chair, droplets running down his shoulder from her wet hair as she shakes her head.

  “I’m s-sorry.” Sorrow laces her voice, her cold breath blowing against his neck. “I c-can’t be who you w-want me to be.”

  “I don’t want anyone but you.” He pulls her tighter, pressing his lips against her ear. “You’re exactly who I want.”

  Trembling silence the only answer he receives. He pushes too hard for her to open up, yet he’s just as guilty, hides himself too. Doesn’t let her in completely. Except to fucking hurt her.

  He loosens his grip and sits her on the ottoman, pulling away the soaked linen before grabbing the small stack of towels on the tile bench. Her gaze follows him as he squats in front of her, rubbing the terrycloth over her head and down her quivering body, able to wipe away the droplets but not her agony.

  He has to fix this, share his pain with her before she can trust him with hers. It’s his turn to confess. Dropping into the chair, he takes a deep breath and her delicate hands, trying to calm the anxiety swimming in his gut. “The truth is…you might not want me.”

  Her arms slide around his waist, laying against him, her only indication of listening, of being there with him. He kisses her silky hair. “I may not be the person you want to be with.”

  Warmth radiates across his shoulder at his Dad’s hand curling over his uniform, tears glistening in his eyes, the processional music swelling behind the stage. As close to equals as they’ll ever be. “Your mother and I are proud of you, son.”

  “I was in the military – special ops. Thought I was fighting the good fight. But, after a while, it wasn’t as easy to tell what we were fighting for. Who we were protecting.”

  Their rubber-soled boots maintain the silence as they run single file down the cobblestone streets, crumbled buildings the only proof a city once existed. His commander gives the signal, and the lead men break down the thick wooden door to a secret paradise hidden among the ruins. A man, draped in thick robes unable to minimize his enormous stomach, stands with his hands on hips, as if disgusted at their interruption.

  The soldiers usher him toward their escape route just as the ambush from the roof begins. The robed man grabs a young boy as they run and holds him in front of his body, converting his son to a human shield. Ignoring the child’s cries, the tiny body arching away from the fists grasping him, he drops him to the ground when they reach the SUV, climbing in and slamming the door shut. A torrent of gunfire and screams pierces the air behind them as the vehicle speeds away.

  “It got to the point where I wondered if we were doing more harm than good.”

  “Everything’s not that black and white, Dad. I know you don’t believe me, but the US military may not--”

  The vein throbs in his father’s head as he shakes his fist, shame curling his lips into a snarl. “A good soldier does what he’s told. You don’t question. You don’t stop. You get in there and do what you have to do! You get the job done!”

  “When my tour was over, I didn’t re-enlist. I’d earned a pretty good reputation, and the requests for my skills started coming in. I followed the money and went wherever it took me. No excuse, but I was 23, making a million dollars for a two or three-day job travelling all over the world. I couldn’t turn it down. And, for once, I always knew who the bad guys were, who I was saving.”

  The smug ass smirk fades as Max presses the Glock against the man’s forehead. Beads of sweat roll down the guy’s temples as they lock eyes, the realization of the end stirring a panicked fire in his expression. “How much? Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”

  The woman bucks against the restraints, her trembling body pulled taut across the bed, the blindfold soaked with tears. Max shakes his head at the bastard who would do this to an innocent by-stander in their war. “You’d never have enough.”

  One last sharp gasp before the man slumps to the floor, and Max races to her, ignoring her fists pummeling him in fear once she’s untied. “You’re safe now. You’re going home.” Her hands fall away before she collapses, relief stealing her burst of adrenaline, and he carries her to the waiting helicopter.

  “Until the last one. We staked out the location, set up our cover, everything going according to plan. My mind already counting the money when the target stepped onto the balcony. Only…” All the moisture evaporates in his mouth, the words lost in the sting of his throat. “…it was a woman. Maybe she was pure evil, committed the worst sins. I don’t know. But, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

  His heart pounds at the slender figure, pulling her hair into a ponytail in the burgeoning sunrise. He steps back, his head slamming against the concrete wall behind him. Katrina’s voice hisses in his ear. “What the fuck are you doing? Take the hit! She’s right there. Do it!”

  Rage rolls through him. She fucking knew. All along Katrina knew it was a woman. Accepted the job anyway. Greed more important than honoring the only request he ever made to her, attempting to preserve the few morals he still has left. Her final betrayal. It was over. The job. Them. Everything.

  Gina’s small hand presses against his throbbing chest. “You’re a good man.” Her voice soft but clear, loosening some of the tension tightening his body. “I know why you couldn’t do it.”

  He covers her fingers with his, trying to diffuse the fury engulfing him at the memory, welcoming the reassurance she offers even amidst her own sorrow. “I came back to the States, and Nick’s father, Salvador, hired me. It was a clean job. Easy cash. I worked on and off for him for a while. Until I received an assignment from a different source. A hit against Salvador himself. I warned him, but he didn’t believe me. Thought I was a fool for thinking anyone would attempt to overthrow him. That he could survive a traitor. Until his second in command struck.”

  Nick stares at his father, sprawled on the floor of the empty warehouse littered with bodies. Red slowly seeps through the old man’s white shirt, matching the winding patterns across the concrete connecting the dead men in a bloody maze.

  Nick looks up, meeting Max’s gaze. No sadness or remorse. Just a head nod. It is what it is. “I’ve got a job for you. S
tarts tonight.”

  His turn to nod. “I’m in.”

  “That’s how I started working for Nick, and finally destroyed my relationship with my father. I used to be a man he could be proud of. Now I’m just a bastard who hurts the people he loves. For money.”

  More than he knows what to do with. All safely hidden, ready for the day he leaves it all behind. Yet, worthless when it’s the only thing he has. He strokes her cheek. Unless she lets him back in.

  The sound of the waves crashing the only proof of the ocean in the darkness. Soon the sun will rise, and he’ll have to take her home. No mural. No villa. No them.

  A deep sigh blows against his hair, her icy fingers gripping him tighter. “Her name was Lily.”

  Shit! The tattoo on her hip, why she always flinches when he asks about it, pushing away his fingers stroking the orange flower.

  “She was so beautiful. Dark hair with the slightest curl, her skin clear and smooth, tiny pink fingernails you could barely see. But, she never opened her eyes. I never even got to know what color they were.”

  Her voice cracks, falling to a whisper against his skin. “Everyone told me it was my imagination. That I worried too much. But, I knew. She hardly ever moved or kicked. And, when she did, it was like convulsions. Like she was going to burst out of my stomach. Then nothing.” She clenches the waistband of his boxers, her knuckles digging into his back. “The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong. Said we would have to wait and see. Be optimistic.”

  He remains silent, fearful of the door closing again, of the bricks being re-built. Her fingers fly to her face, swiping at her tears before shaking her head, a bitter laugh engulfing them.

  “So, I went to church. I actually fucking prayed. I’m surprised I didn’t burst into flames. I would have done anything.” Her hair brushes his cheek from her head shaking. “Anything to take back what I did. But, it didn’t help. Nothing worked. I’m a horrible, selfish bitch. I got exactly what I deserved.”

  Her viciousness stabs his chest. Self-hatred coats her voice, so thick it’s destroying her, over-shadowing everything he’s trying to create with her. He steels himself for her reaction, but he has to know. “What did you do?”

  “I saw those two lines… and freaked out. I held that stupid stick in my hand and thought…” Goosebumps dot his skin at her strangled whisper. “…be a mistake.”

  Resolution fills his gut. He has to prove to her how wrong she is, how misplaced her guilt is. “Do you think you’re the only woman who’s ever panicked? That was scared of a positive pregnancy test?”

  She jumps up, fury blazing in her trembling body, her arm slicing through the air. “Don’t try and make it better. I wished I wasn’t pregnant. She knew! She fucking knew and thought she wasn’t wanted!”

  Sinking to the tile, she presses the heels of her hands against her eyes before her head drops to her bent legs. “I cared more about going out with my friends and getting drunk. I didn’t want to get fat. I didn’t want to have to tell Richard. I didn’t even love my husband. How could I love a baby?”

  A whirlwind of reasons fly around them, but the last one drives her hands over her head, her fingers fisting her short hair. The true one cutting her to the raw core. “I’m so fucked up. What kind of mother would I be?”

  He kneels down next to her, rubbing her shaking back, trying to soothe the anguish. “A wonderful one. Even in your fear, you did the right things. You didn’t go out drinking, you went to the doctor, you told your husband. You did everything a good mother does.”

  Her shoulders hunch around her slender neck, her chest heaving with turmoil. “Then why wasn’t it enough?”

  “I don’t know. But, wondering if you’ll be a good parent doesn’t hurt your child. If it did, none of us would be here.” He cups her chin, lifting her flushed face to meet his gaze. “You did what so many other people have done. They have doubts. They worry. They question. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t hurt her.”

  A hurricane of emotions swirls on her face, her forehead crinkled in torment, as if she can’t let go of the burden she’s been carrying for too long.

  “Thinking something doesn’t make it true. You have to stop torturing yourself. You didn’t kill your daughter.”

  “No!” She shakes her head, defiance filling her voice, small hands curling into fists. “No, I did this. It’s my fault.”

  She jerks away and flies up from the floor, running inside and grabbing her suitcase. Sobs engulf her body as she stuffs in the clothes scattered across the dresser. He glides his hands over her fingers, forcing them to still before he wraps his arms around her. “Stop. Gina. Please let me help you.”

  Her hairbrush falls to the floor, and she whips around, her eyes swimming in anger. “Just fuck me! That’s all we are anyway. Just fuck me, so I can get the hell out of here.”

  Her fingers drive through his hair, yanking him down to her. Punishing, raging kisses, forcing his lips apart, her tears bitter on his tongue as she sobs in his mouth. Her knees buckle, and he lays her on the bed. Sheathing her body with his, he nuzzles her neck while she cries, desperate to show her what she means to him, to prove she’s not the monster she thinks she is, that what they have is more than sex. His arms tighten around her, and he presses his lips to her ear. “I love you, Gina.”

  She trembles beneath him, a deep shudder rolling through her before she nods, her silky skin rubbing down his cheek. “I believe you.” A whisper in the darkness as her hands slide around his shoulders and her body softens. “I love you too.”

  Chapter 10

  Gina presses the phone tighter against her ear, the connection between Los Angeles and paradise as tenuous as hers with Max. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

  “I said we’re all set for Saturday.” Her assistant’s voice bursts through the air, and she jerks her head back from the squawk of the call suddenly becoming clear. “I just confirmed the menu with the caterers, and the lighting guys are finished.”

  “Thank you for taking care of everything while I’ve been gone. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can walk through the agenda one last time.”

  “Okay, have a good trip, Mrs. Williams…I mean Gina.”

  She flinches at her soon-to-be former name, an innocent mistake on Holly’s part. It was easier to ask the college student to call her by her first name than explain the separation with Richard. To admit her failure. Divorce so common these days, but still a disappointment to her parents. The first ever dissolution of marriage in their family history as she’s been reminded of many, many times. For no reason other than their unstable daughter left a perplexed man who couldn’t handle her irrationality. “Thank you.”

  She slips the cell into her bag and leans back against the seat. Max’s gaze never leaves the road while he talks to Nick, updating him about the installation of the high-tech system RJ created to monitor the perimeter of the island. No one can step onto the beach or land on the private air strip without being seen.

  Frown lines crease his forehead even though the report is good. Maybe because of her. Maybe because he asks too many damn questions. Grilling her over breakfast about her supposed-to-be -ex-husband and divorce papers that haven’t been signed and conversations that haven’t occurred. She wants more with him too, but being fuck buddies sure was a hell of a lot easier.

  Last night, he reached where no one else could ever touch, the bitter core she created and let fester until everyone was gone. Given up because she was too much of a crazy bitch to put up with.

  Except for Max.

  He stayed. Took her abuse, withstood every attempt to scare him off, to drive him away. Instead, he held on tight and endured the roller coaster, never wavering. Not sex or fucking. Just love, holding her close, accepting who she is, even when she couldn’t. Before she ruined everything again this morning. She lets out a sigh against the window, her warm breath fogging up the cold glass.

  Now they haven’t spoken since their argument at the villa. Didn’t ev
en have lunch together. She worked on the mural, while he met with Andy, leaving her at the house with Cord when they conducted interviews on the main island. At least he brought her back a salad. Still likes her enough not to let her go hungry. Yeah, she’s really fucked this up if vegetables are all they’ve got.

  He tosses the phone onto the console, his hand curling around the steering wheel before she can grasp his fingers and try to soften his frustration at her. To ease his disappointment that she wasn’t honest with him about the things she promised to be.

  Not that she can blame him. She’s fucked up. In the head and in her marriage. Her friendships. Her family. Them. Now she needs to make it better. Probably not right. There’s no way to fix what she’s done. But, maybe find a way to show her regret even if she can’t earn forgiveness. “I’m sorry.”

  A shudder rolls through her from his side-long glance, his drawn mouth full of disbelief. “Damn it, Gina.” He lets out a long sigh. “You swore to me it was over, and then you let me make love to you when you’re still married to another man.”

  Even drowning in her guilt, his sweetness makes her smile. Make love. Last night yes, but before that it was—

  “Why didn’t you sign the papers? Do you still love him?”

  Shame strangles her grin. No, because she never did. Married Richard for all the wrong reasons. But, she’s too much of a coward to tell him or Max. Not after the pain she’s already caused all three of them. “No.”

  “Do you love me?”

  Her head flies up, meeting his burning gaze before he’s forced to glance through the windshield again. “Yes.”

  “Then stop lying to me.”

  The hurt in his voice contradicts with the harshness of his words. Both of which she deserves.

  “I’ll sign the papers as soon as we get back and take them to him in person. Make sure he signs them too. I promise. Okay?”

  “This isn’t an ultimatum. I would never ask you to choose between him and me.” His fingers flex on the wheel, his jaw tightening. “I refuse to come between a man and his wife.”