Fast Justice

by Kaylea Cross

  He chose his words carefully, a niggling suspicion taking root that he could no longer ignore. “There have been complications with several operations this week.”

  “Concerning what?”

  “Juan Montoya.”

  Her face stiffened ever so slightly, the change subtle enough that he would have missed it completely had he not been watching so carefully. “Is that so?” She reached for the scissors again. “What has he done this time? Or not done, I should say.”

  “He was supposed to take care of two very important things for me.”

  “What things?”

  “Taking care of a certain problem. And then finding something important for me.”

  She looked down at the clothing. Avoiding his gaze. “And he failed, I take it?”

  The tiny thread of suspicion in his gut expanded, even as his brain refused to connect the dots his subconscious laid out for him. It was impossible. She didn’t even know about Oceane. He was so run down and sleep deprived, he was becoming paranoid. “Yes.” Holy hell, his heart was thudding, an awful tension forming in his chest.

  “Well, I’m sure it will all work out.” She looked up at him through her lashes, flashed him a smile that seemed a little forced. “It always does.” She set the scissors back down and gathered her clothes before turning and walking away.

  Manny stared at her retreating back with hot, unblinking eyes. “Elena.”

  She stopped, cast him a weary look over her shoulder. Or was it wary? “What?”

  His hands curled around the edge of the countertop. “Tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  She gave a frustrated sigh. “Manny, it’s been a long day and I’m in no mood for cryptic riddles. I’m going upstairs.”

  Oh no you’re not. He stepped around the island, stopped to face her without a barrier between them. “Do you know what’s happened?” he demanded, testing his suspicion, unable to control the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

  For a long moment she didn’t answer him. Then something shifted. Almost as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it. She lifted her chin and raised a dark, perfectly-groomed eyebrow. “And if I did?”

  It felt like someone had kicked him in the diaphragm.

  For a second he couldn’t answer, the shock and pain sucking all the air from his lungs. “Did you do it?” he whispered in horror, unable to accept the truth that was staring him right in the face. “Did you?”

  The haughty edge to her expression melted away. Her face twisted into a mask of pain and hatred, the look in her eyes sending a cold chill racing down his spine. “Yes,” she hissed, eyes shooting sparks at him.

  His eyes bulged. “You ordered the attack?” How? How was that even possible?

  “You’re damn right I did,” she shouted, indignant as she threw her new clothes onto the tile floor and spun to face him, thrusting an accusing finger at him. “You think you could humiliate me like that and get away with it? Keep your whore and your precious bastard tucked away for twenty-four years in a luxury estate paid for with our money? You didn’t think I’d find out someday? Well I did, you lying piece of shit. And so I did what any woman in my position would do. I took care of it.”

  Manny didn’t think. He reacted. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his wife by the throat, pinning her to the kitchen wall, his entire body vibrating with fury. “You bitch,” he snarled, his breathing choppy. He was out of control, unable to rein the rage in.

  Elena choked and stared up at him, her dark eyes wide with fear…and loathing. “You betrayed me,” she shrieked in his face, clawing at his hands. “You betrayed everything we have together, everything! Why? All because she could give you a child and I couldn’t?” Her eyes filled with tears as he squeezed harder.

  “Manuel.”

  David’s sharp rebuke from behind him jerked him out of his rage-fueled haze.

  He shook himself, yanked his hands off Elena’s throat as if she’d burned him and took a stumbling step backward. His wife drew in a gasping breath and clutched her neck, the red marks from his fingers livid against her skin. They stood mere yards apart and stared at one another in the awful, suffocating silence of the room.

  Something cold and hard and bitter formed inside him. Encasing his heart in an icy, impenetrable shell. “Get out of my sight,” he rasped out, afraid he might actually kill her if he touched her again.

  Throwing him a look of mingled devastation and contempt, Elena spun around and fled from the room, her running footsteps growing muffled as she raced up the carpeted stairs. A moment later a door slammed shut overhead. She was smart enough to know to bolt it shut against him.

  Slowly, Manny turned to face his head of security. David was watching him with a deep frown creasing his forehead. “What the hell, boss?”

  He sucked in an unsteady breath, fought to get control of himself. “She ordered the attack on Oceane and Anya,” he said, shaken, queasy.

  “Are you sure?” He sounded as shocked as Manny felt.

  “Yes,” he snapped, reaching behind him to grasp the countertop for support. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Find my daughter,” he rasped out, unsure whether he was going to puke or break down like a child. Jesus, his own wife had done this to him.

  “What about Elena? Should I take her to a hotel, or…?”

  “No. I’ll leave.” He couldn’t stay another minute in this house, under the same roof with her, afraid of what he might do.

  He strode to the foyer, stared hard at the keys to his new Jag where they lay on the entry table. His mouth twisted as the truth hit home. Guilt. That’s why she’d bought it for him. He should have known. God, how had he missed the signs?

  He reached for the keys to his Porsche instead, spoke over his shoulder without looking back. No more looking back now. Only forward. “Find my daughter, David, and bring her back to me. That’s all I want you to do.”

  He stalked out the door, his life and heart in ashes. Oceane was the only good part of him left. She was his blood, his sole heir. The only way he could live on after he left this world was to pass the empire he’d built to her one day, free of the cartel.

  He had to get his daughter back, whatever it took.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Now that she’d had a few minutes’ peace and relative quiet after the whirlwind of everything that had happened in the aftermath of being pulled from the water, exhaustion hit Rowan hard. Lying on the hospital Emergency room bed, she shut her eyes and tried to make her mind go blank.

  The flurry of agency and other law enforcement personnel had finished interviewing and questioning her. The nurse had just left, the doctors were done with their tests and exams. Now she was just waiting for clearance so they would release her.

  The pale blue curtain acting as a privacy screen around her bed parted. She looked up as her parents stepped through it. Her mother appeared on the verge of tears and her father’s face was pale, his deep blue eyes haunted.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” her mother said, and grabbed Rowan in a fierce hug.

  “Ow,” she whispered, pushing her mom away a little when she squeezed the bruises on Rowan’s ribs.

  “Sorry.” Her mom eased the pressure but didn’t let go, her cheek pressed to Rowan’s hair. “Oh my God, we were so scared.”

  “They wouldn’t tell us anything,” her father added, coming around the other side of the bed to take Rowan’s hand, as though he needed the contact with her. “You were already at the hospital by the time we got any more news.”

  “I’m okay,” Rowan said, patting her mom’s back and squeezing her father’s hand. “Just a little banged up.” And traumatized. Let’s not forget that part. “All my tests came back fine, so they’re sending me home.”

  Her mom leaned back to search her face, a worried frown puckering her brow. “Are you sure? You’re so pale, and…”

  “Physically I’m fine. I jus
t want out of here.” She looked between her parents. “How’s Kevin?”

  “He’s worried sick,” her mother answered.

  “Does he know I’m okay?” Of course he didn’t. Rowan sighed. “Mom, you’d better go up there right now and tell him I’m fine before he makes Nick put him in a wheelchair and bring him down here.” When her mother hesitated, Rowan raised her eyebrows. “You know he’ll do it.”

  “Yes. You’re right.” Her mom kissed the top of her head and got up. “I’ll be back—without your brother.”

  “Tell him I’m fine and that I love him. I want to see him, but not right now. I’ll call him once I get some sleep.”

  As her mother left, the curtain swishing shut behind her, Rowan’s dad sank down on the edge of the bed, his fingers still locked around hers. “How are you, really?” he asked, the concern in his eyes filling her with warmth.

  “I’m lucky to be alive.”

  He nodded once and glanced away, clamped his lips together as though he was fighting for control over his emotions. Except Aiden Stewart never displayed that sort of emotion.

  And yet when he looked back at her a moment later, his eyes were wet with tears. “I couldn’t stand that I couldn’t do anything,” he choked out, and Rowan’s heart cracked open.

  “Ah, Dad…” Leaning forward, she pulled him into a tight hug, not caring if it hurt her bruises. Although it was a little weird that she was the one comforting him after all she’d been through.

  “I love you,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “So much.”

  She smiled, that piece inside her that would always be the little girl desperate for his approval blooming like a wilted flower denied water and sunlight for so long. “I love you too.”

  He held her close for a long moment, then squeezed her and took an unsteady breath, clearing his throat. “You must be tired.”

  “So tired,” she agreed. “Have you seen Malcolm?” He’d been with her on the ride here in the ambulance, had stayed with her through some of the questioning before he’d been pulled away by his commander over an hour ago.

  “He was out in the hall talking with some agency people when we came down,” he said.

  “Could you go see if you can drag him away for me? As soon as I get the okay, I want out of here.”

  Her dad smiled at her, brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Sure.”

  A few minutes later he reappeared through the curtains. “Look who I brought.”

  Malcolm stepped through, giving her a little smile as he ran an assessing gaze over her. “Just got the official word. You’re free to go.”

  Thank God. She cast him a desperate look. “Get me out of here.” All she wanted was to be alone with him.

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her father went and got a wheelchair. Over her protests, she consented to sitting in the thing and allowing her dad to push her out to the side entrance where Malcolm pulled his truck around.

  Two armed agents stood guard as they transferred her into the front seat—they weren’t taking any chances with Montoya still at large. God, she couldn’t believe that he’d found Oceane with a tracker that Nieto had ordered implanted into her freaking filling. Rowan was never complaining about her father ever again.

  With a wave at him and a promise to call her parents later on, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head back against the headrest as Malcolm drove off. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired.

  “Do you want to go home?” he asked her as he turned out of the parking lot. “FBI’s got a security team ready for you if you do.”

  “No.” God, look how that had turned out last time. The only person she felt truly safe with right now was Malcolm. “Your place, if you don’t mind.” Until Montoya was in custody, she wasn’t going home. She needed time to start sorting through everything that had happened, and after a day or two of rest, she had a case to prepare for.

  “My place it is.” He sounded relieved. Reaching over, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. “You warm enough?” Stopping at a light, he reached over to adjust the dash vents so warm air blew directly on her.

  “Getting there,” Rowan answered, just glad to be alone with him finally. All she wanted now was to curl up in Malcolm’s arms and sleep for about a week.

  She must have dozed on the last part of the drive to his place because next thing she knew he was waking her gently. “We’re here,” he murmured.

  She groaned and straightened in her seat, every ache and pain letting themselves be known. “I feel like I’ve been in another car accident,” she muttered.

  “No surprise,” he said, and jumped out to come around and lift her from the truck.

  “I can walk,” she told him, even as she looped her arms around his neck.

  “Don’t care if you can run. I’m carrying you.” Using his hip to slam the door shut, he strode for the elevators.

  “Hey, good timing.”

  At the male voice Malcolm turned her around to find a truck pulling up next to them. Kai Maka slid out. “Hamilton said you guys just left the hospital. Glad I caught you.” The huge, good-looking Hawaiian leaned into the back of the cab and emerged with a big box in his arms. “Brought you guys some food.”

  Aww. Rowan offered him a smile. “That’s so sweet of you.”

  He shrugged. “Wasn’t just me. Colebrook brought over some stuff too. Piper’s got some baking in here.” He reached into the box to shift things around. “Looks like a fruit pie and some of her famous brownies.” He frowned down at them. “She’s never made me a pan of brownies.”

  “Piper?” Rowan asked.

  “Colebrook’s better half,” Malcolm answered. “And Colebrook’s sister is Rodriguez’s better half.” At her confused look, he laughed. “You’ll meet everyone and get their names and connections sorted out soon enough.” Then to Kai he said, “Thanks, man.”

  “No worries. I’ll bring it up for you. Being that you’ve got your hands full right now.” He winked at Rowan.

  Rowan laid her head on Malcolm’s shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the sense of security it brought her to have him take care of her this way. She’d been so much luckier than Anya or Victoria, and the other women in the container had been saved from fates worse than death.

  Three Veneno thugs were dead. Even if Juan Montoya was still alive and at large, some positive things had happened today. And he couldn’t evade justice forever. She and the others involved with this case would see to that. Right after she helped hand Ruiz a life sentence without the chance of parole.

  They reached Malcolm’s condo and he continued to hold her as he fished the key from his pocket. “You really can put me down for a minute.”

  “Nope.” He shifted her, stubbornly held her to him as he unlocked the door and walked inside.

  Kai followed them in. “So, you guys hungry? I’ve got one of Abby’s lasagnas in here. I can pop it in the oven for you.”

  Malcolm looked at her, raised his eyebrows. She shook her head slightly, hoping he understood. “Thanks, man, but I think we’ll wait on dinner for now.”

  “Yeah, no worries, brah,” Kai said. “I’ll put everything in the fridge.”

  Malcolm carried her into the living room and set her on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. By then Kai was finished putting the last of the food away and Malcolm walked him to the door. “You guys just call if you need anything, yeah?” Kai said, his gaze shifting between Malcolm and her.

  “We will. Thanks, brother.” Malcolm held out a hand.

  “Anytime.” Kai looked down at the hand, gave Mal a you’re kidding me look then gathered him up in a manly back-clapping hug instead, and left.

  After locking the door, Malcolm turned back to her with a smile and sighed. “Alone at last.”

  “Yes.”

  He crossed back to her, put his hands on his hips. “What do you want right now?”

  “A shower.” Oh, God, she’d kill for one. “Then bed.”r />
  “Perfect.” Without pause he scooped her up and headed straight for the master bedroom, carrying her into the en suite.

  Setting her on the granite counter with the blanket still wrapped around her, he turned on the shower before coming back for her. He ran a hand over the top of her head, smoothed it down her hair, his warm, chocolate-brown eyes searching hers. “You know how much I love you, right?”

  Startled, a smile broke over her face. “I was hoping you did.”

  One side of his mouth tipped up, that ridiculously charming dimple appearing in his cheek. “Well I do.”

  She put her hand on the side of his face. “I love you too.”

  He inhaled what seemed like a relieved breath, curled his fingers around the back of her neck. “Good,” he muttered, and leaned in to kiss her.

  Rowan sank into him, her breasts flattened against his chest, her free arm banding around his back. The kiss was deep but slow, almost reverent. As though he wanted to worship her, reassure himself she was here in front of him.

  She barely noticed when he pulled the blanket from her shoulders and began taking her clothes off, too intent on maintaining the connection of their kiss. With a few twists of her spine and an arch of her hips, she was naked and reaching for the waistband of his tactical pants.

  Malcolm reached behind him to fist the back of his shirt and peeled it over his head, revealing his sculpted chest and shoulders in all their naked glory. While she explored them with her mouth and hands, he shucked his pants and underwear and lifted her, bringing her legs around his waist as he stepped into the shower.

  Rowan sighed at the feel of the hot water rushing over her skin, the sensation of being pressed to his hard, warm body, those strong arms cradling her so protectively it made her throat tighten. “I’m never letting anything bad happen to you ever again,” he vowed against her temple, hugging her tight. “You’re mine now, Rowan, and I protect and take care of what’s mine.”

  His words melted her insides. She sought his mouth once more, got lost in the feel and taste of him, letting time drift while they stroked and caressed each other, gliding soap over sensitive skin, shivered when those strong fingers massaged shampoo into her hair and rubbed over her scalp.