Glass Secrets: Shattered Cove Series Book 2

by A. M. Kusi

  Because you make me want things I shouldn’t want. Because you should know you’re nothing less than perfection.

  “Little witch, your spell is beginning to work on me.”

  Shit, had he said that out loud?

  A small sigh filtered through her parted lips.

  The next moment, his mouth was on hers. A myriad of colors burst forth from inside his soul. She hesitated only a moment before returning his ferocity with her own. His tongue slipped into her mouth, warring with hers as he pulled her closer. Mia’s teeth raked against his bottom lip, adding a pained pleasure to his experience. She moaned and his cock grew instantly rock hard, his swim shorts hiding nothing. He was an inferno, raging white-hot as her stiff nipples pressed against his bare chest. He ran his hands down the wet shirt that clung to her body. Andre was acting on impulse, and every cell in his body needed her naked flesh against his. He had to get inside her. As soon as his palms caressed the silky-smooth skin of her hips, he pulled her forward, grinding against her so that she could feel what she did to him.

  Mia gasped, pushing him away. His arms immediately felt empty from the loss. They both stared at each other, panting. His body buzzed, every nerve ending firing, letting him know he was alive. One thing was crystal clear in this moment—he wanted Mia Garcia like he’d never wanted another woman, and the thought fucking terrified him.

  Mia’s eyes hesitantly searched his before she spoke, breaking the silence. “Thank you for helping me today. But, Andre, one good act doesn’t erase all the bad. The things you said were beyond hurtful. I won’t be treated that way by anyone.” She backed away farther. “I’m sorry for what I said too. Even if it was the truth.” She smirked. “I apologize for slapping you.” She looked down, as if ashamed.

  He nodded, accepting her rejection. She was right. He had acted like an asshole. “I’ll need my shirt returned sometime. It’s my favorite one.” He winked.

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Maybe you should sage yourself—get rid of the bad energy or whatever you called it, so you won’t attract any more danger,” he joked, trying to put a smile on her face.

  Whatever he said backfired. Her expression morphed into pain before her mask was set firmly back into place.

  “You want your shirt? Here,” she said, just before she pulled the fabric over her head, exposing her perfect tan breasts and dark nipples. His cock shot to attention as all the blood in his head surged south.

  “Lock the door on your way out,” she said, turning and walking up the stairs out of his line of sight like she didn’t just strip half naked in front of him.

  Holy shit.

  What. Just. Happened?

  Chapter 9

  Mia’s letter

  To the only man I’ve ever loved,

  I hope you can find it in your heart to read the words I have poured out on these pages. These are not excuses, but rather, an explanation. I must start from the beginning.

  I can remember being six years old. Chasing mariposas as my childish laughter tumbled from me like the weeds blown by the wind outside my parents’ rancho on the edge of Montemorelos, Mexico. The sun was shining, warming my skin. I was so full of joy. I remember it so vividly because that’s the last time I felt truly safe, like nothing bad could ever touch me. When I spotted the dust billowing in the distance, my belly did a summersault with excitement.

  Papi was home.

  I ran back towards our red clay house to greet him. He’d been gone for two days and I was proud to report I’d fed the animals right on time like he’d requested, and with only a little help from Mamá.

  As I neared his empty truck, my parents’ voices drifted out from the kitchen. I drew closer, finding my father and mother both crying. Papi’s face was covered in crimson. My mother tried to clean his wounds as I stood frozen, watching from the lattice. My father had never cried before, and the sight of his face immediately turned my blood to ice.

  “If I don’t give them the money they lost when the shipment was stolen . . .” he’d said.

  I wish I could go back in time to that moment and ask him to finish that sentence.

  Just days later, two men rode out to our ranch. They were clean and well dressed. One of them gave me candy. He struck up a conversation with me, telling me he had a puppy that he’d love to give to me if my papi said it was okay.

  Papi had stayed inside since he returned. He’d even slept in the barn rather than our house which had seemed so strange to me. My childlike ignorance is a regret I’ll carry with me to my grave.

  The man asked if my papi was home. I’d been taught that lying was wrong, had it instilled in me since I could talk. So, I told the truth and it cost my father’s life.

  I had to watch as one man held my mother back while another led my father out of the barn at gunpoint. They asked him if he had the money and he said no. I later found out these men were from the cartel that forced my father to deliver shipments of cocaine when he moved cattle. In those parts, you either do what the cartel says, or you and everyone you love dies.

  I watched, at six years old, as they put a bullet into my father’s head. You might think that was horrific, but my story gets so much worse. I realize now they showed mercy to him in his death.

  The men threatened my mother, saying if she didn’t find a way to pay his debt, five hundred thousand U.S. dollars, that he’d be back for her and then he’d traffic me. The man who had pulled the trigger looked at me and said, “That little one attracts bad spirits, so I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other sooner rather than later.”

  After he left, my mother packed two bags and took all the money she’d saved behind a clay brick by the fireplace. We buried my father and waited until nightfall before we began the long and dangerous journey towards the border.

  “The Americans will help us, mija. We will seek asylum,” she told me. That was the day my childhood ceased to exist.

  After what seemed like weeks of travel, most of it on an empty stomach and little water, my mother paid a coyote to bring us across the river. The way the man leered at Mamá made my stomach knot tightly. She paid him all the money she had. When we made it to the river, the man demanded more. My mother showed him her empty pockets . . . He said he would take other forms of payment. I clung to her, afraid she’d be taken from me too.

  She forced me to stay put. “Close your ears, mija. I’ll be right back.”

  It hit me all at once, the tears finally streaming down my face as I cried so hard no sound came out. I didn’t obey; the grunts and whimpers from behind the rocks as my mother used the only currency available to save my life are permanently etched into my brain.

  When we all climbed into the rickety raft, the water from the river quickly soaked our clothes. I must have still been crying because the man grabbed my neck and growled, “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll drown you in this river myself.”

  I’ve never told anyone this. Not even my therapist knows the extent of these details I’m sharing with you. I’ve never been this honest with any other person. The only reason I’m telling you this now is that you’re not the only one who closed off to protect your heart. I love you, no matter what you think of me. You were right that you didn’t know me, and this is me being more vulnerable than I’ve ever been before because I trust you.

  Once we reached the border, hungry, tired, wet, and cold, we waited for the border patrol so we could turn ourselves in and apply for asylum. When their truck came into view, my mother cried with relief. I clung to her side, fearing everyone. If past events had taught me anything, it was that no one could be trusted.

  Turns out I was right.

  My mother was shoved by one officer, and verbally abused. They told us we’d be separated if my mother didn’t give them the drugs they assumed she was smuggling. They told us to go back where we came from. My mother pleaded with
them—the one English word she knew, “Asylum!” She repeated it over and over.

  The officers had their chests puffed out. Sneering smiles of assumed dominance twisted their faces. They had their hands on their guns, like my mother and I were a threat to them. Power drunk, they grabbed my arm as I screamed for my mother. The one that held me laughed as tears leaked down my face. He put me in the back of his truck, alone and terrified.

  Maybe that man who killed my father was right—I did attract the evil spirits. Bad energy. All I knew was that after everything we had been through, America’s welcome was not what we’d expected. That should have been a sign of what was to come. That was the first time I wished I could be buried like my father. If life was this painful, I didn’t want it to continue.

  After what seemed like hours, my mother was handcuffed and seated next to me. Her face marred with dirt and streaks from her tears. I closed my eyes and leaned against her. I couldn’t see my mother in any more pain when it was all my fault . . . for telling the truth.

  Chapter 10

  Mia

  Mia sipped her coffee as she stared into her backyard. A dark shadow hovered above her like a storm cloud after the events of Saturday afternoon. She hadn’t slept very well the last two nights because of it. Her fingers traced the seam of her lips. The passion of that kiss was unlike anything Mia had experienced before. Andre’s lips were softer than she’d expected. His hands were rough and calloused from a lifetime of physical labor. She’d felt safe with him for a fleeting moment. He’d bullied her, pushed her beyond her limits, and then he’d saved her.

  Why? A niggling feeling deep down told her that he was a good man, that his walls were only reinforced around her because he felt the energy between them. Because he is scared.

  He’d offered her the temporary escape she craved. Why had she stopped him? Her body was certainly on board with the idea. Her self-worth, of course. What kind of message would it send to him if she gave in to the magnetic pull of their bodies while letting him treat her like crap? Obviously, it had been a good call. He’d opened his mouth and ruined the mood with his reminder that she attracted bad energy. Nothing could ever come of it anyway.

  The doorbell chimed, and Mia set down her coffee as she went to answer it. She had just rolled out of bed, skipping her run this morning, opting for a day of doing nothing. Her anxiety was always higher after an event that triggered her. Being pulled off a cliff into the depths of a dark ocean with unknown creatures lurking around definitely qualified. Today was about self-care . . . and finding a new contractor, right after she called Mikel. The sooner she got this place done, the better. She was on a deadline with no room for error.

  His dark bulky frame was evident behind the thick glass door. Andre was here. Drawing in a deep breath, Mia opened it, still wearing her silk pajamas.

  Andre’s eyes raked over her as he sucked in his bottom lip, biting down. He was in his running shorts without a shirt. Sweat beaded on his sculpted dark-brown chest. Mia squeezed her thighs together, trying to stifle the heat that blossomed there.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Can we talk?” he asked, meeting her gaze.

  She nodded and walked inside as he trailed behind her and shut the door.

  She pulled another mug from her cupboard. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Mia filled the ceramic mug with hot liquid as she breathed in the earthy aroma. “How do you take it?” she asked.

  “Black is fine.”

  Mia motioned to her barstool around the island and he sat as she set the steaming cup in front of him.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  They both sipped their coffee in silence. Was he here about the kiss?

  Andre set down his mug. “I wanted to apologize again about my behavior. It was unprofessional and well . . . I’ve been an asshole.”

  Mia smiled. “Thank you. I accept your apology. It seems we bring out the fire in each other.”

  “If you want me off the renovation, I’ll stay away if it means that Mikel can keep you as a client. I was hoping you’d reconsider terminating the contract,” Andre said, tracing his thumb over the rim of the coffee mug.

  Oh, so this visit was about keeping his job, not the kiss.

  She studied him while she thought it through. Had she overreacted? Could she give him one more chance? “If you continue to act professionally, and you respect my boundaries, I don’t see why you can’t have another chance. Despite our differences, your team is doing a great job from what I can tell.”

  Not to mention I really need this project finished at the agreed-upon date. October is right around the corner.

  Andre’s shoulders visibly relaxed as his lips turned up into a hesitant smile. “Thank you, Mia.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stood. “Thank you for the coffee. I better head back so I can get to work on time. Wouldn’t want my client unhappy.” He smirked.

  Was he flirting?

  “Well, it’s a good thing there are a few ways to make this one happy.” She tested the waters.

  Andre looked at her breasts. Unhelpfully, her nipples grew hard beneath the thin soft fabric, and his gaze. He bit his bottom lip again.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, before darting out the door.

  Mia shook her head. She’d never met a more stubborn man.

  ***

  Mia headed into the Stardust Café later that afternoon. She’d been craving one of Remy’s lavender scones and finally given in. As she entered the café, the aroma of coffee and sweet pastries enveloped her senses, making her mouth water.

  “Mia!” Remy excitedly greeted her as she walked from behind the counter to give her a hug.

  “Remy. How is the café going?”

  Remy released her. “I’m hanging in there. Business has picked up with the tourists coming through and wedding season upon us. I’m catering for an event this Saturday. How about you? I need to get your number. I wanted to check in on you but make sure it was alright before I stole your number from Jasmine.”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  Remy pulled out her phone and Mia rattled off her number.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened. I’m glad Dre was there to help.” Remy offered her a friendly smile, putting the phone back in her pocket.

  Mia’s phone pinged from an incoming text. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Remy said, her focus on the doorway behind Mia. Mia turned, catching Andre’s gaze as he approached them.

  “Hey, big brother. You want the usual?” Remy asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered, not taking his eyes off Mia.

  “What can I get you, Mia?” Remy asked.

  “One of your lavender scones and a black coffee to go, please,” Mia answered.

  Remy got to work filling their orders, leaving them to wait. The whirring sound of the coffee machine and the low conversation of a few other guests were the only noises in the establishment.

  After a few moments, Mia said, “I’m addicted to your sister’s scones.”

  “She’s a great baker.” He rocked back on his heels and put his hands in his pockets.

  There was more silence as his eyes looked anywhere but at her. Okay, this is awkward.

  Remy rescued them by finally returning with coffee and bakery bags full of goodies. “Here you go.”

  Andre put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter as Mia dug in her wallet for a ten.

  “Oh! Mia, I almost forgot. Sunday is Lyra’s birthday party. We’d love it if you could come.” Remy smiled up at her.

  Mia looked to Andre. His eyes flickered. His words from a couple nights ago came back to her. He didn’t want her around his friends.

  “I’ll have to see. I’m busy with a few projects, but go ahead and text me the details,” Mia answ
ered handing her the money before taking her items and leaving.

  ***

  The rest of the week, Mia opted to work from home, avoiding Andre because that was what he’d asked for, but also because she got so confused around him. He was sending her mixed signals. Obviously, he was trying to be polite, but now it seemed almost unnatural. They just needed to have a conversation and clear this up. That kiss was the elephant in the room, and if he wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this, she would. Mostly because her thoughts had strayed too much remembering the feel of his lips, and the taste of his tongue. The way he’d groaned when he . . . Okay, enough. She checked the clock. It was almost time for the guys to be done at the studio. If she left right now, she’d make it in time.

  Mia walked into the future home of her yoga studio. The smell of sawdust and paint made it all so real. Pride squeezed her chest. She was actually doing this. On her own. She was making her dreams come true and honoring her parents’ sacrifice.

  “Hey, Miss Garcia,” Tom said.

  “Good evening. How is your family doing?”

  “Great. Thanks for asking. You looking for Mikel? He’s already left for the day. I’m about to head home myself.” He shrugged the tool belt over his shoulder. “Andre’s the only one here. He’s in the room that will be your office.”

  “Okay, thanks. Have a good night.” She nodded.

  “You too,” Tom said before he walked out the door.

  Mia walked down the hall, taking in the changes she’d missed that week. Almost every area had been sheetrocked and mudded.

  The door to the office was open, the light on as Andre sat in a folding chair, flipping through a stack of papers. His work pants were covered in little white specks of what she assumed was mud. His hands had white bits of the plaster contrasting with his dark skin. The evidence of his hard day’s work all over his body did her in. It reminded her of all the times her father came in from a long day on their ranch. Her mother would pull off his boots and wash his feet. In turn, he’d do the same for her. Their marriage was a partnership, both working hard to build a life for Mia.