by S. M. West
“We’re not, and before you argue with me, it’s hilarious that you can even say that,” she scoffs, sarcasm lacing her words. “If we were meant to be together, then why did you throw us away so easily? Why the hell did you walk away from me?”
While her anguish and anger are evident, we’re finally getting somewhere. She’s willing to hear my truth.
Now
Carys
SLIPPING OUT FROM HIS hold, I slide along the wall, away from him. Our proximity is too much, too tempting, especially with the way he held me, looking at me like he wanted to devour me.
My emotions run the gamut from aroused and needy to disgusted and shameful. I almost begged him to take me, declaring I was his. Yet my stomach churns at how low I sank by bringing Greg into this and claiming to be happy. What the hell was I thinking?
Evan’s words made me sick as he placed me on a pedestal for loving Greg, which I do, but nothing compares to my feelings for him. I’m anything but a saint.
And now I’ve invited another world of hurt. I’ve asked for the truth without knowing what it could mean, but he’s right—I face things head-on, and this is no different.
Leaning against the desk, my arms fold around my middle like protection from whatever is to come.
“I left because my guy was missing. Turned out he was okay, but I had to pull him out and go in undercover. Severing ties was my only option because I was determined to get the full story, no matter what. If I was discovered, Ma, Ry, and you’d pay, and I couldn’t take that risk.”
Concern etches his face, as real and as raw as if the threat is right in front of us.
“But you’re amazing at what you do. You’d never get caught.”
“No one’s infallible, Sweetness. I wasn’t willing to put your life on the line.”
That’s why he called me, saying we were over.
“What was so important that you were willing to risk everything? You’d walk away from me? From us?”
As if I’ve swallowed glass, a sharpness pierces my chest at asking. This is it for me. I can’t understand how we could mean so much to each other, and yet he couldn’t tell me what was going on. Without a doubt, I’d have understood and waited, no matter what.
His fists curl and his mouth forms a thin line as his eyes bore into mine.
“It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It was my father. Months before, on a job, I overheard a guy talking about the hit that killed our parents.”
My hand flies to my mouth to cover my gasp.
“I needed answers, for all of us, but most of all, for myself. From what I gathered, my dad was the target. He was a gambler, heavily in debt to the mob. Your father and my mother were innocent, caught in the crossfire.”
He rounds the desk, stops before me, and unravels my arms. Pulling me to stand, his strong arms embrace me as his familiar scent grounds me, calming the turmoil within my mind. I’m not sure how to speak with the lump lodged in my throat.
My father’s been gone a long time, but discovering his best friend caused his death is a hard pill to swallow. Evan idolized his father. Every decision he made was measured against what his father would think or do. I can’t imagine how he must feel.
It all makes sense now—why he went to such great lengths for the truth—but I still wish he had shared the burden with me. It still hurts.
“I had to stay hidden, but get answers. While there are millions of people in this city, if they saw my face, there was always the chance they’d find out who I was. Infiltrating the mob without getting yourself killed takes patience and a lot of time. It took me the better part of a year to establish my cover. They never saw me, my face, but I was prepared to show it, if necessary.”
His words peel back another layer of truth, its heat clawing up my throat, burning.
“Wait, you were here all this time, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” My chest constricts, knowing how close he was; that knowledge makes his absence even harder. “I had to stay hidden.”
Unable to take our proximity, I push out of his arms. Our eyes clash, our shared pain and discomfort evident. He tracks me as I sit behind the desk. Knowing how close he was only adds to the hurt. There were so many sleepless nights, countless hours spent worrying, crying, missing him, and he was here the whole time.
“The process of building a credible cover, one that the mob would believe and trust, was slow and methodical. I didn’t make contact with the Cavallo family for almost thirteen months. It was painstaking but necessary. I couldn’t have done it faster without raising flags.”
“What was your cover?”
Normally, he wouldn’t answer a question like this. The details of a job were always off limits, for the safety of everyone involved, but I deliberately break that past agreement to see how far he’s willing to let me in.
“I was known as the Monk, a ghost, a virtual figure who connected contractors for hire with those looking to get a job done. I never actually organized or carried out a hit, but I made it look like I did. Over time, I started forming alliances with the mob, and that’s how I could start asking questions without anyone getting their backs up. It was only five months ago that all my questions were answered—well, most of them.”
With his admission and the ease with which he shares this information with me, I park my dueling emotions of anger and empathy and focus on what he’s saying.
“What did you find out?”
“My father owed the mob a lot of money, so much so that he tried to get a second mortgage on the bar without your father knowing.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Fortunately, he didn’t succeed, but his despicability doesn’t end there. He was also a womanizer. He cheated on my mother—a lot,” he grinds out.
Evan’s remote expression camouflages his pain, but it’s there. Discovering the truth, that who he thought his father was is a lie, is eating away at him.
“He was killed because he owed the mob?”
I’m missing something. I don’t know much about that world, nor do I wish to, but isn’t it extreme to be killed over money? Perhaps I’m naïve. Sure, maybe beaten or taught a lesson, but gunned down in cold blood?
“He’d been given many warnings and beaten several times. Did you know my mother was assaulted?”
“What? No!” I’m shocked and horrified.
“I didn’t know either, but your mother told me.”
Unable to wait, I interrupt, “What? Ma told you?”
“Yeah, she knows the truth. She knew a lot of this and suspected my father was the cause of the shooting.”
“Oh my God, Van. What happened to your mother?”
“My mom was attacked, but fortunately, cops heard her screams. She was targeted because of my father, punishment for missing payments. It wasn’t his first missed payment, either. My father pushed his luck too far with them. He double-crossed a capo, and if they want you dead, it happens. This capo ordered the hit. The guys that did the job were sloppy and lazy. Instead of popping him in the head, they machine-gunned the bar. Because they fucked up the job, a dirty cop leaked that it was a botched hit, so the mob wouldn’t get any further heat.”
He’s so matter-of-fact about his father’s death. He’s had time to come to terms with it, but it’s also unlike him. He’s angry; it’s hidden, but it’s lurking in his unusually cool, impassive eyes.
“Evan, I wish you’d told me what you were doing from the beginning.”
“Can you forgive me for your father’s death?” The raspy, rough quality of his voice triggers stinging in my eyes and simmering low in my belly.
“What? You didn’t kill my father,” I whisper, confused and also fearing where this is going.
“I might as well have. My fucking father destroyed your family, killed a good man. If it wasn’t for Ciaran Hart, your father would still be alive today.”
He swallows hard, his now-dark eyes gazing intently into mine, like I’m his executioner.
“Yo
u are not to blame for any of this. You were just a boy. Your father was responsible for his actions, and even at that, he didn’t kill them. Yes, what happened was because of him, but I don’t blame you for any of this.”
He leans on the edge of the desk, peering down at me. Our eyes tangle in their own silent, emotionally charged exchange, relaying all the years of pent-up frustration, desire, disappointment, and love.
Skating over my face, his eyes drift down my neck, dipping to my chest before coming back up to rest on my mouth. Slowly, purposefully, he lifts me from the chair and into his lap.
I suck in a sharp breath and goosebumps erupt across my skin as I’m forced to straddle him. I try to push away from him, wanting this but also knowing it’s wrong. I have no clue who he’s been with.
Not that I’m in any position to expect fidelity, but my stupidity at being with Greg was just that, stupid. It was my poor attempt at trying to forget and move on.
Evan had the benefit of knowing everything, and I’m no fool to blindly think that means he didn’t sleep with anyone else.
“Don’t,” I implore, and he pauses in his attempt to bring us closer. His smoldering stare pins me. “You’ve explained it all to me, but that doesn’t change things between us. God knows who you’ve been with these past couple years.”
Deep in the dark recesses of my mind, where my worst fears lurk, I often wondered where he was, and occasionally I considered that he might be with another woman.
He’d never given me any indication that there was someone else, but once I’d exhausted all plausible reasons for his mysterious and heartbreaking departure, the idea reared its ugly head.
There’s a flicker of ferocity in his eyes as they darken. He moves into me, his face coming toward mine, until my eyes cross and I’m unable to see clearly.
Our noses touch and his hot minty breath slides over the lower half of my face and neck like a tease of where his mouth wants to be. Our lips are practically touching.
“I’m going to say this once, because while I shouldn’t have to say it, you obviously need to hear it. For the record, I’m fucking insulted that you even insinuated it.”
His possessive stare is intoxicating. As he speaks, his lips brush mine, the sensation triggering the eruption of hot sparks within me.
“I’ve never slept with anyone else but you. Ever. While we were apart, I never touched, kissed, fucked, jacked off to, or so much as thought of another woman. There has only ever been you.”
His declaration, while spiked with indignation, weakens my aloofness, softening my heart. A heavy, tender warmth pools between my legs, and my pulse thunders with the thrill of hearing his devotion to me.
His hand clasps the back of my head tighter, his possessive fingers threading through my hair, and before I can object, our hot mouths crash together.
Our first kiss after these years apart is an electric shock, heart-stopping and explosive. At first, it’s more a war of wills than a reunion. He succumbs to his carnal desire, emitting a slow hiss against my lips, while I desperately keep my mouth shut and my heart closed.
I push at the hard planes of his chest and he pulls with an intense grip on my hips, ensuring I’m firmly fitted on his stiff arousal. Like steel bands, his arms encase my waist, bringing me flush against him, so tight that my mouth opens wider, greedily gulping in air and the taste of him.
My sensitive nipples drag along the fabric of his shirt and my body awakens, a hive of activity, pulsating and throbbing, pushing me from resistance to submission.
His teeth sink into my bottom lip and with a tug, the delicious sting of him marking me causes a moan to slip past my tight lips. I finally give in to my latent need for him, the one I’ve buried deep within me, yet has been ever-present in my dreams and is now a reality within my arms.
With that tiny crack in both my lips and resolve, he dips his demanding tongue into my mouth and we both shudder as our hot tongues tangle. My heart slams against my ribcage and the erratic thundering of my pulse drowns out all sound.
Grabbing the back of his head, it’s my turn to claim him, burrowing my hand deep into his short curls. I bite into his firm lower lip; with a growl, his mouth sucks harder on my tongue, like he’s starved, needs me to breathe, to live.
His hands mercilessly grip my backside and he moves me back and forth, torturously slowly along the hard, long ridge of his growing erection. As he rocks into my most sensitive spot, like a bolt from the blue, the warmth and weight of his body electrifies me, sizzling through me.
His demanding tongue, blistering mouth, and rough, assertive hands are driving me mad. My fingers curl into his shirt and twist and my legs tighten around his waist, my achy sex needing more. I ride his big, hard cock through his pants, pushing down on him and shutting out everything else.
I whimper and moan through our kisses as heat builds and pools deep within my core. Growling, he deepens our connection despite the barrier of fabric, and we sink further into each other. We steal from each other all the wasted time, all the love, need, and want we’ve gone without.
I could stay here in his arms, kissing him, forever. The taste of him is like heaven and hell all at once. He’s my home, my one true love, and yet he abandoned me, brought me pain and loneliness.
With that thought, reality violently bursts my blissful bubble. All the reasons why I shouldn’t be kissing him knock into each other and rain down on me.
Reluctantly, I break our kiss and he emits a low growl as his mouth curves into a smile. His lust-filled gaze grows heavy and penetrating as my disappointment and wariness take over.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is low, his eyes deliberately roaming my features.
“You took my choice from me,” I blurt out, unable to curb the hurt and anger. “You should’ve told me, treated me like your partner. Instead, you never even gave us a chance to do it together. I’ve told you before, and I meant it: I’d follow you into the dark.”
“I couldn’t ask you to wait for me.” I climb off him at his immediate defense. While I need space, a hollowness creeps in, as he doesn’t attempt to stop me from distancing myself from him. “I had no clue how long it would take. Fuck, I didn’t even know if I’d come back. I could’ve been killed and to ask you to wait… fuck, Sweetness, I couldn’t ask you to put your life on hold for a future that might never come.”
His voice is pained and rough. We’re both hurting, both exasperated at a past we can’t change and how much we need and want from each other. The helplessness and wasted time threatens to drown me.
“Evan, you don’t get it, do you? I’d have waited a day, a month, a year, ten years. I’d have waited forever for you.”
“I fucked up, I know I did, but Sweetness, what you don’t understand is that I chose you and I’d chose you every fucking time. I didn’t mean to hurt you and it wrecked me. I thought of you every single minute of every fucking day. You’re my reason to live. Without you, I’m nothing. Can you ever forgive me?”
Now
Carys
“WE’RE CLOSED,” I YELL from behind the bar at the sound of the door opening.
Shit, didn’t I lock the door? Despite our hours being posted on the door outside, we always get a few stragglers coming in before we’re open. You’d be surprised how many people want a drink before eleven in the morning.
Turning around, I see a petite older woman and a man three times her size. He’s all solid muscle, like a mountain. The man stands back, but it’s clear he’s her bodyguard. She’s barely five feet, with chestnut eyes and matching hair with streaks of grey. Her hair is tied in a low bun and she’s dressed in black from head to toe, with a string of simple, classic pearls around her neck.
“May I help you?” Setting down the dish towel, I step from behind the bar.
“I have a message for Evan Hart,” she says quietly but firmly, her hawkish eyes scrutinizing not only me but everything surrounding us.
“He’s not here.”
What
does this woman want with Evan? And why would she come here to find him? I’m curious and have many questions for her, but sense silence is best.
“I know. It’s not smart for me to be here. I’m risking a lot as it is, but his sister needs his help,” she says cryptically.
“What are you talking about? He doesn’t have a sister.”
“It’s all in there.” She hands me a sealed envelope.
“Who are you?” I ask, taking it from her.
Stepping away from the bar but never taking her eyes off me, she says, “Give him the letter. It’s all in there.”
Turning, she heads for the door. Impulsively, I follow, but am stopped by the mountain of a man. He stares menacingly at me, like he wants to immobilize me in ice. Once he’s satisfied that I won’t follow, he lumbers after her, out the door.
Looking down at the letter in my hand, the need to know what it contains burns me like our kisses. The last encounter with Evan assaults me, our breath-stealing kiss and his request for my forgiveness.
In retrospect, it wasn’t deliberate on a conscious level, but I left him hanging like he left me. He asked for forgiveness and while I didn’t respond, I’ve already forgiven him. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud for fear that we’d be unable to control ourselves.
Still, I need to call him. He needs to know about the letter, and I’ll see whether he lets me in, if he trusts and respects me enough to tell me what this is all about.
Our conversation is brief, but I detect his surprise at my contacting him. He is also very intrigued by the letter and genuinely clueless as to what it is all about.
Glancing up from the laptop, my office door fans open and Evan looms in the doorway. There’s determination in his tight brow and jaw, despite the crooked smile he shoots my way.
Even still, his rugged handsomeness smacks me in the face. Slow and predatory, he stalks toward me as tingles skitter along my skin and my belly flip-flops in anticipation. Thank goodness I’m seated. My knees are Jell-O, and I fear I’m unable to stand in his presence.