She hadn’t packed clothes when she’d left her grandmother’s house, so Shorinda had given her some to borrow. He was interested to see what the short and curvy nurse had to offer that would fit.
Aliana’s hand reached out of the bathroom. “Hunter can you pass in the hotel robe. I think I saw in the closet.”
“Why?”
“These don’t fit. They’re too tight.”
“Huh? That doesn’t make sense.” But he had an idea of what was going on, and he wanted to see.
“She told me she kept her skinny clothes. But because she’s shorter, she thought the yoga outfits might work. They don’t.”
Yep. Spandex.
“It’s just me,” he coaxed.
“Hunter, give me the robe,” her tone brooked no argument. God, the Vice Principal voice made him hot. He handed her the robe.
She came out rocking the robe like a queen.
“I really wanted to see the yoga outfit.”
“It was lime green, it would have clashed with the last of the bruises,” she said haughtily. “So, tell me what’s going on.”
He looked around the room. Dalton had done well, it was a mini-suite with a couch and a coffee table. He saw she’d already taken a nap on the king-sized bed.
“Let’s sit down.” He went over and grabbed a Snickers bar, a bag of chocolate chip cookies, and a bottle of water off the refreshment table.
“Hunter, those cost a mint. There’s a vending machine down the hall.”
“I’ll worry about it some other time. Anyway, Aiden’s here now. He can pay for the hotel.”
“I’m paying for my own hotel, and of course, you can have whatever you want. I’m sorry I said anything.” God, she was cute.
“I was teasing about Aiden. I’m paying for your hotel.” But he knew his friend, he’d be paying. Somehow, it’d magically happen. He was fucking annoying about shit like that.
“I’m not going to argue with you, just tell me what’s going on. This is my problem, I want to know about the investigation.”
God, she had like some sort of sexy kitten growl going on. He shifted on the couch so he could adjust his jeans. The last thing she needed is to see how aroused he was when she was alone in a hotel room with him wearing nothing but a robe.
“You met Aiden.”
“Right before you stuffed me in the back of a van. He seemed nice,” she rolled her eyes.
“He and Zed are staking out Mateo’s girlfriend’s apartment. Dalton has a lead on Rafael, and I went and visited LL, who finally had some decent information to offer.”
“He was Rita’s boyfriend, right? You used to talk about him occasionally.”
“He’s Rita’s husband now. They have four daughters and a son,” Hunter scowled.
“What?”
“What is with all these assholes thinking it’s cool to get their kids into the gang life. I would think they would want what’s good for them. Do you know what happened to most of the kid’s I hung out with? Dead, prison, and crippled.” He stood up and raked his hands through his hair. He thought specifically of Felix. Hell, he had friends he’d served with who had ended up losing limbs or in wheelchairs, but they had done something honorable. Not sold drugs.
He turned around and Aliana was in front of him.
“Tell me.”
“LL has his kid, Lorenzo, running prostitutes, he’s so proud of him. What the fuck, Alia? How could my friend’s thinking be so fucked up?”
“I don’t know.” She put her hands on his chest.
“Cariña, I need you to sit back down.”
“Why?”
“It gets worse.”
“Is this about Nicolas? I’d prefer to take my news standing.”
“San Marcos is just as determined or maybe even more determined than LL that Nicolas is going to take over Los Demonios.”
Aliana’s eyes sparkled, and her laughter filled the room. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. That boy is bound and determined to take down his father’s organization. I love him.”
“No, he has a plan.”
“Yeah, I know he does. We have to stop him. We have to get him out of town. We need to convince him to have the church find him a place in the Midwest to hide. He’s done.”
“San Marcos knows what he’s doing. He’s actually pretty proud of his boy. Thinks it shows initiative and leadership. Just the kind of qualities he needs to one day hand over Los Demonios.”
“You know, Mark didn’t strike me as crazy when I met him. Kind of scary, but not nuts. I guess my radar was off.”
Hunter grabbed her left hand in his and then stroked back her wild blonde hair so he could cup her warm cheek. “He has a plan, mi Cielieto, he holds you hostage and forces Nicolas to cooperate.”
She looked at him, confused. “I don’t get it, why did he try to kill me?”
“He didn’t, Mateo did. Mateo isn’t Nicolas’ brother, he’s his cousin. San Marcos didn’t want him to do that, Mateo was acting on his own. We need to find San Marcos, and he’s hiding deep. LL is looking for him. We need to find one of his lieutenants who can lead him to us, and since we already have a couple of leads on Mateo, we’re going to pull that string.”
Aliana had clutched his jacket as he told her what he’d heard. He wanted more. He shrugged out of his coat and took off his holster. She stared at his gun as he set it down on the side table next to the couch.
“Hunter,” she said softly, “I’m really kind of liking that out-of-state option.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I know, mi Amor. This is going to be over in just a couple of more days. You’ll go back to being a kick-ass Vice Principal, and this will all be in the past. Well, everything but us.”
She pushed against his chest so she could look into his eyes. Now he saw fear in her eyes for another reason, but behind that, he saw hope. He could work with hope.
Her eyes darted around the room, then she looked down at her robe and she looked back up at him. “Hunter, I, uhm.”
“Easy, Alia, there isn’t a chance in hell I want to make love with you five minutes after I tell you some madman is out to kidnap you.”
“Oh,” she started to bite her lip, and stopped herself, and licked it instead.
“Well, damn woman, if you tempt me like that, I take it back.” He couldn’t hide the desire from his voice.
She started to say something and then stopped.
“What?”
She looked down at his chest, then up at him through her lashes. “Do you think we could kiss again?”
God save him. “Yes, we could definitely kiss again.” He pictured kissing her in that rumpled bed and thought better of it. He led her around the coffee table and pulled her into his arms. She jerked and pulled the robe tight around her legs.
“Easy, everything’s fine. It’s just a kiss, mi Cielieto, nothing more.”
Her eyes cut away from his.
“Alia, it’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.” He leaned back and eased her against his chest. “Just holding you is the stuff of dreams.”
She looked back at him. “I feel special when you hold me. I always have.”
He should have come back years ago. But then again, had he been ready? Would she have been? He eyed her critically—the bruising had faded more, her lips didn’t look swollen, just tempting—but he had to be sure.
“Does your head hurt?”
“Hunter, kiss me,” her warm breath wafted over him as she touched her lips to his.
Her soft heat was incredible, and he wondered how such a delicate touch could be so powerful. He let her lead, but when her tongue came out to trace the seam of his lips, she hesitated and stopped. His eyes drifted open and collided with her panicked blue ones. He cupped her cheeks and drew her back.
“What is it, mi Amor?”
“You’re not doing anything. What am I doing wrong?” Her voice was tremulous, and he could see she was about to cry.
“Oh, Alia, you’re doing
everything right. You were perfect. I was wrapped up in your kiss. I thought you wanted to lead.”
“I don’t want to lead,” she said as her fingers bit into his chest. “I want you to. I like it when you do. It’s just, you were taking too long.”
Oh, he could lead, all right. He sifted his fingers through her hair, enjoying her look of pleasure. He cupped the back of her neck, his other hand dipping down beneath her robe just a bit, bringing her inexorably closer. He slanted her head so it was just right when their lips met.
He took possession of the tender treasure, molding her lips to his. She flowered open, and he savored the warm, wet heat, loving how she sought her pleasure. Aliana slid her tongue against his, and he kneaded the taut muscles in the back of her neck, his other hand sliding further down her spine, allowing himself this small taste of her skin.
She released her desperate grip on the front of his t-shirt and speared one hand into his hair, raking her nails against his scalp. He groaned his rapture, arching into the caress. Then his world stilled when he felt her other hand slip under the hem of his shirt and steal its way up his stomach, setting fire to every nerve in his body.
Hunter slowly shifted their positions so she was lying on the sofa. He hated that he had to pull his hand away from the silken skin of her back, but tracing her collarbone was no hardship. He was careful to make sure his body didn’t press against hers. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it was difficult because Cielieto had both arms wrapped around him and was pulling him ever downward.
He released her mouth and pressed her face into the crook of his neck, trying to gain a modicum of control, but it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, especially as her untried body swayed upwards toward him.
“Hunter?”
“I’m here, mi Amor, I have you.”
“That’s my favorite,” she sighed. Her foot was rubbing against his calf. He knew what that meant. If he looked down, her knee would be next to his thigh, her legs parted. He needed to think of something else. Anything else.
“What’s your favorite?”
“I love it when you call me my love,” she breathed the words into his ears, and it went straight to his cock. He was struggling to keep his body poised those few inches above hers, not touching. Not lying on, not pressing into…
Then she licked the side of his neck.
“Alia, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know we won’t go too far.”
He swept his hand down, determined to do the right thing. He grabbed the terry cloth of the robe so he could wrap it back around her. But by God, he would at least look before he covered her up. A shapely leg that went forever, silky white skin he wanted to explore, touch and taste. When he touched her thigh, she jolted as if lightning had struck her body. Hunter felt the change in the texture of the skin underneath his fingertips. Silk turned ragged as he found line after line after line of scar tissue.
“No,” Alia sounded agonized, but she didn’t move. No other word escaped her lips. He looked up into her blue eyes wide with fear. What was she scared of? He eased off the couch and knelt beside it, cupping her face.
“It’s going to be all right.” Then awareness exploded through his brain, and his heart ached. He knew reassuring her was the most important thing. “Alia, Cariña, it doesn’t matter.”
Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say because it sure as fuck did matter. His woman had been hurting so desperately that somehow cutting herself was the only way she could find solace. Goddamn right, it mattered.
Aliana must have seen it on his face because she whimpered and pressed herself back against the couch, tears welling in her eyes.
“No, Baby, no. You’ve misunderstood. I’m not mad, at least not at you. I just ache at the thought you were hurting so badly, you had to do this to yourself.” He rested his palm on the five inch by six-inch patch of scarred flesh on her right thigh. He could tell the scars were years old, but still, he wanted to somehow warm the spot. Heal it. Make it feel better.
“It’s ugly.”
“No, it’s not,” he defended immediately.
She covered his hand with her own. “Yes, it is, I’ve looked at it for years. It’s horrible,” her voice sounded like her throat was filled with broken glass.
He looked down again, getting a flash of lace black panties underneath the robe. At any other time that would have been delightful, but not now. He moved his hand and really looked at the lacerated flesh. His brain didn’t register scars, it just didn’t, every single precise cut indicated a story, a wound on her soul. Was she healed? Could he help?
He bent his head and feathered kiss after kiss on her scarred skin, all the while she stroked his hair and whispered his name. Finally, he looked up.
“Can you tell me? Was this going on while I was living here?”
She shook her head, blonde hair flying everywhere.
“When?”
“My senior year.”
“Can you tell me?”
She closed her eyes and sighed, then opened them again. She looked at him, really looked at him. “You understand, don’t you? How come?”
“A friend of mine’s younger brother did it. The kid had words cut into the back of his hands when he showed up at graduation, so Ollie explained it.”
“Oh. Is he okay now?”
“I don’t know. Ollie was discharged, and we didn’t keep in touch. Can you tell me what started it?” He needed to know. Had to know. “Was it because I stopped writing letters?”
She leaned forward, “Oh Hunter, God no. This had nothing to do with you. This was me. Something went wrong. I broke. Junior year things escalated at school,” she swallowed and looked away.
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, tugging her robe close around herself.
“It does.”
She swung around to look at him, her eyes furious.
“No, it doesn’t. It was the same kind of stuff as always, they were just older, and the pranks were more sophisticated, but my defenses weren’t any better,” she said bitterly. “Hunter, I had problems. I had no real coping skills, and I didn’t learn them until I got to college and met Dr. Taylor. She was incredible. She didn’t save me, she helped me to save myself. But it was a long hard road, and it still takes vigilance. Even now.”
“What do you mean, Cariña?” he kept his voice soft.
“It was like my drug, for me it alleviated stress and pain. When I feel that now, I flash to that. Sometimes the urge is so strong, it’s incredible.” Her hands clenched in the material of her robe until her knuckles turned white. “But I guess the good news is, I’ve fought it.” She gave him a tentative smile. “You help me to fight.”
He arched a brow in question.
She lifted her right hand and pulled a long chain out from under her robe. Hunter saw the gold medallion swinging in her grasp.
“This Hunter. It’s helped me for years. I’ve kept it close to me ever since you gave it to me.”
His heart stuttered.
“So, in the end? Except for the last couple of days, my life’s had a happy ending. I beat the bitches.” Then she leaned forward, and he got a glimpse of the tops of her breasts, he looked away. “Do you want to know something?” she asked in a whisper.
“Always.”
“I’ve checked up on them.”
“Who?”
“Heather, Lupita and Theresa,” she grinned. “Wanna know a little about their lives?”
Hunter loved the sparkle in her eye. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Lupita got caught stealing from the till at McDonald’s. It was the third time. She’s currently in county lockup.”
“I don’t know what happened to Theresa, but the best is Heather.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Remember how she always said she was going to make it big in Hollywood?”
Hunter nodded.
“Well, she did end up on TV.�
�
“Okay,” Hunter said slowly.
“Yep,” Aliana grinned. “She was working at one of the brothels in Vegas and on a cable reality show. Her specialty was groups, but then her teeth started coming loose. It turned out she was doing meth, so she ended up losing her job.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer gal.”
“You don’t think I’m horrible that I laughed my ass off, and re-watched the episode where her tooth fell out? I drank champagne.”
“Hell no. Do you have it saved on your DVR? Because I want to watch it too,” Hunter smiled broadly.
“Thanks, Hunter.”
“For what?”
“Just for being you. For being part of my past, for not judging me, for being here for me now.”
“You forgot the most important thing.”
“What?” she asked.
“You forgot to mention I’m going to be part of your future. Now, let’s get some clothes on you and order some pizza. If I can’t have one appetite fed, then we’re feeding my other one.”
She let out a peal of laughter.
God, he was in love with Aliana Mila Novak.
Chapter Thirteen
After the call from Dalton, Hunter got on his bike and headed toward downtown. On a Saturday night, heading toward downtown L.A., traffic was still a bitch. But Hunter took advantage of the law that let him lane split and dodged in between the cars. He made great time down to the hotel. He pulled up to the valet.
When he got to the front of the line, a white guy looked him up and down. “I’m sorry Sir, we don’t park motorcycles here at the Valet. Are you a guest?”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“You’ll need to park in our underground garage. Just follow the curve down to the right.” The young man pointed him in the correct direction. Hunter drove his bike slowly, surveying all the valet attendants as he went. It wasn’t until he was almost to the garage that he saw a young Hispanic man running up from the garage stairs. He’d bet his bottom dollar it was Rafael.
Hunter took the ticket to get into the garage, parked on the bottom floor near the valet section, far enough away so his bike wouldn’t be dinged by any other cars, and took the stairs two at a time up to the lobby. Dalton was relaxing on one of the couches talking to a striking older woman. He had managed to fit into the exclusive environment, even in jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. Dalton spotted Hunter immediately and excused himself and came over to him.
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