Gabe groans and tosses his hands up before he glares at me. "This is why I stick with strippers, this shit." He glares at Tor. "You broke my gate."
"You broke my fence,” she says. "And if you answered your bloody phone, you could have saved the gate."
Emotions swirl within me like an angry wave. Heartache and anger, longing and hate. Fuck, this woman is like a violent storm that I can't help but get swept up in. The wind blows and her blonde hair catches on the breeze, whipping around her face. I want to hate her, I want to love her...I drag my hand down my face, staring at her as she approaches.
"Jude," she whispers, so close I can practically fucking feel her.
"Why are you here?" I ask, my tone a mask of indifference.
"Ah, ese, those strippers cost me a lot of money and now," Gabe tosses his hands into the air and snorts, "this shit." He moans as he stumbles over to one of the blazing cars and opens fire with his machine gun.
Sighing, I grab Tor's arm and drag her away from the flaming cars.
Her eyes lock with mine. "Jésus is dead."
"Congratu-fucking-lations?" I shrug and grab a smoke from my pocket and light it.
Gabe fires off a few more rounds, shouting something in Spanish. She sighs and throws her head back before turning and walking back toward the house.
I stumble after her, taking a deep drag of my cigarette. "So, that's it, he's dead and you just prance your ass back in here?"
She stops and turns to face me, her eyes swirling with pain. "I'm back because I need you, Jude."
"Oh," I snort, blowing smoke from my lips. "You do?"
She closes her eyes. Her shoulders tense. Her brows pull together.
"What in the fucking hell do you need me for, huh, Tor?" I step toward her and she drops her chin to her chest.
"Cayla's...” She won’t look at me and with each passing moment of silence, the beating of my heart grows more furious. “She’s… she's alive, Jude. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you."
There’s nothing but white noise. Static. For a moment, that comment sobers me. My chest goes tight and I can't breathe. "She's...” I grab both sides of my head and stagger on my feet. “She's alive?" I want to fall to my knees and thank a god I don’t believe in, but just as soon as the disbelief, the relief has set in, it’s quickly consumed by a blinding rage. She said she was sorry. She knew. She knew she was alive and she let me believe my daughter was dead. My face burns with anger. I step right up to her, staring down at her as all my muscles tense. "Tor," I say through gritted teeth. She won't look at me, so I grab her chin and force her head up. "I've believed my little girl was dead, and you've fucking known? Tell me you haven't known, Tor. "
She squeezes her eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you," she says quietly.
"Sorry?" My jaw clenches, and before I can even think about what I'm doing I grab her shoulder and shove her. "You're sorry that you couldn't tell me my daughter was alive?"
"I made a deal with Jésus. I—"
"I don't give a flying fuck what deal you made, you could have told me she was alive goddamn it."
"I sent her to my sister in exchange for you...and me. She was gone. I thought you were dead, and as long as I stayed with him, she was safe." She shakes her head. "I thought she would be safe, I—”
"What do you mean thought?” My grip on her shoulder tightens. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and I shake her. “Where is she, Tor?”
"Ronan has her."
Red flashes across my eyes and I shove Tor back so hard she stumbles into the wall. I pace, taking drag after drag from my cigarette, because what the fuck are we going to do now?
"I need your help, Jude," Tor whispers.
"Now that the goddamn Russian devil has her you need my help?" I shake my head. "Jésus, Tor, I could have managed Jésus..." I scrub my hand over my face and let the anger and rage melt into my body. I stand glaring at her, my pulse visible with each beat of my heart.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Ronan's number. It only rings once before he answers. "Ah, American. I expected a call from you." He laughs.
"Give me…” I can hardly breath I'm so angry, “my daughter back, you sorry sack of Russian shit."
"You wound me," he says.
My heart threatens to pound out of my chest. I want to yell and scream at him, but it will do no good with this man. Empty threats are just that. Empty. "I want my daughter," I whisper. "Please."
"I will not harm the little one, I simply need a favor from you before I give her back."
Closing my eyes, I throw my head back. "I just want my little girl." My throat goes tight and catches on the desperate feeling clawing its way up my throat.
"You pain me, American. You do. I promise she will be safe. I will cherish her as if she were my own –"
"I want to see her." I clench my teeth.
"I can send you a picture," he says.
"No." I take a deep breath. "I need to physically see her before I agree on shit with you."
"Fine.” He sighs. “I will send you the address of a hotel in Moscow. Go there, and I will be in touch." He hangs up, and I grip the phone in my hand as I glare at Tor. There's so much I want to say to her, but I can't go over any of that right now. Before I’ve even shoved my phone back in my pocket, it dings with an address.
"Gabe," I shout. "Gabe?"
The sound of someone gagging bounces around the courtyard. "Ese..." Gabe mumbles. "Tequila and gunfire are not a good combination, si."
I round the corner and Gabe comes staggering around, stepping through the plants. He goes to lean against the edge of the house and he nearly falls. I grab his shirt and hold him up. "I need to go Russia?"
"Fuck the Russians..." He slumps against the brick exterior of his house. "And fuck Narnia, too."
"Listen." I slap his cheek and his eyes go wide. "I need a way to Russia right fucking now."
He hiccups before he yanks free from my grasp. "So angry..." he mumbles as he pulls his phone from his pocket and presses it to his ear. "Gustavo," he slurs. "I need a plane, my friend."
***break***
I toss some clothes into a duffel bag and check my watch. I have another hour before the plane will be ready and it seems like a motherfucking eternity. I zip the bag and grab my gun, shoving it in the waist of my jeans. I take a breath, and it hits me all over again. Tor lied to me, allowing me to believe the most precious part of my life had been lost.
The door to the bathroom creaks open and she comes out wrapped in a towel. When she glances up at me, everything ignites. A raging fire spreads over my cheeks. "You lied to me," I say, grabbing her and slamming her against the wall. Her eyes widen as I inch my face close to hers. "You fucking lied to me, Tor."
She shoves me. "You left me no choice! I did what I had to do to save her."
I want to shout and yell, fuck, I want to punch a hole in the wall. The rage is so strong, I can't even form words, all I can do is use brute force. I push her harder against the wall. "She's my daughter, too, Tor." I lean closer in, my lips almost brushing hers. That primal part of me is tempted to kiss her, but we are not the same people we were—and I don't know that we ever will be. She betrayed me, not by selling me out. Not by staying with Jésus, but by letting me believe my little girl was dead. I focus on the fact that Cayla is alive and yet in no better position than she was before and my fingers dig into Tor’s skin.
"I'm sorry.” She struggles under my hold, and I just glare at her, rage battering my insides. With each hard breath I draw in, I tighten my grip on her until she winces. “It killed me not to tell you that night," she whispers. "But you would have gone for her."
"Your damn right I would have." I give her another shove before I release my hold on her and walk away, pacing. " I'll never fucking forgive you for letting me think she was dead." I point at her.
"I don't need your forgiveness. I just need you to do what you do best, Jude. I want her back."
"Do what I do best?” I la
ugh. “Amazing! Now...now...after you've let me believe she's dead, after you've played the part of Jésus' fucking whore, now you want me to do what I fucking do best?" I shake my head.
Her jaw clenches, her eyes dance with anger, and then she fucking slaps me. "Fuck you, Jude."
Closing my eyes, I release a slow breath because I want to slap her right back. My fingers twitch at my side. "I should fucking slap you right back."
"Nothing Jésus hasn't already done," she says.
And then my gaze falls to her split lip. My emotions war with each other, a push and pull between hate and love. This is not us. This is not my Tor... I step to the side, dragging my hands through my hair before I slam my fist through the wall. That small amount of pain that shoots up my arm provides little release for me.
"I don't know what you want me to say," she breathes.
"Nothing. You can't fucking say anything to fix this." I glare at her before I turn and cross the room, grabbing more clothes to shove in my bag.
"It's Cayla, Jude!"
"I know it's fucking Cayla!" I shout, my nostrils flaring with the rage boiling and simmering back to the top. I feel like a dormant volcano desperate to blow.
She charges at me. Her palms land on my chest and she shoves me in the chest. "Tell me one thing you wouldn't do for her, Jude!"
"There is nothing, nothing I wouldn't do for her, and at one point, Tor, there was nothing I wouldn't have done for you. But I would never let you believe she was dead. I would never do that to you."
"We lost her! I did the only thing that was left to protect her." Tears spill down her cheeks and she angrily swipes at it. "I gave her up, Jude. To save her. Can you imagine what that's like?"
"You gave both of us up, Tor." I feel the anger dying down, being swallowed by the sick feeling of grief and helplessness.
She shakes her head. "You were dispensable. She wasn't. If our situations were reversed I'd want you to do the same. Every. Time."
I glare at her. She thinks that’s what she’d want. It's easy to think anything until you experience the hurt, the betrayal. "I would have found another way that didn't lead you to believe she was dead," I say as I shake my head. None of that matters. All that matters is Cayla.
"You think that now, but I was desperate, and Ronan handed me a way out. The only way I could see."
She trusted the Russian over me. That’s enough to bring that anger bubbling right back to the top. It pops until it finally spills over and I swat at the lamp on the table, watching it topple to the floor and crash. "Making deals with everyone except me. Fucking Jésus and Ronan..." I storm toward her. She squares her shoulders and steps closer to me until I can feel her warm breath blow across my face. I clench my fist. It's all I can fucking do to maintain myself.
"You want to hurt me, Jude?" she says before shoving me again. "Do it. Make yourself feel better," she dares.
The thin thread of control snaps and I grab her throat, squeezing as I push her across the room and pin her to the wall. "You've forgotten who I am. I'm not nice, Tor. Don't fuck with me." I tighten my grip and she claws at my hands while her eyes narrow in defiance.
"I'm not nice anymore either. Guess we're even."
Each breath I draw is audible. I stare at my fingers twitching over her throat. When my gaze lifts to hers, I find her eyes void. Blank of all emotion. And I've seen her like this before, after Bob, after Joe, after Caleb. After the person she was—the person she was meant to be— was slaughtered.
Sighing, I drop my hand from her throat and walk to the door, opening it and slamming it closed behind me. There is nothing I can do to fix this. Nothing that can be said to take back the hurt. The lies. It is what it fucking is, but Cayla is still alive and I have to find her.
18
Tor
I walk up to the battered Hummer and open the boot, throwing my bag inside. Jude is standing just outside the door of the house talking to Gabe. He glances over at me, a frown marring his face. I ignore him and climb into the driver's side, starting the engine. He glares at me as he stars walking this way, and I know he's going to lose his shit in three, two, one...
He rounds the front of the car and opens the passenger door, climbing in. I glance at him, waiting for him to kick off, but instead he simply faces the window. I'm glad he's not pulling his macho shit and insisting I stay safe, but at the same time, I'm not. It means he doesn't care if I'm safe anymore, and that hurts. After everything that we've been through, everything that I've done to try and protect our daughter...
I guess I always believed that he would forgive me.
I pull away from Gabe's house and head down the long driveway. Jude and I don't talk as we make our way through the streets of Juarez. He simply gives me directions every now and then. Eventually we arrive at a small airfield on the outskirts of the city. There are several men standing around when I pull up next to a private jet. The stairs are already down, the door open and waiting.
I don’t even have the car fully in park when Jude opens the door and gets out. I shove the shift in park and he’s already around back, grabbing the bags out of the car. I climb out of the car.
“Give Benji the key,” Jude says, pointing at the man now standing next to the car.
Without question, I hand the key to the man. He bows his head and gestures towards the steps leading into the plane.
I climb the steps and take a seat in one of the plush leather chairs. Jude steps in and glances at me, the muscles in his jaw ticking. I completely expect him to sit as far away from me as possible, but instead he takes the seat opposite me. We don't say a word to each other, and he simply sits there, his shoulders so tense it looks as though he's forcing himself to remain seated.
The engines start and the plane hums like an angry bee on the runway. Jude's hardened gaze remains fixed out the window, and I hate it. I hate the tension that stretches between us, but he's here. He's helping me. I want to say something to him, but I don't know what. I don't know when Jude and I became strangers, or worse, enemies.
"Ronan came to me like the fucking hand of god,” I say, “willing to make sure Cayla was safe while I killed Jésus." I shake my head. "And the whole time, he was screwing me over."
"Sure, Tor. Sure," he grumbles and tosses his head back against the seat and closes his eyes.
I hate that we're here, but I can't bring myself to regret what I did. Cayla is still alive, and that has to be enough. I lean forward and bounce my leg nervously. "He won't hurt her." I say, more to myself than to Jude. If being with Jésus has taught me one thing, it's that everything is strategic. Ronan used Cayla as motivation for me to kill Jésus, and now she's motivation for something else.
Jude scrubs his hands over his face and groans. I can feel his aggravation, his anger, but underneath it all I feel this drowning sense of helplessness swallowing us both whole. "You do realize," he says, his eyes trained out the window as the plane taxis to the runway, "this is not something we can all escape alive, right?"
"Nothing new there," I mumble. The plane bumps along the tarmac, picking up speed and soon enough the wheels and my stomach catch as we lift into the air. The tension fills the small space until I feel as though I can barely breathe. He's like a force of nature, the static electricity that hangs in the air before a storm. And I'm just waiting for the thunder, so I call it forth.
"Just say it, Jude." I sigh.
He slowly looks at me, cold, detached...this is the man I met three years ago. The bookie. "Did you enjoy fucking him?"
I sigh, tightening my fists until my nails cut into my palms. "I didn't fuck him."
Jude snorts and I want to slap him. "Another one of your lies? "
"Why would I lie to you? At this stage, why would I lie to you, Jude?"
He sighs. "You expect me to believe he just kept you there. Some sick son of a bitch like him—and he didn’t touch you?"
I drop my gaze to my lap. I can't lie to him anymore. "He kissed me, but he said he wanted me to co
me to him willingly. I was never willing, so..." I lift my head and tilt my face to the side, watching him. "That's why he told me you were dead. As long as you were alive, all the time in the world couldn't make me betray you. Not like that." I frown. I still can't understand why Jésus did the things he did, why he was kind to me, why he never forced himself on me...until he did. "I only stayed for Cayla. Be mad all you want, but deep down, you know that."
His jaw tightens and he drags his hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter what you did, Tor." His voice softens but he still won't look at me.
"Then why can't you look at me?"
"Because, I'm fucking pissed." He drags in a deep breath and swipes his hand over his face. "I can almost understand why you did what you did, Tor. Almost. What I will never fucking understand is why you lied to me about Cayla." His nostrils flare and he closes his eyes.
I don't know what to say to him. What can I say? “Jude, what would you have done if you'd known where she was?"
"Gone and fucking gotten her."
"Exactly, and I would have come to you, Jude, and we would have never stopped running. From Jésus, or Ronan. Whoever."
"And now?" He laughs sarcastically. "Now, how is it going to be any different?"
"It wasn't supposed to go like this!" I fight tears of frustration. "Ronan fucked me over, but I tried, Jude. I tried to do the impossible." A choked laugh leaves my lips. "God, I used to be a doctor, now I'm killing cartel members. Just how I always dreamed my life would be." This blind hysteria clings to the edges of my consciousness and I feel like I'm losing my grip on reality.
"There is no way outta this. Ever. It will always be like this. Us constantly running. We're in too deep. We're—"
"No!" I shake my head. "No. We're going to end it, Jude. We'll end it, and....and it will be fine." My hands shake and I turn my face towards the window in the hope that he can't see the blind panic consuming me. I've lived for months with one purpose. Protect Cayla. Kill Jésus. I sacrificed everything for it, and that has to be worth something. Jude always fixes everything. He makes it right. He keeps us safe.
War (Wrong Book 4) Page 9
