“Ah, she wakes.”
He came to attention at Tegan’s softly spoken comment. Nika was lying on her side in the double bed they’d placed her in after stitching her up. He noted the vibrant sparkle that was normally in her eyes was missing, clouded with drugs. Didn’t like that.
“Where is it? The memory stick?”
Her voice was husky and coarse, the musical quality gone. Another thing not to like.
Maybe if this kept up, he’d be off the hook and his attraction to her would die.
Or not, he thought in the next heartbeat as she continued to hold his gaze. Warmth spread through him, traveling from his chest outward. Unable to stop himself, he lifted his hand and brushed a strand of her bright hair from the corner of her perfectly shaped lips. There were a few locks lying on the silver tray off to the side. Yuri or Tegan must have shaved a spot on her scalp in order to stitch her wound. Hated that, but at least there was no need for her to be self-conscious because it was in a place no one would be able to see.
Clearing his throat, he dropped his arm and went into his pocket for the requested item. The image of her bruised body as he’d seen it earlier crowded his mind. She’d taken this beating on top of all the marks she’d already had. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to block the knowledge out and withdraw the reason for it all. The footage of Caleb would easily implicate the biker—his image captured perfectly, almost as if the security camera had been trained on him specifically.
Maks was going to look into what that was about.
Vincente held out the jump drive, but Nika didn’t even look at it. She continued to hold his gaze, an oddly perplexed expression settling on her face. She reminded him of an accident victim trying to understand what was happening around her. No doubt she was having a hard time getting her thought process to work around the meds in her system.
“I’m not a bad person, you know,” she murmured, surprising him. “I didn’t deserve what he did to me.”
“Jesus Christ, I know that, babe,” he assured her in a whisper, which was all he could get out around her words and that darkening lump on her cheek.
“He showed up outside my office last September. It wasn’t even raining that day,” she mused, her expression far-off. “I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Barely knew who he was, just that he used to hang out at the clubhouse with Caleb. He was wearing this horrible plaid shirt.” She grimaced slightly. “Asked if I’d go for coffee with him. Said he wanted to talk to me about my brother.”
She closed her eyes as she shook her head. “We sat in Starbucks, and he told me about some footage he had that could put Caleb in prison for the rest of his life. Then he got up and left. Said he’d contact me the next day to let me know how the situation would play out.” Her voice went a smidge deeper, as if she was attempting to imitate Nollan. “ ‘You’re gonna make me one very happy man, Niki,’ is what he whispered in my ear before he walked away.”
Vincente’s vow to obliterate Nollan to the point where even memories of him no longer existed—after the fucker bled rivers for his sins—was cemented as he watched his redhead struggle through her story.
Nika met his eyes and said solemnly, “Don’t ever call me Niki, okay?”
“Never.” A vow he would keep until the end.
“He said that same thing to me on our wedding night. ‘You’re gonna make me one very happy man, Niki.’ I thought he meant it sexually. But thank God he couldn’t do that. Not with me anyway. Tonight he could have, though.” She shuddered so hard her teeth chattered, and Vincente watched as goose bumps littered the flawless skin of her arm that was peeking out from under the white sheet covering her. What did she mean “he couldn’t do that”?
“Until tonight . . . ?” he questioned hesitantly, dread snaking down his spine.
“He got excited when I fought so hard tonight. He got an erection. That’s never happened before. That was the one way God, or whoever was watching, helped me. I never had to suffer through sex with him.”
Vincente blinked a few times, pretty sure his eyes were trying to tear up, whether in relief on her behalf or remorse over this tragedy, he wasn’t sure.
“He made me buy two tickets to Las Vegas a week after we first met for coffee,” she continued. “The guy who married us was high as a kite. I don’t know how he read the correct words since he looked at my boobs more than the papers in his hands. But he did it, and when we got back to Seattle I was Mrs. Kevin Nollan. He liked to call me ‘slave’ because he knew I hated it.”
She shivered again, and Vincente had to deliberately relax his hold on the memory stick before he crushed it to dust. For the second time since meeting this woman, he forgot how to breathe. Holy. Fucking. Hell. But this time, it wasn’t because of the way she looked. No. This suffocation was due to the negative emotions roiling through him. They were malevolent and evil and darkness and pain.
Kevin Nollan would soon pay.
“I’m not a bad person, Vincente,” she murmured again. “I don’t go to church, but I’ve always tried my best to be good, to help where I can—unless the guy sitting on the sidewalk holding up a cup has shoes that cost more than mine. Eva and I used to volunteer all the time growing up. She made stuff fun, no matter what we were doing. Did you know my brother has his master’s in special education? He’s such a good man. He went to Seattle University, and Eva and I used to tag along with him when he did his co-op at the Alliance. They helped us choose our cause.”
Hearing an echo of loneliness in her voice, Vincente stepped closer to the bed and offered her what little comfort he could by running his fingers down her arm. “You don’t have to tell me this stuff, Red. I know Caleb’s a good guy.” Despite what he’d implied half an hour ago, he thought with a cringe. “And without you saying a word, I already knew what kind of person you were.” He touched a lock of her hair. “You light up the room when you’re in it, babe. What could possibly be bad about that?”
She nodded but didn’t look convinced.
Another tremble moved through her, and he looked around for a blanket, halting when she said, “Will you lay with me? I can’t get warm.” Before he could respond, she continued. “Do you ever feel like, even in a room full of people, you’re alone, Vincente? I feel like that all the time lately. It was so hard being the only one who knew what was happening. Sometimes, when he finished with me, I would sit on the side of the bathtub and wish there was someone I could tell, just so I didn’t feel so alone in it. But I wouldn’t do that to Eva. And Caleb couldn’t know.”
As he identified with what Nika was saying, Tegan came over from where she’d been standing with her arms wrapped around herself. She moved like a shadow she was so quiet. He glanced up at his friend of many years as she placed a fluffy blue blanket on the foot of the bed, tear tracks on her cheeks, her bright-blue eyes shimmering with moisture. She motioned that she’d lock the door on her way out, and then she was gone.
Sweat bloomed across the back of Vincente’s neck at the intimacy of what he was about to do. He shoved aside his unease and, without giving himself a chance to think about it—or pull a Bugs Bunny by fucking off so fast that all he left behind was the outline of his form in the door—he motioned for Nika to scoot over. She gingerly slid a little away, and he stretched out on his back next to her, holding his breath when she moved in to tuck into his side.
Oh . . . man.
He put his arm around her and closed his eyes to the feel of her softness pressing into his ribs, her long leg snugging up to his, her silky hair tickling his neck as she tucked her head under his chin. And the killer? Her arm slid across to rest on his stomach, as though she wanted to hold him right where he was. She seemed to need the connection to another person, and Vincente tried like hell to ignore how familiar that was to him. Seemed as if she’d verbalized what he’d been feeling for years now: alone in a crowd.
“I haven’t felt th
is safe in a long time. You’re so big,” she added absently as her hand slid up his chest so she could pick up his prized wolf’s tooth necklace and fiddle with it. She placed it over the black T-shirt Quan had gotten him earlier, since his shirt had been ruined by Nika’s blood. She then took a piece of his hair, twining it around her long finger the way he’d seen her do with her own. “I love your hair.” She brought it to her nose and inhaled.
Vincente relaxed slightly and watched her. He didn’t think he’d ever done this with a woman before, just lay with her and offer comfort and warmth. It was kind of nice. Felt good. A little too good. If he wasn’t careful, Nika could make him forget all the reasons he should stay away from her. As innocent as being here with her was, it was also dangerous because she was making him feel shit. Nice shit. And that never lasted, did it?
“How old are you, Red?”
“I’ll be twenty-five in November. Kevin said that he might be nice to me on my birthday. That would be my present. He thought I’d be there for another November. Last year I wasn’t allowed to call Caleb, so he didn’t get to wish me a happy birthday on the day. I know that bothered him. My poor brother. I don’t cry very much, but I did that night. Maybe I should. I hear it’s cathartic. Cleansing.”
Her voice was soft and calm as she cracked his heart wide open. Too calm. She’d been suffering through a hell most people couldn’t imagine. And she was this casual talking about it? She was gonna blow. He just knew it.
Look at what had just happened to him a few minutes ago with her brother. The shit you bottled up didn’t stay bottled forever.
But, as she’d said, she’d been aching for someone to talk to about everything she’d been through. She’d been alone in it for so long, it must be good to now be free to get some of the hurt off her chest—especially in her painkiller-induced haze.
Even if that someone was Vincente.
“Where are your parents, babe?”
A little puff of air came from her mouth, like she’d snorted without a lot of energy.
“Thought I’d imagined you calling me that,” she said faintly, kicking him in the teeth with the satisfaction in her tone. “I like it. Makes me feel good. Like everything with you. For some weird reason, you make me feel . . . something. I don’t know. Just something. I haven’t had much good lately, so thanks for that. Didn’t like the way you looked at me at the wedding, though. But I understood it. At least now you know I’m not a disloyal person and a cheater. I didn’t kiss you in Seattle and have a clueless husband waiting for me at home. I was never really married.”
He hadn’t really considered her married either. Not really. But he didn’t mention that. The sound of footsteps came from the hallway, and he stiffened. Whoever it was walked on by, and he relaxed again.
“My mom died of cancer when I was little, and my dad died of the same when I was eighteen,” Nika replied to his earlier question, unaware that with her every word, that vice around his ice-encased heart was tightening. “Poor Caleb got stuck with me.”
“Your brother loves you,” he assured her, thinking of the raw deal she’d been handed in her short life. So much loss, layered under a degree of abuse no innocent person should have to live with. How the hell had she kept going?
“I hate him, Vincente.” His brows popped up until she clarified. “I hate Kevin so much I scare myself. Because I want nothing more in life than to watch him die. Over and over again. He shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else. There’s something wrong with him. He’s crazy. So paranoid and delusional. He refused to make copies of Caleb’s video in case it stayed ‘in cyberspace and someone found it.’ ” She air-quoted with the fingers of one hand. “He doesn’t even have a bank account or a driver’s license. Said he didn’t want the government to be able to keep tabs on him.”
Vincente almost scoffed out loud. More like the asshole hadn’t wanted the authorities on his ass, nailing him for his family’s murder.
“I suppose that’s another good thing. At least we know Caleb’s secret is safe with us. I just wish I’d found it sooner. My brother doesn’t deserve to go to jail. I’m not sure why he killed that guy yet, but I know he must have had a good reason.” She paused and was quiet for a few before she went again. “When I got Eva’s wedding invitation, I knew coming to New York would save me. I knew Kevin wouldn’t leave that evidence behind. Is this what winning feels like, Vincente? ’Cause it doesn’t feel very good.”
Heartsick, he attempted to quickly process all she’d told him. “It’ll get better,” he lied. Nothing had gotten better for him after Sophia died. Why should it be any different for Nika? “Why didn’t you tell Caleb what was going on? He and Vex could’ve helped you. Taken care of Nollan and then looked for that footage. Or Gabriel. Or me.”
She was shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking, making her scent fill the air around them so that he got a whiff of oranges and jasmine even around the smell of antiseptic. “Because I wasn’t sure if I could believe Kevin or not. What if he was playing me? What if he wasn’t as paranoid as he led me to believe and he had made copies? What if something had happened to him and someone else sent the evidence to the police? I couldn’t trust him. And as hard as I looked, I could not find where he kept that stick. So how would Caleb, or you or Gabriel, have found it? For all I knew, Kevin kept it behind a trash bin two blocks from the apartment. If he was gone, someone else would have eventually found it and sent it in. I don’t know. Maybe I screwed up. Did it all wrong. I tried my best.”
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Hey, you did great, babe. Really, you did what you thought was right in a shit situation. Don’t mind me—I’m just thinking out loud.” Vincente looked down as he sifted his fingers through her hair. So many colors: a burnished gold, blazing russet, and vibrant ginger. The way she tilted her head so he could reach more reminded him of an animal begging for a gentle touch. He gave it but was careful to stay away from the area where her stitches were.
Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he brought his other hand over and put the memory stick on his chest in front of her. “You can destroy it yourself.”
She winced as she pushed herself up on her elbow, picking it up with a hand that trembled slightly. Damn, she was beautiful. “What if there are more?”
“Then I’ll find them.”
“Why?”
He faltered. “Sorry?”
“Why do you care? Why would you help me? Us?”
Shit. If that wasn’t a loaded question. One that could easily backfire and explode right in his face. Thank fuck a timely knock on the door saved him from having to answer.
“That’ll be Caleb,” he muttered, slipping out from under her hold, biting back a groan of disappointment when her body heat instantly dissipated.
What could he possibly have said as an answer to her question? That his actions really had nothing to do with her? That he wanted to slay her dragons because he hadn’t slain Sophia’s?
That would have been the truth. He did want to do that, for that exact reason.
But it wouldn’t have been the whole truth, because he also wanted to do it for her. He wanted her to feel safe and free to live her life as she saw fit. And that had nothing to do with anyone else.
Nika watched Vincente through a hazy, pained stupor as his big body moved easily across the room to open the door. Her big brother stood in the hallway. Her poor, clearly guilt-ridden big brother whom she’d tried so hard to keep all of this from. Tears choked her at the agony she could see in those big brown eyes of his. The dagger tattoos on his thick neck rippled as he swallowed, obviously fighting emotions as strong as hers. She lifted her heavy arms and waved impatiently.
“C’mere,” she whispered.
He was sitting at her side a second later, pulling her into his arms. God, she marveled, he was so gentle for such a big guy. But even as gentle as Caleb was, this hug hurt like a mot
her.
She dimly heard the door shut and knew Vincente had left them alone, and she appreciated that. More for her brother’s sake than her own. She was too out of it to care about being watched right now, but what guy wanted his buddy to see him crying on his sister’s shoulder? Which was what Caleb was now doing, his wide shoulders shaking silently. She held him as her own tears fell.
After a few minutes, he pulled back, his thumb and finger digging at the moisture still on his lashes. “Nik, I’m so—”
She covered his mouth with her palm. Her thought process was so sluggish. “Please don’t. Kevin did this. To both of us. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. I don’t blame you, Caleb, so please don’t apologize for something you had no control over. Okay?” She wiped at her damp face and hoped she’d made sense. To her it sounded as if she was talking gibberish. She must have sounded like a loon to Vincente.
Her brother shook his head, shadows swirling in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done it. Why? Why the fuck did you do this for me?” He cringed and shook his head again. “I mean, I know you did it because you love me, the same as I love you. But why didn’t you tell me so I could help you?”
Tiredly, she repeated pretty much the same thing she’d told Vincente, minus the Las Vegas and Kevin being impotent parts. He didn’t need to hear that.
“Nik . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Because there isn’t anything to say. It’s over. Except, can you tell me why you killed that guy?”
Caleb’s face grew dark. “Remember Mark? The Seattle chapter’s VP?”
She nodded, picturing the heavyset man with his salt-and-pepper goatee and shaved head.
“That fucker assaulted Mark’s eleven-year-old boy. Sexually assaulted him. Cops said there wasn’t enough proof to put the pedophile away, and Mark was doing time for assault, so I took care of it.”
The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) Page 10