by Bex Dane
"Traitor!" Pointed boots rammed into my ribs over and over. Punches slammed my face. My head spun and the bitter taste of blood pooled on my tongue.
Sharp pain hit my legs, back, arms. Shit. Would they ever stop?
I'd be sore for weeks, but if this beating kept my father off Aida's path, I'd take ten more.
"Enough," my father finally called.
They left me on the dirt floor, spitting blood, but not dead.
No never dead.
The falcon rose above.
The last thing I tasted was dirt mixed with blood before the world went black.
***
I woke up to searing pain. Freezing cold and burning hot on my ribs. Throbbing fire in my legs. An exploded grenade in my head. Blood came back on my fingers when I touched my face.
"The one on your eye needs a bandage."
I groaned and Helix laughed.
"You got me out of there?" My swollen tongue tasted like I ate a tire.
"Carried you out. Heavy mother fucker."
"Thank you."
One eye swollen shut, I peeked through the other one to survey the damage. A few cuts on my arms, ice bags on my stomach. Blood on my shirt.
Fuck. Was this worth it? Was anything worth feeling like a fucking smashed pumpkin with the pulp hanging out? Yeah. If my father stayed the fuck away from Aida, it would be worth it. Last thing she needed in her life was a visit from her past. Including me. We both needed to leave her the fuck alone.
Helix checked his phone, reminding me I hadn't checked mine. My shoulders and ribs screamed as I twisted to pull it out of my pocket.
Fucking ten missed calls. Twenty messages.
Blaze, Rogan, Dallas. None from Diesel.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Without reading shit, I called Blaze. I'd warned him. I'd told him no one gets to her. If he'd fucked up...
"Falc." His voice was tight and stressed.
"Talk."
"Two men. One shooter. From a boat. The Beach House restaurant in Malibu."
Holy fucking shit. "Was she hit?"
"No."
My lungs ached as I blew out a relieved breath. "Thank fuck." Thank God nothing happened to her.
"But Gaspar Evaristo took a bullet for her."
Oh shit. "Fatal?"
"He's at Santa Monica Medical Center. Critical condition. His spine."
"Fuck." She loved Gaspar like a father. The world famous Gaspar Dominquez had been shot by hitmen out after Aida. Shit. This just went global.
"Yeah. Diesel's there too. Three gunshot wounds. Head, arms."
Oh man. I had one straw left and he just snapped it. My brothers who shared my blood could rot in hell, but Diesel and I were brothers to the core. No one shot at him and lived. "Where are you now?"
"I'm with Aida at LA County Sheriff's Department."
"Why the fuck is she at the sheriff's department?"
"They took her in as a suspect. Three terrorist acts involving her in one year."
"Fuck."
"She lost it when she saw Gaspar bleeding on top of her. She screamed. Wouldn't calm down. Sheriffs cuffed her and drove her downtown."
"Shit."
"They questioned me too. Released me within an hour.
"Good."
"I'm not sure the threat is neutralized. I asked Thorne to watch over Gaspar until more men arrive. I need to get back to Diesel. His fucking head, Falc. I need to get back there."
"No one is with him?"
"No."
"Jesus Christ."
What a clusterfuck.
A vision of Aida in a holding cell came vividly to my mind. She was hunched forward in a chair. Heaving. Weeping. Scared and alone after interrogators worked her over as her father figure lay fighting for his life in a hospital.
"You call Dallas?"
"Dallas and Rogan are flying in tomorrow. Ruger and Oz were in New York prepping for a gig she has on her schedule. They're coming here too."
"I'm on the next plane."
Helix gave me a confused look. I was in no condition to travel, but I needed to get there right away.
"I'm sorry, Falc." Blaze went on. "We vetted the restaurant, but didn't think anyone would approach by boat. After the first shot, Gaspar threw himself on Aida. Then fucking Diesel tried to run a distraction and swam toward the shooter. It worked. He turned on Diesel, and I dragged Gaspar and Aida behind a rock. After that, I couldn't get a lock on the boat. I finally nailed him when he stopped to reload. They took off. No idea who they were."
"Jesus, D is crazy."
"Yeah. I'm worried as fuck. But couldn't leave Aida."
"Thanks for sticking with her. Hold it together till I get there. Five hours tops."
I hung up and stared at Helix. I needed his help.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Can you watch my gun for me while I fly to California?"
His brow drew tight as he frowned at me. "What the fuck?"
"I need to catch an emergency domestic flight. Take care of my Sig for me."
"Why?"
Dude. Every word hurt, I needed him to play along. "I'm fond of it, alright? I'll hook up with you another time to reclaim it."
He took the Sig from me and turned it over in his hand. "You trust me with this?"
"Sure." As much as two hitmen could trust each other. "It's my favorite. I don't have time to store it. You got it, or we gonna waste more time talking about it?"
"I got it." He stuffed it in his waistband behind his back.
"Now help me get to an airport."
"Probably need to wash the blood off first."
"Shit. That's gonna hurt."
Chapter 18
An hour into the flight to Los Angeles, the vision haunted me. Aida sobbing in a jail cell. Scared, worried, alone, and in shock. Her beautiful dark hair and warm skin all wrong against the concrete walls.
I never should've left her.
Rogan picked up my call on the first ring. "Where the fuck have you been?" He knew it would take something pretty strong to keep me from her when she needed me.
"You don't want to know." I coughed and tried to hide the blood from the view of the stewardesses, but they'd been giving me inquisitive looks since I sat down. I looked like death walking, and I understood their fear. I'd be scared too if I saw me.
"You alright?" Rogan asked.
"I'll survive. I need a favor."
"I'm flying out to LA at 0800."
"Aida's being held for questioning at LASD. I want her released pronto. Call someone."
"Who did you have in mind?"
"Fuck. Anyone. Call Lachlan and have him pull some federal bullshit? Dallas or Torrez got business connections in LA? Or your mom? Shit. Call in a favor with Brightman, but I need her out of there right away."
He didn't hesitate. "On it." Any time of day, Rogan always came through for me. Hopefully he could pull this one off too.
"I'm enroute to LAX. ETA three hours. I never shoulda left her."
"Blaze is with her," he said, trying to placate me.
"You think I trust Blaze? His mind is at that hospital with Diesel and you know it. She's totally vulnerable."
"She's in custody. She should be safe there." He kept his voice calm and that pissed me off. Did he not see the danger here?
"What if Sharshinbaev has the cops on his payroll and they arrested her so they could get her alone?" I had to fight to keep my voice down in the plane.
"Not plausible. You're fucked in the head, Falc. She's safe."
What the fuck did he know? Why was he being so damn aloof? "She's not safe until she's in my arms alive. Not bleeding to death on the helo floor."
He paused a long time.
Oh shit. I'd said the wrong fucking thing. Eden died on the floor of the helo in Afghanistan after we failed to rescue her in time.
"This is different." His voice was calm, but raspy. "She's in custody at the sheriff's department. She hasn't been captured. She will survive."
"Right."
"Past was ugly, man. Gotta let it go."
"Right." Took a minute for his words to penetrate the haze of my battered brain. "Assuming she's safe, she's gotta be terrified. She's been through a shooting, and now they're holding her in a cell."
He snickered. "You care about her."
Leave it to Rogan to nail me on that. I shook my head, but it hurt so I stopped. Enough of this talking about emotions crap. "I want Sharshinbaev. Tell Torrez and Zook to meet us in Cali for a strategy session." I had shared Aida's connection to Ivan, but we'd decided not to go to Veranistaad. Rogan had convinced me to wait for the justice system to take its course. That had all changed today.
"Let's get everyone stabilized first." He was again being logical in the face of my utter frustration.
"Right."
"You okay? You sound like shit."
"Got in a fight. I'm a little beat up."
"Take care of yourself, Falc. I'll be there in the morning."
"Okay."
"Good luck, man."
"Yeah."
***
My express rental car waited for me at LAX. No traffic at two in the morning, so I made the forty minute trip to the station in twenty.
Blaze met me outside and stared at the swelling on my face. "What the fuck happened to you?"
I touched the bandage over my eye to make sure it wasn't leaking again. "Rough flight. What's the status?"
"They're waiting for a lawyer to call." The stress of the day showed in the wrinkles on his face and the tight clench of his jaw.
"No lawyers up this time of night."
"Yeah." His gaze shot to the door, scanned the street, back to me, and the door again.
"Go to him," I said. He was of no use to me here, and someone needed to be with Diesel.
His eyebrows lifted. "You sure?"
"I got her. You go. Check on Gaspar and Thorne too. We'll meet up at the mansion when Rogan arrives."
"Thank you, Falc." He took three steps backward. "You alright?" He pointed to my face.
"Yeah. Go."
He ran down the sidewalk and around the side of the building.
I knocked and a guard came to the door of the station. "You got a reason to be here?" The short middle-aged guard put his hands on his belt and peered up at me. I could see his eyes judging me. Mexican, thug.
"Aida Soltari," I said, throwing her name like a weapon.
He opened the door and let me in.
"I'm here to take Aida Soltari home."
His bald head shined in the overhead lights as he typed in the computer.
"It says we're waiting to hear from her lawyer. She's here till morning." He gave me a smug grin.
"Fuck." I paced away, trying to lock it down. "Do you know who she is?"
"I don't care who she is. I'm following orders."
"Jesus Christ. She's a fucking celebrity being stalked by terrorists."
He shook his head.
"Call your fucking captain and tell him Gaspar Evaristo has been shot, and you're holding his daughter for questioning while he is dying in the hospital. Tell him she's unstable and needs care, and I'm here to provide it."
"Have a seat."
I stared at him. "I'll give you five minutes to get your supervisor on the phone and release her, or I'm going to call every fucking press agency in Hollywood and tell them you've locked up Aida Soltari without cause. She's the victim here. Not the suspect."
As we stared at each other, his phone rang and mine buzzed.
Rogan: Brightman made some calls.
Thank fuck Rogan had the Secretary of State in his back pocket. The woman would do anything for him. Even call Los Angeles in the early morning hours.
The guard coughed and hung up the phone. "This way." He grabbed a set of keys from his desk and walked down the hallway.
Pain from the cuts, scrapes, and bruises disappeared as he led me back to the holding cell.
I held back the urge to break through the white door with a small glass panel in it. I wanted to burst in, grab her, and carry her out of this place.
No. That would scare her.
My appearance alone would frighten her.
Funny how I laughed at Thorne and Soledad for coddling her, and here I was worrying about how my beat-up face would scare her.
She didn't look up as the guard opened the door. She matched the vision I'd had but worse. I didn't imagine her in a blood-stained white sundress. I didn't imagine her painted toes and pink sandals. She looked plucked from her glamorous life and forced into the cold harsh world of reality.
Her head bent over her knees, hair falling to the floor, hands over her face, shaking. Lost and alone like the fifteen-year-old Magdalena.
The guard raised an eyebrow in question.
"Give us a minute."
He nodded and closed the door.
"Aida." My voice scratched.
She peeked up, her face drawn, eyes smeared and red, lips quivering. Everything I never wanted for her. Exactly what I'd worked so hard to protect her from.
Her eyes took me in for several seconds. "Oh my God." She blinked a few times, coming out of herself to see me. "Oh my God!"
She stood and came to me. Her shaking hands touched my temple near the wound. I grabbed her hand to stop her.
"Did they do this to you?"
"No. No. Don't worry."
"Who did this to you?" Her other hand came up and patted my cheek. Her fingers grew frantic as they checked my shoulders and arms.
"You're bleeding." She lifted my shirt. Angry bruises marked my torso. "You're black and blue all over." Panic grew in her voice.
"Let's get you out of here."
"Who did this to you?" She ignored me. "Who did this to you?" she repeated with fire growing in her eyes.
"Babe."
Her hands clenched and she screeched, "Who did this to you!"
Fuck. I had to tell her or she'd think the worst. "My father had my brothers and my cousin dole out some justice."
"What?" She clawed at her face, and her lips turned down. "Your father? Your brothers… I- I can't handle this. It's too much."
"It's okay. I can handle it all." I opened my arms. She stepped closer and pressed her forehead into my chest with a whimper. I held her and spoke to her in Spanish like she had spoken to a frightened Isabella. "I've got you. You're safe. It will all be okay, mi paloma. I'm here."
"Gaspar…"
"He survived. He's in the hospital. I'll take you to him in the morning. You need sleep first."
She looked up at me and I wanted to kiss away the despair there. "Can't we go now?"
"No. You'll be safer at the house. I've got a team arriving in the morning, and we'll arrange for you to see Gaspar."
"Okay."
She tucked her head again and cried. "We were having lunch. He was fine. Sitting right next to me."
"I know."
"I heard popping sounds and he fell on me. I thought he'd fallen over. Then I saw the blood."
"He saved your life."
She whimpered.
"Let's get you home."
"But Diesel."
"He's at the hospital too. Blaze is with him. We'll check on him tomorrow too."
"I'm so scared."
"You're safe now. Deep breaths."
I let her cry it out. Took her tears on my shirt. Told myself I'd never do it, but if it helped her get through this, I'd take it.
"We got this. Let's go." Keeping her close under my arm, I guided her out the door and back to the front of the station. The guard handed me her bag and papers, and we made our way to my rental car.
I had my Aida back. We were both battered and weary, but I had my girl in my arms. Alive and safe.
Chapter 19
Aida
Sunlight beaming through the windows of my idyllic Los Angeles mansion woke me from a restless sleep. Peeking from under my palms on my eyes, the clock said eleven a.m.
God, please le
t yesterday have been a dream. No one shot Gaspar or Diesel. The sheriffs didn't bring me in and question me.
And most of all, Falcon didn't show up at the station with a gash over his eye and hideous bruises staining his beautiful skin.
In the bathroom, my bloody clothes laying in the trash taunted me.
I couldn't deny it.
Yesterday happened, and a difficult day loomed in front of me.
I checked my phone for word from Gaspar's wife, Marcella.
Nothing.
I texted her.
Me: How is he this morning?
A few minutes passed before she responded.
Marcella: He's stable. We are waiting for him to wake up.
Me: I'll be there as soon as I can.
I had worn a white silk nightgown to bed last night. I found my favorite robe, given to me by one of my idols, an Italian soprano who sang Aida before me. Like slipping on a piece of art, the black, white, and red roses wrapped me in luxurious silk and provided the illusion of comfort in this chaos. In a rush, I tied it at my waist, and added red house shoes with a low heel.
I washed my face and added my eyes and lips before seeking out Falcon.
For a guy who drove a stake through my heart two months ago, he came through for me last night like a warrior. Even though he'd obviously been through a trauma with his father and family—one I dreaded asking the details about—he'd shown up and sprung me from the hell of the holding cell at the sheriff's office.
When we got home, we'd stripped off our clothes and showered in silence, both of us too exhausted to talk.
We'd put on sleep clothes and fell into bed, but I'd gotten up and brought him two capsules of acetaminophen. He downed them without taking the water I offered and tugged me into bed with him. For the first time ever, Falcon and I slept together without having sex. He even fell asleep before I did. I watched him in the dark before I drifted off, worried about his injuries and the story behind them.
I liked that in an emergency, Falcon could bury all our differences, but I had no idea how he'd react to me today.
Despite my uncertainty about where I stood with Falcon, I needed to find him as soon as possible. Gaspar struggled for his life in a hospital bed with no one but his wife by his side. I needed to see Diesel too to make sure he would be okay.
