El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

  Vlad visited a few times before Damien woke up and then again after, making sure we all had our stories straight. In one way or another, I respected Vlad and what he tried to do for me. I just wish I would have listened. Noah, however, I didn’t see again, but I asked Vlad to thank him for me. Hopefully, one day, I’d be able to express my gratitude in person. He didn’t have to help me with Damien, but he had. He was as much of a stranger to us as we were to him, so that said a lot about the man in itself.

  As soon as Damien had opened his eyes, I ran to the corridor calling for help. Nurses rushed into the room followed by Dr. Pierce, who happened to be on call. Checking his vitals and making any adjustments necessary. I impatiently waited in the background of his private room, careful not to get in anyone’s way.

  The way he was looking at me now on the balcony, was the exact same way he did the day he came to. With apprehension and sincerity and adoration all wrapped into one.

  “Damien, what year is it?” Dr. Pierce questioned, flashing his light into his eyes.

  “Two thousand sixteen,” he rasped, clearing his throat. Glancing over at me in the corner of the room every chance he got, watching me cry silent tears.

  Dr. Pierce handed him some water and he greedily sucked it down, asking for more. He looked exhausted even though he’d been passed out for over seventy-two hours. I know because I counted each minute until I saw his calm, serene eyes again which were staring so intently at me now.

  “How many fingers?”

  “Three,” he replied to the doctor.

  “And now?”

  “Six.”

  “How about now?”

  “Nine.”

  “Good.”

  It went on like this for what felt like hours. Dr. Pierce asking questions and Damien answering them to the best of his ability. He was unbelievably weak, a rag doll from the injury, pain meds, and blood loss. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t worry me further, I’d never seen him in this state before. It was as traumatizing as everything else had been.

  “On a scale of one to ten, one being nothing and ten being excruciating. Where is your discomfort level?”

  “One.”

  “He’s lying,” I blurted. “He’s just trying to get discharged faster.”

  Damien scoffed out a chuckle, instantly groaning in pain with his hand over his chest. Proving my point.

  Dr. Pierce hit the button on his pain controller and Damien glared at him, but the doctor didn’t pay him any mind. I guess he was used to pain-in-the-ass patients since he was Chief of Surgery in the hospital.

  “Do you remember what happened?” he proceeded.

  Damien sluggishly nodded, the pain meds kicking in.

  “Alright, let me fill in some of the blanks you may be missing. The bullet punctured your left lung and nicked your left aortic artery, which is why you lost so much blood and you couldn’t breathe. Your heart went into cardiac arrest due to the extreme blood loss the bullet caused, collapsing your lung. Your heart did stop beating, Damien, there was no pulse, but as the paramedics were loading you into the ambulance, it jumpstarted. The EPH finally kicked in. It’s not rare for this to happen, however it’s still a blessing. You’re one strong,” he chuckled, “excuse my language, son of a bitch and lucky to be alive.”

  Damien never took his eyes off me as the doctor spoke to him, almost like he was trying to keep me focused on him and not what the doctor was saying. Not wanting me to worry any more than I already was, but having no idea I already knew all of what was being said. Though it was still hard to hear it again.

  “I removed the bullet during surgery, and I was able to fix the aortic artery, and microscopically fix the areas surrounding your heart. A chest tube was placed to allow your left lung to drain and begin functioning again. We removed it about twenty-four hours after your surgery since it was no longer needed. The fluid surrounding your heart and lungs reduced enough to where you were able to breathe normally on your own, with pain of course. You will notice you have a line of staples down your chest from where I opened you up. These will be removed in seven to ten days. The nurses will keep them clean to avoid any infection. You need to take it easy, your whole body has suffered severe trauma, and it will take a few months for you to feel back to normal.”

  “No shit?” he sarcastically replied, knowing damn well he wanted the hell out of that hospital bed.

  “You won’t be medically discharged for a few more days, possibly a week, so you might as well get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere. Now that you’re awake, we can take you off the morphine drip and administer your pain meds orally. We will have you doing respiratory exercises a few times a day to strengthen your lungs and also when you’re home to move along your recovery. The nurses will be getting you out of bed and physical therapy is on standby if you have any difficulty. We want to avoid blood clots at all costs, and be sure that you’re able to move on your own. Remember you are weak, so don’t try anything to jeopardize your condition,” he paused, allowing his words to sink in. “I don’t think there will be any motor skill complications. The lack of oxygen to your brain wasn’t long enough to make me think otherwise, but we won’t know until we start getting your body to function in the way it’s supposed to. And that pretty much sums it all up, it’s good to have you back. It was touch and go for a while there.”

  He nodded again, reluctantly biting his tongue for what he really wanted to say.

  “Before I go and check on my other patients, do you have any questions for me?”

  “Not right now, but Amira will be sure to ring if she does.”

  Dr. Pierce glanced over at me and back to Damien. “She,” he nodded to me, “hasn’t left your side since she woke up from her own trauma—”

  “What trauma?” Damien countered, looking at me with a worried expression. The heart monitors he was hooked up to started beeping fast, indicating his rapidly increasing heart rate.

  “Heart sounds good.” Dr. Pierce nodded to the machine. “But calm down, she went into shock which is normal considering what occurred. She rode in her own ambulance to the hospital, and we decided to keep her sedated for her own good. Other than that, she has no serious injuries, aside from some lacerations and bruises on her face that will heal with time. She is also very stubborn and won’t listen to me. I keep telling her to go home and rest, but she refuses to leave this room. Maybe she will listen to you. Amira’s been talking to you, holding your hand, and praying for you. She also knows as much about your condition as I do. You have a good woman there, she loves you very much. Now, get some rest.”

  Damien swallowed hard, trying to govern his breathing and control his emotions as Dr. Pierce left the room. Shutting the door behind him to give us some privacy.

  I blinked a few times, making sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Confirming he was there, alive, and with me.

  “I’m fine,” he coaxed, breaking the deafening silence between us. Fully aware of what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

  What I needed to hear.

  “Muñeca, really I’m fine,” he repeated in a stern tone when I didn’t respond or move.

  I lingered in the corner of the room unable to get my feet to move, everything inside of me stilled.

  My heart.

  My mind.

  My body.

  I wanted nothing more than to go to him, to feel his warm skin against mine, but the guilt was eating me alive with each passing minute. For a few seconds, I let him take my breath away, it was the least I could do after issuing him a death sentence.

  “Ven, Amira. Ven aquí a mí,” he softly spoke, “Come, Amira. Come here to me.”

  The next thing I knew I was sitting in the chair by his bed, whispering, “You saved my life.”

  “And that surprises you, Muñeca? It’s not the first time I’ve saved your life, but hopefully it’s the last.”

  That was all it took for me to burst into tears, his words speaking volumes. “I’m sorry, Damie
n… I’m so sorry for all the things I said to you… I didn’t mean—”

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  “I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you for good. You can’t do that to me again.”

  “Shhh… Muñeca… shhh…. I’m here… I’m here…” He opened his arms as best as he could, gesturing for me to come to him.

  “I can’t. I’ll hurt you. Your chest—”

  “Fuck my chest. You’re all I need.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. I instantly fell into his embrace, careful not to hurt him. He wrapped his arms around my back, hugging me to him. His touch so comforting and afflicting all at once. Fresh tears burned my eyes, and I broke down in his arms. Needing solace, reassurance, and love.

  Needing him.

  Even though I didn’t deserve any of it. Not after what I’d done. What I’d said.

  “I’m so sorry, Damien. I’m so fucking sorry,” I openly bawled, unable to hold my emotions back any longer. Aching for him to understand.

  “Shhh…” He rubbed my back, tracing small circles with his fingers. “Shhh… Amira. I’m fine. I’m right here with you, baby. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m yours,” he soothed, whispering reassuring words in my ear, over and over again.

  He held me until I surrendered completely to his touch.

  Until I gave him every last ounce of what was left of my soul.

  I broke down until I couldn’t anymore, seeking refuge in his arms for the first time in over a decade. Feeling as if it were a lifetime. I placed my head gently over his heart like I’d been yearning to do, hearing it beat.

  For me.

  We hadn’t spoken about what happened since it occurred six months ago. To the press, Damien appeared once again to be the hero for taking down yet another organized crime sting. Which was what we led people to believe. It was in everyone’s best interest, including Vlad’s, to stick to the same story. Damien’s face was plastered everywhere—television, newspapers, every news outlet known to man. Calls came in daily for interviews, statements, and more fucking questions. We thanked God it finally died down after about three months of relentless reporters, sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

  Neither one of us mentioned Roman, knowing the pain it caused me on a daily basis. Damien knew where I went every day, I didn’t have to tell him. He just knew me, and it had always been that way between us. In many ways, we were both stuck in our own versions of darkness, and I didn’t know if we would ever break free. In other ways, our relationship was more complicated than it had ever been. We were in this unknown territory where I guess you could say we were becoming friends. Learning to trust each other again after all the bullshit we were served.

  Me more than him, obviously.

  He hadn’t so much as tried to kiss me which was surprising, considering how many times he ended up in my bed at night. Hearing me scream out in agony, listening to my pleas as if I was reliving every horrible thing that had happened to me, all over again. Comforting me from yet another nightmare like he’d done when I was a child.

  We were both trying to keep a healthy distance, helping each other in ways that were foreign to us. So far, it wasn’t helping, I still felt empty inside. A giant elephant residing in the room waiting to be addressed. We hadn’t talked about us, about the past, about anything that truly mattered. I think we were both scared to tread the thin line between our love and my hate.

  Everything with us became stolen moments.

  Hidden glances.

  A smile, a laugh, a few words of hope.

  Exactly like it was in Cuba. We’d managed to bring “Fatherland or death, we shall win” to a country that had everything we ever wanted.

  Freedom.

  The chains that held us captive for most of our lives would only strangle us both in a matter of time. Together we were seeking shelter in each other, it was only natural. It was what we’d always done. Except now, there was no light left in me, and he knew it too. I was hiding behind the hurt and pain, exactly how he was hiding behind his mistakes and regrets.

  We were one and the same.

  “You didn’t answer my question. I thought you had to work late tonight?” I probed, trying to pretend like I didn’t see the concern in his eyes.

  His gaze that was once filled with nothing but love was now replaced with conflicting emotions day-to-day, and I hated that more than anything. Grasping that every time I peered at him, he knew he broke my heart.

  “I take it you haven’t seen the news,” he stated, pulling me away from my thoughts. Releasing his hold, recognizing I was no longer there with him but lost in my mind again. He walked back over to the slider, facing me once again.

  “I stopped watching that shit months ago. There’s only so many times I can take seeing your pretty boy face on the news, Damien.” I smirked, wanting to break the sudden tension in the air.

  Pretending like nothing was wrong with us, when everything was.

  “I need you to do something for me, no questions asked. You think you could do that?”

  My heart sped up, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s this about? What was on the news?”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Muñeca.”

  “Nothing is ever that simple with you. What more do you need? I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, physically you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb, you’ve never been good at it. You know what it means, Amira.”

  “Obviously, I don’t. What do you want from me, Damien?”

  He didn’t hesitate in replying, “Everything.”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “What if I can’t give you that? Huh? What if I’m not made like that anymore? Then what? You leave me again?” I regretted the words as soon as they flew out of my mouth, but it was too late. I said them and a huge part of me…

  Meant them.

  We were both tethering on the edge of control, waiting for the other person to fuck up first. He looked at me one last time with so much shame and remorse, I could physically feel his emotions slicing into my skin before he abruptly turned around and stalked back inside.

  I quickly followed behind him, not letting up. “So that’s it? Now you just walk away from me?”

  “There’s plenty of food in the fridge. If you need anything you have my cell. I’ll be gone—”

  I jerked back, caught off guard. “You’re leaving me? Just like that?”

  He took a deep breath, battling not to lose his temper and patience with me, but I wanted him to. Because at least then I knew he was still in there. My Damien, and it wasn’t too late for us to find our way back to each other.

  Our present time was just as tainted as our past and possibly our future.

  Was there no hope for us after all this?

  “I’m trying, Damien… okay? I’m exhausted from trying, but I won’t ever be that innocent, naive girl you left in Cuba, and I know a huge part of you wants that girl back.”

  “You think that’s what I want?”

  “Yes! You want her devotion, her adoration, a world where all that ever mattered was you.”

  “Jesus Christ, Amira,” he breathed out in disappointment, shaking his head. “I’ll take you anyway I can. With your love, with your hate, as the girl you were then, or as the woman you are now. Broken, repaired, I don’t give a fuck. I’ve wanted you for half of my fucking life, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait the rest of it to finally have you. You begged me.” He cocked his head to the side, daring me to argue. “Remember? You pleaded with me to fight for us, and that’s all I’m trying to do. So I’ll ask you again… I need you to do something for me, no questions asked. You think you could do that?”

  Before I could let…

  Doubt.

  Fear.

  Insecurity.

  Seep its way into my mind to cloud my judgment. I simply responded, “Yes.”

  “Pack a bag, we’re leav
ing in twenty minutes.” With that, he spun around and strode toward his bedroom.

  “Where are we going?” I called out, stopping him dead in his tracks. Needing to know, even though I’d just agreed to no questions asked.

  I could feel the tension rolling down his spine until he finally revealed, “To a place neither one of us have ever left.”

  Never in a million years did I expect him to say.

  “Cuba.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  DAMIEN

  She didn’t say one word on the twenty-minute drive to the airport, or on the hour-and-fifteen-minute private flight to Cuba. Nor did she speak to me on the forty-five-minute drive to our hotel. She stared out the window acting as though I didn’t exist, barely even breathing. A prisoner in her mind that was racing with apprehension going back to the very place where she’d nearly died as a child. I could feel the trepidation tormenting her, urging me to hold her, to mold her into my body, but instead I sat next to her, letting each traitorous tide executing her thoughts kill me.

  I opened my mouth to ease her worry, to try to give her some peace of mind in the war raging through her memories, but there wasn’t anything I could say to make it better. Make it easier for her to cope.

  Make it easier for us.

  Instead, I quickly shut it, unable to form the words to take away her pain. It was just as much a part of me as it was of her. My mind spun out of control, battling my own personal vendetta of why I’d come back here. Questioning my sanity as to why I wanted both of us here. The place that imprisoned our minds to an immoral life sentence. A state of being that had me attempting to take my own life in hopes of breaking free from the shackles, strangling us further each day.

  Watching the familiar streets blow by the tinted windows wasn’t helping my frame of mind by any means. Witnessing my sins reflecting off the shaded glass, seeing each one of them play out in front of me like a fucking melody on steady repeat.

  I unconsciously placed my hand on Amira’s inner thigh, strumming my fingers against her soft, silky skin as if I was playing that same melody on a piano. Knowing precisely how to touch her to alleviate the heavy load of our burdens, weighing on our entire beings. My heartbeat steadied, my stomach eased, and my memories subsided for the time remaining. Only concentrating on the feeling of her smooth, warm flesh against my callused fingers. I continued to peer out the window in silence, not paying any mind to the way my simple touch still made her feel.