by Shauna Allen
He smiled as I handed him the ball. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Something about the kid reminded me of myself at that age. Carefree. Maybe a bit mischievous.
We spun to head back, but a couple of men were on the sidewalk. I grabbed Brianne’s arm to steady her and pull her out of the way as they seemed intent to pass. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
The bulkier one practically took up the entire walkway and didn’t seem to be watching where he was going. He slammed into my shoulder. He reeked of beer and judgment as he shot me a hateful glance with beady eyes. Then his gaze raked over Brianne next to me, her hands on my arm. Disgust filled his glare, turning it deadly. “Fuck off—”
Now, I’d heard the N-word all my life. I’d been called it more times than I cared to admit.
But tonight, as my mother and sister approached from behind and gasped . . . as the young boy who reminded me of myself, who had his whole future ahead of him, and was now staring and watching to see how I’d react . . . as sweet, beautiful, perfectly white Brianne stood beside me hearing this vile judgment spewed upon me, simply because of the color of my skin . . . I’d never felt so violated. So hurt. So fucking enraged.
Something in me snapped and I stepped forward. Right into the fucker’s face.
Brianne squeezed my arm. Hard. “DeAndre,” she murmured under her breath in a warning.
“Say it again,” I demanded, our noses practically touching.
Around us, his pussy-ass buddies simply watched, waiting to see if they should jump in and defend their friend. Little did they know I’d take them down, too.
“He’s not worth it,” DeAnna said behind us, her voice etched with a lifetime of understanding exactly what I was feeling.
“She’s right,” Brianne implored, her hands still on my arm, squeezing, rubbing, doing whatever she could to break through to me.
Asshole stayed bowed up to me, chest to chest. “What are you doing with him, anyway?” He spat his words toward Brianne. “A good little white girl like you needs to be with your own kind.”
She tugged my sleeve. “Come on. He’s a small-minded idiot, and he’s not worth your energy. Let’s go home. Please.”
Something in her voice broke through to me. She was frightened, and I couldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t. I took a step back and shot her a reassuring look.
She immediately cuddled up into my arms, drawing me back. Then she let loose on him. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she shot at him, her voice loud and as angry as I felt now. She pointed at my chest. “I’m proud to be with him. He’s a Marine with more honor and respect in his little finger than you could ever dream of having! He fights every single day for your right to be a racist prick and call him nasty names, and still, he takes it like a man. You should be ashamed of yourself.” She tugged me back. “Let’s go.”
We walked away to the slow build of applause from the crowd.
We dropped my mom and sister off first, and I walked them inside the hotel lobby while Brianne waited in the truck.
I kissed them both goodnight, and we made plans to meet up the next day.
Just before they headed to the elevator, DeAnna shot me a meaningful look. “That one’s a keeper, you know that, right, brother?”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. She may very well be right, but I couldn’t afford to think like that right then. Not yet.
Thankfully, the elevator doors opened, and they got inside. I waved and waited until they were out of sight to go back out.
Brianne greeted me with a sleepy eyes and a sweet smile when I slid back into the truck, and we began to drive.
After a few minutes she asked, “Does that kind of thing happen to you a lot?”
“What thing?”
“The asshole at the park.”
“Oh. Sometimes. Not as much since I’ve become a Marine.” I drove a bit farther. “Why do you ask?”
“Why?” Her voice rose in clear irritation. “Why? Because it’s bullshit, that’s why. It should never happen to you. What the fuck, DeAndre?”
It was just a part of my existence. It was life. It wasn’t something she could possibly understand, though I didn’t bother telling her so. She was adorably pissed on my account, so I let her be. “You won’t get any disagreement from me.” I glanced over. “Thank you for speaking up. You didn’t have to, I can handle my own shit, but it was cool of you.”
Big blue eyes blinked at me once. Twice. “Of course, I had to.”
I frowned at the road. “No—”
“Yes.” She was adamant. Almost angry. “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because. You saved my life, DeAndre.”
“Brianne . . .”
“No. Don’t tell me you were doing your job. I get that. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I flashed her a look. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about after I was rescued. In the van.” Her voice fell as if she was lost in the memory. “You were so kind, so calming. You have no idea how that kept me from going over the edge. How the memory of you kept me from going over it so many times after that.”
Something in my chest began to ache, thinking of all she’d been through. That night had been more than a job for me, too, though I hadn’t quite known how or why at the time. Something in her had tugged at something deep in my heart, and I’d just gone with what felt natural, talking to her and telling her things I had no business telling someone who could’ve easily been the enemy.
“The memory of your voice, your words, your eyes, your sweetness . . . it kept me grounded in the worst of my PTSD these last months, DeAndre. In the darkest nights, when I wanted to end it all, it was those damn green eyes of yours that kept me hanging on, and I have no explanation for that other than it’s you. Just you.”
“Jesus.” I yanked the steering wheel and came to a skidding stop on the side of the road. “Come here.”
Without hesitating, she unfastened her seatbelt and crawled into my lap. “I don’t care if we’re an epic mistake on paper, DeAndre,” she whispered, her fingers warm on the skin of my throat. “How can I when you’re my miracle?”
I squeezed my eyes shut because, God help me, I wasn’t sure I cared either anymore.
Brianne
I was done. I was done pretending. I was done hiding. And most of all, I was done keeping things from DeAndre. At this point, he could have all of me or none of me . . . take it or leave it. I was an open book. Bruised and broken, he needed to choose to trust me or not, but I couldn’t take the uncertainty of kisses and laughter and shared glances that hinted at a future then snatch it all away with one look of distrust, one cold shoulder when I knew he was keeping something from me.
I had already long since told him everything I could that was related to his mission and my time with Esteban. So, right there, on the side of the road, I told him the rest.
Shaking in his arms, tears streaking down my face, I told him my past. Every unbelievable, dirty piece I’d wanted to keep hidden away and pretend didn’t exist to protect myself, I laid bare to him.
I told him about growing up in Mexico with my diplomat father who was all but married to the drug cartel.
How my mother died under mysterious circumstances, but it was brushed under the rug and never investigated.
How my teenage boyfriend, Pedro, was murdered, execution-style, in front of my home, his body left for me to find, by the cartel as an example of what happens when you break the rules.
I told him how after that, I screamed and screamed and screamed until I had no voice. How I cried until I was hysterical. How I refused to eat, I was so heartsick. How could anyone be so cruel? So vicious?
I told him how I found computers almost out of rebellion so I could sneak into my father’s business with the cartel. How I learned from the best that I found in the underground world of the dark web, then dug and dug and dug, but never found anything incriminating enough to take to the police . . .
until I did. But I’d messed up and left behind my own digital fingerprint, which led two masked men to my bedroom door in the middle of the night and me finding myself a prisoner of Marco Esteban in the place of their now dead hacker, who’d been stupid enough to let a mere gringa slip through their network.
I. Told. Him. Everything.
Until I had nothing left to give.
He held me and held me, his hand idly stroking my back, giving me the benefit of silence as he listened intently.
When I was wrung out of words, I clung to his waist, my nose buried in his chest, silently praying it was enough for him to finally have full faith in me.
Eventually, his hand slid down to gently tap my hip. “Slide over.”
I lifted my head. “What?”
“Let’s go.” His face was stoic, gave nothing away.
My heart sank. I’d given everything I had to give, and I’d lost him. It was over before it had begun. I swallowed my pride and moved back to my seat and buckled my seatbelt, not meeting his gaze.
The truck rolled back onto the road. Neither of us spoke as he drove, the air thick between us.
I suddenly realized we’d passed the base and snapped around to look at him, but he was focused on the highway. “DeAndre?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are we going?”
Those eyes of my fantasies met mine, heat arcing through the cab of his truck, hot enough to burn me. “To my place.”
I was too shocked to say anything.
I clutched my purse tightly the whole way until he pulled up in front of a well-lit condo.
He got out and rounded the hood to open my door and offered me his hand.
I lifted my eyes to his.
“Come inside with me, Brianne.” His voice was deep and heavy with something I’d never heard before. Promise?
I placed my palm in his and slid down to the ground to follow him to his condo. Inside, it was small and neat, but not overly so. Papers and mail were strewn along his bar, a few dishes littered his sink. Laundry lay in a folded pile on his sofa.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said as he shrugged off his jacket. “I wasn’t planning on company.”
“It’s fine.” I studied the photos of his family on the wall and smiled at the one of his father in his Marine uniform. He looked just like his dad.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked behind me.
I spun around, suddenly nervous at the sight of him with his tie gone, the top button of his dress shirt undone. “I’d like to know why you brought me here.”
He just stared into my eyes, green to blue, the answer crystal clear in that moment.
He trusted me.
He wanted me.
He maybe even needed me as I needed him.
I dropped my purse on the small table by the door, swiped my sweaty palms down my thighs and started his way, kicking off my heels as I went.
His eyes flared as he took me in, and he reached for me the moment I was within arm’s length. “I want you,” he admitted in a breathy murmur. “God help me, I shouldn’t, but I do.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I reached for the second button on his shirt and undid it, revealing the soft, dark skin beneath.
His fingers flexed on my waist. Still, he let me move on to the next.
And the next.
And the next, until I had to yank the shirt from his slacks to finish the job, and his chest and stomach were fully exposed to me.
I ran my hands all the way up his bare flesh and laid them flat against his collarbones, studying the difference in our skin tones. “You are so beautiful,” I said, lifting my gaze to his. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
An amused half-smile toyed with his lips. “Isn’t that my line?”
“I’m serious, DeAndre. You are spectacular. Inside and out, and I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.”
“I’ve wanted that, too.”
I let my fingers roam down his pecs to his abs then back up to shove the shirt off his shoulders. “But what about this making me a liability and making you vulnerable?”
His fingers toyed at the zipper on the back of my dress. “All still true, but that doesn’t seem to matter as much now.” Air hit the skin of my back, and I sucked in a breath as his lips brushed behind my ear.
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” My dress slid off my shoulders, and his hot tongue traced the pulse in my throat. “I don’t care about being vulnerable now.”
My fingers clawed and clenched his hips. “You don’t?”
He bit a tad more than gentle. “No.”
“Really?” I gasped as he shoved me against the wall, his erection clearly evident against my belly. I began to fumble with his belt as my dress pooled at my feet. “Why?”
One bra strap fell to his nimble fingers. “Two reasons.”
I shrugged and let it fall so my nipple popped free. His gaze fell to study me as if he were taking in a piece of art.
No.
I’d waited too long for this moment.
Impatient, I clasped his hand and lifted his palm to cup my breast. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips.
“First, I trust you,” he murmured, his voice low and gritty.
No words could’ve been sweeter to my ears. Such relief flooded my body, I nearly wilted on the spot, except he drew down the other strap of my bra and cupped my other breast, teasing my nipples with both thumbs.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, thrusting my chest toward him, silently seeking more of his touch.
He dipped his head and took one nipple into his hot mouth, and I cried out.
I hadn’t been with a man like this, who treated me with such gentleness, in so long, maybe ever. I was overwrought with need. Every cell in my body was aching. I couldn’t get enough of him. I needed to fill my mind, body, and soul with him . . . just him. And I needed it now.
I shoved his shoulders to move him back, hoping I was heading toward his bedroom. I stole a kiss while I yanked him by the belt, my clumsy fingers barely sliding it free as I stumbled that way. Thankfully, his condo was small, and I found the bedroom easily.
He followed, his lips attached to mine as we tumbled onto the bed that smelled of him. We rolled around and kissed and touched and let fire lick our veins until we were flesh to flesh, his body poised above mine, his lips at my temple.
This was perfect.
He was perfect.
Everything I’d ever wished for.
Was I everything he wished for?
Would he regret this in the morning? Did he really not care about being vulnerable anymore?
I stroked a hand down his muscular back, battling back the fears that wanted to ruin this moment for me. “What was the second reason?” I whispered into his ear.
I had to know. If he truly didn’t care because he trusted me, what was the other reason? It was vitally important to me.
He froze. I didn’t need to clarify my question. He knew.
He pushed up on his arms over me, his eyes intense. “You seriously don’t know?”
I frowned. “Know what?”
“Baby.” He brushed the hair back from my cheek. “I don’t care about being vulnerable, because somewhere along the line my heart got involved, and I’m about a stone’s throw away from falling in love with you, Brianne.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he swore, his voice low and reverent.
I didn’t want to cry. I truly didn’t. I simply couldn’t help it.
Tears started streaming down my cheeks as I stared up at him in disbelief. How in the world had I gotten so lucky to end up in this man’s arms?
“I feel the same way,” I managed to choke out, my voice rough and emotional. “You’ve become my everything, DeAndre. My world.”
“God, baby . . .” His lips found mine through my tears, kissing me with a passion and a ferocity I’d never felt before.
Then he made love to me with that s
ame intensity. And knowing there were feelings behind it for him made it all the more perfect—and all the more bittersweet when Tex called before dawn the next morning, reminding me how fragile some fantasies can be.
DeAndre
I had never slept so good in my life as I had with Brianne in my arms after making love to her. It was right. She was right. I guess I’d always known that on some deep, elemental level, but I’d been fighting it.
Could I let myself fall all the way? Envision a future with her?
Maybe.
That was for another day.
For now, it was enough to simply hold her, content myself in her warmth and the sound of her breathing and her honeysuckle scent on my sheets.
As the pre-dawn light crept through the blinds, I lifted our intertwined hands and studied her fragile, ivory fingers in mine. She could do so much with these hands and with that mind of hers. She was capable of so much. She also didn’t care one iota about the differences in our upbringing or the color of our flesh. She cared about me for who I was and saw below, to the man I fought to be every single day.
She sighed and shifted, her thigh lying over mine, blonde hair spilling across my arm. From what I’d learned about her over these past few weeks, I knew she didn’t usually sleep well either, typically rising with the sun to begin working. But, instead, she slept soundly in my bed today, in my embrace, smelling of me and our lovemaking.
This could be every day, something in my heart whispered.
Suddenly, my cell phone rang from the nightstand beside my head.
I grabbed for it as quickly as I could to silence it, but big, sleepy, blue eyes lifted to mine. “Sorry,” I apologized. “I forgot to turn it off last night.”
“It’s okay.” She rolled away and stretched, her perky breasts peeking out of the sheets.
I forced my gaze away and answered when I saw it was Tex. “Yeah, man.”
“Sorry to call so early, but I couldn’t sleep last night, so I kept chipping away at Brianne’s wormhole into Shadeek’s network.”
“Yeah?” I sat up. “And?”