From Evil: Books 4-6

by Pam Godwin

  The seam of his full lips hid a tongue that could make Martin shoot his load in under ten seconds, and his nude body exuded all the grace, strength, and chiseled perfection of a demigod.

  No one could pull off the freshly fucked look like Ricardo Saldivar. Martin had worked him into a hard-earned orgasm only an hour earlier, hoping to fuck them both to sleep.

  At least Ricky had found a moment of solace.

  But he was awake now, given the irregular pace of his breaths.

  Martin shifted closer, touching their foreheads together.

  “I miss her.” Ricky opened his eyes, locking onto Martin’s.

  “Yeah.” A clamp of renewed anger constricted his chest. “We promised her we’d get her out.”

  Loving a woman they couldn’t see or touch or protect… It was such a goddamn helpless feeling. But breaking a promise to her felt even worse.

  “She’s fierce as hell.” Ricky gripped Martin’s neck. “You know as well as I do, she’s the reason Jaulaso went up in flames.”

  “I’m going to redden her fucking ass for it.”

  Ricky glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was two in the morning, but he didn’t need to ask Martin why he was awake. They hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since they left her in that hell.

  “You know what I miss?” Ricky connected their mouths in a languorous kiss, sweeping his tongue and igniting the heat that burned between them. “I miss her soft hands and lips.”

  “I miss her sexy little tits.” He licked a path down Ricky’s throat, nipped at the flex of pecs, and swirled his tongue around Ricky’s nipple.

  With a shameless moan, Ricky gripped Martin’s swelling erection, rubbing in slow teasing strokes. “And the sound of her husky voice when she wants to fuck.”

  “Especially when she’s quoting her favorite books.” Warmth spread through his body as he rocked into Ricky’s tight fist. “Her nerdy, schoolteacher thing really does it for me.”

  “Yeah?” Shifting closer, Ricky pumped his hand and stole hungry kisses. “Her smile does it for me. The sweetness in it, the breathy sounds she makes, the wet grip of her pussy…”

  Martin captured Ricky’s thick cock and touched the hard length the way he used to touch himself. Fast and aggressive, firm and desperate, he jacked Ricky off until their kissing and stroking turned feral.

  “Fuck, I miss her tight little cunt.” Kicking his hips, Ricky thrust faster into Martin’s fist.

  “My hand’s not as good as her pussy?”

  “No.” Ricky groaned through a laugh. “But it gets the job done. Really fucking well. Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t stop until he took Ricky’s cock into his mouth. He sucked ravenously until Ricky undulated and moaned through a body-shaking orgasm. Then he lubed up, flipped Ricky over, and rode Ricky’s hot ass into a slow, grinding climax.

  They should’ve been able to sleep after that, but they couldn’t. She was a sadness they shared, a pain that laded their thoughts and kept them on edge.

  Stretched out on the bed, face to face, they sank into the intimacy of their eye contact.

  Martin traced a finger along the carved terrain of Ricky’s abs, marveling at the ease in which he could touch his best friend. He’d been so fucking scared he would hurt Ricky irreparably that he’d denied them this pleasure for seven years.

  He should’ve known Ricky had the physical and emotional strength to handle Martin’s pain, even when Martin couldn’t.

  “I love you.” He rested a hand on Ricky’s face, roaming his thumb along that strong jawline.

  “You, too.”

  They stayed that way for hours, drifting in and out of sleep.

  Sometime before dawn, Martin’s phone rang on the side table.

  His heart rate tripled as he reached for it. But Ricky beat him to it, lunging across his chest and putting the call on speaker.

  Martin didn’t have to look at the screen to know the call was from Cole Hartman. His knuckles were white from clenching his fists, and his entire body froze in anticipation.

  “You better have good news for us.” Ricky set the phone on the bed and rubbed his palms on his thighs, his expression taut.

  “She’s alive,” Cole said. “But she’s not in Jaulaso.”

  All the air in the room evaporated. Martin couldn’t catch his breath.

  “What the fuck?” Ricky jumped off the bed and dragged his hands through his hair. “Where is she?”

  “She transferred to a federal prison in the U.S. the day Hector was murdered. That took planning.” Cole let that settle in before he asked, “Can you catch a flight to Phoenix, Arizona?”

  “Holy fuck.” Martin exchanged a startled look with Ricky. “She’s in Arizona?”

  “Yes. During her transfer hearing, the U.S. Parole Commission reduced her sentence. She’s getting released next week, and I’m not the only one who knows this. Someone put out a contract hit on her life.”

  CHAPTER 33

  “Petula Gomez.” The female corrections officer waved her through the final checkpoint. “You’re clear to go.”

  Tula shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and swallowed around a knot of conflicting emotions. Uncertainty and exaltation, terrible fear and utter joy—all of it burned the backs of her eyes as she pushed through the exterior door.

  Two years after her arrest, she stepped out of prison as a free woman.

  A buzz of electricity exploded inside her. The good kind. The bursting-with-warmth kind that carried more possibilities than she could hold in her chest. Endless paths awaited her feet, but there was only one path she wanted.

  The Arizona sun burned into her retinas as she scanned the parking lot of glinting metal.

  Were they here?

  What if they weren’t?

  She would have to figure out where to go and how to get there.

  She would have to start a life without them. She’d braced herself for that prospect, but the thought still lanced unbearable pain through her insides.

  The scent of asphalt and desert heat filled her lungs. There was no wind, but she felt the wide-open air, vast and alive and all around her.

  She swayed beneath the petrifying surrealism of standing outside without walls, bars, or shackles. Hell, she’d been reeling since she left Jaulaso.

  She hadn’t seen a man, an illegal drug, or a weapon of any kind in three months. Everything was different in federal prison—the rules, the meals, the curfew, the women… Good God, when she’d arrived here, she hadn’t been around another woman in two years. She still didn’t know how to interact with them.

  The differences between this prison and Jaulaso were so extreme she’d spent the last three months in a dazed state of shell shock.

  But the biggest shock came last week.

  Out of nowhere, someone had deposited funds into her prison bank account. The amount had been more than enough to purchase snacks and nicer prison shoes from the prison commissary.

  The anonymous donor hadn’t left a message, but she hoped.

  She hoped with all the hope that remained in her shattered heart that Martin and Ricky had found her.

  If they had, she didn’t know how. They would’ve had to search the U.S. prison databases. How would they even know to look for her in the States?

  With her eyes on the parking lot, she wandered down the sidewalk, dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt she wore the day she killed Hector La Rocha.

  Her clothes had been in storage, never washed. That meant the black cotton of her shirt retained the bloody specks of Hector’s death.

  The authorities didn’t know she had done it. No one had even questioned her. The news stories called it a deadly dispute within the cartel.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d killed him.

  Her father.

  The notorious crime boss of La Rocha Cartel.

  The same day it happened, she sat through her transfer hearing, accepted her guilt, and learned her transferred sentence of
three years in Mexico converted into only three months in the United States. Transferees didn’t always get a reduced sentence, but it happened sometimes. She was one of the lucky ones.

  She would never be acquitted of the drug smuggling charges, but it didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered more than finding the two men she loved with every breath in her body.

  The long sidewalk led her to the parking lot. Cars occupied almost every spot in a sea of steel and glass. Beyond that lay endless desert. She shielded her eyes from the sun and raked her gaze back and forth, searching, aching, panicking.

  Nothing moved.

  No one was coming.

  Just as she was about to let go of the dwindling ray of hope that flickered inside her, the rumble of an engine sounded.

  On the far side of the lot, a large SUV pulled out of its spot and slowly motored toward her. More vehicles followed suit—a truck, several sports cars, and a luxury sedan—all scattered through the lot and leaving their parked positions at the same time.

  Her pulse careened into a gallop.

  Garra had warned her that Hector’s sons would avenge their father’s death. Had they found her? Would they try to abduct her or kill her on federal property?

  She spun back toward the entrance, knowing she would never make it up that long path in time. Terror consumed her as she bolted into a sprint.

  Car doors opened behind her, and footsteps closed in.

  “Tula!” The familiar masculine voice pierced shards of light through her tunnel vision.

  She faltered, gulping for air as she whirled back.

  Two pairs of arms came around her, enveloping her in the strange scents of cologne, aftershave, and woodsy shampoo. None of the fragrances belonged to Martin and Ricky, but her body recognized every chiseled inch of them.

  Her hands identified the carved definition in their chests. Her fingers distinguished the differences in the textures of their hair as she pulled their heads toward her. Her gaze found green eyes, brown eyes, and all the gorgeous features that had occupied her thoughts since the day they walked into Area Three.

  She melted instantly into the press of their bodies, caressing and grabbing solid muscle while trying to maintain eye contact.

  “You came.” She choked on a sob and pushed back just enough to reach for their faces. “You’re here.”

  “Tula.” Martin shook his head, his voice cracking. “We should’ve never left.”

  “Don’t say that.” She stroked his rigid jaw. “This is love. It slays and conquers and never looks back.” The hot burn of tears blurred her eyes. “It’s the reason you’re here.”

  As she absorbed the sculpted details of their fierce expressions, the walls inside her ruptured one by one. It started as a tingle in her fingers and toes, crashed through her limbs, and rolled over her in a warm powerful tide, washing away her doubts and fears.

  Life had returned to her. They were here, breathing with her, touching her skin, and watching her with the same intense longing that curled her fingers into their clothes.

  The universe had given her another chance at happiness, and she wouldn’t squander a second of it.

  “I love you.” She met each pair of eyes as great rushing waves of felicity soaked into her heart, mending it as quickly as it had been broken.

  “I love you, too.” Ricky tightened his arms around her and Martin, wrapping them in a protective bubble. “So damn much.”

  Martin tangled a hand in her hair, angling her face toward his. “Fucking hell, I need to kiss you right now, but—”

  “Idiots!” a man shouted from inside the SUV. “Get your asses in the car!”

  “We need to go.” Ricky swept her up into his arms and took off toward their ride.

  The urgency in his gait sent a chill across her scalp. “Are we in danger?”

  “Yes.”

  She held tight to his broad shoulders. “Those other cars—”

  “They’re with us.” He slid across the backseat of the SUV with her body tucked against his chest.

  Martin followed him in, and the vehicle lurched into motion as the door swung closed. Two men sat in the front seat, but she didn’t get a look at them before Martin and Ricky pulled her back into their orbit.

  She sat sideways on Ricky’s lap as Martin positioned her legs across his thighs and drifted close, surrounding her with the potency of his full attention.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ricky ghosted his lips along her temple, his hand resting on her neck. “We couldn’t wait for you at the door. We had snipers lined up—”

  She inhaled sharply. “In the other cars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because of Hector’s sons? They’re coming for me?”

  “They have to get through us first.” Martin stared into her eyes and slid his fingers across her cheek, touching her with a stunned sort of reverence, like he couldn’t believe she was here.

  “How did you find me? How do you even know Hector’s sons are looking for me?”

  His gaze drifted to the driver, sitting directly in front of him.

  The man’s brown eyes greeted her in the rearview mirror. His profile revealed a straight nose and trimmed beard that failed to hide the dimple in his cheek. He was handsome, like jaw-droppingly stupid handsome, but a dangerous air circulated around him, raising the hairs on her arms.

  “That’s Cole Hartman,” Martin said.

  “You’re the military guy.” She held his gaze in the mirror, recalling everything Martin and Ricky had told her about his specialized skills and connections in the criminal world. “You’re the one who found me?”

  “Yes, but before last week, we thought you were still in Jaulaso.” He glanced at the road, the side mirrors, and returned to her. “The prison’s on lockdown, including all information on its inmates. We didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”

  Ricky’s body went stiff beneath her, drawing her attention to the pain he couldn’t conceal in his eyes. Martin wore a similar expression, his features bearing the exhaustion from months of stress.

  Guilt cleaved through her. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you my plan. The night before you left… I slipped out to take a shower and saw something really…heartbreaking.” Her chest squeezed, trapping her next breath. “I’ll tell you everything, but not here. Not right now. It’s going to hurt to relive it, and I…”

  Ricky touched his lips to hers. He didn’t try to silence her with a kiss. He just held his mouth there and let their breaths coalesce and shudder together.

  “Whenever you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.” He ran his nose along hers. “Never again.”

  “I won’t let you go. Never again.” She closed her eyes, exalting in the connection.

  When he leaned back, her attention fell on the other man in the front seat. With model-worthy features, red hair, and a tall, muscled frame, he fit the description of the mechanic roommate Martin and Ricky had always talked about.

  “You must be Luke,” she said to him.

  “Good guess.” He twisted around to give her a wink. “They must’ve told you I was the best looking.

  “The best-looking redhead.” She grinned.

  “The only redhead.” Cole veered onto the interstate, heading toward the city. Then he found her gaze in the mirror. “I have eyes and ears in the cartel underworld. One of the inmates in Jaulaso contacted Hector’s sons and told them you transferred to the States. When they put a contract out on your life, my informants notified me. That’s how I found you.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “If you have any information on them or La Rocha business—”

  “My sister is alive, and she’s with them.”

  She walked them through the day she killed Hector—how she did it, everything that was said, and the clues Garra gave her before he died.

  “They smuggle children inside crates with their weapon shipments.” She clenched her hands. “I think, all along, they were discussing their human trafficking operatio
n right in front of me. They just always referred to it as firearms. So while I was in the women’s camp, I wrote down everything I remembered from those meetings.”

  She pulled a small journal from her back pocket and squeezed her fingers around it. Two years of memories filled the pages—conversations, smuggling routes, towns in North, Central, and South America that began with Cala, as well as the details of that haunting night in the sewer room.

  “Give it to Luke.” Martin nodded at the redheaded vigilante. “He’s leading the next phase of the mission.”

  “Vera’s part of that phase.” She clutched the notebook to her chest. “Until I have evidence of her guilt, I won’t turn against her.”

  “I won’t kill her.” Luke held out his hand, waiting for the journal.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No.” Martin put his face in hers. “There’s a contract out on all three of us. We aren’t going anywhere near Hector’s sons until the situation is neutralized. We’ll be involved in the operation. In the background. Understood?”

  Her pulse quickened. “There’s a contract on you and Ricky?”

  “Yes. They connected us to you. How could they not? We lived among La Rocha Cartel members for three months. Everyone saw the three of us together.”

  She sucked in a breath and turned back to Luke. “What will you do if you find her?”

  “I’ll shackle her.” He lifted a shoulder. “Haul her ass into the Restrepo headquarters for questioning.”

  The arid landscape of Phoenix, Arizona blurred past the windows. She was only minutes from her old apartment. That was where she’d been, sitting on the couch and looking forward to summer break, when Vera called. It was the last time she’d talked to her sister.

  “Please, don’t kill her.” She relinquished her journal to Luke.

  “I promise.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?” Ricky caressed a hand through her hair.

  “I don’t care where, as long as we go there together.”

  Whatever lay ahead could be her greatest challenge yet. There would be tears and laughter, fighting and fucking, and everything in between. A lasting relationship with one man was hard enough. But with two? It would be twice the work, twice the joy.