Mess Me Up

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  Wade’s wife—ex-wife—was on the ground, her eyes open wide, with a bullet hole in what looked to be her hand.

  She was staring at her hand out in front of her face, mouth agape.

  Castiel, who’d walked into the room with us forty-five minutes earlier dressed in his police officer uniform, had his firearm secured in his hand as he looked around with alarm, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  He was on his ass in the middle of the room and had blood running down one half of his face, making him look like he was on the set of a horror show.

  Which, I guess, was the truth.

  We’d just been and lived through our own personal horror show.

  Linc was the first one to stand up just as the doors that’d somehow closed were yanked open and the other officers who’d been taking up another part of the hospital waiting room entered.

  As one, everyone looked at the lone man that was on the ground at the door’s entrance, one single bullet hole marring his otherwise perfect face.

  That’s when I recognized him.

  He was the other lawyer from Izzy’s ex’s law firm.

  Chapter 26

  I like to have my cake and eat it, too. I’d love to have yours and eat it, too.

  -Izzy to Rome

  Rome

  We’d set up a triage room in the main entranceway of the hospital.

  The waiting room we were just in was now a crime scene, and I was currently having my back disinfected and cleaned by Izzy.

  Apparently, I’d taken a stray bullet, but it’d only grazed me down the length of my back.

  “God, you were so lucky,” she repeated for the fourth time in as many minutes. “This could’ve been so bad.”

  I knew that just as well as she did.

  It could have been awful.

  Nobody but the shooter had died, even though the shooter could’ve done a whole lot more harm had he been experienced.

  Just as Izzy was about to continue, Rodrigo was wheeled in, in handcuffs, as another officer whose name I couldn’t place right then leading him.

  Everybody stopped talking as the newcomers made their way inside, and that was when I noticed why Rodrigo would be there in the first place.

  He had a gunshot wound to his left thigh.

  Two teenagers followed him, looking just as murderous as Rodrigo. They both looked malnourished and scared. Another officer was in front of them, likely to keep distance between Rodrigo and the children.

  The two teenagers scanned the hallway around them and seemed to lock on Izzy because in the next second they were both bolting in our direction.

  I tensed, but the officers stopped them before they could move toward us.

  “Aunt Izzy!” the kid screamed.

  Izzy left me like a hot potato, rushing toward the two children with a look of horror on her face.

  “Oh, my God!” Izzy gasped as she moved. “Diana! Ruben! Oh, my God! Are y’all okay?”

  They didn’t look okay.

  Honestly, they looked like they were about to fall over.

  Then Ruben did just that. Or almost did. The officer right next to him caught him around the arms and helped him find a seat directly next to my bed.

  Diana was in a little better shape, but not by much.

  “What happened?” Izzy repeated.

  Ruben’s eyes went to where Rodrigo had been taken, and he glared.

  “That piece of shit kept us in his freakin’ basement for three months, that’s what.”

  ***

  An hour and a half later, we found out that what the children said was true.

  The sick bastard, Rodrigo, had kept the kids locked up.

  Apparently, with the two of them ready to run away, Rodrigo had caught them in the act of trying and had locked them up in a makeshift cell in his basement.

  It was only when Rodrigo’s partner had come in and accidentally let them out in his haste to get to Rodrigo that the children had the chance to break free.

  “He didn’t hurt us,” Diana said softly. “But he also didn’t help us, either. He didn’t feed us but once a day, and Ruben shared his food with me to make sure that I didn’t get too sick.”

  I was feeling sick to my stomach myself.

  “God, what a clusterfuck,” I murmured, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “I heard a lot while I was in there,” Ruben said. “Rodrigo never planned on letting us go, so he didn’t hold his words in front of us. His office was in the same room that we were locked in. He did business down there.”

  “What kind of business?” Izzy asked.

  “The kind where he talked about shipments and timing, and how to best hide it from the police,” Ruben answered. “I think he was a sex trafficker.”

  All was silent for a few moments after that admission.

  “His partner and him were in it together, then Rodrigo spilled his guts to the cops to get his plea deal. His partner wasn’t happy with him, but Rodrigo convinced him that it was the only way that their business wouldn’t be discovered. I don’t think that partner really knew the business they were in, though. I honestly think he was just a sicko that liked to do teen girls,” Ruben continued.

  Castiel looked tired as he listened to the explanation.

  The other two officers, Officer Beard and Officer Limas, watched in silence, letting Izzy do the questioning for now since she was getting the children to talk, and they felt comfortable with her.

  “Anyway, long story short, Jonesy—the other partner came shooting shit up at Rodrigo’s place—found out that Rodrigo was only getting probation and no jail time, and he flipped his lid. Said he was taking out everybody who screwed him over and went to town. Rodrigo barricaded himself in his room and Jonesy left satisfied that he’d hurt Rodrigo, and the rest we don’t know about.” Ruben looked around the room with worry. “Sorry.”

  I looked over at the prosecutor who’d been quietly listening in, accusation in my eyes.

  “We told you Rodrigo was a bad man, motherfucker,” I growled.

  The prosecutor’s face tightened. “I’ll take care of it.”

  And he did.

  Rodrigo was denied bail. The plea bargain was completely wiped from the table. He was charged with attempted murder and kidnapping of children—since they were both still underage—and sex trafficking, as well as the murder of the senator.

  Chapter 27

  When you start to lose weight, and your boobs are like, ‘I volunteer as tribute!’

  -Text from Izzy to Rome

  Izzy

  “The doctors think Wade might lose his leg,” I said to my brother. “His ex-wife was also shot, and they think she might lose some function in her hand.”

  “His ex-wife?” Slate asked. “When did they get divorced?”

  My brows rose. “He calls her his ex. I don’t know when the divorce happened.”

  “Funny that. Wade loves Landry.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Though, over the last couple of weeks as everyone healed from that day, it’d been more than evident that the two of them still had feelings for each other.

  “What about Ruben?” Slate pushed.

  I smiled then. “Ruben is doing great. He’s put all his weight back on and more and is turning into a mini-Slate. He looks just like you, which I think drives the women wild—especially Diana.”

  Slate’s lips twitched. “I bet that drives Oscar insane.”

  “It does,” I agreed. “He hates that Ruben acts exactly like you. From what I hear, he even plans on going into the police academy when he’s old enough. I think I’ve convinced him to get his degree first, though.”

  Slate grunted. “What about the football player?”

  Last week when I’d visited, I’d told him all the juicy details that I hadn’t been able to tell him in the weeks since I’d last visited him.

  And Slate had hung on every word.


  He loved hearing about everyone and had become invested in them almost as much as I was.

  “Linc’s girlfriend has a stalker, though he won’t admit that she’s his girlfriend. He claims she’s just a girl who’s a friend. That he just so happens to love with all his heart,” I drawled.

  Slate’s lips twitched. “Give the poor kid a chance.”

  “That poor kid is not that much younger than you, dumbass,” I teased. “And I don’t think it’ll be long. Linc’s on his phone more than he’s talking to the people around him. He’s worried about her.”

  “I give it a month, tops,” Slate teased, then sobered. “I hear that Rodrigo’s on his way here.”

  ‘Here’ as in the penitentiary.

  The prosecutor had done everything in his power to expedite Rodrigo’s sentencing. In the month since Wade had been shot, Rodrigo had pled guilty to all charges that had been lodged against him. At his trial just yesterday, he’d gotten ninety-three years with the possibility of parole at eighty years.

  “Tomorrow,” Rome said, piping in for the first time. “Tomorrow he’ll be shipped here.”

  Something passed between Rome and Slate then, and I was left wondering if maybe I should reiterate that Slate didn’t need to do anything stupid to jeopardize his own parole.

  But I chose to stay my tongue.

  Slate was a big boy, and he knew what he was doing.

  If he wanted to beat the crap out of the man who had beaten the crap out of me, imprisoned two teenagers for three months and starved them, and was the reason behind another man losing his shit and going on a shooting rampage inside of a hospital, well then who was I to tell him no?

  Rodrigo deserved what he got.

  No questions asked.

  I did relay a little bit of information, though.

  “Rodrigo was shot in the left leg. It still pains him.”

  ***

  Slate

  I ground my booted foot into Rodrigo’s left leg, staring down at the little fucker who had done so much harm to my family.

  What had started out as him smacking my sister around had turned into something much worse.

  “What did I tell you would happen if you ever hurt her again?” I growled, pressing down.

  Rodrigo started to cry.

  “What. Did. I. Tell. You?” I snapped.

  Rodrigo took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to breathe through the pain.

  “You…you told me if I ever hurt her again, you’d ruin my life,” he hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that boy was related to her…and to you. I would’ve never taken him if I’d known. You made it more than clear when you found out I was h-hurting her that y-you’d kill me. I didn’t know!”

  He ended that statement on a wail.

  I believed the little prick.

  When I’d found out that Rodrigo had been hurting my sister, we’d had a little chat. That little chat had shown Rodrigo the light, and he promised to never, ever touch my sister again. Nor would he go near her. We had an understanding that if they saw each other in the grocery store, he’d turn and go the other way.

  And if he didn’t?

  Well, I may be in prison, but I sure the fuck still had contacts everywhere.

  I knew when things happened in my town, and I damn well knew if Rodrigo was following his word.

  It gutted me to know that I’d fallen down on the job when it came to Ruben. When Ruben had been born, Oscar had made me his godparent. I took my vows seriously, and it really hurt to know that the fucker currently laying on the floor beneath my foot was the cause of such harm.

  “All’s well that ends well, man,” Rodrigo wheezed. “Swear to God, I never meant to hurt them. I just knew the girl would talk, so I couldn’t let her out until I knew that I could leave safely. I had too many deals to tie up…I had to do it.”

  He didn’t have to do shit, and we both knew it.

  “Too late.” I finally stepped off of his leg. “Enjoy having Rome as your guard, though…that’s gonna be fun for both of us.”

  As I walked away, I shook Rome’s hand but stopped when I would’ve normally let him go.

  “The same goes for you, motherfucker,” I told him with a steely-eyed glare. “You had your one fuck-up. She tells me that it wasn’t your fault…but I’m still on the fence about it.” I dropped my hand. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Rome’s eyes went soft. “It scares the shit out of me. I’m literally scared shitless with every step I take.”

  I softened toward the man.

  I knew what that felt like.

  Knew it and hated it.

  Living in fear wasn’t something anyone was designed to do. You shouldn’t have to move on from death, especially for loved ones that died way too soon.

  I should know.

  Vanessa’s—and our baby’s—death felt like a hot fire poker in my chest every single time I inhaled.

  “Sometimes, Rome, you have to move past the fear, or you’ll never live again. Sometimes, you have to ride that fear and hope it doesn’t kill you the next time death sneaks up on you.”

  With that, I went back to my cell and didn’t look back.

  ***

  Rome

  I walked into my quiet house later that night, very aware of the two teenage occupants that were staying there for another few weeks until their dorms opened up at their university.

  Both kids had worked their asses off to graduate early with their GEDs and would be starting college in the fall.

  I was even more aware of the way the house felt like a home for the first time since I could remember.

  The big house now had three occupants that weren’t guests…that would never be guests.

  Especially the one currently laying in my bed, sideways.

  She was in her underwear and one of my old football jerseys. The jersey was so big that it usually hung to her thighs.

  But, from the way she was situated in my bed, she likely hadn’t been sleeping well, and the jersey had worked its way about halfway up her belly, leaving a few of my favorite parts exposed.

  I grinned and started to strip out of my clothes, tossing them in the hamper to deal with tomorrow.

  Hopefully I remembered, because last week I’d done nearly the same thing as I was about to do now and had forgotten that I’d left a pen in the pocket of my pants, splattering the entire wash with spots of blue with my lack of effort.

  I sat down on the bed to tackle my boots next, Izzy’s face inches away from my hip.

  I could feel her hot breath on my side, and I smiled.

  I smiled even wider when she moaned and stretched, clearly waking up despite my efforts to allow her to sleep.

  “I talked to Oscar and his wife today,” she whispered into the darkness. “They’re still mad at me because Ruben refuses to come home.”

  I grunted. “How is it your fault if they don’t want to stay with him? That’s what happens when you emancipate yourself from your parents.”

  “Oscar’s really not all that mad,” she explained, reaching out into the darkness and pressing her hand against my bare back.

  I felt shivers race to that spot and licked my lips

  A part of me still couldn’t believe that she was back.

  It’d been a few weeks now since she’d returned to not only my bed, but my entire life, and I still felt like I’d wake up from my dream and everything would be awful all over again.

  It wasn’t a good feeling, and though logically I knew that I’d eventually get used to having her back again, I decided that maybe that was one feeling I shouldn’t get used to.

  I needed to appreciate her more than I did.

  I needed her to know that she was important to me. That she was my entire world.

  “Dad was fired from three jobs when I came back,” Izzy whispered. “I might or might not have laughed.”

  I grinned. “Your customers a
re loyal to you. But you are going to have to slow down soon.”

  She grumbled something incoherent. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.”

  I flipped off my first boot, followed by the second, and then stood up to shuck my black tactical pants from my thighs.

  The moment those were gone, the underwear went next, and then I was free to do what I’d wanted to do since the moment I’d walked in the door.

  Crawl onto the bed and press my body—and very erect cock—to her softest places.

  “I love you, Isadora,” I growled, grinding myself into her.

  She gasped and spread her thighs, allowing me to fall in between them.

  “I love you, too, Rome,” she whispered, pulling my face down to hers.

  With her as pregnant as she was, it made this particular position extremely difficult, but we made it work.

  And eight and a half minutes later, when we both lay panting next to each other, our child started to dance in his or her mother’s belly.

  We still hadn’t found out the sex of the baby because we wanted to be surprised.

  Which also kind of scared the shit out of me as well.

  On one hand, I might be able to prepare myself if I knew the sex beforehand. But on the other hand, Izzy was so excited about us finding out the sex together in the hospital room as our child was born that it was hard to tell her that I needed the preparation.

  In the end, I decided that the best way was to give her what she wanted.

  In the meantime, though, I was getting more and more nervous by the day.

  “It’ll be okay, you know,” she murmured.

  I laughed. “How do you always know when I’m freaking out?”

  “Your grandmother told me a few of your quirks.” She paused. “Her and Tyler were over today while you were at work. Apparently, you told them I had a bad morning?”

  “Who, me?” I teased.

  I didn’t like Izzy being by herself, and I especially didn’t like leaving her for twelve hours when I knew she was having a bad day and remembering things that shouldn’t be remembered.

  We helped each other that way, and I knew she’d have done the same for me if it’d happened.