El Pecador : El Santo Book 2

by M. Robinson

  I stood in front of the man with tattoos covering every inch of his skin, eyeing me up and down.

  Giselle looked back and forth between us, feeling the tension. “I don’t have to introduce you, do I?” she teased. “You guys are more than familiar with each other.”

  I cocked my head to the side with a smug grin, stating, “Creed.”

  He nodded, breathing out, “Fuckin’ Damien.”

  I hadn’t seen the motherfucker since we took his father down, seven years ago. Earning myself the title of District Attorney. From the look of it, he didn’t appreciate my presence at his family’s barbeque.

  “Staying out of trouble?” I mocked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Probably more than you are.” He stepped toward me. “What the fuc—”

  “Hi,” his wife intervened, bringing my attention to her. Probably sensing the animosity between us. “We haven’t met, I’m Mia.” She extended her hand.

  I shook it. “Damien.”

  “Welcome. There’s plenty of food and drinks over in the clubhouse. Please help yourself to whatever you’d like,” Mia announced, wrapping her arm around Creed’s waist in the same loving way Amira would with me. Trying to diffuse the situation.

  “Thank you, but we’re not staying long,” I declared, only looking at Giselle who was playing off the strain in my tone of voice by smiling back at everyone.

  “Oh, that reminds me! Your dad is looking for you, Giselle. I think I saw him go into the clubhouse a few minutes ago.” Mia told her before glancing up at Creed. “Babe, I think I’m ready to go lay down for a few minutes.” She looked back at me, holding her stomach. “Pregnancy will do that to you. I swear they suck the life right out of you,” she laughed, looking adoringly at her husband.

  I nodded, envisioning Amira standing in front of me.

  Beautiful.

  Glowing.

  Pregnant.

  The way Mia was.

  Giselle looped her arm around mine again, pulling me away like Mia had with Creed. Guiding us to the clubhouse where more guests gathered around, enjoying the party. Including, Noah Jameson who was standing in the far corner of the kitchen with a baby girl clinging to his leg. I noticed the title ‘VP’ was embroidered on the front of his cut indicating his importance to the club. I hadn’t seen him since the night of his fight where he lived and I died. The guy I saw that night was nothing like the man who stood across the room from me right now. That boy was lost, this one seemed to have his shit together.

  Which side of him was the truth?

  I gave him a curt nod, making a mental note to get in touch with him soon. To thank him for helping Amira, and find out more about his extracurricular activities with Vlad. He warily nodded back, turning with the baby girl in his arms to head outside. It was obvious that his friends and family weren’t aware of the double life he was leading.

  “Giselle, you have one minute to tell me what the fuck I’m doing here before I lose the last bit of patience I have with you.”

  “I know, I know.” She stopped and turned to face me. Placing her dainty hands on my chest, running them up my suit jacket to snake around my neck. “Stay right here. I’ll be quick,” she coaxed in a flirty tone, skimming her nose up the side of my face, softly placing a single kiss on my cheek.

  And with that, she turned and left, leaving me alone in the living room. Her luscious ass that would tempt any man, swaying side to side, reminding me of Amira’s as she walked away. The mere image of my girl caused me to bite my bottom lip and reel in my cock that twitched against the zipper of my slacks.

  The commotion storming in through the slider brought my attention to the familiar face getting right up in mine. Snarling, “You have some brass fucking balls coming into my family’s home with my girl—”

  “Your girl?” I questioned, instantly realizing why she wanted me here in the first place. Playing my part, I cunningly smiled, folding my arms over my chest. “If that were true, then she’d be here with you instead of me.”

  He wasn’t caught off guard by my response, nor was he afraid or intimidated by it. That much was clear, judging by his demeanor and the way he didn’t cower down. There wasn’t a thread of worry in his eyes or in his stance. The military would do that to you though, turn you into someone you didn’t know. A kill or be killed mentality. I’d been there time after time in Emilio’s army. Fuck, I was still there. We were natural born killers, trained to take out the enemy. In this case, that was me. It was obvious this guy could throw down, fight for what he thought belonged to him, like I had for Amira.

  We weren’t that different, me and him.

  Fueling my impatience with Giselle, and the fucking game she was playing and dragging me into.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he gritted through a clenched jaw, sizing me up with rage in his eyes.

  Noticing he was ready to punch the smartass fucking grin right off my face. If he wanted to start something, then I would finish it. I was never one to back down, even if it wasn’t my fight to win. I stood taller, mirroring his intense glare. “The dick she obviously keeps riding over yours,” I snidely remarked, only provoking him further.

  If he could put his hatred aside for one fucking second, he’d probably shake my goddamn hand for standing up to him. Something prompted me to think that didn’t happen very often, if at all.

  He didn’t ease up. His hands fisted at his sides, treading near my face. “You fuck with Giselle then you fuck with me.”

  “See, that’s where you’re getting things twisted, so let me spell it out for you.” I smiled with a nod. “She. Fucks. Me.”

  “You son of a bitch.” He shoved me, but I barely wavered. “Stand down, motherfucker. She’s. Mine.”

  “Huh,” I breathed out, narrowing my eyes at him. What I was about to say was going to veer us down a path I never intended to lead. Realizing at the end of the day, I never could control my sharp goddamn tongue that always seemed to involve me in bullshit I didn’t want or need. Spitefully scoffing out, “Well it wasn’t your name she was screaming in bed this morning.”

  Before the last word even left my mouth, he charged me. Ramming his shoulder into my torso and slamming my back into the fireplace behind us. Picture frames crashed to the ground and glass shattered everywhere by our feet. Instantly causing a huge scene. Making me reach my fucking breaking point, and just as I was about to connect my fist with his face, we were pulled apart.

  “Mason, don’t start shit here! This ain’t the time or place!” Creed ordered, holding him back with two older men. “Your sister is fuckin’ pregnant, don’t need your bullshit right now. Not to mention all these kids runnin’ around, witnessin’ their uncle fightin’!” He eyed his wife from across the room who was standing there concerned for I don’t know who.

  I had enough of this unwanted baggage, already having enough of my own to fucking carry. Being dragged into this fucking disaster was as unexpected as this motherfucker getting in my face to begin with. I shook off the men who were holding me back, ready to just leave Giselle there and let her clean up her own goddamn mess.

  When we all heard her exclaim, “Oh, God!” Rushing over from behind me with her daddy in tow. Immediately standing in between us, facing him. “Mason, how dare you?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He jerked back. “How dare I what? Try me, Giselle. Try me one more fucking time and watch what I do to him.”

  “That’s enough, Mason,” Dylan chimed in, stepping forward.

  Giselle raised her hand to stop him.

  “You had no right to do this to him, or anyone for that matter. We’re not together!”

  “That’s news to me, considering we’ve been sleeping together for the last month!” he let out, making everyone who was trying to mind their own business turn around and look at us.

  I shook my head, breathing out, “Oh, fuck this.” Grabbing onto Giselle’s wrist. “We’re leaving, now!”

  “Damien—”

 
I gripped onto her arm, pulling her out of the clubhouse and pretty much dragged her ass to her car. She tried hard to keep up with my stride, but it was too much for her.

  “Damien—”

  “Put the address to my hotel in the GPS,” I demanded once I was in the driver’s seat, slamming my door.

  “Damien—”

  “Now, Giselle! I’m done playing your fucking games!” I seethed. “That”—pointing to the house— “was fucking bullshit, and you know it!”

  She sighed, frowning. Setting her purse on the floorboard in front of her. Doing as she was told as I threw the car into reverse.

  “Damien, can we talk—”

  “Not. Here.”

  “Damien—”

  I glared at her. “Say my name one more fucking time,” I dared her to test me, rendering her speechless.

  Trying to control my temper the entire drive to the hotel but failing miserably. Fucking pissed that she would put me into this situation in the first place. I couldn’t believe I flew all the way here from Miami for this teenage drama and high school bullshit. When I was a grown ass man.

  “Un-fucking-believable, Giselle,” I whispered, loud enough for her to hear. Furiously driving the winding roads at dangerous speeds, watching her out of the corner of my eye, wanting to say something but deciding against it.

  She knew better.

  From the second we stepped into my hotel room, I shut the door behind me and let my anger completely take over. Putting some much-needed distance between us, I stayed by the entryway and leaned against the door, placing my hands in the pockets of my slacks while she walked into the living room.

  “What the fuck was that back there?” I finally asked in an eerie tone, stopping her dead in her tracks several feet in front of me. She turned, throwing her purse onto the coffee table before ultimately shifting her gaze to meet mine.

  “You call to tell me you needed to see me, and it was urgent, for what exactly? To make your ex, who’s now your fuck buddy, jealous? You didn’t need my dick to accomplish that, Giselle. You could have found any man to be your bitch for the day, so why me?”

  “That’s not what I wanted.”

  “Bullshit. Stop fucking with me. I’m not yours to manipulate with your pussy and red pouty lips, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl.”

  “Then stop fucking acting like one.” My jaw clenched as I pushed off the door and walked over to the wet-bar in the corner of the suite. Pouring myself some whiskey and taking it down in one long, hard swig before making another. Governing my temper with the fiery liquid, burning its way down my chest. “I thought you were in trouble. That’s the only reason I flew out here.”

  She sat down, bowing her head, and I made her a drink. Feeling like shit that I was the one who provoked Mason, and yet I was taking it out on her. She was well aware of how I would react, which was probably why she wanted me there. I was naturally an asshole, and when push came to shove, I’d push back. I made my way over to her, dangling the drink before her eyes.

  She peered up at me through her lashes. “Is this your peace offering?”

  “No, but it’s a start.”

  She took the drink out of my hand, and I sat down in the armchair in front of her. Resting back into the plush leather, crossing my ankle over my knee, and leaning into my right arm. Holding the rim of my glass against my lips. “I didn’t come to Oak fucking Island to pretend to be something we never were to one another, Giselle.”

  “I know. I didn’t think… I mean… I just didn’t…”

  “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, out with it already.”

  She didn’t touch her drink, setting it on the coffee table in front of her. Locking eyes with me again. “Damien, I don’t know how to tell you this without it changing your life. All I know is I have to tell you because you have every right to know. It’s up to you to decide what to do with what I’m about to divulge.

  “I’m listening.”

  She took a deep breath, and I would be lying if I said my core hadn’t seized up, tensed as fuck to hear what she needed to share with me.

  “I didn’t bring you here to attend my family’s barbeque. That was just a stop I had to make. I didn’t even know Mason would be there.” She grabbed her purse, pulling out what she needed me to see.

  My heart started to beat at a rapid pace, a mile a fucking minute with each word that drew me closer to the blonde bombshell. Until the glass of whiskey slipped from my fingers in a slow, tortuous motion, hitting the marble floor and shattering beneath me. Mimicking my heart as she issued my fucking death sentence. Her lips were moving, talking, telling me what I never wanted to hear, but I couldn’t decipher her words as I was being dragged back down to Hell.

  Fate.

  I told you from the beginning of this story that I tried everything to avoid the ruthless, unforgiving motherfucker. Though it was already set in motion. The fucker knew what I wanted, needed, and couldn’t live without.

  Since day one.

  Just when I thought I was starting my new beginning, fate proved me wrong. Slamming the final nail in my coffin, putting an end to my future with…

  Amira.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  AMIRA

  I walked inside Damien’s condo with several grocery bags in my arms, kicking the door closed behind me with my foot. I spent most of the day running errands, catching up on everything I’d neglected, trying to distract myself from missing him so damn much. He’d only been gone half the day and already I couldn’t wait to be back in his arms. The thought alone made me smile as I flipped on the entry lights, throwing my keys on the table. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this happy, content, and hopeful for the future. Being with Damien was all I ever wanted, and now that I had him I’d never let him go.

  No matter what.

  We’d work through any obstacles thrown our way. Our love had and would always overcome anything. I was sure of it, and I knew the feeling was very much mutual. I tried not to think about the man who owned my heart as I made my way into the dimly lit kitchen, but it was impossible. I didn’t have to be near him to feel his presence, he was everywhere and all around me. A permanent fixture in my world. I once again smiled to myself remembering everything that had happened this morning and what he said.

  “Amira, I’m the man who owns you, and your pussy only comes for me. Got it?”

  The fluttering feeling in my belly still lingered, knowing I’d never been happier in my entire life, and it was all because of Damien. He had finally given me my happily ever after I so immensely yearned for, and this was just the beginning.

  No back and forth.

  No doubts.

  No arguing.

  I thought about him all the time, even when I was laying in his arms. Looking up into his beautiful eyes that I felt so engrained in, seeing the life we were meant to have all along. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, I just wanted to be close to the man. Needing to make up for years of lost time. It didn’t matter how many times Damien said those three little words to me, “I love you,” it felt like the first time each instance he expressed them and that was often.

  Our relationship had changed in so many ways over the last two months, but at the same time it remained steady. Falling back into our natural dynamic where we laughed, smiled, and teased each other to no avail, as if no time had passed us by at all. Trying not to reflect on years of regrets and mistakes that neither one of us could change. Silently vowing to never be those broken souls again.

  We no longer discussed the past, there was no point reviving ghosts or allowing external factors to bring us down, and we both finally understood that. As far as I was concerned, we buried that part of us on the beach under our constellations. Along with our pasts and demons and everything else that came between us.

  I pushed away my thoughts, focusing on putting away the groceries when an eerie feeling abruptly consumed me, and I swore I heard footsteps coming from somewhere
within the condo.

  Closing the cabinet door, I announced, “Hello?” Looking around the open floor plan of the large room. “Anyone here?” I called out again. “Damien, is that you?”

  Nothing but silence.

  I didn’t think twice, instinctively walking over near the air vent by the kitchen to open the hidden safe. Grabbing one of the many guns Damien had strategically scattered around the entire condo. I flipped off the safety on the Glock, already locked and loaded just as I saw a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye. Aiming my gun at it, I slowly walked back toward the kitchen. Maintaining a calm, steady composure. Shielding myself as best as I could with the adjacent wall. I stayed fixated on the task at hand, not allowing my mind to wander for even a second. Just as I rounded the corner, about to turn on more lights, a set of strong arms wrapped around me from behind.

  I jolted and gasped, “What the fuck?”

  Unexpectedly feeling him nuzzle my neck with his facial hair and lips. He rasped into my ear, “Don’t you recognize my touch, Amira?”

  The familiar scent of his masculine cologne assaulted my senses like it did every time he put his arms around me, but the strong smell of whiskey was what threw me for a loop.

  “Why were you trying to scare me, Damien? I could have shot you.”

  With one hand he grabbed the gun out of mine, setting it on the countertop in front of us. Still holding me taut against his chest, continuing to skim his face along my neck, and ignoring my question. I exhaled a sigh of relief, relaxing into his embrace, just grateful he was home. Loving the feel of his arms around me, I redirected my attention on that.

  “You should have called me and told me you were coming home today instead of tomorrow. I would have—”

  He spun me around so fast, not letting me finish what I was going to say. The next thing I knew I was sitting up on the kitchen island, and he was spreading my legs to stand in between them.

  Our eyes quickly shifted to one another using the same momentum of his swift strength to move me. Placing my body right where he wanted it. I seductively licked my lips that were suddenly dry, and his intense gaze followed the movement of my tongue.