Vow of Atonement

by Emma Renshaw

  “He was my father,” Rafael insists, squeezing my arm.

  I tug my arm out of his grasp. Confusion swarms my senses as I shake my head and dart my eyes around the room. I want him to be lying, but I know he’s not. Uncle Santiago’s secrets and lies gruesomely tear apart the last shreds of my heart. Why would he not tell me about his family? Why hide them? Did Dad know? My confusion is replaced by a dull ache in my chest.

  I try grasping at the last straw I can find. “You weren’t at his funeral. I would remember you.”

  “I was there. I was in the back. Santiago and I had a complicated relationship.”

  “He never said anything,” I whisper, focusing my eyes back down at my lap. I don’t pull away when Rafael’s hand finds my arm again. He pulls my empty wine glass from my hand and sets it on the table.

  “I lived in Mexico with mi mamá.” The soothing strokes of his hand lull me into a relaxed state. “I should get you home. I think the wine has made you sleepy.”

  A small smile curves my mouth. “I think you’re right.”

  4

  Harper

  “Earth to Harper.” Snapping fingers in front of my face pull me from my thoughts. Camille stands in front of me with one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. What’s with you?”

  I shake my head and plaster a smile on my face. “Nothing.”

  Camille rolls her eyes, not believing me for one second. “How was dinner with our sexy new owner? Can he be our boss? He can boss me around any time.”

  “Camille!” I can’t hold in the laughter.

  She shrugs, barely concealing a smile. “What? I bet he likes it kinky. He’s so perfectly polished in that suit. You just know he only gets dirty in the bedroom. I’ll gladly volunteer for that job.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Oh. I see what’s going on here.” She holds her hands out in front of her taking a step back. “I’ll back off.”

  My face scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re into him. Did y’all bang last night? Please tell me he dragged you into a coat closet and fucked you while all the other tenants were out at his little shindig. Jesus, that man is fine.”

  “Camille!” I can’t hold in the laughter and can’t bring myself to scold her for talking like that in my store. I just hope she’ll keep her mouth shut if a customer walks in.

  “Give me all the dirty details.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “No details to give. Dirty or otherwise.” I say, walking away. At least no details like she wants. A bomb dropped on the life I thought I knew? That’s a different story. I had stayed awake most of the night, trying to recall any memory of a mention from Santiago. He was a constant in my life—cheering just as loudly as my parents at my kindergarten graduation, coming with bouquets to every dance recital, and consoling me through my darkest days. Why would he lie to me?

  “No details to give because nothing happened, or no details because you don’t want to share?”

  “No details because nothing happened and nothing will happen. He’s my landlord. That’s it.” I glance down at my watch. “Get out of here, it’s your lunch time.”

  Her shoulders drop as she grabs her purse from the counter. “It’s a shame you’re letting that go to waste. He was totally checking you out yesterday.”

  I point toward the door. “Get out of here! You’re lucky I don’t fire you.”

  She struts away, swaying her hips in a dramatic fashion, flinging open the door as she calls over her shoulder, “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The smile falls from my face the second she walks out the door, my mind going back to its endless questions. Why would Uncle Santiago lie? Why would he keep a child a secret? Is Rafael lying? No, it’s not a lie. I don’t know how I know, but I know in my gut he’s telling the truth.

  I wish there was someone I could ask. My parents are gone. My sister is gone. Uncle Santiago is gone. I’m not friends with anyone from my past and even if I was, none of my friends knew my father and uncle like I did, except one person.

  My dad and Uncle Santiago grew up in rough neighborhoods, bouncing around from house to house in the foster system. Santiago made one of his missions in life to give back to the old neighborhood, hoping that at least one kid would be able to walk away from the threats of that life. The one person who might know more about Uncle Santiago than me is the last person I want to think about, much less speak with. Santiago took him under his wing and led him to the path that he’s on today.

  Roman Marx. My ex-boyfriend. The only boy I ever loved. He was intricately woven into my life before my family died. It’s as simple as picking up the phone to call him; there’d be no hesitation on his end, and he’d fill me in on everything he knows. Or he’d dig into the past until he could answer any question I throw at him. He doesn’t tell me things are impossible. If I ask, he will find a way. No questions, no hesitations. It doesn’t matter. Even after all this time, I know I can call him. If I begged him to break the world down to its core, he’d make it happen. He may not love me anymore. We may not be together, but my soul is bound to his.

  It should be as simple as picking up the phone.

  It’s really not that simple, though.

  I could never bring myself to delete his number from my phone, and even if I did, I have it memorized. It’s ingrained in my memory just as much as his touch. Do I call him and ask, but risk having my heart broken when I hear his voice? Or do I let this go and move on, accepting I can’t have answers from the grave?

  I’ve never been good about letting things go.

  5

  Harper

  Groaning, I try to roll over, but I hit a solid wall. My eyes fly open and I open my mouth to scream, but a hand covers it. I start thrashing against the person behind me, screaming against his hand. A leg hooks over my waist, limiting my movements.

  “Sugar, it’s just me.”

  Time stands still when the deep voice registers in my ear. Everything stops. My movements. My breaths. My heart.

  No.

  No. No. No.

  No.

  I called him and left a message. He was supposed to call me back, not show up. Roman takes advantage of my stillness by pulling me closer to his body and nuzzling my neck. The hand that was covering my mouth slides down my neck, my throat, my chest, and comes to rest on my stomach, sending chills along my skin. I close my eyes, relishing in his warmth for just one second before they fly open and reality slaps me in the face.

  Ten years. Ten fucking years.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice doesn’t sound nearly as strong as I wish it did. I’m still not quite convinced this isn’t a dream.

  I grit my teeth to stop my whimper from escaping when his soft lips land on my neck. “You said you needed help. You need help? I’m here. Simple as that, Sugar.”

  Oh my god. This really isn’t a dream. He grunts when I send my elbow into his stomach before I leap from the bed and press my back into the wall.

  And, there he is. Roman fucking Marx. It’s been years since I’ve seen him. He’s filled out since he left me behind. When he left, he was still a boy. An undeniably drop-dead-gorgeous boy, but still a boy. This Roman in front of me, though, is all man. Dear fucking Lord. I will not acknowledge the rush of heat that floods my system. I will not…

  My thoughts trail off as I groan, watching his naked chest emerge from beneath the covers. Roman is leaning against my headboard, an arm thrown over his head, smiling at me. The tattoos on his enormous biceps are new. His bronze skin is taut over each rippling muscle on his chest and stomach. I swallow as my eyes continue to go lower and lower.

  The sheet is pulled down so low. My eyes jump back to his when I see his morning wood. He raises an eyebrow.

  “Why are you here? And, why the fuck are you naked?”

  He shrugs, that damn smile never leaving his lips. “I hate sleeping in clothes.”

  “You d
on’t get in bed naked with a stranger.” I have to restrain myself from stomping my foot.

  The smile on his face is replaced by an angry scowl as he spits out his words. “I’m not a fucking stranger, Harper.”

  “You may as well be,” I counter.

  Roman launches himself from the bed and cages me against the wall, getting so close I can feel the heat from his naked body. He leans forward, sliding his nose along my cheek on his way to my ear. My heart is tripping over itself and my breathing has turned into pants. He’s been close to me for a couple of seconds and my body is already falling apart. His voice is rough when he whispers, “Have you forgotten I know every inch of your body?”

  The only answer I have for him is my deep gulp and flaming cheeks. He chuckles. “That’s what I thought, Sugar.”

  The nickname sends me into a fit of rage. “Don’t you dare call me that.” I shove against his chest until he backs up. “And put some clothes on.”

  Rushing past him, I head to the kitchen. I can’t be in a bedroom alone with him. His presence is too much. A few minutes later, I hear him walking toward me. I turn, handing him a cup of coffee.

  “You remember how I like my coffee.” A satisfied grin takes over his face. He still doesn’t have a shirt on, but at least he’s wearing pants. Even if they are unbuttoned.

  “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I spat in it.”

  “You’re too sweet for that.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  Roman’s eyes lazily scan me from head to toe. “I know you better than anyone.”

  I close my eyes, counting to ten and breathe deeply. I will not let him rattle me. I’m calm. I’m in control. “Why are you here?”

  “You called.”

  “That’s not an answer.” My voice is so shrill it could break glass. Okay, so that wasn’t calm. I take a breath and try again. “I wanted you to call me back. Not show up.”

  He scratches his chest, calm as can be, setting his coffee on the table next to him. “This is better.”

  We stare at each other, taking in everything that’s the same and everything that’s different. Oh my god. “Wait! How do you know where I live?”

  “I own a security company. It’s easy to find what I want with my resources.”

  “How did you get into my apartment?” I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated I didn’t realize until now that he had no way into my apartment. This should have been the first thing out of my mouth.

  “Your security is seriously lacking. It wasn’t even a challenge.” He crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, begging me to give him a challenge.

  “Lovely,” I mutter, biting my lip, flicking my eyes around my kitchen, looking anywhere other than his chest.

  “What do you need help with?” he asks softly.

  “I don’t need help. I only have a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  I put my face in my hands, resting the urge to scream into them. I can’t believe after all these years, Roman is standing in front of me.

  “My new landlord of my store claims he’s Santiago’s son.”

  Surprise registers on his face and relief swarms through me, thankful I wasn’t the only one in the dark. “He had a son?”

  “Appears so,” I respond flatly.

  “Why would he contact you? I don’t like this.” His crossed arms flex over his broad chest as his face turns into a scowl.

  “I didn’t ask your opinion. I only wanted to know if you knew he had a son.”

  Roman’s nostrils flare. “Why did he contact you?”

  “I don’t think he intentionally contacted me. He bought the building my shop is in.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, right. Not fucking intentional. Stay away from him.”

  I cross the room, poking my finger in his hard chest. “Don’t you dare give me an order.”

  “You used to like when I ordered you around, Sugar.”

  Growling, I go back to the other side of the kitchen, putting space between us. “I got what I wanted from you. You need to leave.”

  “I’m going to find out who this guy is. What’s his name?”

  “Just going to completely ignore my request for you to leave. Typical.” I resist the urge to pull on my hair.

  “Yeah, Sugar, I am. You got your answer from me, now I want answers from you.” He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

  “Why do you want to know?” I mimic his stance, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I don’t trust him or the bullshit lie that he randomly bought the building Harper Avenue’s in.”

  My heart stops. “H–how do you know the name of my store?”

  “Sugar.” Roman rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says really?

  “Tell me, Roman.”

  He saunters across the kitchen toward me. I try to press myself deeper into the wall to avoid what I know is coming, but there’s nowhere for me to go. His body and arms cage me. “Damn. I’ve missed the sound of my name on your lips.”

  I swallow. I will not let him see that he affects me. “Tell me.”

  “Already told you, it’s easy to find what I want to find. You may have lost track of me, but I never lost track of you.”

  A million questions pop into my mind that I want to scream in his face but I wouldn’t dare letting a single one of them past my lips. His eyes cast down to my lips and his nostrils flare before he pushes himself from the wall, giving me a bit of space again.

  “Just tell me his name, Harper.”

  I close my eyes, breathing in through my nose and pursing my lips. “Rafael Bazán.”

  “Not Cortez?”

  I shake my head, shrugging. “That’s the name he gave me.”

  “He’s lying about something. Stay away from him.” He’s staring me down, daring me to argue with him. I’m not going to, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him, either.

  6

  Roman

  Christ, that woman. Harper gets under my skin like no other person has ever done. Since the moment I met her in our high school hallway, she’s been giving me hell. Fuck, I love it.

  I stand in the hallway of her apartment building, watching her shadow under the door. She’s still standing there, right in the middle of the door. Almost a decade may have passed since we’ve seen each other, but I still know her better than anyone else. She’s leaning against the door, her hand over her heart staring up at the ceiling, reeling from every feeling I just ignited in her.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket the moment she walks away from the door. I push off from where I was leaning on the hallway and make my way down to the stairs. “Marx,” I answer.

  “Where the fuck are you?” Kiernan barks into the phone.

  “Texas.” I start my jog down the stairs, exiting the building into the blazing Texas heat.

  Kiernan Brooks, my right-hand man, goes completely silent. Not even a breath comes over the phone line before he explodes in my ear. “What did you just say?”

  “I said I’m in Texas.” I speak each word slowly, just to piss him off.

  “Dumbass. Dawson said you just took off in the middle of a job. No word, just left. I’ve been calling you.”

  “I’ve been busy. I called in for back up for Dawson.”

  “Does a client need you in Texas? Dawson didn’t need back up, it was an easy job.”

  “Not exactly.” I hop in my truck, looking up at Harper’s building one last time. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face when I see her curtains close quickly. “Every job we do has double men on it.”

  “Then what the fuck are you doing?” I can hear him pacing around.

  “I have some things to handle. You’re in charge until I get back. Don’t cut men from the jobs I assigned.”

  Kiernan’s string of curses echo in my truck when the Bluetooth connects. I toss my phone on the passenger seat and take off to find some answers about the man who bought the building.

  “Rom
an…” Kiernan releases a frustrated breath. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re stretching the guys too thin.”

  The smile Harper left on my face vanishes into thin air as the anchor drops in my stomach. I growl. “He was one of my men.”

  “Roman,” he starts before I cut him off.

  “No. Discussion over.”

  We both stay silent for a long minute, lost in regret and fury. I close my eyes for a split second, brushing it away.

  “I have shit to handle in Texas. I’m gonna need you to find some information for me.”

  Kiernan releases a string of curses again. “Is this going to get us sued?”

  “Probably not,” I reply, smiling. Not only is Kiernan my right hand in the field, he’s also the business manager of my security firm.

  “What do you need?”

  “This stays between us, yeah?”

  “Christ, what did you get yourself into?”

  I chuckle at his exasperated tone and picturing him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure yet. Get me all the information you can on a Rafael Bazán living in Austin, Texas. Maybe from Dallas. Claims his father is Santiago Cortez. Anything you find, send it over.”

  I hang up the phone as I pull into a parking lot of a motel. I didn’t intend to leave my men stranded with no warning, but when I heard that voicemail from Harper—nothing mattered. Nothing but the confusion in her voice. Nothing but the fact that she wanted something from me. I swore to myself all those years ago that if she ever needed me, I would do anything for her. I don’t give a damn what it is. I will deliver it to her on a silver platter.

  I was in the middle of job with Dawson when I checked my phone. Dawson could handle it without me there, but he’s been a bit skittish since the incident. Everyone’s lives changed after that day. Working a standard security detail on a low-level client is something one of the new guys usually handles, but it’s all Dawson’s been taking on, even with my insistence that we double our manpower on everything. When her voice flowed through the line during my break, my knees almost gave out. I didn’t have time to even glance in Dawson’s direction before I took off for my truck. I made the thirteen-hour drive in eleven.