by Em Petrova
The clinic was a shed of sorts scabbed together out of whatever scrap lumber could be found, and he wasn’t sure if it had been added on while her parents were still alive or if Carissa had managed it out of pure necessity following the disaster.
Some of the boards had peeling paint and some were raw, weathered gray. The door looked crooked, as did the older woman standing there.
She looked at him, startled.
He stared at her harder. “Luciana?”
She blinked and straightened. “Dios mio, it is you.” She flattened a hand over her bony chest as Roades stepped forward. He drew the older woman into a big hug, and she stepped back to gawp at his chest. “There’s a lot of you now, dear.”
Grinning, he moved to open the door for the woman he’d known from his stay here. The neighbor had been on Team Roades and had even championed him to Carissa’s father when Roades had shown up begging for her hand. But now, time and events seemed to have ravaged her appearance.
She looked like the slightest ocean breeze would knock her over.
“Luciana.” Carissa stepped around Roades, shooting him a look. “I’ve got what you need. Come inside.”
She led the woman into the clinic and whether or not he was wanted there, he entered as well. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight after what had happened in the alley. When those guys gained consciousness, they’d know where to find Carissa for sure. But killing them in front of her hadn’t been an option for Roades, which was why he had to find them again and make sure they kept their distance—or else.
Yeah, she didn’t need to know about the violence he was capable of. It was better if she continued to think of him as the young man she’d known years ago.
“Excuse me a minute,” Carissa said to Luciana. She turned to Roades. “I need some time alone. Go get dressed,” she whispered.
He eyed her and the flimsy door that even if she closed and locked it, would be no match for a set of thugs like the ones he’d just put in their places.
But he could see Carissa’s glare wouldn’t be wiped from her face until he followed her wishes. It took some effort, but he nodded and then turned for the house again. She’d managed to survive all these months without him and probably could handle herself better than he thought.
Before she closed the clinic door, he heard Juanita’s voice ring out. “Roades is back? Niña, that’s a lot of pecho for your hands!”
He chuckled. He’d leave them to discuss his chest.
Chapter Five
When Carissa finished with Juanita, doing her best to avoid the woman’s gossiping questions about Roades and how he came to be here and—gasp!—shirtless, she saw the older woman outside.
Only to find Roades fully dressed and leaning against the side of the clinic. It seemed also he'd taken it upon himself to move some of the bigger items that littered her garden.
A warm tingle took up residence in her stomach, along with a wallop of anxiety.
He’d left her before and would again. Why had she let herself fall prey to his charms a second time around?
Stupid. So stupid.
She waited until Juanita was out of earshot before looking Roades in the eyes.
Another mistake—she shouldn’t have done that. Those deep eyes of his always made her feel she was seeing something special just for her.
“Roades.”
“Get your neighbor taken care of?” He pulled away from the wall and approached her with a slow roll of his muscles that was visual porn coming her direction.
She shook herself. “Roades, we need to stop and think about this. I—” She dropped her gaze to her hands. Drawing a deep breath, she let the words she’d been thinking since leaving the bed to fall from her tongue. “I shouldn’t have slept with you.”
He stopped his slow stalk and looked at her, face calm and something completely unreadable in his eyes. This was something she definitely couldn’t deal with—she didn’t know the real Roades, this Roades.
She’d jumped into bed with the man she remembered and damn, had he rekindled those fires with his knowledge of her body. She felt so predictable in her wants and needs, while she didn’t feel she could offer him the same. He was a different person.
“Is that so?” His Cajun drawl got her every time. But she needed to steel herself against all the charms he threw her way like grenades. She felt the blasts deep in her body still, but there must be a way to defuse those feelings.
She nodded. “Yes, it was a mistake.”
“How so?” He reached out and caught a tendril of her hair between his big fingers.
She couldn’t think when he was touching her, even if she couldn’t feel it. She stepped back.
He followed her.
“Didn’t I make you come apart?”
Dieu, did he.
She couldn’t start thinking about his hands on her, his mouth. The way he’d filled her so—
She came up against the clinic door and realized she’d been stepping backward with Roades pursuing her.
Pressing her hands against the wood for support, she straightened her spine. “I lost my head, Roades. After seeing you again and well…” She waved a hand at his physique, which only brought a smirk to his damned handsome face. She sucked in a breath and continued, “It was a mistake, a one-time affair.”
The smirk vanished and he jerked his chin up. “Ah. So you’re saying, mon coeur,” he dragged out the word, pulling each syllable over her senses like a silken cord over her skin, “that you don’t want more of the pleasures I can give you.”
No. She wasn’t saying that.
But she had to act like she didn’t.
She nodded.
He braced his hands on the door on each side of her shoulders and leaned in. She gulped. When his warm breath washed over her cheek, it was all she could do to keep from turning her head, turning into his kiss.
“I guess I will have to keep my distance then, won’t I?” His dark words vibrated in her soul even as his body language said something entirely different than his words.
Somehow, she managed a stiff nod.
He did a pushup off the door and turned for the house. Some people claimed the view from the top of Everest was the best in the world. Or from the depths of the Pacific Ocean on a coral reef.
But until those people had seen a muscled Knight man from behind in all its carved glory, they hadn’t truly lived.
“Guess I’d better hurry up and find Hernan then,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll get outta your hair.”
He disappeared into the house, and she was left weak-kneed, clinging to the door for support. Back in the clinic while thwarting Juanita’s new wedding plans for her and Roades, Carissa’s thoughts on the matter had made perfect sense. Sleeping with Roades had been pure chemistry but now that it was out of their systems, she could see it for what it was and not make the same mistake.
Slowly, she drew away from the door and crossed the small patch of grass and into the house and caught her breath at the sound of trickling water.
Roades was cleaning up.
That big, naked man was standing naked in her bathroom, water splashing over his tanned flesh all the way down to soak the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.
She issued a feminine moan and immediately checked it.
What she needed was a set of earplugs. Then a blindfold.
There was only one answer to stop her insides from knotting—Hernan better show himself soon.
* * * * *
Carissa finished cleaning up the blood spilled around her clinic. The man who’d come in with an emergency had woken her earlier than usual and her adrenaline had left her wide awake.
The wound on his hand had required cleaning before she could even assess the damage. Once she’d seen the deep gash, she’d grabbed her needle and sutures and a syringe of local anesthetic.
While stitching the wound, she’d talked to the man calmly, asking questions about his family and job, where he’d sustain
ed the injury on a piece of scrap metal. Which had resulted in a tetanus shot as well, and she was very glad to have what she needed on hand.
But her mind kept circling back to the fact that when she’d woken, Roades hadn’t been on the sofa. Or anywhere else in the house.
She emptied the basin of water and blood down the drain and went through the disinfecting process. Scrubbing out the basin and then leaving it overturned to dry. Then she removed her gloves and scrubbed her hands with antibacterial soap.
The moves were familiar but the thoughts swirling through her head were not. Roades was gone, she was sure of it. She knew the difference of the lonely, empty house she shared with a cousin she didn’t often cross paths with and when Roades was there. Just having him inside the four walls left the place feeling fuller.
And her life less empty.
She’d pushed him away, and he’d gone. It was the only conclusion she could come to.
The man hadn’t even put up a fight! She hadn’t even given a lot of effort to telling him to back off. Surely, if he was serious about her, he would have given some resistance.
That was the thing—he wasn’t serious. He’d only come back into her life to help with Hernan out of some silly old guise of friendship. And she’d been beyond stupid to let her physical attraction and needs take over.
The place smelled of blood.
She walked to the door and threw it open and then went back inside, pushing up window sashes and finding one sticking. A step sounded behind her, and she threw a look over her shoulder, thinking it another patient since the boot-fall wasn’t heavy enough to be Roades.
“Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a moment. I’m just trying to get this window up and some air flowing through,” she said.
“Is that how a sister greets a brother?”
She whirled to see Hernan there in the doorway, looking much worse for wear. With a cut on his forehead that looked tight and swollen. and with new lines on his face that revealed how tough the path he’d chosen really was, he hardly looked like the brother she knew.
A cry left her, and she ran across the space to throw her arms around him. Criminal or not, he was still her family and she loved him. She also hadn’t given up on him, or she wouldn’t have bothered calling Roades.
Roades. She wondered if Hernan had seen him yet.
She released him and stepped back, wrinkling her nose. “You smell.”
He chuckled like the boy she’d always known. “I guess I do. Carissa, I can’t stick around. I just hoped you’d look at this cut.” He pushed his hair off his forehead to show the wound extending up to his hairline and looking angrier with each inch.
She gasped and pointed at the padded table. “Lie down.”
He did without argument, which must mean he really was in pain. And no wonder—the cut was infected. She collected the supplies she’d need to tend him, all the time wondering where Roades was. Now would be the ideal time for him to show his face. He could give Hernan a lecture that would scare the Jesus back into him and then be on his way back to Louisiana.
That would mean she’d never see him again, most likely. And she’d be forever wondering what he did for a living that had packed so much muscle on him. But that was neither here nor there—she didn’t need to know those things.
I only want to.
She turned to Hernan. Brushing the hair back from his forehead made her think of the times she’d tucked him into bed when he was a boy. And the times she’d comforted him after their parents had died in the crash. How had she done so badly at teaching him to be a better man?
He met her gaze. “You look tired, ‘Rissa.”
She pushed out a sigh. She hadn’t slept much the previous night, too busy listening for Roades and hoping he’d make an attempt to get into her bed again. But he hadn’t and God knew where the man was now.
Irritation wove through her.
“I’m tired because I’ve been up worrying about my brother.”
“Me?”
She cuffed him in the ear, and he rolled away. “Yes, you, estupido niño! What do you think you’re doing, keeping people from fresh water? Charging them to get something they need to survive and you have no right to withhold!”
She moved to slap at him again, and he jumped off the table to his feet. He glared at her, and her heart tripped.
This was her worst fear—seeing Hernan turn into something she despised. It had finally happened.
He shook the hair off his forehead and stared her down. “You don’t know anything about survival, do you, sister? You believe the world is all good, treating wounds and broken bones and getting paid in chicken eggs. Well, you could do nothing without my help, don’t you realize that?”
She stepped back. She knew he and Angel were friends but hadn’t realized his buddy could be trading with her because Hernan ordered him to. As if she hadn’t felt seedy enough about the trades she made, now she felt even more disgusted.
She stiffened and met his gaze. “You don’t need to worry about me, hermano. I can take care of what I need without your help.”
He blanched at her use of the word ‘brother’ but a hard, cold look took over his face. “That’s fine. You can stay out of my business as well, hermana.”
Icy cold water splashed over her, but she could be just as hard as he was. Actually, tougher, if need be. Who had held it together after their parents’ deaths? In the days since Hurricane Maria?
She pointed to the door. “You’d better find somebody to tend that cut on your forehead. It’s festering.”
He grunted and walked out, not bothering to look back or close the door.
Carissa picked up the stainless-steel bowl of gauze and disinfectant and threw it across the room. It crashed into the wall and landed on the floor with a clatter that echoed in her ears.
But it was nothing compared to the pain resounding in her heart. She had to find Roades and stop her brother.
Chapter Six
When Roades entered the clinic, the soft rasp of a heartbroken sob hit him like a blast. He stepped inside and closed the door, raking his gaze over the small, clean space for the source of that sound.
His heart slammed his chest wall so hard he could only hear his own pulse until he remembered his training and forced his heartrate to slow.
“Carissa?” He expected to see her crumpled in a corner, bruised and bloodied. Dammit, why had he left her alone to go out searching for Hernan?
The front of the clinic was for patients, set up with a bed, two chairs and a cabinet full of supplies, all painted in the same pristine white. But there was a small storage room.
In two steps he reached the storage doorway, looking at the floor first but only seeing Carissa’s feet clad in leather sandals. His heart surged, and he jerked his gaze upward, drinking in the woman who from the back, appeared to be whole.
She was bent over a table filled with all sorts of produce and trinkets, her face in her hands as she cried her heart out.
Jesus, this woman had gotten right under his skin after only one day.
He stepped up to her and grabbed her shoulders. She jerked in his hold like a frightened bird, struggling until he said, “Carissa!”
Relief hit her features but it didn’t help her red-rimmed eyes or tear-stained face.
He looked her over. How many times had he done this with people he protected? Too often Knight Ops was thrown into the middle of a situation involving bystanders or hostages—and then Ben often sent Roades to assess the situation.
“What happened?”
She shook her head, her face crumpling all over again.
“Are you hurt?” Icy dread hit his system at the thought of wounds he couldn’t see. She didn’t appear to be a rape victim, her clothes intact. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t cleaned herself up.
When she didn’t immediately respond, he shook her lightly. “Did someone hurt you?”
She shook her head again, eyes clearing a bit at the urgency i
n his tone. “I’m okay, Roades.”
He searched her face. “You don’t sound okay. What’s going on?”
“Hernan came to visit me.”
Fucking.
Hell.
He’d gone out searching for the man and like an idiot, he’d left Carissa unprotected.
“He was hurt.”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s hurt. I care about what he did to you.”
She blinked at the vehemence in his voice. “He just said things. It was nothing, Roades.”
He thumbed away a tear trickling down her cheek, making its way to the corner of her plump lips. “Doesn’t look like nothing, mon coeur.”
“He basically said that the things I need—the first-aid supplies and the drugs I’ve been… trading are only available to me because of him. And now he won’t let me have those things.”
Roades had liked Hernan from the start, but after just five minutes in the household, he’d realized Carissa and Hernan’s parents were weak. They pampered their children and didn’t like to rock boats, which had left Hernan running the show and Carissa battling to keep him in check. Hernan had been facing some trouble for theft, and Roades had stepped up for the kid and vouched that he would not do it again if charges were dropped.
The rest of the weeks Roades spent with the family, he’d made it a point to offer Hernan good words of advice and a wealth of influence when it came to how strength grew from moral fiber and not by using terror to get what he wanted. When he’d been forced away from Puerto Rico, he’d gone believing Hernan might grow to be a better man.
How wrong he was.
He cupped Carissa’s face. She might have told him what had happened between them was a mistake, but he didn’t give a fuck. It didn’t feel that way to him, and he wasn’t going to hold back from comforting her right now.
“Even after crying, you have the most beautiful eyes,” he grated out.
A puff of air left her, and she raised her hands to cover his palms on her cheeks. “Roades, I said—”
“I know what you said.” Against his will, he released her and stepped back. Gathering his thoughts again, he said, “So Hernan is basically blackmailing you.”
