by Shanna Bell
HECTOR
Hector’s personal Hell on Earth had a name: Mary Rossi. The sweetest woman he had ever smelled, but couldn’t have. As he drove over to the club, he swore he could still smell her perfume on him. Having her pressed against him on his bike had been torture. He’d been hard the second he felt her luscious tits against his back.
He cracked open the engine in the hope that the night would make her smell fade away. He wished he could as easily crack open the door to his memory, because every time he thought back on that asshole who put his hands on her, he wanted to commit murder. He should have broken more than his nose and leg. He should have broken everything, and then finished by throwing him out of a window. The fucker hadn’t been good enough to lick her little toes, let alone touch her. For a moment there, he had been consumed by rage, just like in the old days. The days that he fought in backend alleys to make a buck. When he let out his beast and pummeled his opponent within an inch of his life. Ending the night with a bunch of women in his bed, all eager to please Hector ‘the Beast’ Diaz, street-fighter.
He thought he’d sworn off the days when he was controlled by spurts of rage. The military was the world’s best anger management program. Except, when he’d seen Mary’s torn shirt, he’d lost it.
The first time he saw Mary had been at Gio’s wedding, months ago. She’d been glowing in a pink dress, talking to someone over a flute of champagne. It had felt like someone had sucker punched him. Never before had he been overwhelmed by so much lust. He had just wanted to take her into a room, or against a wall—anywhere—and have his way with her. But classy women like Mary Rossi weren’t meant for men like him. He was too rough around the edges; too damaged, too dark, too violent. Too much of a lot of things. So, what did a man do when he got the hots for a woman he couldn’t have? He tried to replace her with something that came close.
He took the exit to South Beach and parked in the back of Club Flux. It wasn’t his favorite of places to go, since it was co-owned by a man he loathed. It was, however, one of the hottest clubs in San Francisco, and drew a very diverse crowd. And since Diaz Security provided the security for the club, Hector came and went there on occasion.
He took a seat at the bar and gave a heads up to the bartender.
Brent gave him a chin jerk. “Want the usual, Wolf?”
He nodded and got a Corona in no time.
The place was booming, and he told himself that he wasn’t going to fuck another blond with long curly hair and baby blues.
“Hi there, big guy. Wanna buy me a drink?”
As far as pickup lines went, that wasn’t the worst he’d ever heard. The woman that sat next to him on the bar was a redhead. She had cropped hair, barely touching her shoulders, but most of all, she didn’t look anything like Mary.
Perfect.
Her eyes roamed over his face and tats, and she licked her bottom lip.
Women usually had one of two reactions when they saw the red scars covering his cheek; either they got scared and averted their eyes, or they wanted to fuck him. It seemed as if there was no in between.
He tapped on the bar to get Brent’s attention. “Give the lady a drink.”
That was all it took for her to plaster herself against him, brushing her breasts against his arm. She was hot and eager, but most of all, she was easy. He knew he could have her in the back alley if he wanted to. He decided to take her home, because that was where his stuff was.
The second they left the club, she groped his ass. They rounded the corner toward the empty parking spot.
An image of Mary’s lips popped into his head. He loved her lips. They were puffy, the bottom lip slightly bigger than the upper. His dick would look fucking good between them.
Don’t go there, Diaz. Not again.
He looked at the redhead. “Get on your knees.”
Red did as he asked and pulled out his dick. She gave him a long lick from his balls to the top. Then she started giving him little kisses, playing with him.
He wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. His hands pulled her hair tight. “Get to work.”
“Yes! Hurt me, daddy.”
Ah shit, she was one of those women. One look at his scars and she concocted this silly fantasy of him liking to beat women. He didn’t do the ‘daddy’ shit, and he sure as hell didn’t get off on hurting women.
Suddenly the night was pierced with the sound of an alarm going off. Then a man shouted to his right.
“Hey! What the hell is going on over there?”
Hector turned toward the sound coming from his right. Shit, it was his alarm. He let the redhead go, tucked his dick back in his pants, and rushed over to his bike, only to discover that his tires were slashed. Fucking great. Some asshole had put his hands on his baby.
Brent was standing next to his bike, with a smoke. “Sorry man, the damage was already done by the time I saw him.”
“You recognized him?” He’d been feeling eyes on him for a couple of weeks now. He’d attributed it to his PTSD acting up again and didn’t give it another thought. But now he wondered if it wasn’t just his imagination and if there was a connection.
“Nope. He had a hoodie on. Damn kids.”
Since he wasn’t going to find a tow truck this time of night, he called Achilles. He’d forgotten about the redhead until she appeared at his side again.
“Gonna take me home, hotshot?”
“Not tonight. Little busy over here.” He pulled away when she went for his zipper again. “Brent. Why don’t you take…”
“Heidi,” she said.
“Right. Heidi over here back inside. Drinks on me.”
She left him with a pout, an arm around Brent.
It didn’t take long for Achilles to arrive. He somewhat begrudgingly got into his friend’s car. He hated cars, no matter how spacious the interior was. Closed spaces were not his thing.
“I can’t believe some prick slashed my tires, while I was only standing a few feet away.”
“Happens to the best of us, man.”
“Yeah? When was the last time it happened to you?” So, he was a bit sensitive concerning his bike. It was a vintage model and he’d bought it from his first prize money. He had literally bled for his wheels.
“Last week,” Achilles retorted. “Right at the back of the club, just like with you.”
“Tough neighborhood, I guess.”
“I guess. Though, I’m beginning to wonder now if it isn’t something more.” He dropped the subject and went straight to a topic Hector wanted to talk about even less. “So, about tonight. You went to help Mary, huh?”
“Your point?”
“Just that you could’ve sent someone else. One of the guys who were on call.“
Nosy bastard. This was exactly the reason why he had opted to drive over to Mary’s by himself and had asked Achilles to meet him there. If you didn’t share a car, you couldn’t be grilled.
When he didn’t answer, Achilles smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally making a move.“
“There’s no move.”
“It was about time,” Achilles simply continued. “You two have been mooning over each other forever.”
“There’s no mooning. I don’t fucking moon.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Let it go, man. She’s not for me. I don’t want her.” When Achilles gave him a look, he shrugged. “Fine, I want her. But only for one night.” Surely his obsession with her would pass after that. “She isn’t the ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of girl. Not to mention the fact that Jazzy would have my balls if I hurt her cousin. Mary’s the type that wants hearts and flowers and shit. The kind of guy she can bring home to her mother. I ain’t that man.”
“Her mother is an alcoholic living in France with her third husband.”
Hector hadn’t known that. He tried to steer clear of all and any information regarding Mary Rossi. “Doesn’t matter. And how the hell did you know that? You’ve been checking up on her?”
&
nbsp; “Stop the growling. I came across an old file on her. There was one on every Rossi girl. Gio must have compiled them when he married Jazzy. Your friend doesn’t do anything half-assed.”
Hector had almost forgotten about those files. He hadn’t been there when Gio had to pick a bride out of the three Rossi granddaughters. His choice had fallen on the most brazen of the girls: Jocelyn. But then his bride-to-be had literally fled the country to get away from him. Hector had been the one who had dragged her back, kicking and screaming. His friend was ruthless when it came to what he wanted. In the end, it had worked out for Gio, though.
Hector had to admit he wasn’t that much different from Gio. Meeting the Dettas had made him realize that blood didn’t make family. Blood didn’t mean shit when it came to loyalty or love.
It was the Dettas’ grandmother who had taught him that. She had even tried to teach him a value or two. One of them was to always protect the ones weaker than you. Not hurt them. Him making a ploy for Mary Rossi would definitely hurt her. Because if he ever got her in his bed, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.
And no woman should be forced to live with his baggage.
CHAPTER 3
MARY
The morning after Britney passed away, Mary made Zoe’s favorite pancakes. It was a Saturday and Zoe didn’t have to go to school. She still hadn’t told Zoe that her sister had died, not knowing how to break the news to the little girl.
Sitting at the kitchen table, while drowning her pancakes in maple syrup, Zoe was talking a mile an hour. She was still in her PJs but had put on her red cape. Obviously, she had decided to be a superhero for the weekend again.
She needed to tell Zoe about her sister. Zoe had never known her father, but she had already lost her mother. A woman she didn’t even remember. And now her sister. Mary had no idea how to tell her.
Which was why she had send a message to the help troops an hour ago.
“Can we go to the movies today?” Zoe asked.
“Sure. But, um, we need to talk first.”
“About what?”
“Finish your breakfast first.”
Avoiding a conversation you dread?
Postponing it. Not avoiding.
How very adult of you.
The pancakes were gone in no time and Zoe expectantly looked up at her.
Mary opened and closed her mouth. She plucked Zoe off the bar stool and went to the couch where Zoe got comfortable on her lap. She was a real snuggle bunny.
“I have to tell you something, cupcake.”
“You don’t want to see a movie?”
“No, no, I do. I just…”
The doorbell rang. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. She nudged Zoe off her lap and went for the door.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Jazzy said, giving her a hug.
Tommie was next. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She glanced at Zoe who just put on a DVD.
“I haven’t told Zoe yet,” she whispered. “Please come in. You guys being here will hopefully give me the strength to do this.”
“Uncle Tommie!” The second Zoe spotted Tommie, she let out a squeal and headed over to him.
He grabbed her from the floor and threw her in the air. “Who’s my favorite superhero?”
“Me!”
Tommie dropped her on the couch and then plopped next to her. “Watch are you watching?”
“Thor.” Then she whispered, as if sharing a secret, “Thor was here last night.”
“Oh, my. And you didn’t even call me?”
“She means Achilles,” Mary explained, as she sat on Zoe’s other side.
“Then you should’ve definitely called me,” Tommie grumbled.
Jazzy dropped on the recliner next to the TV. “What, no hug for Aunt Jazzy?”
Another squeal and Zoe launched herself at Jazzy. “Do you want to see a movie with us today? We can have ice cream later. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or both.” She sounded hopeful.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Jazzy said, looking at Mary over Zoe’s head.
Mary shut down the TV and took a deep breath. “Zoe, can you please come here? I need to tell you something.”
It was as if the little girl sensed her anxiety, because she frowned and plopped herself down between Mary and Tommie.
So, Mary started talking. She clutched onto Zoe’s hand, happy to see that Tommie had done the same, and broke the news.
The little girl was eerily silent at first. Then the tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Did Britney go to the angels, like mommy?”
“Yes, baby girl. She went to Heaven to be with the angels.”
Silence. More tears followed until Zoe hiccupped. “Will the angels take me there too?”
“Not until you’re a really old lady,” Tommie chimed in. “You know, when your hair is gray, and you walk with a stick.”
Zoe’s eyes turned back to her. “And you? They can’t have you!” Little arms swung around Mary’s neck.
She slowly stroked Zoe’s back. “No, baby girl. I’m staying right here with you.”
Life had no guarantees, but right now, Zoe needed one.
As Mary comforted Zoe, who was now sobbing against her chest, she thought about Britney.
There had always been this pain surrounding her. This urgency to break free from the demons that haunted her. She had often told her that she couldn’t handle living in this world. A world in which her abuser still roamed the streets freely. A world in which she still felt the cigarette burns on her skin when she woke up. Mary hoped that Britney had finally found the peace she had been looking for.
They sat for about an hour when the doorbell rang. Mary looked up, surprised. She handed Zoe over to Tommie and went for the door.
There was a woman standing there, in a stiff, gray suit.
“Mrs. Rossi? Mary Rossi?”
“It’s Ms. actually, but yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Clara Wilson from the Department of Social Services. I was told Zoe was staying with you.”
Immediately, a cold lump of ice settled in her stomach. “What’s this about?” Of course, she knew what it was about. She knew all too well. She’d just believed that she would have more time. Time to find a way to keep Zoe with her.
Judging by Mrs. Wilson’s face, her time was up.
“Are you a relative?” she asked.
“I’m her godmother.”
The woman scrambled to look for something on her notebook. “But not a blood relative?”
Mary didn’t like the sound of where this was going. “No. But Zoe doesn’t have any blood relatives. At least none she has any contact with. I’m the closest she has to family. I’ve been taking care of Zoe for years.”
A look of sympathy crossed the woman’s face. “I understand where you’re coming from and what you are trying to tell me, but I can’t let Zoe stay with you. Our protocol dictates that—”
“Your protocol?” She took another breath when she realized that she’d raised her voice. Shutting the door a bit, so Zoe wouldn’t overhear, she said, “I may not have given birth to her, but I love her as my own.”
“I can see that, but you’re not her immediate family. I can’t let her stay with you.”
This could not be happening. “I’m not letting you take her.”
The woman gave her another sympathetic look. Frankly, she was getting sick of them.
“I can assure you that I’m taking her to a safe place. If you don’t cooperate, I will return with the police. I’m sure you don’t want to traumatize Zoe like that.”
I can lock her up in the basement; take Zoe and run.
Or, you could try this the legal, not ending behind bars, way. Orange is not your color.
Option two it is.
“No, I wouldn’t want that,” she said softly.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, could you please ask her to come here?”
Mary knew the woman wa
s only doing her job. There was no malice in her voice, as if she was enjoying tearing them apart. Which was a shame, because it would have made it easier to hate her.
“I’m coming with. I’d like to see where you’re taking her.” She shushed the protest forming on the woman’s lip. “Don’t tell me no. I’m not letting her go to a strange place without me. Please, she’s been through enough. She has only just learned about her sister’s death an hour ago.”
When Mrs. Wilson nodded, Mary dragged her feet back to the living room. Every step felt as if she was walking to her death.
Zoe looked up when Mary knelt in front of her and took her hand.
“Cupcake, there’s a lady who’s going to take you to a new place. We have to go. But it’s only temporary, okay?”
Tommie frowned, then understanding dawned on his face. Jazzy just cursed. Had Mary’s heart not been in shambles, she would have made Jazzy put a dollar in the swear jar.
Zoe’s tiny hand tightened in hers. “Are you coming with?”
“Yes, baby girl. I’m coming with.”
The look of trust on Zoe’s face was going to haunt her forever. The little girl had no idea that Mary would be forced to leave her behind with the CPS lady.
“Now, go to your room and get dressed.”
“Can I take Spidey with me?”
“Of course you can.” She never slept without her Spiderman stuffed doll.
When Zoe had disappeared into her room, Mary’s forced smile cracked.
She was immediately boxed in by her cousin and friend.
“We’re going to fix this, Mary.” Jazzy had a determined gleam in her eyes.
“We sure are,” Tommie chimed in.
“You’re not alone in this. That little girl belongs with you. I’m sorry about your friend, but honestly, I think Zoe spend more time with you than with her own sister.”
Jazzy wasn’t wrong. “I’m not a blood relative.”
“So what? Zoe doesn’t have any blood relatives, does she now. So, this means—”
“Except, she does,” Mary croaked.
Her cousin looked puzzled. “Then why did they allow Zoe to stay with Britney in the first place? No offense, but she was an addict. A recovering one or not, she certainly wasn’t capable of being guardian to a little kid.”