“How long have I been here?”
“Three days. Dr. Hickman tried to patch you up, but the bullet you took perforated your bowel, and he couldn’t fix it. Miguel arranged for you to come here by helicopter. Dr. Gonzalez saved your life,” she said as she let go of my hand to pull a chair next to my bedside.
“Gonzalez? We’re in Cuba?”
“Yes. Everyone said you couldn’t be treated in the U.S. without raising unwanted questions.”
“Of course. People getting shot tends to raise red flags with law enforcement.”
“I still don’t understand why my dad couldn’t fix that,” she replied in a huff. “It would have done wonders for my peace of mind. Dantes, I was so frightened. I still am.”
“I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot,” I said, groaning slightly as I shifted position in the bed. “Besides, your dad needs to keep a lower profile than ever.”
“I’m not going to pretend I understand what all that means, but I’m not going to ask questions. So long as you’re safe and going to recover, that’s all I care about.”
“How much have you learned about me while I was out?”
“I know you’re a high-ranking member of the Desalmados cartel. What that entails, I don’t know, and again, I think the less I know, the better. I never thought I’d ever say something like this, but it doesn’t matter to me, Dantes. I love you.”
“You’d willingly be with me even though your father is the city’s sheriff?”
“I’m fairly certain father’s stance toward you has softened, and now he’s working with the Desalmados, he hardly has room to judge.”
“Mia, I don’t think you understand. I’m not a good man. I’ve done things I never want you to know about. Things that would irreparably change your opinion of me.”
“Impossible. You’ve done nothing but take care of me, treasure me. Sure, you’re a little bossy,” she said, pausing to give me a shy smile, “but I think I can handle it. After all, I watched my father shoot a man point blank in the face after he was already wounded. If I can still love him, I can certainly love you. Everything you’ve ever done since I met you has been with my best interests in mind. Hell, you rushed in to save my life with no thought about your own. If that’s not a good man, I don’t know what is.”
“I don’t think you’ve really thought this through,” I said, trying to dampen the hope springing to life in my chest. “How can you live a life with a man you can’t be sure won’t end up in jail or just not come home one night, never to be seen again?”
“The better question is whether I can live a life without you. But, on that note, I’ve been thinking. Why can’t we just stay here? The government won’t send you back to the States, no matter what you’ve done. My father can help divert any suspicion of you at home, though you should know he and José are hard at work, obscuring your involvement with the massacre at the Mendoza compound. Not just you, but the Desalmados entirely.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Me, either, but I’ve spoken to my father several times since being here, and he assures me they have a plan. What do you think? Would Miguel let you retire to live a quiet life in Cuba?”
“Not in a million years. I can never get out of the cartel, Mia. El Tuerto may allow me to stay here until things settle down at home, maybe longer if I agree to take over the trafficking from here to the Bahamas, but eventually, we’d have to go home to Florida.”
“Then we’ll stay as long as we can and deal with the rest of the world when we have to. I won’t be separated from you.”
“One day, you may have to be. You need to be prepared, but I swear to you, Mia, I’ll always make sure you’re safe and want for nothing. As long as you’re by my side, no one will ever touch you again. I love you, but if you don’t think you can handle it, this is your one chance to walk away. If you choose to stay, you’ll be mine forever. There will be no turning back.”
“You’re stuck with me. All I ask is you not shut me out. I promise not to ask about your business, but I won’t accept you closing off and abandoning me.”
“Never again,” I replied, tugging her hand, pulling her toward the bed. She leaned down and kissed me tenderly.
“I guess now we live happily ever after,” she said with a smile.
“It may not always be easy, Mia, but I promise you, your happiness will always be my main priority.”
“And yours, mine. Now get better so we can get on with the living part.”
“And you called me bossy,” I replied with a chuckle.
Epilogue
Mia
I stretched my back as I rose from the lounge on the balcony overlooking the pool. Lively salsa music played down below, several couples dancing while others stood around talking, laughing, drinking. I wanted to be down there with everyone, with Dantes, while he entertained his new Cuban connections, but he insisted I get as much rest as possible. I knew it was really because he wanted to keep me far away from his business life, as much as he could, anyway. Dantes had convinced El Tuerto to let us stay in Cuba to help facilitate the trafficking that came through the island nation. Though it may have been a small country, the amount of cocaine exported through its channels was anything but.
I stood at the railing, smoothing my hands over my now round, protruding belly, caressing it. Dantes and I would have a child any day now, a little boy he wanted to name Miguel after his capo. I was leaning more toward Mauricio, after his father, who had cleaned up his act some upon learning he’d be an abuelo. He embraced me like I was the daughter he’d always wanted.
We’d gone back to the States only briefly, following Dantes’ recovery from his injuries after the firefight with Oscar and the Soldados. We were married in a quiet ceremony, with only our families to witness it. Miguel wanted to host a grand party, but Dantes had become even more protective of me since learning we were expecting. He wanted me around as few narcos as possible, hence our move to Cuba. That’s not to say there were any fewer criminals, just that the Desalmados didn’t have the kind of reach here they did in Florida. At least, not yet. It was ironic that Dantes was working to change that.
I heard the door to the bedroom open behind me, signaling my husband had come to check on my condition.
“You’re supposed to be resting, preciosa,” he said as he came up behind me, putting his arm around my shoulders and kissing my temple.
“I tried, but my back hurts. I can’t get comfortable, so I thought I’d just stand and watch everyone enjoy themselves. I may even paint if I can get the ache in my back to subside. How is everything going down there?”
“Very well. I think we have everything in place for the next delivery to Miami, which Santiago will distribute through the usual channels.”
Santiago had been promoted to teniente and taken Dantes’ place at The Pink Pistol while we were in Cuba. Eventually, we’d go back, but not any time soon if my husband had any say about it. Dantes’ status and position in the cartel afforded us a more than lavish lifestyle in Cuba, but all I really wanted was to know we would all be safe, especially once our son was born. Dantes’ family would always be a target, but here, tucked away on a small island, it was easy to pretend nothing could touch us. At least we didn’t have to worry about the DEA breaking down our door.
Back in the states, my father continued to provide as much cover as he could, while trying to put Luís Mendoza behind bars. It would probably always be a struggle, but he had developed an entire task force dedicated to busting up and arresting as many members of the Soldados as they could. Meanwhile, the Desalmados ran their operation undisturbed. My father had won his reelection campaign, so his spot was secure for several more years, unless someone discovered his deception, of course.
I put a hand to my lower back as I felt a slight twinge radiate through it. I didn’t think it was anything to worry about; my mother had assured me there would be no mistaking the contractions when they began. This did
n’t hold any sway with Dantes, however, who was deeply attuned to any change in my behavior.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain.”
“No, just uncomfortable. Like I said, my back hurts,” I replied as he led me by the hand back into the bedroom. He gently pushed me until I sat on the edge of the bed, then knelt down to remove my shoes.
“Preciosa, sleep. Our son will arrive any day, then you’ll be wondering how in the world you’ll ever rest again.”
“But I’m so bored, Dantes. Please let me come down and at least say hello to everyone.”
“You know why I don’t want you to,” he replied, his face telling me everything I needed to know.
“You worry too much. You can’t hide me away like a princess in an ivory tower. Let me just come out and say hello.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, putting my shoes back on my feet, then helping me to stand. As soon as I was upright again, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen, a cramp of the worst kind, then heard a distinct pop. My eyes flew to Dantes’ as I felt the gush of fluid rush between my thighs, soiling my dress and the thick pile carpet beneath me.
“¡Díos Mío!” Dantes cried. “It’s time, isn’t it? We need to get Dr. Gonzalez over here right away. Lie down now, Mia.”
“Relax, Dantes. My water just broke. The baby won’t be coming out for a while yet. There’s plenty of time.”
“Do as I say, please. I need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before.”
“And you think I have?” I replied with an amused lift of my eyebrow.
“Quiet, you. No teasing me right now,” he said as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and called Dr. Gonzalez.
Standing, I walked to the ornate armoire in the corner of the room and stripped off the wet cotton maxi dress I’d been wearing. I chose a light, thigh-length nightgown, pulling it over my head as I made my way back to the bed. Dantes, who’d finished his frantic phone call, swooped me into his arms and laid me flat in the center of the bed before I’d even had a chance to crawl onto the oversized mattress.
“Are you going to be more impossible than before?” I asked as I realized I’d never considered Dantes’ protective instincts would surge out of control once our baby was born.
“Probably. Now try to sleep until Dr. Gonzalez gets here. I’ll get rid of our guests.”
I grabbed his hand to keep him from going just yet.
“I love you, Dantes. I never imagined this life for myself, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Good because you’re stuck with this narco scum for your family,” he said with a happy grin, echoing my father’s words from so long ago.
“Even criminals can have happy endings,” I said teasingly.”
“I must have done something right in this life to have you,” he said, before leaning down to brush his lips against my temple. Dantes may not be the man of the fairy tales we’re all supposed to want, but he was mine, for better or worse. I’d gladly endure whatever hardship came our way for the purity and strength of the love between us. One tiny little boy reminded me right then with a contraction that took my breath away that he was coming to add another dimension to our already full hearts. I took a deep breath, mentally buckling in for the ride of my life.
About Sin Silverfall
Sin Silverfall is a bad girl writing sizzling, sexy, short stories that will melt both your panties and your heart. From the land of palm trees, beaches and the Hollywood sign, she lives with her original book boyfriend and their three smart-mouthed and clever teenagers. She spends most of her days in a messy bun and pajamas while drinking coffee and dreaming about scorching hot heroes and the kick-ass women who love them. She serves it all to you with just the right amount of spice to leave you breathless.
THE BULLET THEORY
A Novel by Sonya Jesus
THE BULLET THEORY
by Sonya Jesus
There’s a theory about a bullet and a tortured heart: when both exist, the only variable is opportunity, which The Bullet Man willingly provides. The killer carefully chooses Ellie, the survivor of a vicious crime, and manipulates his way into her heart. When he gives her a chance at revenge, will she take the shot or turn him in?
1
Tyler
Eleanor Devero
Kace slams the door shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts and his sidearm. I wrap my fingers around the black metal and bring it closer. The smoothness, shined surface conceals the ugliness of its power, and the weight is nothing compared to the heaviness in my soul. I can’t escape my thoughts; they follow me around, gnawing at the parts of me that want to forgive Kace for falling in love with me—for wanting a normal life with normal things.
We should’ve known better.
Not everyone has the luxury of a safe life, especially not law enforcement. Kace and I dedicated our lives to helping others feel safe, only to put our lives in danger. Well, not technically, our lives.
I glance down at my now flat belly and smooth my hands over the severely scarred skin, tracing the healing ridges. Tenderly, at first, over indents extending from my navel to my sides, then more abrasively until the beat of my heart pulses through the pads of my fingers.
I touch the loss.
It pumps through my full veins, leaving me vacant. I attempt to summon a trace of positivity, but all I can muster is guilt. Disasters don’t have a ‘bright side,’ nor is there healing in the aftermath. There’s just loss and hollowness and a shit ton of darkness to wade through. Time passes, sinking me deeper into the obscure depths of despair.
People keep telling me I’m going through a phase, and with time, I’ll somehow emerge from all the pain, healed and ready to move forward.
Bullshit! Every day my heart hurts worse than the day before. There’s no closure, no end—just a gaping hole inside me. One day, I went from crib shopping and ultrasounds to Kace bringing me in to help with an undercover case. They needed a pregnant cop to infiltrate the Pregnancy Center, and I was the only one at the precinct who fit those qualifications.
I shouldn’t have gone.
He shouldn’t have offered me the opportunity.
Every damn minute I tell myself both things, and his words haunt my thoughts: ‘It’s safe. All we need is a layout of the ultrasound room.’
It was safe. The baby was healthy and strong, and the doctor under investigation for drug trafficking was kind to me. Then again, the doctor also strapped women with hollowed-out rubber bellies to traffic drugs between dealers, so nice didn’t exactly fit him.
One way or the other, I walked out of the center perfectly fine, went to the bathroom at the bus stop where Kace was waiting for me, gave him the camera, and continued on with the plan. In case anyone had been following me, I was to go shopping for baby clothes downtown until I got the all-clear.
I didn’t make it to the store.
When I got off the second bus, I was shot.
In the stomach.
I didn’t see the shooter or hear the asshole coming. I was in a blissful bubble, daydreaming about names and godparents, wobbling my way down the steps. The next thing I knew, I was bleeding, and wave after wave of intense pain, crumpled me to the ground before I passed out.
My son was murdered at twenty-nine weeks.
By who? I still have no clue. After I was released from the hospital and able to return to work, I obsessed over every detail of the case. Kace suspected the drug doctor, while his partner suspected one of the warring gangs at the time. Considering the doctor worked with both gangs, Kace and Frank pursued the angle together but yielded nothing. At least nothing about my shooting.
Me? I suspected everyone. Someone doesn’t randomly shoot an unborn infant. Whatever reason had to do with me, or with Kace, or with something we did. So, I questioned every detail of my life and Kace’s, dug into family members and friends, even investigated my neighbors and bridal party. Nothing resulted from it, except getting sent home on unpaid leave and man
datory counseling.
No son. No job. No love left to give.
I shut my eyes and find reprieve in the seconds between my aching heartbeats, longing for the moment when the pain becomes dull enough to breathe again.
I hold my breath.
And hold it.
And hold it until thoughts still.
My fingers roam over the area below my belly button. Just below the layers of skin, there used to be a pear-shaped organ made of complete muscle, capable of stretching and forming a human life inside of it … but it had not been strong enough to stop a bullet.
The engagement ring on my finger serves as a reminder of a happier time, but it was so long ago I forget what a smile feels like.
The backdoor swings open. I aim the weapon at the person standing in my doorway.
“Put that down, Ellie!” Kace shakes his head and closes the door behind him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to work?” I lower the gun and put it back in its holster, which is hanging on the chair beside me. Another piece of evidence I’m oblivious to. Kace goes nowhere without his gun. Had I been in my right mind and attentive to details, I would’ve noticed.
“I went to take out the trash.” He grabs the holder and secures it around his waist. “Today is Tuesday.” He avoids staring at the loitered countertops, full of opened jars, dirty dishes, and pantry items.
I avoid looking at all the stuff I didn’t do too. “So, you don’t work on Tuesdays?”
He runs his hand over his thick, dark hair and sighs in defeat. “We have our first therapy session in about an hour. Don’t you remember?”
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 132
