Kings of Midnight: Book One of The Midnight Saga

by J Q Anderson

  “No. And I’ve been eager to meet you, but away from Sebastián and his entourage,” he said with a lopsided smile.

  A slow chill traveled through me. “What…do you want?”

  “Sit down, please. We don’t have much time.” He gestured to the armchairs beside us as massive man in a black suit entered and blocked the door. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “It will just be a moment,” he said. “There’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart. Arlo is just ensuring nobody disturbs us.”

  Fear expanded in my chest as I slowly eased down on a plush armchair while he took the one across from me. I glanced down the hallway where Juliana had disappeared. Was she in on this?

  “Juliana will be back later.” He smiled smugly. My breath caught. That Bitch.

  “Why am I here? Who are you?” I said with fake bravado.

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let the moment linger and stroked his chin, watching me.

  I straightened my back, tension coiling around my stomach as I racked my brain for a way out. “Sir, I—”

  “Pedro. Pedro Medina.”

  The name immediately registered, drawing the oxygen from the room. A flashback of the incident with the black SUV barged into my mind. He was one of them. The Medinas.

  “Like I said,” he continued, oblivious, “I only want a moment of your time. You see, I’m a business associate of Sebastián’s, and I hear he’s making plans to leave the family business completely when, as it is, he’s not as involved as we would like him to be.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively. “He’s always come through when we needed him. This time, however, he seems determined to cut ties. So, I ask myself, are you the reason?”

  “Sir, I don’t—”

  He raised his palm. “No need to answer that, darling. I just wanted to chat with you, explain how important Sebastián’s presence at the docks is to our business. We’re about to bring in our biggest shipment ever. I’m sure you understand—”

  “Mr. Medina—”

  “Pedro.”

  “Pedro, I’m not involved with any of that.”

  “I figured you’d say that.” He grinned. “But I’m a skeptical man, and I would like to make sure, so I need you to come with me.” He nodded at Arlo who then swung open the door. Pedro reached his hand out to me. “Shall we?”

  I scowled at his hand. What the actual fuck?

  Sebastián appeared at the door. He froze when he saw me sitting next to Pedro Medina.

  “What the hell is this?” he snapped. His jaw tensed as his gaze flew from Medina to me. “Cami, come here, love.” He gestured and I stood, but Medina caught my arm and yanked me to him as he got to his feet, clutching me against his chest. I yelped and Sebastián pounced forward, but Arlo seized him and pressed a silver gun to his temple. I struggled under Medina’s strong grip.

  “Let go,” I snapped.

  “Pedro, I swear on my dead mother’s grave, if you don’t let go of her right now—”

  “What?” Pedro said in a defying tone. “You’ll do what? You know you can’t touch me. You wouldn’t break the pact, would you? For her?”

  Sebastián wrestled under Arlo’s hold, but the guy was huge, and pressed the gun harder against Sebastián’s head.

  “You can’t touch her either,” Sebastián said. “Let her go.”

  “Oh, yes, I can. She’s not family. So she’s free play. The other families aren’t happy with this distraction either.”

  “I’ll put a fucking bullet through your head if you don’t let her go right now. She’s not involved with my father. This will only make things worse for you.”

  Medina smiled. “Easy, now. You wouldn’t want to start a war with my brothers. She comes with me until the midnight deal is finished at the docks next week. I’ll keep her…safe.” He ran his free hand down my gown to my hip. I fought him off, but his other arm tightened around my waist, my racing pulse hammering in my temples. Sebastián’s jaw clenched.

  Rafa burst through the door, startling everyone. Sebastián seized the brief instant to knock the gun out of Arlo’s hand and shove him back against the wall. Rafa drew his gun and pointed it at the bodyguard’s head. Arlo froze, glowering at Rafa while Sebastián picked up the gun and pointed it at Medina.

  “Get your fucking hands off her. Now.”

  “Ah, such a hot temper, Sebastián. I’m unarmed.”

  “Now.” Sebastián cocked the gun.

  Medina ignored him. His stubble scraped my cheekbone as he pressed his lips to my ear. I darted a look at Rafa; frustration and rage darkened his eyes while he kept Arlo in place. I vainly tried pushing Medina back.

  “Relax, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. And who’s to say, you may not want to go back to him when this is over.”

  Sebastián fired a silent bullet, hitting Medina on the shoulder farthest from me. His body jerked back with the impact, his grip loosened, and I broke away. Medina stumbled back, his face a mask of anger and confusion. He scowled at Sebastián, then slowly dropped to the ground. His hand clasped the shoulder where the bullet had hit him, and blood dripped between his fingers, quickly soaking his shirt.

  “You’re fucked, Palacios,” he growled. “Fucked!”

  “Camila, baby. Come here.” Sebastián gestured for me. I hurried to him, and he tucked me under his free arm, pressing me against him. He kissed my head, his other hand still aiming the gun at Medina. “You okay?” he murmured into my ear.

  My heart raced, adrenaline and fear rushing through my veins as I tightened my arms around him. I closed my eyes, pressing my face against his chest, breathing in short, labored breaths.

  “Cami.” His arm squeezed me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said, nodding.

  Rafa was already on his phone, and in less than a minute, Tano and another bodyguard burst in.

  “Keep him here for a while,” Sebastián said, nodding at Medina’s bodyguard. “And take Pedro to see Dr. Zabala. He’s on call. Use the side hallway that leads to the back house. Make sure no one sees you.”

  The men moved quickly and silently, clutching Medina by both arms to help him up.

  “You’re a dead man,” he groaned as they ushered him past us. “My brothers will have your head for this.”

  Sebastián waited until he was gone, then, uncocking the gun, slid it into his waistband at the back and clutched me with both arms. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? This is my fault. Fuck. Fuck!”

  “Sebastián, no. How could you know?”

  “I should’ve come with you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I told my men to keep an eye on Pedro, but they had lost sight of him, so Rafa was organizing a search. That’s when I went looking for you. One of the guests waiting for the restroom saw you going upstairs.” He took my face in his hands, his eyes drawn in fear and regret. “Christ.” He kissed my forehead. “If anything had happened to you. Anything at all. I just…” He wrapped me in his arms. “I am so sorry.”

  “I’m okay, Sebas. Really.” But inside I was trembling.

  He hugged me tight, his heart pounding hard and strong against my face. I had never seen Sebastián afraid before. He kissed my head repeatedly, murmuring apologies.

  We left the party through a side exit and drove back to his house in silence, our hands interlaced, our thoughts lost in distant places. I rested my head against the cool window, staring at the taillights of the bodyguards’ car ahead. Another car followed closely behind us, more men with more guns. Dread expanded in my chest as a realization sank.

  Even a whole army of bodyguards wouldn’t be able to save us from what the events from the night would trigger.

  Chapter 36

  I woke up in Sebastián’s arms, his scent and traces of Ralph Lauren soothing my angst. We had slept like that, our bodies readjusting as we tossed and turned but never parting. His lips caressed my neck.

  “I have the day off today,” I said, stretching in his arms.
“They’re finally giving us a free Sunday. Should we talk about New York? Maybe you and I can leave this week, get away from all this. I’ll talk to Federico.”

  He detangled from me and I turned to face him. His forehead was creased with concern. He traced my bottom lip with his thumb.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “I’m not coming to New York,” he said softly.

  “Why?”

  He exhaled heavily, letting a long pause go by.

  “Sebastián, what’s wrong?” I sat up. “Is it because of last night?”

  He nodded, sitting up and leaning against the bedframe. “They won’t stop until this is over. Things are escalating, and I can’t put you at risk again.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for his hand. “We’ll lay low. If New York is not a good idea right now, you can just stay here and figure things out while I’m away.”

  “That’s not enough. They’ve used you once to get to me, and they’ll do it again.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I lied.

  He smiled sadly. “I won’t take that risk with you.”

  “What do you mean?” I frowned.

  “Camila, even with my bodyguards and my family’s influence with the Families, I’ve put you in danger time and time again. We were followed to Luciana’s house; the Medinas knew my bodyguards weren’t with me. Ivanov is still after me after the incident with the girls, and he’s a very dangerous man. Now this situation with Pedro…As long as you’re with me, you’re not safe. All this…shit, is something I need to fix, alone. You mean the world to me,” he said, leaning closer and cupping my cheek. “If anything happened to you or your family because of me, because of all this crap that surrounds me—”

  “It won’t. You’ll protect me, and them. I trust you.”

  “Last night was a close call. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “What are you saying…” I muttered, breathless.

  “I’m saying that I love you more than anything. So I have to let you go.”

  “What? No!” Tears rushed to my eyes. “No…”

  “I’m sorry. But this is the only way.”

  “It can’t be,” I said, letting the tears spill. “You can triple the security, there’s got to be something else.”

  His features tensed. “I shot one of them. They won’t let this go.”

  “Please. I’m not Carolina. I know the world you exist in isn’t perfect, but we can make this work, I know we can.”

  “I’ll always be a Palacios.”

  “So what? I love you, just as you are. Give these people what they want, then end it, and we can have a life together. You have your studio.”

  He wiped the moisture off my cheeks. “I wish it were that simple.”

  “Why can’t it be? Please don’t give up on us, Sebastián.”

  He moved closer and pulled me into his arms. I let his warmth soothe me as I cried against his bare chest.

  “Believe me when I tell you that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he said.

  “Then don’t do it,” I sobbed.

  He pulled away to look at me. “You are not safe with me. Your family isn’t either. I need to do this alone. I know you understand.”

  I shook my head no. He pulled me to him again, and I cried harder, breathing in short, shallow breaths. His arms tightened around me while, inside me, everything shattered like one of those safety glass walls, cracks spreading in every direction. He kissed my head, whispering soothing words until I could no longer bear it. I pushed away and stood, pacing the room frantically for my clothes. My eyes felt swollen and my throat hoarse.

  “Camila,” he said softly.

  “No.” I stopped abruptly and whipped around to face him. “You’re a coward. You’re giving up on us,” I said, panting. He stood, walked to me, and reached his hand out, but I stepped back.

  “Camila, please.”

  “Stay away from me,” I said, my voice cracking, then turned and picked up my bag.

  “Let me take you home.”

  “Hell, no. I don’t want anything from you. This is what you want? You got it. Stay the fuck away.”

  Chapter 37

  I walked into my dark, silent apartment. Inside me, loneliness spread like frost. I missed him already. It hadn’t been an hour since I had left his house in a cab, and the pain was already unbearable.

  I looked through the cabinets for vodka, bourbon, anything. I remembered Nata had started keeping chilled vodka for when the Russians came over and played cards. In the back of the freezer, I found a Russian label I recognized, the good stuff, and poured myself a shot. The alcohol scalded my throat, and I welcomed it as it burned its way down. I thought about the next day’s rehearsal and poured myself another shot, then another. Before I finished the third, I dashed to the sink and threw up. Loser. You can’t even hold down a drink.

  I woke up on my bed ten hours later, still dressed and with my hair whipped around my face. Dim morning light filtered through the shutters, burning my eyes. My temples throbbed, announcing a hangover. I forced myself into a cold shower. It was a bitch, but it did the job and sobered me up some. Rushing quietly through my routine so I wouldn’t wake Nata, I popped three painkillers and set off to work.

  The morning was warm, the dense air brewing into a storm. My head pulsed with every car horn, every bus driver stepping hard on the gas. Dammit all. How would I get through today…Focus on dancing, I repeated to myself. I had to rise to the demands of Princess Aurora, the role every girl in the company would trade her soul for.

  Madame’s eyes were trained on me as soon as I entered the studio with my head down. I felt her gaze burning a hole in my back. She always knew when something was up. Well, I’d be damned if I was going to let things go to hell at work too. I slipped my ballet shoes on and took my usual spot at the bar to warm up. It was early, and the class was still filling. Marcos walked in a few seconds later. He nodded a greeting and joined my warm-up in silence.

  I followed morning class like an automaton. My body knew every movement, and Madame’s voice became a distant chant. “Up, and down, and one, and two. Pa, pa, pa.” From the front, she surveyed me, suspicious. I had to fly under her radar, at least today. Let me have today, I prayed. Tomorrow will be a new day.

  The class ended, and I ambled to my bag for a drink of water.

  “Navarro.” Madame’s voice snapped in my ears like a whip. I froze in my spot and closed my eyes in a silent curse. Her quick, determined steps approached like the ticking of a bomb. I straightened my back and turned to face her. “You are lethargic today. Heavy,” she said, eyeing me up and down as if I were an odd exhibit at the zoo. “Do I need to remind you the rules regarding partying the days before an opening night? I can smell the alcohol.” Her mouth turned in disgust as she said it.

  “No, Madame. I’ve been going straight home every night. I’m fighting a cold, that’s all. But I’ve got good cold meds. Already on the mend.” I feigned a smile, looking straight at her.

  Her eyes narrowed a fraction, and after a brief moment she gave me a conspiratorial nod. “I’ll allow a little leeway, but don’t overdo it,” she said, lowering her voice. “A single shot of good vodka before bed. It is the best remedy for the common cold.”

  I watched her, stunned, and had to almost repress a grin. As Nata’s roommate, I had learned early on that, to most Russians, vodka was a sacred elixir against the flu. How had I not thought earlier of using this knowledge for hangover mornings?

  During the afternoon rehearsal, Elena, my understudy for Aurora, sprained her ankle badly. Madame barked something in Russian and ordered Verónica to step in. Fucking awesome. My day was getting exponentially shittier. Verónica’s exaggerated enthusiasm during the rehearsal got under my skin, and by the time we were done, I was ready for another date with the Russian bottle. The only thing that pulled me through was the thought of a massage I had scheduled for later that evening. But as I hurried down the theater sta
irs, my masseuse called to cancel because she was out with the flu.

  Whispering a curse, I shoved my phone in my pocket and threw my dance bag over my shoulder, lumbering into the damp night air to hail a cab. The smell of wet asphalt drifted up from puddles painted with diesel rainbows left by an earlier rain. I headed toward Cerrito Street where I would have a better chance of finding a cab.

  “Cami, wait up!” Marcos’s voice called from behind. “You going home?” He jogged to catch up. He looked younger, chestnut hair tousled, gray sweatshirt cut off at the neck and sleeves showing off his roped biceps. When he reached me, his caramel eyes were bright, his cheeks still blushed from rehearsal.

  “Wanna share a ride?” I scanned the street for a cab.

  “Actually…” He scratched the back of his head and winced. “I was kinda hoping to crash at your place tonight. Is that cool?”

  “Oh. Um…”

  “Shit. You’re still mad at me.”

  “No, Marcos,” I said, hailing a cab. “I don’t have energy to be mad at anyone right now, but it doesn’t mean you can sleep over.”

  “Got it. No worries.”

  “What’s wrong with your place?”

  “Ugh. Carla’s being a fucking pill. I need a night off.”

  I sighed. Part of me was glad I wasn’t the only one with relationship issues. The cab pulled over by us. Fuck it.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “Thanks, Cams. You rock.”

  I showered after dinner and tied my hair into a messy knot. Marcos was already on the couch, pint of ice cream in one hand, TV remote in the other, feet on the coffee table. A spoon hung from his mouth as he surfed through the channels in boxers and a black T-shirt. His wet hair was whipped into a beautiful mess.

  “You showered already?” I circled the couch. “Legs.” I nodded, and he lifted his legs to let me by.

  “Yeah, in Nata’s. I like that strawberry shower shit she has.” He stuffed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. I cocked an eyebrow, smirking at the ice cream container. “What?” he said defensively.