by E. J. Mellow
I stand on the balls of my feet, weighing my options. I have a few things Ramie didn’t take tucked into my outfit. I could easily remove these thick-headed soldiers in front of me, but then what? I’m deep underground with at least one A+ loose and who knows how many other guards around corners. What would be the result of acting now? Nothing to my benefit.
Shoving my hands into my pants pockets, as if in a silent huff of displeasure, I curl my fingers around the slip of plastic I need.
“I’m glad you can see reason,” Mendoza says as I watch the scientist press a button on the side of Carlos’s cell, a rush of smoke filtering into the room. The large man standing behind the door keeps his eyes locked on mine before they roll back in his head, and he collapses with a muffled thud, disappearing from view.
“Where have you stolen these people from?” I turn back to Mendoza, pulling my hands from my pockets and placing one on the edge of a nearby table, as if to steady myself.
“Stole?” His dark brows rise. “These are our guests. They have come willingly and signed their consent. Most were sick or dying, abused by this world. They understand the risks and what they are contributing to, what they are helping to create.”
I shake my head, trying to block out his words. “You have no idea what you’re messing with.”
“I disagree.” He indicates for us to walk on. “I’ve been working on this for years. With the help of Ramie and these guests, I now know the genetic makeup of Portafuegos down to the last cell, the difference in your immune system versus mine, that your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis each have an extra layer, making your skin three times stronger. I know it all, and understand tha—”
“I’m not talking about the science,” I say. “Every government with an A+ operative or prisoner knows the science. I’m talking about actually being one of us.” I level a glare on him. “You think I’m able to stand here, calmly, and not give in to my basic instinct to rip through every threat in this compound without using all my control not to? Control that has taken me years to hone, to acquire and suffer through. I’ve had two decades to learn how to break apart, separate, and subdue the noise in this world. Your heartbeat, his”—I nod to Ramie—“all these guards, the electricity flowing in the lights, the air pumping through vents. And don’t get me started on the smells,” I scoff. “It’s enough to drive someone mad, which is probably why most of us turn out that way. Do you have any idea the stress and shock you are throwing on these guests of yours? Our abilities will eat them alive before you see any progress. Why haven’t you warned him of this?” I turn to Ramie with a scowl. “You must see the truth in what I’m saying.”
“Of course,” Ramie says, chin lifting. “And their rooms have all been acclimated to their different stages of onboarding, slowly introducing sounds and scents. They have been given a much better beginning than mostly all of our kind, than you or I.”
“But this thinking and level of understanding is exactly why we need you.” Mendoza stops at the beginning of a new hall. Turning toward me, the silver in his hair winks under the fluorescent floodlights. “By working together, we can assure this is done to the best of our abilities.”
I stand there, speechless for a moment, everything that I’ve just seen, heard, coming back to me in waves, ice-filled waves. This is not what I had thought I would find, not the weapon that was to be sold on the black market. “But…” I hear myself saying. “Why would you put this in the hands of criminals? Of countries to wage war?”
“Ah.” Mendoza clasps his hands in front of himself. “I can see why you’d be concerned now. But don’t worry. All this”—he gestures to the general facility—“Chenglei had no knowledge or dealings in. Like most advancements in science, it comes with a price tag, and drugs can only pay for so much.”
He says it like I should find this funny, but nothing about this amuses me.
“We created a simple booster serum for soldiers based off of our research,” he explains. “It advances abilities during combat but wears off after twenty-four hours.”
“Like steroids?”
“Better than steroids and with no side effects, well besides a bit of jitteriness the next day and perhaps a bit of depression.”
“I still don’t understand…why do any of this to begin with?”
“Don’t you see, mi rosa? If only I had your abilities the day my family came for me, for you and Isabelle. Had you been older and known what you were, we could have saved everything. We’d be together. All of us.”
Three smiling faces under the Tennessee sun.
“I will never again let those take away what I hold dear. And now that you’re alive…” He takes a step closer, and it’s a testament to my strength that I don’t step back. “Mi pequeña rosa, back from the dead…” He shakes his head, almost in wonder. “Let the world have their drugs and hopped-up soldiers, but we will be safe in our new family. We will protect what’s ours and be able to live without fear. All Los Portafuegos will be welcome here. And once we have the numbers, enough to be left alone or have those that try to stop us suffer the consequences, we will break to the surface, and Los Portafuegos can finally live without governments stepping in to claim them as their own, to use as their little tools, to control.”
“No, because you’ll do that.”
“Mi rosa.” A frown puckers his brows. “I would never try to control you,” he says, placing a large hand on my shoulder. Every cell jumps at the contact, the feel of his palm seeping into my clothes like flames. “Especially not when I have done all this so I can become one of you.”
51
Carter
CUETZALAN, MEXICO: 1018 HOURS
She walks into our room and heads straight for the shower. I silently track her movements as I sit on the small couch tucked along the wall by the balcony. The water turns on, and I drum my fingers against the book in my lap. I’ve been pretending to read it for the past hour, and neither Consuela’s nor Rodrigo’s heavy petting were enough to distract me from this moment.
Wrapped in a towel, her skin still dewed with a few droplets of water from her shower and hair tied in a messy bun, Nashville steps from the bathroom, digging through her drawers for clothes.
“That was a long run,” I say from my corner.
“I decided to go further than normal,” she explains without turning around.
“Thirty minutes outside of town further?”
Her back stiffens, her hands slowing in their work.
I stand, readying for any number of reactions, thankful I removed the Glock 17 she stores in that top dresser. I know she can hear my quickly beating heart, the sound of my tense breathing, the pheromones I give off, and God knows what else in such a moment, but I don’t give a damn.
Let her know I’m on to her, I think. Let her panic.
A dog’s bark comes through the open window, the squeal of a child, and even though I can’t see her face, I can sense Nashville’s gaze darting to the balcony, the door, her fight or flight kicking in.
Too bad for her I know which one she’s more prone to act upon, so with my muscles tensing, I shift to block her from running to either.
“Be very careful,” I say, voice low, “with what you do next, Nashville.”
“Don’t call me—”
“That’s who I need right now.” I cut her off like a blade through the air. “Talk to me as her, like a human.”
Her head turns, hot blue eyes finding mine over her bare shoulder.
“Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.”
“Chance?” She raises a mocking brow.
“Tell me where you were,” I demand. “Or do I need to drag you back to that field for you to show me?”
The room becomes enveloped in shadow as I sense her taking in my words, the moment suspended, gravity lifting before it slams down.
“You followed me!” She spins around, gripping her towel.
“Fuck yes I followed you. You’ve been lying to me!”
/> Her lips pinch together as her eyes dart to her side of the bed.
“All your stashes are empty.” My voice remains hard. “It’s just you and me.”
Her fingers twist into her towel more.
“Please,” I say gentler, taking a step closer, which she compensates with a step back, bumping into the dresser. “I don’t want to fight. Give me a reason not to. Tell me what’s going on.”
She presses her lips together as if two people are struggling inside her for control, fighting for what she should do next. Her toned arms stand rigid, her eyes growing wide, desperate. She looks like she’s about to burst, but which way, I’m still uncertain.
“We’re supposed to be a team.” I’m trying to push her to my side. “We can’t do this separately. It will take both of us, or have you forgotten how you reacted when I tried to go solo?”
She remains silent, and I let out a frustrated grunt, fists white knuckled at my side. “I swear to God, Nashville—don’t make me regret not going directly to the agencies about this.”
“You haven’t told them?” she says, blinking back surprise.
“Of course not.” I throw out a hand. “I want to trust you. Even though only Satan knows why, since you’re making it damn near impossible!”
Her teeth work over her bottom lip, her brows furrowing in thought, and if I wasn’t preparing for it, I’d have missed grabbing her as she dove for the picture on the wall, the one directly to her left with the watercolor of a flowered meadow.
Shit. I hadn’t checked that one.
Getting a good grip on her, I spin her away, the frame flying out of her grasp to smash onto the tiled floor, the knife hidden behind it skidding across the ground. “Really?” I growl just as she elbows my arm, breaking my hold and skipping over the bed. I snatch her ankle and drag her back, her towel twisting against the bedsheet, exposing more skin. “You’re really going to do this naked?”
She answers by trying to kick free, but I throw all my weight on her, pinning her below me as I grip the mattress. Her coconut bodywash surrounds me just as I feel her teeth cut into my shoulder. I curse and buck off. “Fuck,” I seethe, dabbing a hand to the broken skin. She wipes a bit of my blood from her lips as she scoots away, a retreating animal.
We stand on either side of the bed now, me by the bathroom, her by the open balcony. Breathing heavy, she fixes her towel, tying it tighter around her chest as her long, toned legs stretch out of the bottom, the morning light filtering a halo around her red hair.
She’s three feet from being able to escape. Naked or not, I know it doesn’t matter to her, and I hate that I admire her for that. Admire her in the same moment she’s shredding me, shattering what little faith I had left for any of this, for us.
“Go.” I growl, whipping a hand toward the balcony behind her. “I won’t try to stop you anymore. If you really want to sabotage thi—”
“My father.” Her gasping the words cuts me off.
“What?”
“Manuel Mendoza…he’s…he’s my father.”
The room tilts, and I actually have to grab the bedpost to steady myself.
“What?”
“But I didn’t know he was,” Nashville quickly goes on, barreling through my question. “I just found out, only four days ago, and I…I didn’t know what to do. I knew how it looked. The man we were sent to find and kill ending up being my…” She can’t seem to say the word again. “And us not making any progress. All those fucking dead ends, but it wasn’t because of me. You have to believe me!” Her gaze is wild, desperate. So unlike her. “I wanted to tell you,” she says, the words continuing to tumble, a criminal confessing. “I really did, but I just…I had too many questions. I needed more time, and if anyone found out, I’d be taken off the assignment…or worse.” Her gaze drifts away for a moment before snapping back to mine. “I’m not a double agent, Carter. I’m not. You have to believe me. I had no idea—”
I hold up a hand for her to stop, the silence of the room filling my head with a low ringing as I piece the cut-up ramble she just spouted together.
The most important info to gather at the top.
“You found your father?” The question comes out unbelieving.
She blinks for a second, confused, before answering with a head nod.
“And it’s Manuel Mendoza?”
A swallow before another nod.
“You’re sure?”
“I was shown a DNA test that proved it.”
A soft breeze filters into our room, the bed’s sheer canopy stirring.
“Oh, Nashville,” I breathe out. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m not sure if it’s the sad tone in which I say it, or if it’s from the compassion she sees in my eyes, or if my words were the last thing she thought I’d say, but it all appears to finally be too much. For the woman who has stood unmoving in the face of death, strong when outnumbered, finally breaks, splinters before my eyes, and with hands covering her face, she bends forward and cries.
My heart drowns at the sight.
Without another thought, I stride to her side, pulling her into my chest. Her muscles tense for a second, unsure, before she gives in to yet another thing and lets me hold her.
And it’s like every one of my nerves settles at the contact, calms, as I brush my fingers through her hair, down her smooth back, over and over again.
“You…you believe me?” She brushes away her tears with an annoyed swipe, and I have a feeling this show of vulnerability will be a one-time-only performance.
“Why on earth would you make this up?”
Her brows furrow. “Yes, but—”
“You’re a good actress, but you’re not that good or that masochistic.”
She shakes her head, baffled. “Don’t you want to know how I found out?”
I snort. “I want to know a lot more than that, and you’ll certainly tell me, but what you just did…have been going through. Fuck.” My grip tightens around her. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine…your father…Jesus.” I’m less than eloquent in this moment, but who can blame me? “How are you really?”
She takes in a stuttering breath, her back muscles loosening under my fingers. “I’m tired,” she says. “And…confused.”
“Understandably so.”
She presses her lips together. “I mean, can life be any more of a bitch?”
I can’t help the small smile that forms as I pull her in closer, reveling in the fact that she lets me as the reality of what just transpired, what she just risked, sinks in further. “Thank you.”
She leans back. “For what?”
“For telling me. I knew you were hiding something but had no idea it was something like this. No wonder getting it out of you damn near got us both killed,” I say. “I would have bit me too,” I finish with a grunt. “So while yes, we’ll get to all the details of the hows, whys, and what’s next soon, let’s give ourselves a second, okay? Life may be a bitch, but she can afford us at least that much.”
Nashville blinks up to me, blue eyes regarding me with slight wonder, even a bit of confusion, before she does another thing that takes me by complete surprise. Standing on tiptoes, she leans forward and kisses me.
My arms tense around her in shock, confused for a hairsbreadth, before my brain connects what’s happening.
Nashville is kissing me.
On purpose.
And as her body presses deeper into mine, the heat of her skin through her thin towel seeps into my clothes, wrapping around my everything and slowly piecing together what was so quickly breaking, I let out a small moan and kiss her back.
52
Nasvhille
My world is a wash of sensations, a spinning of colors behind my eyelids as my heart pounds against my rib cage. Let me fly, it demands. Let me soar.
And I let it.
I let us.
With strong hands sliding down to my thighs, Carter lifts me up to wrap my legs around his waist, carrying me the short dis
tance to the bed.
I’m kissing Carter.
Carter is kissing me.
And I don’t want either of us to stop. Not for a long, long time.
I’ve officially lost my mind, but for once I don’t care. Let me lose it. Let it crash and burn around us.
It’s been exhausting trying to hold myself together these past few days, and I need a break. Need to collapse and let go. Disappear into someone else, someone who isn’t just another version of myself.
I need him, and perhaps he knows it, because with a gentleness I’m unused to, Carter lowers me to the cool sheets before draping his body over mine, not giving me a second to think, breathe, as his lips collide with mine, lick their way down my neck, fingers digging into my thighs to pull them around his back. He’s all hard muscle and cinnamon, touches of desperation and desire, and I’m a similar greedy beast.
Since that night at Viento del Este and even before that, if I was being honest, I have wanted something, something I was unable to clearly see or admit to needing, afraid it would make me weak, at risk. But feeling the weight of this man on top of me, recalling the trust in his eyes at my words, to feel safe while being so vulnerable, was enough to let my walls weaken just a fraction and let him in.
I feel understood for the first time since meeting Ceci, and though it terrifies me, I can’t stop grabbing handfuls of the sensation.
Carter has met me head for head every time, unafraid, and it’s been stirring a fire in me that has nothing to do with anger but everything to do with respect.
With a growl, I flip Carter to lie beneath me, my legs straddling his waist. Nothing but his jeans separate him from me, my towel a mere curtain easily ripped to the side. His green eyes spark with a darkness gazing up at my body as he slowly removes his gray T-shirt, baring his toned chest and abs, his tan skin peppered with slashes of scars, and I run my hands over every one of them.
