BOUND

by Akeroyd, Serena

  He blinked. “That's how a relationship works in your eyes?”

  “In everyone's eyes, they're just too idealistic to admit to it.”

  “Well, it wouldn't be that way with me.”

  “You're just saying that.”

  “Why the hell would I? I've no need to say anything. Anything at all. I can't force you into something you don't want, not now I know your past...”

  “If you hadn't known, it wouldn't have stopped you though, would it?” she butted in with a growl.

  “No, it wouldn't,” he admitted. “That may make me a bastard, but look at it from my point of view. I know you want me. I've known since you first started rising through the ranks. I know you liked me enough to spare me jail. I've felt your eyes on me, watching me, thinking about what we'd be like together—and you can't deny that either. You can't, because I know this isn't one-sided. If anything, that one night we shared proves that. You wanted me, and you figured out the way to have me.”

  She wanted to sputter, instead, she felt her cheeks heat. “You're an arrogant SOB.”

  “Arrogant read truthful. There's no point in lying about any of this. No point whatsoever.” Lucia shook her head, but he continued before she could interrupt further, “And listen, be grateful that I do know about your past. After what you did, you're lucky I don't want your hide. Rape wouldn't look good on a cop's record now, would it?”

  She froze at that. Her heart's thudding slowed to a bum-bum-thud. “Rape?” she whispered, voice hoarse.

  “Yeah. I didn't consent to anything you did that night.”

  “You had a hard-on!”

  He shook his head, a sly look in his eyes. “You made me have that hard-on. You raped me.”

  Lucia released her grip on her knees, swiveled around so she could kneel, and sat higher up on her heels, then lowered. Her mouth worked, eyes staring at him in blind horror, and her hands fisted and released as she tried to come to terms with what he said.

  As the truth battered her, she raised her hands and covered her face. “I did. My God, I did.” Her lower lip trembled. “I—how could I have done that?” She moved her hands away. “Martinez, I'm so sorry.” She shook her head. “You see, I told you. I'm not right. There's something not right in my head. It didn't occur to me. It never does. Not until someone points it out to me. Something that I've done, that I shouldn't have. I'm sick. I am. I know it. Why do you want to be with me?” Another shake of her head. “After what I've done?”

  “Because I got off on it.”

  His simple statement had her mouth dropping open again. She blinked. “You did?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. I didn't say any of that to guilt trip you. I'm just trying to reaffirm that I know you. I know what you're capable of. And still, I want you.” He shrugged. “Does that sound like an offer you can afford to refuse?”

  She swallowed. “Why do you want me? I'm not exactly Hooters material.”

  He snorted. “You can ask that? You're the only woman I know who could turn a night like we had together around. Anyone else had done that, I'd have been furious as fuck. I didn't have to listen to you. I could have shouted out for Juan. We have a goddamn code word. He'd know to be cautious upon entering the room. Instead, I let you do it. I let you fuck me.”

  “So, it wasn't rape?”

  As relief filtered through her and she started to get angry at his terrifying her, he shook his head. “Who cares about the technicalities.”

  “I fucking do. If anyone should know and understand the power of free choice, it's me. You had the right to say no, and you did, and I didn't listen.” She slammed her balled fists down against the thick coverlet. “How can you want me?” she raged. “I'm an animal.”

  He studied her, his eyes darkening as he murmured, “So am I. We're perfect for each other, aren't we?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rico was gone.

  Eva was gone.

  Dead? The pair of them? Matteo didn't know.

  Information had trickled to him via the grapevine. From his own visitors and those who had visited his men inside.

  Knowing how lethal the pair were, Matteo could well imagine Rico ending Eva's life when she ended his. They were both like that. Deadly.

  In the brief time she'd been with the Lobos, Eva's reputation had grown. If the upper ranks needed someone taken out of the picture, then Eva would do it. Rico, too, but there'd been a difference between his old pal and the moaning bitch.

  Rico did it for the money. Whatever the price, he'd fulfill the hit. It was one of the reasons he'd disliked Eva, because over time, she'd been the go-to gal for messy jobs. Ones he used to specialize in.

  But Eva had different motivations. Matteo could remember Martinez explaining to her once that the hit she was to undertake was on a man who had beaten his wife when she was pregnant. He'd beaten her in public, there'd been witnesses, and the assault resulted in their losing the child.

  And just like that, like a spell had been cast, Eva's fucked up brain had gone into overdrive. He'd seen it happen. From disinterested to vengeful. Without that explanation, she'd do jack. It used to piss Rico off mightily because he'd have done the hit, no questions asked.

  Martinez said she had a form of PTSD. With his fancy degrees, he'd know, but Matteo didn't think those four little letters summed up the sicko. She was whacked. Pretty it up with disorders and syndromes, but she was a nutcase.

  Politically correct? No, but then, he was in jail. Fuck the politics, fuck what was right and wrong. Matteo knew Eva was a sick bitch. It was almost like she didn't feel anything at all, and then, when he'd started to believe that, she'd come and bitch at him over some shit Rico had done to one of the whores.

  Not only did she make no sense, she had secrets; she hid them, and that made him think about what else she'd hidden.

  To get into the gang, there were two initiation rites.

  Firstly, you had to get someone to speak up for you. You integrated with the gang, took on a few jobs, minor shit at first. Muling, hauling. Maybe holding a stolen item for them or even taking care of a hot piece of hardware—like a gun used in a hit. Then, when you took one of the upper's notice, you had the second initiation. A serious job.

  In Eva's case, she'd piqued Martinez's curiosity. Now he knew his brother had a thing for her, he could understand why she'd risen through the ranks so quickly. The job Martinez had set out for her had been a doozy. Not a usual initiation, so Martinez had taken some precautions. Almost as though he'd wanted to be sure that she couldn't manipulate him with his attraction to her.

  A hit. On a cop. A dirty one, more bent than a crowbar, but a cop, nonetheless.

  She'd taken the guy's head and had taken a picture of it. He'd seen it with his own eyes, been impressed despite himself.

  Eva had this air of cool efficiency about her, and that photo said it all. It was physical proof of what she could and would do.

  It was that particular photo he was relying on.

  She hadn't shown her face, hadn't even been in the picture save for her hand, holding up the dirty cop's head, but that was enough. Her arms were riddled with scars, and those scars identified her as easily as fingerprints.

  Rico was missing. Eva was missing, and that told Matteo Eva had been the snitch.

  He didn't need yesterday's gossip to know Rico was a diehard lobo. Guys like him didn't leave, and they didn't go missing unless they were dead. There was no such thing as AWOL for his type. And the circumstances, with the pair of them MIA at the same time?

  Add to it what Maria had said, about Eva acting like the judge, jury, and executioner…?

  Throw in Eva's first disappearing act after Matteo had been arraigned…?

  He'd be an idiot not to put one and one together and come up with two.

  Yesterday, he'd had confirmation that Rico was not only missing, but likely dead. And today, he was putting his plan into action.

  Martinez might be too busy trying to wet his cock to sort this o
ut, but Matteo wasn't. He wasn't being blindly led around by his dick. He had to act, and if he played his cards right, then Maria would be seeing her papa a hell of a lot sooner than either of them realized.

  When the call connected, Matteo murmured two words. “Do it.”

  With it would come the tumbling down of Eva WhoeverTheFuckSheWas' house of cards, and he'd get a lighter sentence for helping solve a crime. A murder. And not just the murder of any old John Doe, but a cop.

  He hated going against Martinez. For twenty years, he'd followed his brother. It was ingrained in him to follow his lead. But not anymore, not if Martinez didn't give a shit about Matteo's freedom. Not if he didn't care that Matteo's baby girl was going to grow up without a daddy.

  Siding with a bit of pussy over his family…?

  That was not the way of the Lobos.

  And Martinez should know. He'd made up their goddamn laws.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Lucia stepped onto the verandah that circled the property Martinez was using as his base here. And what a property it was. Now that she could look around, she realized she'd actually seen it from Main Street, but as houses weren't exactly something she drooled over, Lucia hadn't really noticed it.

  Now that she was here, well, hell, she was impressed.

  Contrary to the local farmhouses, this place was more Mediterranean chic. Only, that became more noticeable the closer you were to the property. Rosy-cream stucco decorated walls loaded with windows. Huge french doors that walked out onto tiny Juliet balconies. On the second floor alone, there were six sets of apertures.

  Almost like a tower, the first part of the building stood tall, behind it, two stout additions branched out. On the first story, more doors opened to the gardens. Huge, rolling lawns of verdant green. Blossom trees bloomed all around, and bushes, flowers, and plants were part of the terraces. Merging nature with the man made.

  At the back of the property, where the verandah ran around the two stouter buildings, she could see far into the distance, a distance that included the local towns. High up on a hill of its own, the house stood out, but because of the natural shelter, it retained total privacy.

  The verandah housed ubiquitous rocking benches, because it would be illegal to have a porch like this and not have comfortable seats to overlook such a magnificent view.

  Sinking into the chair, a coffee cup in her hand, she took the opportunity to relax. As she did, she pondered how unusual it was that she could relax when the greatest danger to her sanity was closer than ever.

  But hadn't she been able to sleep in his office? In his bed? When sleep was difficult in coming on the best of days, never mind when she was stressed or tense…

  He was right. Something about him put her at ease. And that was ridiculous, considering he threatened her status quo, which had taken her a hell of a long time to create and protect.

  “I can see the cogs working in your head.”

  Dammit. Couldn't a woman have any privacy? She glared over at Juan.

  “I want to drink my coffee in peace.”

  He shrugged. “So do I.”

  “Then sit down, but don't talk to me.” When he took the seat beside her, she grunted. “All the benches here, and you sit next to me?”

  He chuckled. “Why sit alone when I don't have to?”

  She fiddled with the hair that had fallen out of her loose topknot. “I'm not good company.”

  “You never were.”

  His blunt statement kind of hurt. It shocked her that it even dented her feelings. “Thanks,” she snapped.

  “I wasn't insulting you. Just saying, if I'd wanted good company, I'd go and talk to Martinez.”

  At that, she grinned. “Martinez isn't good company.”

  “No?”

  Lucia turned to him, hearing the deadly certainty in his voice. “You're kidding me? You're comfortable around him? At ease?”

  Juan shrugged again. “I owe the man a lot. I do what he says, and when, and so I have no reason to fear him.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He frowned at her. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. There's no way in hell you can't be frightened of that man. Especially when you know who and what he is. What he's capable of.”

  “Are you frightened of him?”

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not really. Not in the same way most people are.”

  “And what way's that?”

  “They think he's going to kill them.”

  “They do?”

  Another eye roll. “For God's sake, do you even study the guys he talks to when he's berating them? They're scared for their lives.”

  “But you're not.”

  “No. I'm not. He puts me on edge. But if he killed me, he'd just be putting me out of my misery.”

  “So why run?”

  “What? From the city to here?” When he nodded, it was her turn to shrug. “Self-preservation. Even if I don't care whether I live or die, something inside me must. It had me scurrying away to this place.” She toasted the town in the distance. “I've had fun here, too. So it was a decision, based on instinct, that was good for me.”

  “You like it here?”

  She nodded. “I do actually. It's a strange place. Everyone knows each other's business, everyone feeds off it. That's why my paper is so popular. Because it feeds them. They're like cannibals. Except, rather than getting off on brains, they get off on gossip. Secrets they're not supposed to know.” She eyed him. “You're the one that found me here, aren't you?”

  It was his turn to grin. “Yeah. I saw the article about the paper that was creating havoc, and it sounded exactly like something you'd do.”

  She frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means what it means.”

  “That's no answer.”

  Juan shrugged. “It's just the way I think of you.”

  “Is that an insult?”

  “Maybe.” He grinned again and raised his coffee cup to his mouth. “Look, I just knew it was something you’d do. You have a weird propensity for the truth. You don't like lies to be buried away.” He jerked a shoulder. “You were the only one with enough guts to go to Matteo about Rico. You were the only one to stand up to him.”

  “I hate bullies.”

  “I noticed. And yet, even though you can't understand why I don't fear Martinez, you're not afraid of him, and you don't consider him a bully. I can only assume that's why he's not in prison?”

  She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. How the hell had they even arrived at this topic? Lucia had the feeling she'd been worked like a pro. “He's different to Matteo, and that's why he's not in jail.”

  “Different in what way?”

  “Did he send you here to butter me up? Get me on his good side? I know why I didn't send him away, he does too. That's all I have to say on the matter.”

  “Okay,” he murmured easily, taking another sip of his coffee.

  “What does he have on you?” Lucia asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Don't play dumb. You said you owe him a lot. What's the debt?”

  Juan crossed his feet at the ankles. “He's helping me get my family back together.”

  “You'd better pray he doesn't realize you're tapping Chela.” She smiled when he froze, shock stunning his pretty face. “Don't worry, I won't tell him. But if you feel indebted to him, then you'd better be careful.”

  “How the hell did you know about that?”

  She tapped her nose. “It was my business to know everything. But I haven't told him or anyone. Mostly because I like you, and I know you treat her right. If you didn't, he would know, and you'd probably be taking a dip with Rico.” He blanched, and she patted his hand. “Just don't treat her like shit, and you're A-Okay.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and she took great satisfaction out of knowing she'd knocked him from his cool, calm demeano
r.

  “You make no sense. You take great satisfaction out of revealing this town's secrets, yet, you know that, and you haven't said a word to him.”

  “Like I told you, I like you. Plus, you're relatively decent. There are few guys like that even out there.” Lucia jerked her cup in the town's direction. “This lot...well, they're bottom feeders. I'm just giving them what they want.”

  “But you like it enough to live here? Even though you have zero respect for these country bumpkins?”

  She grinned. “Yeah. I never said I made any sense.” Taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “It's cute here. I like how innocent they are. It's like being transported to another decade or something.” A laugh escaped her as she thought back to an incident a few weeks ago. “Two weeks ago, I got a letter from a woman bitching about her neighbor's dog, right? It used to come and shit on her lawn like it was its personal crapper.

  “I didn't print it. I didn't think it was newsworthy. But that pissed her off even more. So, what does she go and do? She puts flypaper down on her lawn. When the dog goes and takes a shit on her peonies, he gets stuck. She takes a photo, sends it to me, and writes, 'This is what happens when someone uses my prize-winning peonies as a toilet.'”

  “Shit, that poor dog.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. If the sheriff was in any way competent, he could have warned her against animal cruelty, but, my point is, that's what it's like here. The least important stuff is super important here. And it's cute.”

  Juan shook his head. “I always knew you were weird, but now I just have confirmation.” When she chuckled, he merely sighed.

  “How did Chela's art exhibition go?” When he stiffened, she patted his knee. “Don't worry. Your secret's safe. I just wondered how it went. I saw in the papers that it was an enormous success, but was she happy with it?”

  “You always liked her, didn't you?”

  Lucia shrugged. “She was nice.”

  “Still is. And yeah, she was happy.”