Desire Me (Her Best Friend's Father Book 4)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "Will do. Is Knox still sitting with the girls?"

  "He's parked out front," I admit with a grimace. "Figured Faith would feel better about having him around if he wasn't inside with them."

  "I hope Finn rips Rick's fucking dick off and shoves it down his throat," Luke growls.

  "If I had five minutes to spare, I'd do it myself," I mutter drily when the elevator dings. "Hell, I might just make time to do it and call it stress relief."

  "Shit, I'll make time to help," Luke says, laughing loudly.

  I smile for the first time all day.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mila

  "Roman, we're fine," I promise, pacing back and forth on the back patio and trying not to lose my patience with my giant of a man. Since he left last night, he's called me at least twenty times to make sure Faith and I are doing okay. "Knox is parked right out front. Stop worrying about us so much, okay?"

  "Never," he growls, making me smile. "Worrying about you is my job."

  "Then you're fired," I tease him.

  "You can't fire me from loving you, Mila."

  My heart melts, warmth running through me. "I love you too, Roman."

  "I know you do, baby. And I'm sorry I'm being overprotective and obsessive. I don't like keeping Knox outside. I'd feel a hell of a lot better if he was inside with you."

  "I know, but we're okay," I murmur. As much as it drives me crazy, I understand why he's so worried. January was shot. I'm sure he's probably thinking about when Guerrero shot me. He had nightmares for so long, but I'm okay and so is the baby. I hate that he's freaking himself out worrying about us. He has enough on his plate right now. "How's January doing?"

  "About the same," he says with a heavy sigh. "Her vitals are stronger, but nothing else has changed."

  "How is Michael?"

  "Not great. He's doing the best he can," Roman murmurs. Despite his level tone, I hear the guilt and worry in his voice.

  "Is there anything I can do?" I ask, blinking back tears. I feel so bad for Michael and January…and for Roman. I can't even imagine how Michael feels right now, or what he's going through. I know Roman feels partially responsible for January. It kills me that he's hurting and I can't be there to help him through it.

  "No, baby," he says, his voice gentle. "Until January pulls through, there's not a whole lot anyone can do. Just pray for them."

  "Of course." I clear my throat, trying to work out the lump taking up residence there.

  "I've got to go, but I'll call you again soon, okay?"

  "Okay. I love you."

  "I love you too, sweetheart."

  I tip my head back and look up at the sky after he disconnects. It's a cloudless, perfect day. The sun shines brightly overhead. A trio of birds play in the branches of a tree next to the house, leaping from branch to branch and squawking at each other. I close my eyes.

  "Please let everything work out," I whisper softly, hoping my words travel directly to God's ears. We could all use a miracle right now, Michael and January most of all.

  I'm not sure if I expected an answer or what, but none comes.

  I sigh and slip my phone into the pocket of my shorts before heading back inside to check on Faith.

  I find her standing in the living room, the curtains in her hands as she peeks out at the truck parked on the curb out front. "He's still awake," she mutters, though I'm not sure if she's talking to me or to herself. She's been on edge all day, jumpy. "Why hasn't he fallen asleep?"

  "He's a federal agent," I murmur, stepping up beside her to look out. Knox is in the driver's seat of his truck, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He's been out there for well over fourteen hours, but he still looks wide awake. His mouth moves like he's singing. "I think they're trained to function on minimal sleep. Roman can run circles around me on a couple hours of sleep."

  "He's big too," she says, scrunching up her nose like she's annoyed by that fact. "They're all big."

  "His name is Knox Cooper. He works with explosives. Roman says he's a good guy, trustworthy. You don't have to be afraid of him, Faith. He won't hurt you, and Roman made him promise to stay outside."

  Knox looks in our direction, his lips curving up in an amused smile. He waves.

  Faith gasps and drops the curtains, leaping back like she intends to hide from him. If she wasn't genuinely anxious about him being out there, I'd laugh at her reaction. Instead, I grab her hand in mine, careful to avoid the mostly healed cuts on her palms, and squeeze, offering her a little support.

  "You probably think I'm ridiculous, don't you?" she asks, turning wide honey-brown eyes on me. She crosses her arms over her chest like she's trying to hold herself together. She's filled out a little since Octavio brought her home, but she's still so small. The sight tugs at my heart.

  "No," I promise her, my voice soft. "I think you've been through things I can't even imagine and are doing the best you can to deal with it."

  She frowns, but doesn't disagree.

  "I also think you're going to be okay. You might not believe me, but Octavio would never hurt you or let anyone close who was a danger to you. You're safe with him, and you're safe with Knox, Luke, and Roman too."

  "I know," she whispers, chewing on her bottom lip. She eyes me for a long moment, her gaze running back and forth over my face like she's looking for something. "I kissed him."

  I blink, caught off guard.

  "Octavio, I mean. I kissed Octavio."

  "Today?"

  "No. A few days ago." She sighs. "He stopped me, said he couldn't go there with me."

  "Oh." I'm guessing that's why she'll barely look in his direction now.

  "It was stupid," she mumbles, sinking down onto the couch. She curls her legs up beneath her, staring down at the floor.

  "What was stupid?" I ask, lowering myself down beside her.

  "I was," she mutters, her lips twisting in a sad frown. "I don't know why I thought he'd want me like that."

  "Faith," I whisper, my heart breaking for her. It kills me that she thinks she isn't wanted. If she saw what I see when I look at Octavio, she'd know differently. The way he looks at her…I don't think he could stop looking even if he had to do it.

  Before I can tell her that, she shakes her head, forcing a laugh. Her expression firms, determination sweeping through her brown eyes. "Enough of me feeling sorry for myself," she says, her lilting voice tremulous despite her best efforts to force lightness into her tone. "How is your friend?"

  "January?"

  Faith nods.

  "She's not really my friend," I explain. "I've never actually met her." Which I intend to change as soon as possible. I think I'll really like her, and I know Roman likes Kincaid a lot. I have a feeling we'll all be spending a lot of time together if she pulls through. "Roman says her vitals are stronger, but she's still not out of the woods yet."

  "That's awful," Faith says, slipping her hand into mine and squeezing. "I can't believe she killed the guy who shot her. That took courage."

  "Yeah," I whisper.

  "I would have killed Oscar Fuentes a long time ago if I was brave enough," she mutters, pure iron in her voice. When I turn my head to look at her, the same quiet strength blazes in her eyes, hatred and desire shining like twin beacons of honey-brown flame. "It's the least he deserves for the things he does to people."

  "Did he…" I hesitate, not sure if I should ask or not.

  "What?"

  "Did he ever hurt you?"

  Faith shakes her head. "He never laid a hand on me."

  "That doesn't mean he didn't hurt you," I whisper.

  She's quiet for a moment. "He kept me locked up. I wasn't allowed to leave his territory. The last time I stepped foot outside his territory was the day he showed up at my stepdad's and told me him and my mom were gone. I was sixteen." She stares straight ahead as she talks, her voice pitched low. "Since then, I've cooked and cleaned for him and his men. Men." She snorts derisively. "More like boys. Most of his people are younger
than I am. Most of them never laid a hand on me either, but they didn't have to do it to keep me there. I tried to run away when I was younger. They always found me before I even made it out of their territory. They'd hurt people and make me watch."

  "Faith," I whisper again, tears pooling in my eyes. We all knew she wasn’t there by choice, but hearing her confirm how horrible things were for her breaks my heart. She’s been a prisoner, locked in a cage with the worst sort of evil.

  "The last time, it was a little old lady who was always nice to me. She'd sneak me candy when Oscar wasn't looking. One of his people tied me to a chair and made me watch as he used a hammer…" A broken sob tumbles from Faith's lips. She curls in on herself, trying to make herself smaller again. I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "He broke both of her hands. She never even looked at me again after that. I stopped trying to run away, stopped talking to people in the neighborhood, and accepted my fate. It was better than the alternative."

  "I'm so sorry."

  I was a coward," she mumbles, dashing away tears with shaking hands.

  "You were a survivor," I correct and then bite my lip. "Have you told Octavio any of this?"

  "Parts. Not much."

  "He can help you," I whisper. "He can make sure they pay for what they did."

  "Maybe," she whispers back. "Or maybe they come after him next. Hurt him next. Maybe they drag me back and I'm never free of Oscar and his people."

  "Octavio would nev–"

  A sound from the kitchen—like the back door slowly sliding open—has me whipping my head in that direction. Faith tenses beside me and I know she heard it too. My heart dives toward my stomach, fear lancing through me. I try to remember if I locked the door when I came back inside, but I can't.

  The sound comes again, and then a faint snick, like the lock clicking into place.

  "There's someone in the house," Faith hisses.

  I nod, sucking in a desperate gulp of air. My mind races, trying to decide what to do.

  "Get outside and get Knox," I whisper to her, struggling to my feet.

  She jumps up beside me and helps drag me from the couch. "We'll go together," she says, her eyes wide with fear.

  "I'll be right behind you," I lie, knowing damn well that if someone is in the house, they aren't here for me. They're here for her. And I can't let them take her back there. I have to hold them off long enough for her to get out of here and get help.

  Footsteps sound in the kitchen, coming closer.

  Faith shakes her head, her pupils dilated and her tawny skin paling.

  "Faith, go," I hiss, my voice hard. Even as I say the words, I reach for the gun I hid behind a stack of books on the bookcase. Roman would probably spank my ass if he knew I had a gun out with Faith here, but I remember what it's like to feel helpless. I felt that way once before. I refuse to feel that way again or to let her feel that way.

  Seeing the gun in my hands must get through to Faith because she nods and runs for the front door on silent feet. Before she can get the locks undone, our intruder steps into the living room. My legs go weak at the sight of him standing there. He's big, tall, dressed in all black.

  "Remi," I whisper.

  He's so familiar, and yet so different than all the pictures on the news. He's a handsome older man, with black hair and deep brown eyes. His hair is shot through with gray, wild and unkempt. His eyes are bruised beneath like he hasn't been sleeping much. His beard is full and bushy. There's mud on his boots and the legs of his pants. It's obvious the last few weeks haven't been kind to him.

  "Stop," he says to Faith, his voice a deep growl. He aims the small black gun in his hand at her back. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."

  Faith immediately freezes, choking on a sob.

  "It's okay, Faith," I whisper to her, aiming my gun at Remi. Despite the fear shooting through me, my hands are steady. I send up a quick prayer of gratitude to Roman for teaching me how to defend myself. "Let her go or I'll shoot you."

  Remi's gaze flicks from her to me. "I doubt that, Mila. I don't want to hurt either of you," he says. "I just want to talk."

  "Let Faith go, and then we'll talk," I counter, refusing to lower my weapon.

  He actually smiles at me. "Roman chose well," he says like he's paying me a compliment, and then he motions Faith toward me with his gun. "Move away from the door."

  "Let her go and we'll talk," I say again.

  "If she leaves, you give up your gun."

  "No!" Faith cries out.

  I hesitate, not liking his offer any more than I like her being stuck in here with me. At least if she's outside, she can get help. I keep my gaze on Remi, trying to read him. Despite the weapon in his hand, all I see in his eyes is sincerity. Whatever he's up to…I don't think he intends to hurt me.

  Please don't let me be wrong.

  "Fine," I agree far more calmly than I feel. He said he wants to talk. I just need to keep him talking until Faith can get to Knox. He'll get Roman, and Roman can finally get Remi in handcuffs where he belongs. All of this will finally be over. "But you have to put your gun down too."

  "Agreed," Remi says in another of those deep growls.

  "Mila, no," Faith says, shaking her head. "I'm not leaving you in here alone with him. You're pregnant!"

  "Just go, Faith," I murmur, not taking my eyes off Remi. "Please."

  Please, go get Knox. Please.

  Faith sobs, her body shaking so hard she practically vibrates. Slowly, so slowly I begin to think she's going to refuse, her shoulders go back and she nods.

  I barely fight back a relieved sigh. Moving carefully, I take three steps to the end table and set my gun down. Once it's on the table, I move back, not taking my eyes off Remi.

  "Now yours," I demand.

  He hesitates for a moment and then sighs heavily. Dirt falls in flakes off his boots as he moves toward the end table and sets his gun beside mine.

  "Happy now?" he asks, shooting me a look I can't read. It's a mix between annoyance and admiration, I think.

  "Now let Faith go," I say.

  "She can go," he says, impatient.

  Faith doesn't have to be told a second time. Her hands shake as she unlocks the door and then yanks it open. Before Remi can change his mind, she flings herself outside.

  Remi crosses to the door in three quick steps, slamming it closed. The deadbolt snaps into place, followed by the chain and the lock on the knob.

  Despite the fact that I'm locked inside with him, relief shoots through me. Faith is outside with Knox. She's safe, and as soon as Roman gets here, all of this will finally be over.

  "Roman is going to kill you for coming here," I mutter to Remi when he turns to face me.

  Weary resignation crosses his face. "I know," he says, leaning up against the wall. His dark eyes rove over my face. "I accepted my death before I ever decided to come here, Mila."

  "Then what do you want? Why are you here?"

  "I came to talk to you," he says. "You can make him listen."

  "Listen to what?"

  "Your man thinks I'm the bad guy here," he rumbles, "but I did what I did for a reason."

  "You betrayed your brothers and kidnapped an innocent woman, Mr. Pledger."

  "I did."

  "Then don't try to pretend you aren't a bad guy," I huff, crossing my arms over my chest to glare at him. "I may not be a cop, but I'm not stupid. However you justify what you did, it amounts to the same thing. You got a lot of people hurt, including me. Or maybe you forgot about that."

  "I forgot nothing," he says. "For what it's worth, I didn't tell them about you or Roman's daughter. I don't know how they found out about you."

  "Right," I snort, rolling my eyes. When he curses, I edge a little bit closer to the table holding our guns, trying to put myself between him and them. He may not have come here to hurt me, but I'm not going to give him a chance to do it now that he's here. "If you want to talk, start talking."

  He hesitates like he isn't
sure what to say now that the moment is here. "Selena Ortega isn't the only woman Francisco has gotten pregnant. She's not even the second or the third."

  "The little girl you were with?"

  He nods wearily. "She was Francisco's too."

  "How many others are there?" My phone vibrates in my pocket. I fight to keep my expression from wavering as relief shoots through me. Roman knows Remi is here. Thank God.

  "I don't know," he admits. "At least half a dozen, maybe more."

  My blood runs cold at his words. I don't pretend to know much about drug trafficking or cartels, but I know enough to feel the cold hands of fear at the thought of Pedro Francisco getting his hands on an innocent child, even one with his blood running through its veins. The man is a monster, responsible for so much death, destruction, and despair. The last thing the world needs is for him to get his hands on an innocent baby and raise a mini monster.

  "He's wanted an heir for years, but his wife isn't able to carry to term," Remi continues when I don't say anything. "He's a world class prick, but he's faithful to her. So he used a fertility clinic to help give him a child."

  "Did the patients know?"

  "Some of them," he says.

  "They agreed?" I ask, my voice strangled.

  He nods.

  My phone stops vibrating and then immediately starts again.

  "Even knowing who he was?" I force myself to ask, refusing to reach for my phone despite the overwhelming urge to do exactly that. It's not out of bravery, but out of cowardice, because if I hear Roman's voice, I'm going to fall apart. And I can't do that yet. I have to keep Remi talking.

  Remi nods again. "Money talks, Mila. When you have enough of it, you can convince almost anyone to do anything."

  I stare at him, horrified. Women willingly let Francisco impregnate them for money? The thought alone makes my stomach churn uncomfortably. "What about the others?" I whisper, swallowing hard against a wave of nausea. "You said only some of them knew."

  "The others were less willing participants," he admits, his lips curling like he finds that distasteful. "He paid off a doctor at the clinic to use his sperm. Most were unsuccessful attempts, but others weren't. There are at least six children total, including Selena Ortega's and the baby girl I found."