by Josie Hunter
Carly turned to Rosa. “You said you wanted to talk to us.”
Rosa reached out and gripped Lucia’s hand. “My father called me on Friday night.”
Lucia shook her head back and forth so fast the bun on the back of her head nearly came undone. “No, no, es imposible. When Juan died, it was the end. No more. The other Santos men can stew in their heat.”
“There are others besides my father?” Rosa asked.
“Oh, they nest like the vipers they are. Many brothers, but forget them all. They are scum.” She waved her hand as though she could make them disappear. “Why would he call you after…cuántos años?” Her eyes were wild, darting quickly between Rosa and Carly, searching for answers between them.
“Twenty-eight years,” Rosa said. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“Y tu pobre madre…muerta…veinticinco años. Dead for twenty-five years.”
“You were three when your mother died?” Carly asked. When Rosa nodded, tears dotted Carly’s eyes. “How could I not have known that? You and Suzie have so very much in common.”
“Sí,” Lucia said, “they understand each other well. Pero Suzie has un padre maravilloso, and una buena madre ahora.”
“I had a good mother too,” Rosa said, patting Lucia’s hand. “I had you.”
“Sí, sí, pero no es lo mismo.”
“It is the same,” Rosa said. “You were wonderful to me, Lucia.”
Lucia’s face hardened, and each word came out of her mouth clipped like a snakebite. “Why is he calling you?”
“How did he even get your number?” Carly asked.
“I imagine he got it from Juan,” Rosa said. “He’d been in touch with me before Jillian died. I’ve had the same number since then.”
“He destroyed tu mama,” Lucia snarled. “No te destruirá tambien.”
“He won’t. He won’t,” Rosa said. She let her gaze swing between the two women. “He wants to see me. He says he’s sick, that he’s—”
“Hijo de puta,” Lucia spat. “He lies.” She gripped Rosa’s hand, so tight Rosa winced. “What does he want from you, mi querida niña hermosa?”
Rosa shook her head sadly. “I don’t know, but he mentioned blood transfusions. I think I should—”
Lucia tossed her hands up. “No, no, no!”
“Is everything okay here?” Stephanie appeared at Rosa’s side, her forehead furrowed in concern. She laid the check folder down. She refilled their water glasses as Rosa smiled and said, “Family discussion.”
“Bah,” Lucia said. “Family discussion…” Stephanie scurried away to bus a nearby table, and Lucia continued to glare at Rosa. “Yo lo prohíbo. I forbid it.”
“You can’t forbid it, Lucia,” she said gently. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Una mujer estúpida,” Lucia grumbled.
Rosa straightened up. “Be that as it may—”
“Be that as it may,” Lucia mimicked. “I said no, and no is the word I mean.” She studied Rosa hard, peering into her eyes with such intensity Rosa almost pulled away. “Este es el hombre que mató a su madre.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, no,” Rosa said, shaking her head. “That’s not possible.”
Carly leaned forward. “Rosa?” She turned to the older woman. “Lucia, what did you say?”
“Tell her,” Lucia said. “Tell her if you dare.”
“Why are you being so cruel?” Rosa asked.
“Because you must listen,” Lucia said.
“Rosa,” Carly repeated, “what did she say?”
Rosa took a deep breath. “She said my father killed my mother.”
Carly pressed her fingers against her lips. “How? Why? Lucia, what makes you think that? Rosa’s mother died of cancer…didn’t she?” She twisted her face between them.
“No,” Lucia said, “she did not. Esteban did something to my Adelina, something before she came to me.”
“You can’t know that,” Rosa said softly.
“Sí, I can. She was sick even then, but she managed to leave Miami and get away from him. Sick from the day you were born, mi querida. Ella lo sabía. Yo lo sabía. We both knew. She brought you to me because she knew Cattail was the one place you would be safe. Her regret was that she could not save Juan as well.” Lucia made the sign of the cross on her chest.
“Why would you think this, Lucia? What would his motive be?” Rosa asked. Her voice sounded high-pitched and terrified, like a little girl in the dark.
“He wanted you and Juan to himself. For what I do not know. Did you ever ask Juan about his own mama?”
“No,” Rosa said, her voice quivering.
“You should have,” Lucia said. “It is the one thing you shared in common. Dead mothers.”
Carly slid her credit card into the check folder. “But Esteban Santos is a billionaire, a formidable CEO in this country.”
“Who had a crazy man for a son,” Lucia said.
“And a crazy daughter as well for considering seeing him?” Rosa asked sadly.
“No, mi hija, never crazy, but, please, do not do this.”
Suddenly even colder, Rosa gathered her shawl tighter and clutched it around her shoulders. “I guess I—”
Her phone rang. She glanced between the women, opened her purse, and looked at the display. “It’s the same number from last night.” She felt sick to her stomach, as she said, “My father.”
Lucia shook her head, and Carly squeezed her face between her hands. “It’s up to you, Rosa,” she said. “Tyler, all of us, will do everything we can to help if this is what you want to do.”
She connected the call. “Hola…Sí, soy Rosa.”
“Good afternoon, mi hija. I have business in San Antonio tomorrow evening. Will you meet with me for dinner in Catamount on Wednesday?”
She felt the daggers of Lucia’s stare on her. She knew Lucia believed her story, but surely the man who ran one of the most successful Fortune 500 companies in America couldn’t be a murderer. A terrible husband, a horrible father, possibly abusive…but a murderer?
She glanced toward the older woman, the woman who had raised her, the woman whom her mother had loved as a sister, despite their differences, despite Lucia’s humanity. As her mother had before her, Rosa trusted and loved Lucia with all her heart, but how could she truly believe this? How could any of this horrible story be true?
She listened to the silence on the line as Esteban Santos—her father—waited for her answer. Though the orphaned child inside of her desperately wanted a family of her own, a real family, the desperation and fury in Lucia’s eyes told her that any hope she felt was groundless, that everything and anything she heard from him would be a lie. Still, she needed to know for herself. She took a deep breath.
“Sí, I will.”
“Wonderful!” her father said. “I will call you on Wednesday with details.”
She disconnected the call and met the eyes of the women who had nothing but love for her. Both looked equally concerned, but Lucia looked ready to kill someone.
“Lo siento, Lucia,” Rosa said. “I have to see for myself.”
“Es una mala decisión.” Lucia stared at her hard then rose to her feet and kissed the top of Rosa’s head. “But I love you, mi hija.” She lumbered toward the door. “I’ll be having ice cream now. Mint chocolate chip I think.”
As the door closed behind her, and the bell tinkled a cheery tune, Rosa burst into tears.
“Aw, honey, don’t cry,” Carly said, wrapping her arm around Rosa’s shoulders. “We’ll help you through this.”
“It’s not that,” Rosa said, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I can handle Esteban. But I’ve hurt her, Carly. I love her so much. Why can’t I just believe what she says?”
“Maybe you do,” Carly said, “but he’s your father, and you need to meet him and make your own judgments, if only for closure.” Carly studied her face, and though her words made sense, Rosa still felt her heart breaking.
Whe
n she sniffed again, Stephanie rushed over with some extra napkins.
* * * *
When Steve and Marcus rang the bell, Redwolf opened the door and stepped aside. The cool interior felt good after a day of patrolling Cattail Ranch. Steve hated July. There were times he hated Texas too, but walking into the dark confines of Clandestine stopped the hate. They’d been discussing Rosa a lot in the past few days. Robb’s idea burned in the back of both their minds, and Steve wanted to start moving on the idea as soon as possible. It was Tuesday night—not a play night—and he and Marcus had already decided they’d have to make some tough decisions concerning how to spend their quality time at the club. There were other Dommes besides Rosa, but they’d both decided sometime over the last six months, and firmed up that decision since the Fourth, that only Rosa would do for them. Every other Domme paled in comparison, and when a person was in love with someone as beautiful and wonderful as Rosa, why would he screw it up for just a couple nights of fun?
When the door closed behind them, Red said, “Did Jackson find you?”
Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the display. “No calls.” He waited until Marcus checked his too. “Any idea what he wanted?”
“No,” Red said, “but he said he’d be back later and he’ll catch you then.”
Steve nodded, and he and Marcus headed for the bar.
“Not so fast, boys,” Red said. “She’s upstairs waiting for you.”
Steve whirled around, and Marcus wasn’t far behind him.
“No way,” Marcus said.
“Way,” Red said. “She came in about twenty minutes ago, did two shots of tequila, and stomped to the elevator in those red fuck-me pumps of hers. After she ordered me to send you up when you arrived.” Red sighed. “Damn, I love those shoes.”
“Me too,” Marcus said, almost wistfully.
Steve smacked him on the back of the head. “Man up, Marco. You’re not a teenage boy mooning over the head cheerleader.” He turned back to Red. “How did she know we’d be here?”
Red tilted his shaggy head, and his eyes glimmered with amusement in the darkness. “Do you think there’s anything around here she doesn’t know?”
“Fuck me,” Marcus said. “I had no idea she kept track of our schedules.”
“She knows you come in on Tuesday,” Red said. “What she doesn’t know is you usually just play cards and drink with Jack and his crew.”
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know why we even bother. Nothing like a bunch of phoenix to make your poker skills go up in smoke.”
“That’s what happens when you run with the Mercer-James crowd,” Red said. “Didn’t your mothers warn you about those cousins?”
“According to my mother,” Steve said, “all of those boys were spawned in hell, but did I listen? Nope. You pretty much have to steal every cent I have before it sinks in. And that they do in spades. Every Tuesday like clockwork. They’ll risk everything, and yet, somehow they always come out ahead.”
“Phoenix are a strange lot,” Red said. “I guess when you can walk through fire, you get a sense of entitlement. Makes you a bit more daring.”
“Any more daring and they’ll have my 401K.” Marcus shook his head. “You’d think I’d learn, but I’m deeper in the hole every time I walk out of here.”
“Sometimes we’re in the hole before we even walk in,” Steve said with a laugh. “If I keep this up, I’m going to have to start working overtime just to make child support.”
“If you want to save yourself a bit of money,” Red said, “I’d suggest you head upstairs and take advantage of her invitation.” He winked.
“So,” Steve said, “she’s just expecting us to blow off our dates, or our Dommes, or our plans because she crooks her finger?”
“Seems that way,” Redwolf said.
“She knows us so well,” Marcus said.
“Tell those firefighters we’ve got hotter plans for the evening.” Steve winked.
Redwolf nodded toward the elevators. “You’d best get a move on, boys. She’s in a devil of a mood. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen calm, cool Ms. Santos so stressed. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. Might miss the good stuff.”
Red laughed and turned at the sound of the doorbell.
Steve glanced at Marcus, and his friend was practically salivating. So much for manning up. The guy looked ready to hump the nearest telephone pole. They made their way toward the elevator.
“I wonder what has her stressed,” Steve said.
“Or who,” Marcus said. “How did Robb’s date go the other night? I haven’t seen him. Our schedules haven’t meshed.”
“No idea. He has Bobby for the summer, and our schedules haven’t meshed either. But hell, how do you think it went? It’s Rosa, man.”
“Lucky bastard.”
Marcus punched the button, and within minutes, they were standing in front of Rosa’s playroom. They knocked on the door, and Rosa called sweetly, “Come in.”
When they opened the door, Steve’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Rosa wore her signature red mask, but below that, she wore nothing but her red fuck-me pumps and a red leather corset, cinched tightly around her waist. The bodice pushed her breasts so high the tips of her nipples showed. Her creamy skin offered two mounds of delectable temptation. He wanted to lick his way from her cleavage to her mouth, but he couldn’t take his eyes off that killer corset. It covered her torso and reached below her hips, tapering to a point right at her bare pussy. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off those swollen pink pussy lips. The panther in him could smell her anxiety and stress from where he stood, and the animal nearly howled at the sensation that skittered under Steve’s skin. It felt like tiny hairs moving with a breeze, and Steve had to pull himself together so he wouldn’t shift from the power of the sight alone, let alone the emotion that pulsed around her in waves. Even that, though, couldn’t quite overpower the scent of her arousal, that musky scent that tugged at him like a hypnotic lure. He wanted to kneel at her feet, he wanted to lick between those soft pink lips, and he wanted to taste every blessed inch of her.
He was hard as a fucking rock.
“Holy Mother of God,” Marcus whispered.
“Ditto,” Steve said.
She tapped a hot-pink flogger against her bare thigh. The wispy red tails licked her skin and curled around her muscles, reminding Steve of why they were here. Tonight promised to be something special.
“Strip,” she ordered.
She wouldn’t have to tell him twice. Before she’d taken a step toward them, his cowboy hat sailed across the room. He tossed his boots to the corner, ripped off his shirt, and had his pants and boxers halfway down his legs. Marcus was a bit slow on the draw. His pants were down his legs, but he’d neglected to take off his boots. As he hobbled around trying to remove them, Rosa moved quietly behind him. The fingers of the flogger skittered across his bare ass and whipped between his legs, giving him one hell of a wallop on his balls. He yelped, and Steve couldn’t help laughing.
Within seconds, she’d swung the flogger in his direction, snapping it against his hard-as-wood dick. Pain had never felt so good. He almost came. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying, her breasts riding high, and her pussy lips giving him a pretty pout. She leaned close and put her mouth against his ear.
“Can you smell me, Harris?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Her tongue flicked out and touched his ear. “And do you like it?”
“I love it.”
“What would you like to do?” Her eyelashes brushed against his skin, and his balls tightened.
“I’d like to lick every inch of you.”
She leaned back and stared into his eyes. He saw something there he hadn’t seen before. A spark of vulnerability, as though she doubted his words. It hurt him to see that, and his panther felt the same. Rosa Santos was one of the strongest women—hell, strongest shifters—he knew. “What else would you like to do to me?”
“I’d like to suck on your clit.”
“Hard?” she whispered.
“Very hard. So hard you come in my mouth.”
“Ah, that sounds pleasurable.” She ambled around behind him, her perfume and scent clouding his head in a sensual fog. He felt the threads of the flogger drift between his ass cheeks. Her voice came right against his ear. “And would you fuck me, Harris? Fuck me until I screamed your name?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Say it,” she demanded.
“I want to fuck you, Mistress,” he said. “Fuck you until you scream my name.”
She tilted her head, and the dark fall of her hair skimmed his bare arm. She raised her arm and brought the flogger flashing across his ass. He felt the sting radiate through his butt cheeks straight to his cock. His dick lurched up, almost bouncing against his stomach. She pressed her body against his, and he felt the heat of her penetrate every molecule of his body, deep toward his inner animal. His panther reveled in the heat. Reaching down, she cupped his balls and pressed her palm against his dick, rubbing up and down, hard, fast, the friction burning his skin. He tried desperately to hold back his groans, but the moment one slipped out, she removed her hand.
“Did I tell you to make a noise?”
“No, Mistress.”
He met her eyes.
“Did I tell you to look at me?” When he shook his head, she pressed the top of his head. “Get on your knees and await my pleasure.”
He sank blissfully to his knees and found himself staring at those swollen lips and the tiny pink clit peeking between them. He inhaled deeply, and his body swayed toward her. She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. She stared down at him.
“Do you like my body?”
“I adore your body.”
“You’d like to touch me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” The word came out in a heated hiss. He heard every bit of his own desire in that one word.
She stood back and glanced between them. Marcus hadn’t taken his eyes off her breasts.