“Are you okay?”
Studying my face, her eyes jerk from my disheveled hair to my dropped chin to my fist balled on my thigh. “Yeah, now that you’re here.”
“I feel better when I’m with you too.”
God how I love her. So genuine and heartfelt in her touch and intentions. I don’t think she could be disingenuous if she even tried. “Then let’s always stay together, okay?”
“Okay.”
I earn a small smile along with her agreement. A kiss too. Much too brief and chaste. Although I greedily accept what she offers. Realizing how damn lucky I am she offers any affection at all. Especially with all the doubt I burden her with. “I’m sorry angel. I know how important your faith is to you.”
“It is.” Her soft voice falls even lower. Unable to hide the emotion flooding her tone. “It got me through things that I don’t think I could have survived otherwise.”
I don’t know either. I only experienced three months of his bullshit and barely kept myself together to get her the fuck out of there. I have no fucking clue how she tolerated the torment for as long as she did. I’m not sure if my faith in anything is that damn strong.
“I want that for you too. We can work with Father Preston and be forgiven.”
Well since she doesn’t have anything that requires forgiveness, we don’t have anything to worry about. Her optimism slices through all the lunacy swirling in my head. Dialing down the crazy and bringing everything back to me and her. My girl wants to protect me just as much as I want to protect her. “You know the truth about me princess —what I do and who I am. I can’t change the past no matter how much I want to. Your priest…your God won’t absolve me of my sins.”
Excitement lifts her drooped shoulders and a huge smile that I’ll never tire of lights her face. “That’s not true! If you’re genuinely sorry, he will.”
Which is the problem. I’m not sorry. Every one of those bastards I killed deserved to die. I just saved the time and cost of a trial. More than happy to play the roles of judge, jury, and executioner.
The lack of remorse must show in my expression, and she falls back on her ankles. Deep in thought as she rubs her palms down her light pink leggings. As delicate and innocent as her.
“You’re a good person. I know that.”
I’m good to her, and always will be. That’s all she ever needs to know. “Not like you.”
Her sweet mouth opens, quick to argue against my assertion. I shake my throbbing head and brush my fingertip across her soft lips. “Let me show you something.”
She stays on her knees mistakenly thinking she requires my approval before she stands too. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be fucking hard as granite with her kneeling in front of me. So fucking breathtaking as she looks up to me. Trusting me with her submission. Hopefully believing in my love for her rather than waiting out of habit or fear.
I offer both my hands to lift her up. A symbol of me taking care of her completely. Once her fingers slide into mine, I drag her to me. Needing to reassure both of us before I demonstrate the reality of my past. Smooth hair flows like silk under my calloused palms as I stroke her head. “Thank you for wanting to save me.”
Loathe to release her, but I need both hands, well thumbs actually, to open the safe bolted to the floor hidden behind a false front cabinet. Not that my precautions would stop someone who really wanted inside. But I’d already have to be dead for them to make it this far and be able to override the security measures I’ve implemented, so the point would be moot.
The heavy door clicks open from my prints pressed against the black and red screen, and I slide out the papers. My entire career boiled down to a four-inch stack of folders. “These are old school, but safer than electronic files that can easily be hacked.”
She peers closer when I set the pile on my desk and flip the top cover open. A toddler smiles at us from the photo stapled to a brief dossier. I tap the alligator juggling balls on his navy blue shirt. “Wyatt was two and a half when his father decided that his share of the diamond black market wasn’t big enough and instigated a revolt against the boss. The only problem was his son became the incentive for him to back down. It took us four days to find him. Someday soon his Dad will have to explain the scars on his legs from being shackled to the guard dog who hated their mutual chain as much as the kid did.”
Her fingertips press against her lips as she struggles not to cry. Shaking away the tears welling in her eyes. I fucking hate to be so harsh but she has to know —to understand —what happens in my world. Although she’s well aware of the cruelty those with power love to inflict on the helpless. I flick open a few more portfolios of the victims. Young. Old. Pretty. Plain. Innocent. Guilty. Regardless of how different they are, every single one of them shares the same characteristic. They’re loved and wanted. “My job was to bring them home no matter what. So for every face you see, at least one man died. Usually several. Because I killed them.”
She bristles from the brutality, and her gaze remains locked on the little boy. “You saved them?”
I nod from her hopeful whisper. “Yes. Some of the other guys weren’t so lucky. They’d be too late. But I always managed to bring mine out alive. But their captors had to die to make rescuing them possible. So as much as I should probably feel guilty or ashamed I don’t. I never will.”
We stand in silence while she processes my confession, and I pull out the thickest packet I have. Shiny eyes widen when I stroke across her name scrawled on the corner.
“That one’s mine?”
“Yeah, everything your Dad told me.”
She looks about ten in her picture. With a white bow tied around her dense ponytail and a carefree smile that she nor her father had any idea would be stolen from her in a few short years. A tiny princess eventually worth more dead than alive. Except to me. Never to me.
I rifle through the pages behind the image. “All your legal papers are in here, like your birth certificate and the trust fund documents. I’m sorry he didn’t give me the records you want for church. I guess he didn’t think that was important at the time.”
Just a nod and a shiver before she hugs herself. She doesn’t reach for the envelope or convey any disappointment. “You never had a driver’s license or passport, but I had them made for you in case you ever want them.”
Hopefully she does. That I haven’t freaked her out so much that she won’t let me take her to Italy and all the other places she dreams of. I hold up the plastic card for her to see.
“Viviana Roan.”
Fuck me if I don’t love the sound of our last name on her lips. “My wife deserves the real me.”
The lack of response from my comment hurts. I can’t lie. Another reminder that I expect more than she can give. At least right now. Maybe my next request will help her realize my genuine intentions. “You have to have access too. If you need these or the cash I have in there.”
She doesn’t resist as I draw her closer and tuck her back against my chest. I can’t help from breathing in her delicate scent. I type in the code and the display blinks in readiness. Curling my hands around hers, I hold her thumbs to the monitor until the short row of green lights flash. “Only you and I can get inside now.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
My arms encircle her small body, and I nuzzle her neck. Burrowing deeper around her, hoping she feels how safe and loved she is. “Thank you for trying to trust me. I know all of this is difficult for you.”
Slowly spinning us around to face the wall of photos behind us, I point to the new image I hung up after she went to bed last night. Frantic to fix what I fucked up. “That right there is all that matters.”
Her grasp tightens on my forearms. The taut cords flexing under her gentle touch. “Us?”
“Yeah, angel. Us. Always us.”
“I’m just not used to anyone being so nice to me.”
“It’s only going to keep getting better. I promise. Especially when you taste my pancakes. They’re
almost as sweet as you.” I turn her around when she giggles from my whisper in her dainty ear. Welcoming her crooked, burgeoning smile. That I somehow think represents the eye roll she means but doesn’t do. Yeah, I’m a cheesy fucker. But I love when she blushes. “Come on. I owe you breakfast.”
As attentive as always, she takes our cooking seriously. Ensuring the milk doesn’t surpass the third red line on the glass measuring cup and carefully picking out the slivers of shell that snuck into the batter. Flipping the spatula like an expert after only a few attempts. Quiet but seemingly relaxed.
Although her silence continues while we eat. Swallowing a few small bites, but she mainly pushes pieces of her flapjacks through the syrup. A vacant gaze following the translucent brown streaks across the white ceramic. Beginning to unnerve me that she still frets over my failure this morning. “Do you like your food?”
So deep in thought she startles from my question. Her fork clattering against her plate. Yet she nods and smiles. “Yes, it is very good. Thank you.”
Damn automated knee jerk response. Which I fucking hate. I want the real Viviana back with me. Not that bastard’s fucking robot. Reminding me I have one last mistake to correct with her. Even though I detest the risk, I’ll deal with the danger to make her happy. “I really am sorry about this morning. I know you were excited, and I ruined it.”
“No! You didn’t ruin it. I shouldn’t have gone to confession, I guess.”
She guesses. The adamancy in her voice dwindles as much as her body. Breaking our connection when her gaze falls to her lap, and she slumps against her chair. It’s not the confession she regrets. It’s me and these circumstances and this damn life challenging the only certainty she has right now. That she’s ever had. “I’ll never make you choose between me and your faith. I’ll find another church for us to go to.”
“Us?”
The same optimistic tone as when we looked at our selfie earlier. I’m not sure I can give her what she wants, but I’m damn sure willing to try. “Yeah, us. I’ll go and be a part of it as much as you want me to be. If you want me to.”
Finally she looks up. Pride floods her expression. I mean I think it’s pride. I hope it’s pride. I want it to be fucking pride so damn bad, and I don’t even know why.
“You would do that for me?”
Yeah, I do fucking know why. Because if she’s proud of me, even though I’ll probably fail, I know she’ll feel about me an emotion she’s never felt for any other man. My own rare insecurity flares. I need to know that she may not completely hate being stuck here. Or with me. We’re trying to get through right now. But the future never leaves my thoughts either. Uneasy wondering how ten or twenty years in my captivity will affect her. “I’d do anything for you angel. Including going to mass. If it’s enough for you that I can’t―”
The stool wobbles from her leap up, and I can’t seem to move. Paralyzed from her jubilant face as she skirts around the table and flies toward me. A tiny blur of pink and white as her arms coil around my neck. Hugging me as tight as she can in our awkward position. “I do. It is. You are.”
I chuckle into her shoulder from her rapid spurts of agreement. So relieved, she struggles to answer and convey her gratitude. But it’s the last two words that I hear. That mean the most. I’m enough for her despite my flaws. “Good. Then finish your breakfast, and I’ll start searching.”
One last deep inhale before she escapes out of my embrace. Skimming my cheek with her lips, she smiles with such genuine appreciation and enthusiasm and love I can barely restrain myself from pulling her back to me.
I know she’s disappointed, but I don’t think either of us are up for boxing today. I’ve already made her cry twice, and it’s not even noon yet. She needs an activity to enjoy without stirring up so much damning emotion, and I need something to keep my cock occupied after she’s been cuddling on me since breakfast. Unaware in her bliss the strain her loving touch puts on my dwindling will power.
Of course though she’s as agreeable as always. Simply smiles and nods from my suggestion of going for a hike. Although her eagerness seems genuine. Forever excited about sharing in a new experience with me. “I like those better than the first pair.”
A deep intensity dips the normally smooth skin between her eyes as she walks down the improvised aisle. Lines of shoeboxes stacked in rows to define the space between apparel and clothes in the small athletic store we’ve returned to. Probably for the best we’re shopping for her feet rather than sports bras again. My dick couldn’t take her naked with just a thin curtain separating us.
“They’re really comfortable.”
“Good. Then we’ll get those and the running shoes.”
Two styles she’s never owned before. Just fancy high heels in the past. But when she told me she wants to go jogging with me, I had to buy her a pair of Sauconys. My girl wants to run, so by god we’re going to run.
“Thank you for all of this. I know buying these is very expensive.”
She keeps her gaze downward, but I know it’s not to evaluate her new shoes. I infer what she implies. And fucking hate the insinuation. I received nothing for rescuing her, and now she thinks I’m stuck paying for everything she needs. Shame floods out her appreciation, drowning the smile I always want to see on full blast. I stalk toward her, realizing my mistake when she flinches, and I force myself to slow, holding up my palms on the last three steps. Realizing thankfully I’ve not scared her too much when she remains still once I reach her. “Remember when I told you I took so many risks so I could enjoy the reward?”
“Yes.”
“You, angel…” Ragged breaths blow against my jacket, and I slide my finger under her chin to lift her flushed face to mine. “…are that reward.”
A shiver runs through her slight body from my touch as well as my definitive tone. The assertion simple yet powerful. For both of us. “I am?”
“Yeah, there’s nothing and nobody else I want to spend my time with or my money on but you.”
A punch to the gut when she still looks uncertain. Frowning even more than before. Still so broken. Unable to completely believe me. To understand how much she means to me.
Being with her is like trying to survive underwater. Needing to hold your breath and not panic but the craving for air is so strong you have to force yourself not to gulp the water. Even when you reach the surface you still gasp and cough. Unable to accept the instantaneous relief. Almost too wonderful to trust the oxygen you inhale.
“You never act like I’m a burden. That I’m too much trouble.”
Another harsh reminder of what she’s used to. Of how she was treated in the past. “Because you’re not.” Now I get the grin I love. “I like hiking and want you to go with me. We need boots. It’s that simple.”
She nods slowly. All the joy back in her smile.
“Simple.”
“Yep. Now grab your…” I point to her little slippers she wore in. Too many new styles for me to remember all their names.
“Ballet flats.”
It’s my turn to nod. “Ballet flats and throw them into the box. You can wear your boots out since we’re heading to the trails next.”
I think we make the owner of the store pretty happy too with two shopping sprees in almost as many days. We’re probably her best customers during this normally quiet off season. All smiles to me and compliments to Viviana while she rings up our purchases. Waving to us through the window even after we’ve walked out the front door.
“This was so much more fun than picking clothes out of a catalog or having personal shoppers bring outfits to the house. I like choosing what I wear.”
Viviana waits next to me as I load the bags into the back end. Without any need to remind her to stay close. “Okay, so don’t smack me for being sexist, but most women I know do like to―“
“Viviana! Roan!”
Reflex drives my fingers to my gun and my hand to her waist. Jerking her between me and the tailgate from the shrill fema
le voice calling to us from the plaza. More excited than threatening, but I refuse to take any chances. I spin around with her behind me. My broad body the shield to her petite frame. Gasping in surprise from my rough treatment.
Mia.
Fuck. The tension drains out of my taut body, and I hang my head. Overreacting, and even fucking worse, scaring my princess. I turn back to her and caress her trembling arms. “I’m so sorry angel. I didn’t know who it was and I had to protect you. Are you okay?”
The same distraught expression as the confrontation with Bruno distorts her sweet face. Absurd but so fucking understandable with what we’ve put her through.
“Pl-please don’t k-kill her.”
Jesus. I shudder myself from her frenzied plea. She’s not okay at all. Far from fucking okay. Because all she knows is that manhandling her means people die. That she’s the cause of a massacre. “I won’t. I swear to god I would never do that.”
“I thought that was you guys!”
Breathless but smiling Mia finally reaches us and pulls Viviana into her usual boisterous hug. So happy to see her. Unaware of my angel’s terror. God fucking damn.
“You’re shaking girl. You need to get yourself a heavier coat.”
Her friend links arms with the older woman who catches up with her. Loaded down with a large black purse and two pink shopping bags bouncing against her legs. Sheets of papers in her hand that blow backward onto the diamond and silver watch on her wrist from her quick strides.
“Mom, these are the Stielers. They live in that gorgeous house with the stone and iron work around the front porch that you love. You know, at the top of the ridge before the road turns into gravel.”
Mia’s mother nods in enthusiastic approval. A smile as bright as her daughter’s covering her face reddened from the cool air and jog toward us. “Oh I love that house!”
Mia grasps Viviana’s hand too. Connecting the three women with an increasing familiarity that would make me beyond happy if I wasn’t so fucking freaked out. “Mom and I were just finishing the registry for my baby shower. You’ll come won’t you? It’s next Saturday and it’s for couples, not just the ladies. We are going to have so much fun!”
192: A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance Page 15