Reno: Devil’s Disciples Book 5

by Hildreth, Scott

  “No,” he responded. “To talk about this.”

  “This being what?”

  He wrung his hands together for a moment while he looked around the restaurant. Then, our eyes met. He seemed disappointed. Or ashamed. Something.

  He let out a long breath. “Every now and again, I see something, hear something, or smell something that causes me to remember the war. When it happens, I kind of flip out. I wad up in a ball and can’t deal with life or anything in it. It scares the shit out of me that it’s going to happen someday, and you’re going to be around to see it. I wanted to tell you about it and see if you still wanted to continue with me.”

  Holy crap!

  He’d just described what happened whenever I saw snakeskin boots or smelled certain colognes. I thought I was all alone in my episodes of anxiety. Reno and I were far more alike than I imagined.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking.”

  “About?”

  I never thought I’d be able to admit my faults to anyone without being criticized for being a weak-minded woman who was incapable of dealing with her past. Knowing Reno had the same problems gave me tremendous relief.

  “I do the same thing,” I admitted. “Exactly. When I smell certain crappy colognes or see snakeskin boots. It reminds me of Angel. I get all tingly, and then I start shaking. I end up in a really weird mood that sticks around for several days. I was smiling because I thought I’d never run into anyone who had the same problem as me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

  “Was your relationship with him violent? You said he had you kidnapped, I guess that’s violent enough.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I know the answer.”

  I swallowed a little pride. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Sure,” he said. “If you want to tell me about it.”

  I drew a long breath through my nose and let it out my mouth. Then, without thinking, I just started talking.

  “I met him when I was seventeen. He was thirty-one or thirty-two at the time. I didn’t tell my parents about him, because I thought they’d be disappointed about the age difference. I feared the gangs, the violence, and the possibility of being raped. He gave me comfort.” I paused, knowing I couldn’t go into detail about what happened without becoming extremely emotional. After a moment, I decided to provide as few details as possible. It would be easier. “I had no idea who he was at the time. His father oversaw the cartel back then, and I didn’t even know it. Our relationship started with me thinking he was a regular guy who could protect me from being hurt.”

  I rolled my eyes at the thought. “The first six months or so were pretty normal. He was demanding, but he was the first man I’d ever been with, so I thought it was normal. Later, his demands had repercussions attached to them. Do this. If not, these things will happen to you. From there, it got worse. The sex was just that. Sex. It was always forceful. There were times when he raped me. You might think that’s impossible, considering we were together, but it happened. He beat me. He abused me mentally, physically, and emotionally. I accepted it. All of it. I told myself it was my penance for my safety. One day, I opened the door to the side of the house because I thought I heard something. The first thing I saw were his boots. He was standing in a pool of blood, beating a guy with his pistol. Later, he admitted to me who he was, and what he did. He acted like I knew all along, I didn’t. I left him right after that. He sent people after me. I left again, and again. Sometimes I’d be gone a day, sometimes a few weeks. A month, maybe. Each time he got me back, things were worse. You don’t want to know some of the things he did to me. You really don’t. I confessed to my family that I was seeing him, but never told them the truth about how he treated me. We moved here to escape him.” I managed to offer him a crooked smile. “It wasn’t that bad compared to war, I’m sure.”

  He reached across the table and cupped his hand over mine. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. “Me, too,” I murmured. “Live and learn, I guess. I was young and foolish.”

  “I don’t want to do this friends with benefits thing,” he said, squeezing my hand as he spoke. “Not anymore—”

  We’d barely got started, and he was wanting to end it. I found it selfish of him to cast me aside after everything I’d confided in him.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped. “After everything—”

  “I want to be together.” He lifted my hand. “Boyfriend-girlfriend. I don’t know, whatever it’s called.”

  “You want to what?” I blurted, speaking before my mind had a chance to process what he’d said. I stood, taking his hand with me. “You want to be together? Like officially together? Not friends?”

  “I think so.”

  I tugged against his hand, forcing him to stand. “You think so?” I chuckled. “You’re so wishy-washy. Is that what you want?”

  “I want to try and do this right,” he replied. “But if I end up flipping out, I don’t want you to leave me.”

  Leaving him wasn’t a possibility. Not unless he abused me. I couldn’t see him doing that, but if he did, he’d never see me again. No question about it.

  “That’s not what a good woman does,” I said.

  “What does she do?”

  I hugged him, resting my head against his shoulder. “She holds you until everything is better.”

  My fear, in knowing Reno was attempting to lure Angel over the border, was that things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better.

  22

  Reno

  I’d made a considerable number of mistakes in my life. The good, bad, and everything in between formed the man I was. Spending time with Carma, opening up about my past, trusting Nick with the truth—all of these things chipped away at the shame I carried for years.

  Laying naked in my bed with Carma, I regretted one more thing.

  Having sex with her on the night we met.

  I wished I could take it back. Turn the clock in reverse, stopping on that day, just a moment before it happened. I wanted everything between us to be perfect, and that sexual encounter was far from it. I couldn’t change it. If nothing else, I’d proceed in our relationship in any way that could never be perceived by her—or by me—as being abusive.

  My chest was between her thighs. I traced my finger along the back side of her leg, from her calf to her thigh. “You skin is awesome.”

  “It’s just skin.”

  “And this?” I cupped the bottom side of her ass in each hand. “It’s perfect.”

  “It’s just a butt.”

  “It’s an awesome butt.”

  “Thank you,” she cooed.

  I nestled myself between her legs, lowered my head, and licked her from ass crack to clit without warning.

  She writhed in pleasure. “Oh Lord.”

  “Did you like that?”

  “Loved,” she breathed. “It felt awesome.”

  I penetrated her slightly with the tip of my tongue and licked her again, slowly. After a moment of flicking my tongue against her clit, I raised my head.

  She pressed her elbows into the bed and lifted her shoulders. “I’ll give you until this time tomorrow to stop that.”

  “I can’t make any promises that I’ll be done by then,” I said.

  Our eyes were locked. I lowered my chin. Her gaze followed me. I licked her slit a few times, watching her watch me the entire time.

  Seeing the satisfaction in her eyes fueled me. I licked her sweet wet slit until she pressed her inner thighs against the sides of my head and arched her back.

  I shifted my focus to her clit.

  Her hips bucked in perfect timing with the movement of my tongue. I continued, maintaining the same rhythm until she covered her face with her pillow and moaned into it.

  “Holy crap,” she breathed from beneath the pillow. “That was insane.”

  My cock throbbed, aching to feel her warmth surround it.

  Wi
th her face still covered by the pillow, I raised myself to my knees, slid forward, and guided myself between her legs. I penetrated her with the tip and paused.

  I lifted the pillow from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She sucked a quick breath. Seeming slightly embarrassed, she smiled. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

  Gazing into her eyes, I pushed my entire length into her slowly, stopping only when there was nothing left to give.

  She was fucking gorgeous. I studied her for a moment, allowing myself to get lost in her natural beauty.

  Sex, for me, had been limited to one-night stands, barfly blowjobs, and quickies in the parking lots of biker bars with women who I’d be challenged to describe, name, or even recall.

  In my belief, there was a difference between fucking and making love. The first time Carma and I had sex, I fucked her. I now intended to provide her the latter, and hope like hell my offering fulfilled her enough that she’d never stray.

  Driven by that hope, I forged forward, risking everything on my performance.

  “You’re going to have to tell me if I do something wrong,” I said.

  “Wrong?” Her brows pinched together in opposition. “Nothing about this could be wrong.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said. “I haven’t got a ton of experience at doing this the right way.”

  She laughed. “This is ground zero for me. I won’t be able to give much direction. I can say that everything you do seems to be perfect.”

  “Let’s just see how it goes.”

  “Okay.” She pulled her hair away from her face and lowered her head onto the pillow. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  I’d been mentally preparing for the day to come when I could look at myself in the mirror and be proud of the man I’d become. I now had every intention of becoming that man—for Carma—and hoped that we could both enjoy the journey.

  I retracted my hips, paused, and pushed my length into her fully. As my scrotum came to rest against the cheeks of her ass, she let out a grunt.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She let out a sigh and lifted her head. “I’m not made of glass.”

  “I just want to make sure—”

  “Here’s what I want.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I want you to fuck me. Just like you did when you smashed me up against the front door of the restaurant, only with me laying here.”

  “You liked that?”

  “I loved it.”

  “I was thinking we should make love, not fuck.”

  She pressed her fist against her heart. “I may be wrong, but I think the difference is in here, not in how you do it.”

  It made perfect sense. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure that I want you to fuck me?” She chuckled. “Yeah.”

  I took her at her word and started slowly. After receiving no opposition, I increased my pace. In no time, I was lost in a sea of emotion, rowing my hips in hope of finding my true direction.

  My desire to please Carma was far greater than my desire to please myself.

  Nevertheless, I was on the cusp of exploding. Being inside of her drove me insane, and there was nothing I could do to change it, other than stop.

  So, that’s what I did.

  Her head shot off the pillow like a rocket. “What are you doing?!”

  “I had to stop,” I said, nearly breathless. “If I didn’t, this was going to be over pretty quick.”

  “I was almost there,” she said. “Go! Go! Go!”

  I did as she asked, and quickly found my rhythm. Within seconds, I felt my scrotum tighten. My breathing became irregular.

  I focused on Carma.

  Her hands clenched the sheets.

  “Are you almost there?” I asked.

  “Yes!” she bellowed. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  It was all the confirmation I needed. I knew there was nothing more than a few strokes between me and eternal bliss, and I gave them to her with authority. Just as I felt the pressure within me begin to release, her back arched.

  My cock swelled.

  Her pussy clenched me like a vise.

  I released with such force that I felt my head would surely explode.

  She wailed her pleasure into the room, muffling my moaning entirely.

  When the room fell silent, I rested my chest lightly against hers. She blinked a few times, let out a long sigh, and then shook her head.

  I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. She bit my bottom lip and locked eyes with me.

  With my lip clenched between her teeth, I held her gaze.

  In a few seconds, she released her grip.

  I rubbed my lip with my index finger. “What was that about?”

  “What?”

  “Biting my lip?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I just did it. Are you mad?”

  “I’m not made of glass,” I said with a laugh.

  She slapped me on the arm. “Stop it.”

  In a moment, her breathing steadied. “How long is it before you can go again?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  “Is it, like, ten minutes, or ten hours?”

  “Definitely not ten minutes,” I said. “And, definitely not ten hours, either. Somewhere in between.”

  “Like, an hour, maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  She collapsed against me, resting her head against my shoulder. Together, we stared at the ceiling, but didn’t speak. I got lost in the sound of her breathing and wondered if she got lost in mine.

  She was a remarkable woman, that much I was sure of. I wondered when—or if—Alacrán was going to return to the states, and whether Crip’s cop buddy would let me kill him instead of taking him into custody.

  I decided I really didn’t care.

  I was going to kill him for what he did to Carma, regardless.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I forced myself from my evil thoughts and cocked my head to the side. “I could eat.”

  “Do you have food?”

  “I do.”

  “How about this: I’ll make us something to eat, and then we can see if we can do it again.”

  I smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

  She leaned forward, kissed me, and rolled off the edge of the bed.

  I took a second to admire her perfectly sculpted body, and then shook my head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Get back in bed,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked. “I thought we were going to eat.”

  “I thought you wanted to fuck again.”

  “Don’t we have to wait?”

  I yanked the sheet to the side, revealing my rock-hard cock. “Apparently not.”

  Upon seeing it, her eyes went wide. She smiled. “This is so much fun.”

  She was right. It was. And, I planned on doing everything within my power to make sure it stayed that way.

  23

  Carma

  Reno’s home was the ultimate bachelor pad. His bedroom had a bed in it. There was no nightstand or dresser. His jeans were neatly folded in his closet, and his shirts were hung on hangers. A spare bedroom housed a weight machine.

  His dining room had a large gun safe in it.

  His kitchen had a small round wooden table with four worn wooden chairs surrounding it.

  There was no art on the walls.

  There were no candles, no decorative items, and no end tables or coffee tables.

  His living room was decorated with an extremely comfortable leather couch, a matching loveseat, and a television which sat in the corner, on the floor.

  Most who entered the home would claim it had no character, style, or charm.

  I thought it defined Reno rather well.

  He needed nothing in his life to please him other than the people he surrounded himself with.

  I set the plates on opposite sides of the table. “Breakfast is ready!”

  He stepped into t
he kitchen wearing sweat pants and a white tank top. The sleeve openings revealed portions of a large tattoo that covered his back. The sweats covered his tattooed thigh, but my recollection of it from the previous night’s activities were still vivid enough that I could see it in my mind.

  “Smells good.”

  “It’s pretty basic,” I said. “You had some leftover brisket, and it didn’t smell bad, so I guessed it was okay to cook.”

  “It’s from night before last.” He sauntered to the table and kissed me. “Cooked meat’s good for four days.”

  I was impressed that he knew how long leftovers lasted. I doubted many men did. My father sure didn’t. “Sounds like we’ll be okay.”

  He kissed me again and then took a seat. He gestured toward the other side of the table. “Why’s your plate way over there?”

  “I just set them across from one another.”

  “There’s three options,” he said, “and that’s the worst one. We’re not buddies.”

  “What are we?”

  He leaned over the table picked up my plate. After setting it at the seat beside him, he looked right at me. “Lovers.”

  It wasn’t at all what I expected him to say, but the response satisfied me greatly. I smiled and took a seat at his side.

  I poked at my plate while he sampled the food. After a few forkfuls, he swallowed, paused, and looked at me. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “You can cook, girl. Damn.”

  “You like it?”

  “Hell yes, I like it.” He nodded toward my plate. “Come on. Dig in. It’ll get cold.”

  My gaze lingered on him for a moment. His face, for once, was shaved clean, revealing his strong jawline, and pronounced chin. He was a very handsome man, and it was hard for me to believe he was mine.

  In less than twenty-four hours, my life had transformed from a wish to a fairy tale.

  We ate our breakfast together. I struggled to pace myself to match his speed, so we’d finish at the same time. Afterward, we sipped our coffee while stealing glances at one another.

  “Got a question for you,” he said.

  I hugged my coffee cup with my palms. “Okay.”

  “We’ve got a poker run on Saturday. It’s a big one. Maybe thirty-five hundred people. Afterward, we’re having a party at Goose’s house. Probably be a hundred people there. I’d like for you to go. Can you get off work?”