by Bethany-Kris
“Go,” she said.
Barely above a whisper.
Barely there at all.
“Just go, Andino.”
It took a second, and then two. It took another squeeze of his hands on her thighs, and his gaze nailing into hers—a silent plea. She answered none of it. She couldn’t if she was going to somehow survive this crash and burn, and come out better for it.
Haven knew that much.
“You might not think so,” he said quietly, “but we’re not over, Haven. This can’t be over. It was always real for me; it still is.”
Finally, he moved away from her. Well, it was more like he tore himself away from her as though he had to force his body to move. All the while, even as he fixed himself and she remained half-naked on the cupboard with her thighs opened and leaking with the proof of their last mistake, he never once looked away from her.
That was fine.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t move, or breathe, or think until he was gone. She didn’t cry, or beg, or break until he was already gone.
He couldn’t see it, then. She wouldn’t let him.
He didn’t deserve even that.
• • •
Haven met the gaze of the man sitting across the table from her. It was almost amusing because he looked like the stereotypical private investigator. Right down to the rounded stomach, old leather jacket tossed over a cotton dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, and the aviator sunglasses that he’d pushed high on the top of his head. She’d never seen him actually have a camera in his hands, but if he did, he would fit the bill perfectly. She assumed he did have a camera, and whatever else he needed to do this job, but she never cared to ask.
She paid him money, and he gave her information. That was the deal, or it was supposed to be.
“Hot day, isn’t it?” Wally asked, patting his sweaty forehead with a white napkin from the table. Haven was slightly happy that she had eaten before he arrived. That would probably make this whole meeting a little easier to handle. “June never gives me a break.”
Haven smiled. “I like the heat, personally.”
And she did.
She loved jogging on a hot day, and coming home to a cold shower. That was the best feeling in the world next to sex, she would swear on it. She wasn’t about to tell this man that, though. They were sitting in this café for other reasons today.
“You called me saying you had something for me?” Haven asked.
Anticipation and anxiety curled thickly in her stomach like coils tangling around one another. The tighter they wove, the more she wanted to fidget or move. She’d felt like this from the moment she decided to hire a private investigator to find information on Valeria, or even where her friend was right now.
It’d never really left.
Wally cleared his throat, and nodded. His gaze darted around to take in the other patrons sitting at various tables, and fully lost in their food or discussions. Some had their faces shoved into tablets or phones. None of them were paying any attention to Haven and the private investigator.
Why was he so nervous?
Haven could have easily shrugged that off by saying it was just the man’s ways. He probably preferred less public meeting spaces, or something like that. He didn’t like doing business where anyone could overhear, or something.
Her gut said that wasn’t it.
Maybe that should have been her first hint that this meeting was unlikely to go the way she had been hoping. Still, Haven refused to give up or give in to the anxiety that just wouldn’t leave her alone.
This—trying to find something, or anything—on Valeria and Maria was one of the last things she needed to get done before she could get the hell out of this city. The club was sold, and she hadn’t been back since the fucking ink dried. Her house had an offer put on it last week, and the paperwork was being started on all of that.
If all went well, she would be in Flordia with her mother and father by the end of June. She had a few minor things to tie up, but then she was gone.
Finally.
Haven was both sad and relieved about that fact. The heaviness that swelled in her broken heart every time she felt good about being able to put the distance between herself, and the man in this city that she knew she needed to leave behind was as confusing as it was infuriating.
It kept her up at night. And when she did sleep, she woke up with a tear-stained pillow more often than she cared to admit. Being alone was the most lonely place to be, Haven had come to learn.
This should be easy.
This was right.
Her heart didn’t seem to care about any of that. All it cared about was the fact it had been broken again. Not that she hadn’t expected to be hurt again, because she had. That didn’t exactly help to make the hole in her chest any smaller, though.
“Are you listening, girly?”
Haven blinked at Wally’s amused question. “Sorry?”
The private investigator waved the folder in his hand for Haven to see. He must have pulled it out of that black messenger bag he always carried around when she was lost in her thoughts. Silently, he set the folder on the table, and pushed it across to her.
“There you are,” he said, “have a looksie, and tell me what you think about the things I found on your little friend.”
Haven didn’t see the point of this whole charade. He could easily tell her what was in the folder, but whatever. She flipped the folder open, and quickly scanned the contents on the first page. Her brow dipped as she read familiar words that she already knew about Val, and where she had come from, who she was married to, and more. Flipping to the next page, Haven found similar information that Andino had already provided to her about Valeria.
None of this was even new.
Peering at the man, Haven said, “I already know a lot of this stuff.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I hope you understand why when I say I won’t be taking on this job beyond what I have already done and provided to you, Miss Murphy.”
Haven froze. “What?”
“You gave me a name, and some cursory information. You mentioned the cartel aspect, but I honestly thought that was simply another American who thinks every Mexican that comes across the border illegally must be involved with crime in some way. I did not expect to find that this woman is a runaway Cartel leader’s wife who took his child.”
A lump formed in Haven’s throat—hard, and hot. No matter how many times she tried to swallow, it just wouldn’t fucking loosen a bit.
“She didn’t have the child when she left—she would have been pregnant,” Haven forced herself to say.
“Fact remains, I am sure the man knew she was pregnant.” Wally shrugged his beefy shoulders, and folded those thick arms over his chest. His perspiration on his forehead had picked up a bit. “You seem to be under some kind of impression that just because I am a private investigator, I will do anything. That is not the case. My safety is a priority, and these people,” he said, reaching over to tap a finger against the paper, “are not the kind of people I care to find out I am looking into their business. I hope you understand.”
Haven’s jaw ached from how firmly she clenched it. “You’re telling me that you won’t look for her at all?”
“Listen, girly …” Wally leaned forward, and lowered his tone as his eyes scanned the patrons in the business again. “This is a stupid road you’re trying to walk down, and I assure you that unless a private investigator has a whole army of guns behind him to take care of him, he is not going to take on this job. For reference, so you can save yourself the money and the hassle of trying to find someone else. It’s a wasted effort on your part, Haven.”
She didn’t think so.
How could she think that?
“She’s my friend,” Haven murmured.
Wally coughed, and glanced away. “Yeah, well, your friend got mixed up in some pretty bad people. So, unless you care to get y
ourself mixed up with them, too, I suggest you scurry along and don’t look back. That’s my advice. Be smart, and take it. You don’t have the kind of power or influence these people do. You are a regular woman in a very dangerous world. These people live a life that would give you nightmares. You don’t have even a fraction of what you need to get you through their front door.”
Well, fuck.
“Right now, you are not even on their radar,” the man added quieter. “If you begin looking at them, you will become a blip. The second they know you are there is the very second you become their problem. And do you want to know how they deal with problems like you?”
“How?”
“The easy way would be to kill you. The hard way would be to keep you. Now, you can keep that folder I gave you, but I suggest you burn it and pretend like you never saw it to begin with.” Wally stood from the table, and gathered his things. Sliding his shades back down to cover his eyes, he turned to Haven once more with a simple, “Have a good day, Miss Murphy. Don’t contact me again about this—I won’t answer. In fact, I blocked your number after I called you this morning. I hope you understand.”
That was that.
Haven was left sitting at the table alone, and staring blankly at the stupid information in front of her. She had wasted a lot of money for information Andino had given her simply because he wanted to, and she wasn’t any better for it.
If anything, she was just more concerned than before.
She sat at that table for entirely too long before Haven decided enough was enough. She was quick to gather her things, and then leave the small eatery with the folder still tucked under her arm. Despite what Wally suggested, she had absolutely no fucking intention of burning the information.
She wasn’t giving up on Val.
Not yet.
Since the eatery was only a few blocks away from Haven’s house, and she hadn’t been able to jog that morning, she had simply walked. She was halfway home before a prickling sensation covered the back of her neck. The kind of feeling that made all the fine hairs on her body stand up on end.
She peered over her shoulder, but nothing stood out. So, she kept walking. A few cars passed her by, but it was only when a familiar black sedan drove past her for the third time within two blocks that Haven finally noticed it.
The fourth time, the car drove slower.
She didn’t recognize the shadow of the man sitting behind the wheel, but it left her with an uneasy and angry ball growing in her gut. Cars like those were all too common, she found, when it came to the mafia.
How many of the men who worked for Andino had she seen driving cars exactly like that one?
Jesus Christ.
She’d told him, hadn’t she?
Wasn’t she fucking clear enough?
Haven was a few steps from her house when the car drove by going at least twenty under the goddamn speed limit yet again. Done with that nonsense, she pulled her phone from the bag slung over her shoulder, and dialed a familiar number. Despite the fact she had actually deleted his contact from her phone altogether, her stupid mind knew the number by heart.
Of course.
This was the one and only call she would make to him. And it was only to tell him to fuck way the hell off.
He’d done enough to her.
“Haven?”
Andino’s voice filtered in her ear with a soothing, sexy quality. Fuck her body for feeling some kind of way about it, too. Haven pushed those thoughts aside as she turned to watch the black car coming her way.
“You’re having me followed now?” Haven demanded. “Is that your next thing? Instead of you coming and going, you’re sending someone else to do it for you, or …? Because I don’t appreciate it, and you can call them off at any fucking time.”
“What?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I am—”
“Haven,” Andino murmured, “you made yourself perfectly clear, and even though you weren’t willing to let me talk or explain some things … I heard you. As best as I could. I swear to God, if someone is following you, it’s not me.”
Haven stiffened in place, and her gaze lifted to watch as the car came closer. “It’s not you.”
“No.”
“Then, who the fuck is it?”
Andino cleared his throat. “It’s probably the Calabrese just making sure things are as they want it to be.”
“You mean … we’re not together.”
“Exactly that. They know better than to hurt you, but I am sure they are just making themselves known. My advice would be this … if they’re watching you, Haven, then watch back. Make them know that you’re aware they are there. Don’t be afraid—don’t let them think for a second that they’re bothering you. Watch them as much as they watch you.”
“Watch them.”
That felt odd.
“As long as they’re watching you, yeah,” he said. “And Haven?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m still sorry. And I still love you.”
Fuck him.
She didn’t need to hear that.
He couldn’t possibly mean it.
Haven hung up the call.
FIFTEEN
Three weeks to go.
The countdown was on.
A weight pressed down on Andino’s shoulders as he stared at the place card that had been set in front of him alongside four different slices of cake. He was not a sweets person, really. He could do without cake, and sugar.
Not today, apparently.
Today, he had to cake test.
For his fucking wedding.
“The traditional flavors all have a nice twist, as you will all find once you begin the tasting. There’s also our signature flavor,” the baker said, leaning over the table to point at a chocolate cake that Andino was sure tasted exactly like it fucking looked. “This one here. Now, the final one … The lemon cake has a zest—”
“Lemon is disgusting for a wedding cake,” Siena said.
At the other end of the table, Kev made a noise under his throat, and tossed his oldest sister a glare. “You could at least let the woman finish speaking, Siena.”
“I could, but nobody wants lemon flavor in their wedding cake, Kev.”
“She has a point,” Andino murmured, drawing the attention to himself. He would much rather pretend like he wasn’t there at all, but here he fucking was. He might as well make the most of it. “But then again, no one thought to ask the only woman who should really get a say about it, yeah?”
All eyes turned on a quiet Ginevra sitting beside Andino. She, like him, had barely been paying attention throughout this whole charade as well. She didn’t want to be there any more than he fucking did, clearly.
Not that he blamed her.
“I don’t care,” Ginevra said.
There she be.
Ginevra did well on her good days to pretend when it came to this marriage nonsense. She put on a smile, and acted like she gave a fuck. She didn’t step out of line, or do something that might piss off her brothers’ already thin patience. She was the respectful, dutiful wife-to-be, Andino supposed.
And then there were days like this.
Days when she didn’t care to even try. She still managed to be somewhat kind to Andino and Siena, but he figured that was because they were the only ones who made an effort to look out for what she wanted or needed. Kev and Darren surely didn’t give a single fuck about Ginevra, or what she was feeling.
They’d made that clear enough.
Kev passed Ginevra the same kind of look he had given to Siena just a couple of moments earlier. The man wasn’t very good at verbal communication unless it was to tell one of his sisters or his brother an order that he wanted them to follow. Otherwise, he just glared and went on like a foolish prick.
Then again, that’s exactly what Kev was.
A fucking prick.
Well, that was too bad for Kev because this wasn’t about him. And even if the wedding w
ould never happen—Andino was still working on that angle how he could—he didn’t think this needed to be so goddamn traumatic for Ginevra, either.
Andino gestured at his fiancée—fuck, he hated even thinking that—and shrugged. “She doesn’t care. Continue on, I guess.”
“Yes, well, okay,” the baker muttered.
Andino might have laughed at the woman’s befuddlement on any other day, but really, he just found it fucking sad. Even she could tell that this whole tasting bit was pointless. She wasn’t making a wedding cake for a couple that even wanted to get married, and it was palpable.
It made for an awkward tasting.
To say the least …
The baker waved her hands at the pieces of cake in front of everyone at the table. “Well, I will just leave you all to it. I don’t think you need me here.”
Or rather, they didn’t want her there. It was probably obvious, like everything else, frankly.
Kev grunted, and heaved his heavy body out of the chair he had been sitting in. Passing the rest of them a look, he muttered, “I think we could all take a few minutes, actually. I’ll be back—you two, fucking mind.”
He said that with a beefy finger pointed at Ginevra, and then Siena. To Andino, however, the man only gave a nod. He fucking knew better than to open his mouth and spew some kind of shit to Andino. That wouldn’t fly over well for any of them.
Had he mentioned that this tasting—like every other part of planning this goddamn sham of a wedding—had been awkward?
Because it was.
This was exactly why, even though his mother continued to ask time and time again to be allowed to help, Andino refused her. He knew Kim wanted to be involved in some way, even if she knew he wasn’t happy with this whole thing simply because it was her son, and what they all believed to be his only marriage.
He would be married.
And once.
Not to Ginevra, though.
Nonetheless, his mother didn’t need to be a part of this unholy mess. Kim was too good for that shit. He didn’t want her to put effort into something that he only intended on ruining. He wasn’t that horrible of a man to do that to his own mother.
