by Rose Harper
“Why didn’t you just fucking go?” I ask, fuming mad as I settle my weight on one hand, refraining from wrapping it around her slender throat in frustration.
I ignore the feeling of having her under me after all this time—the blazing heat that encases me within its wrath.
Years. It’s been years since I’ve been this close to a woman. My brother thinks of me as this man whore who fucks anything that moves, but what he doesn’t know is that’s the farthest from the truth.
I don’t fuck around with anyone. Never have; never will. They are a weakness I don’t need in this line of work.
I’m a scarred, tatted up virgin pushing thirty who’s lying between the legs of the woman who was going to be my first.
7
SKYLAH
I wish I could hear him right now to know what he was saying when he looked so furious. But the fact is, when he threw me in this truck, tossing me down like I meant nothing, my hearing aids fell from my ears into the floorboard. I spent my time trying to find them, while systematically trying to get out of here.
Still, I haven’t found them. I don’t even know why he put that gun between my eyes, then jumped in here on top of me when I went to get out of the car. The only thing I can relate those actions to is danger. Since he’s my protection detail—or whatever you call it—I must have been in danger, and he was doing his job.
My eyes spear down to his lips as he talks, trying to read his lips through the darkness. I desperately want to tell him it’s useless, that I can’t hear a thing without my hearing aids, but I don’t want him to see me as if I’m weaker than I already appear to be.
“Why did you lock me in the trunk?” I ask, noting the vibrations in my chest to level out my volume. I’m sure I sound drunk, but it’s the best I can do on such short notice.
Before I can ask again, this time demanding an answer, the glow from his phone envelopes me, keeping the top of his face and shoulders just in the shadows, but not enough that I can’t make out what he’s doing.
Craning his neck to the side, confusion riddles his eyes as he stops all movement. “What?” he asks, causing me to inwardly sigh in thanks for him using a one-word sentence. You don’t know how hard it is for someone to read lips if they never became proficient in that area.
Instead of repeating myself for the hundredth time, I say, “Nothing. Just let me out of here.”
Dear God, please don’t let him notice my lack of hearing, I silently plead, staring up into his eyes.
Inhaling deeply, he releases it as his eyes trail over my face. His lips move rapid fire once more, and the only thing I do is nod, hoping that’s the answer he was wanting. When he nods in return, the ball of emotions clogging my throat begin to dissipate.
I hate being put in situations like this. Even more, I hate the fact there’s nothing I can do about it.
Staying silent, I watch as Gavino leans toward the latch of the trunk. The feeling of his massive body between my spread thighs is an overwhelming feeling. At one point in time, there was no other place I wanted him to be.
In high school we were inseparable. All because he stopped a bunch of jocks from picking on me our freshman year because I was part of the less-than-popular crowd. It wasn’t until we were sophomores that I realized I had grown feelings for him throughout our freshman year.
We started doing everything together. Going to the movies, matching schedules, and even sneaking out of the house on a Friday night to go to the Parking Lot. He and I would sit in the back of my father’s station wagon, heating the windows as we explored each other until we knew the exact layout of every crevice and curve on our bodies. The only thing we hadn’t done is go all the way.
The night I was going to give myself to him, to take our relationship to the next level, something happened. We’d gone to a party, and there was booze and drugs aplenty. We started out with a drink a piece until it became two, then three, then six.
And the moment I blacked out, everything was lost. I woke up, feeling a rising pressure between my thighs and Gavino nowhere to be seen. I knew he and I had been together, and it broke my heart that he wasn’t there when I woke up. Completely shattered me is more like it. I felt hollow, used—everything he had never made me feel before is what I felt at that moment.
That entire weekend, he was a no-show at my house, which wasn’t like him. Ever since that moment he saved me my freshman year, we had spent every moment together on the weekends. So, him missing the entire weekend caused my hackles to rise.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that my worst fears came to pass.
Gavino was leaving me after taking the most precious thing I owned.
He stole it, like a thief in the night.
It was the same day his father yanked him out of school, and I never saw him or his brothers again. He didn’t say a word to me as he left the school, only giving me a scathing look of hatred with bandages covering his arms and neck.
His father gave me a look that could kill, while his brothers all pushed past me as if I didn’t spend every minute of my free time with their brother.
I was a nobody.
A castaway.
Made a dumb decision that led to even more mistakes. And still, to this day, I don’t even know why he turned out the way he did. Or why he hates me so much now.
My hatred, it’s warranted. He deflowered me, then left me to rot as the school whore. He told everyone … everyone I was a slut who would hand out with just the briefest hint of attention. His confession had every jock, nerd, and gothic asshole in our school coming up to me and trying to get sex.
I thought I meant more to him than just a piece of ass, but his actions tormented me up until the point I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was physically and emotionally exhausted from it all.
It didn’t kill me, but something in me died that day.
I tried to take my own life, and in return, I was punished by God. I could do nothing but sit back and watch as my parents were ripped away from me. Their absence changed my life forever.
8
GAVINO
Her warmth.
Her floral, crisp scent.
It’s flowing all around me, stunning me into silence. The same stillness extending all around us. It’s a heady feeling being pressed against a woman’s softness, having her subtle curves melt into the hard lines of my body.
It’s no doubt a feeling someone like me doesn’t deserve. The things I’ve done and seen—the deaths I’ve ordered to be carried out. Hell, the fucking killings I’ve carried out myself.
Sighing, I shift my weight, trying to get closer to the trunk lid. Just because I can’t hear anything from this distance doesn’t mean there isn’t someone still out there. I need to make absolutely sure we’re alone.
At this point, I don’t know if the threat is gone or not, but I do know we can’t stay in here forever. Before long the oxygen swirling around us will run out. We will eventually have to move from here, and I need to be ready for anything.
Gathering myself, I feel around for the panic button I had installed. My fingers trail over the soft carpeted floor, skating over various zip ties, tools, and … what the fuck?
Pulling away from her, I grasp the plastic device and bring it in front of me. The soft glow from my cell phone gives me just enough light to make out what it is. Looking closely, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as my eyes deftly lift to hers, seeing unshed tears dancing along the surface.
“Sky, what is this?” I ask, hoping it isn’t what I think it is.
For years, people have been trying and failing to snuff out my life. All the way from homemade bombs that look like everyday things we use, to professional explosives. Yet, nothing has compared to the little device I now hold in my hand. It’s nothing I have ever seen before, but I know it’s significant.
Furrowing my brows, my eyes narrow in warning. “What. Is. This?”
Studying it closer, I feel the first stirrings of anger building up i
nside me. The longer I kneel there, staring at the offending object, the more my blood begins to boil.
It looks like a fucking hearing aid made with updated technology. There are no buttons on it, just a little disk that slides to the left and right. The wires that come from it are wrapped in a thick, hard plastic, which curves its way to the end where a soft, flesh-colored foam piece sits.
There’s only one problem. Sky has perfect hearing, even though she chooses to ignore most of what is said. Her hearing was perfect in school, and it’s perfect now.
What if she doesn’t need protection? What if she is the threat and her main mission was to get me? What if she needs me to get through to the Brotherhood? The moment the thoughts run through my mind, I snap. I’ll be goddamned if I allow anyone to get the drop on me or the Brotherhood.
We have only one credo in the Brotherhood. The only thing we uphold more than we do our own familia.
We live the Brotherhood, breathe the Brotherhood, and die for the Brotherhood.
So, if anyone threatens a member of the Brotherhood—even if they are a charge—their time is up.
It’s law.
It’s the very essence of me, and she’s fucking with it.
“Answer me now, piccola ragazza,” I growl, bringing my hand to her neck, wrapping my fingers around her petite throat.
Her eyes immediately widen in alarm. Her small fingers claw at my muscular forearm as she fights for breath.
“Gav,” she wheezes. Her body jerks underneath mine, and with the limited space we have in here, she’s going nowhere. “Please—” She gasps, her mouth opening and closing like a fish desperately trying to get the sweet air into her lungs.
Narrowing my eyes, I bring my face so close to hers our lips skim against each other’s, and seething, I murmur, “When I’m through with you, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”
Staying that way for a few seconds more, to make sure the threat that lingers in the air between us doesn’t fall on deaf ears, I release her and push the panic button. Slowly, I raise the lid with my gun trained on any target outside.
My blood pulses in my ears and sweat dots along the surface of my fiery skin. Casing the street, I inch the lid up more until it’s all the way open, bringing me face-to-face with the eerie silence of the empty street.
Where moments before war rained down on top of us, there is nothing but our breathing sifting through the air.
After seeing there is no underlining threat, I slip out of the trunk. Cracking my neck, I work out the kinks caused by being cramped up in that trunk. In the process of stretching out my sore, achy muscles, the sound of Sky stirring reaches me ears.
Turning to look over my shoulder, the sight that greets me instantly has my blood boiling. I don’t even know the goddamn reason I have to protect her, not the reason she has those faux hearing sides—yet, she thinks she’s coming anywhere near me while I’m driving. Bull-fucking-shit.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I heatedly ask.
Again. Acting as if she can’t hear me, she continues to shuffle her way out of the car.
My anger takes over. Who does this bitch think she is? I silently seethe. Thrusting my arm out, I weave my fingers through her hair. A surprised gasp slips through her pouty lips as I jerk her head back, making her gaze into my depths of soulless hatred.
She may think the threat chasing her
“I asked you a goddamn question.”
“Why are you hurting me?” she whimpers.
What is it with her? Instead of fucking answering me, she answers a question with another goddamn question. I’m sick of this shit. She’s only been in my care for a few hours, and I already want to gut her like a fucking fish.
This arrangement isn’t going to work. Especially since I want to kill her more than I want to see her alive.
“I’m done with your shit, Sky,” I menacingly whisper, reaching inside my jacket. There is no threat if there is nothing to threaten.
Her eyes widen as they land on the gun in my hand. Fear registers. She fights my hold on her hair, twisting and pulling. But I refuse to allow her freedom.
This bitch is going to die. By my hand. Now.
I’m not made for this protection bullshit. It’s why I have never been asked to do this type of job before, always being the muscle of the Brotherhood. Killing. Wreaking havoc on anyone who dares to cross our path.
It’s all I know. All I breathe. All I yearn for.
9
GAVINO
“You don’t have to do this,” she whimpers, clawing at my hand.
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re the only skeleton left in my goddamn closet, and I’m setting your ass free.”
Releasing the safety, I put the blunt tip of the gun between her eyes. “Say your prayers, Sky, because they will be your last.”
One heartbeat, then two—her eyes stay trained on mine as I watch the tears build. Her chin quivers. Her body shakes. She finally realize that her path to survival is also one filled with twists and turns, leading her straight to the devil instead of her guardian angel.
I pull back the hammer.
All thoughts and feelings dissipate, leaving me feeling like an empty shell.
Then … my phone vibrates against my chest.
After throwing Skylah in the trunk, I had texted Valentino and told him how much of an asshole he and the others were for giving me this assignment. So, for them pushing me to the brink of insanity, I decided to push him and demand things in return. I told him if he didn’t have the items I’d requested in said text message, all bets were off, and I was going to put a bullet between her eyes. I still may. I haven’t decided yet.
No, I’d want to draw it out. Make her torment long and torturous.
Needless to say, all those items on my list are being delivered or have already been delivered and set up. He knew I was serious because I almost always chose to call someone instead of text them.
I hate that. Texting takes the emotional aspect out of the conversation. Even though I’m an emotionless bastard, I need to know what other people around me are thinking and feeling—how they do or don’t react to something I say.
So, for me to text him, he knew I meant business, and I wasn’t going to fuck with any of them. All they had to do was deny one request—just one—and I would be playing target practice with this little slut from here to Timbuktu.
Narrowing my eyes down at her, I inwardly wage war at allowing my finger to pull the trigger or answer the phone. I don’t know who the fuck it is, but I do know they wouldn’t be calling me if it wasn’t important. I only give my number out to my familia and the members of the Brotherhood. So, it’s either one or the other, and I hope like shit it isn’t a member of my familia.
Still unable to choose between answering it and capping her, the call ends up going to voice mail, with the reminder vibration letting me know the caller left a message. The gloomy silence of the abandoned street is all that surrounds us as I come to terms with what I have to do.
Being who I am, nothing is supposed to faze me. However, seeing a blast from the past like Skylah Bow has completely slayed me. It’s making me second-guess every one of my actions. Unlike what I would normally do—shoot first and ask questions later.
I find myself stopping when I should be plowing through. Keeping silent when I should be loud and obnoxious.
I hate this goddamn feeling.
A few moments later, my phone starts vibrating once more. With a threatening growl, I remove my hand from Sky’s hair and shove her back into the trunk. The sound of her crying out as she hits my tire iron ebbs my anger somewhat.
Shutting the trunk, I holster my weapon as I begin looking over my car. My pride and fucking joy. Retrieving my phone, I don’t even look at the screen as I make my way to the driver’s side and answer it. If it is my familia, they won’t question why I’m being so crass toward them; they’re used to it.
“You have two seconds to tell me why you’re
blowing my phone up, then another two seconds to tell me how you want to die for bothering me.”
“Heard you ran into some trouble,” Valentino says, angering me further.
“No shit, Sherlock. Just so you know, I’m sending you the bill for the damage to my car.”
“Which you know we will pay,” he says. “Now tell me the real reason why you’re acting like a little bitch starting her rag for the first time.”
“If you were in front of me right now, I’d put a bullet in your goddamn head. If I were you, I’d watch myself.”
“Gavino! Stop being a little shit just because you got babysitting duty,” he snarls through the line.
Clearly, this fucker doesn’t know whom he’s speaking to.
“Do I have to remind you what I can do to a human body in under ninety seconds? Because I have no problem testing that out on you, old man.”
Nothing about tonight is turning out how it was supposed to. Instead of being with my familia and celebrating, I’m here lugging around the last bitch I ever expected to. Now, I don’t know about you, but I have the goddamn right to be upset in a time like this.
I didn’t sign my life over to the Brotherhood; that choice was taken away from me. I owe those motherfuckers nothing.
“Just get to where you need to be and stay there. All of the items on your list have been delivered and set up,” he fumes, making me grip my phone insanely hard while I slip into the driver’s side of my car and slam the door. “Oh, and another thing—”
