Violent Triumphs: White Monarch

by Hawkins, Jessica

  But the idea of losing Cristiano had shown me I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Despite all we’d been through, he and I were only beginning to learn who the other person was. My attacker’s declaration that my husband was dead had spurred me to fight for my own life—so that I could avenge his. I’d sworn Cristiano my loyalty, and whether I’d known it at the time or not, I’d meant it.

  Cristiano had done unforgivable things, yes—but he’d done admirable ones as well. He’d put himself at risk to get me closure. Except for my questions surrounding my mother’s death, he’d always told me the truth, no matter how brutal. He’d taught me strength in many ways.

  And though she didn’t know it, he’d helped Pilar from the shadows as well.

  “Cristiano didn’t just bring you here to make me happy. He did it to protect you from Manu.” I took her hand and squeezed it. “Did you know your cousin was the one who molested your half-sister?”

  She gasped. “Nessa? Yes, I knew—but that’s not supposed to leave my family. How did you know?”

  “Cristiano told me. That’s why he roughed him up so badly years ago. Not just for stealing but so he wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt Nessa again.”

  Pilar opened and closed her mouth a couple times. “I . . . I didn’t know. Are you sure?”

  “He told me earlier tonight.” Earlier tonight, when things had been so different. When I’d been so close to figuring out my rollercoaster of a relationship with Cristiano. “He’s not who you think he is. There’s a very big heart in there, though he tries to hide it. Stay with me.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “Spend time with him. You’ll see.”

  “If you say it’s true, I believe you.” She bit her thumbnail. “But . . . please don’t tell him I suggested we try to kill him.”

  I pulled her in for a hug. “Will you find out from Alejandro if there’s any new information?”

  “Of course.” She stood and fixed her hair as she left the room.

  I got up from the couch and folded the blanket over the side. Grateful for my first moment alone with Cristiano, I crossed the room, lowered myself onto his side of the bed, and fit my palm against his warm one. We’d held hands once before, when we’d been staked out in a car, watching Sandra fight for her life.

  Some of the last words he’d said to me rang through my mind.

  “Sleep well. I will, knowing you’re one of the protected.”

  I’d said nothing back. He slept almost too peacefully now, but there was life in his hands—and blood under his fingernails.

  Anxiety tightened my chest at the sight of his wounds. Cristiano had always seemed invincible to me. Even when he’d fled our house to escape my father’s wrath, he’d done it unscathed.

  The truth was, without Cristiano walking this earth, I wouldn’t feel as safe. And I didn’t mean just in the cartel world.

  He was a protector—my protector.

  I’d thought he was the enemy—but maybe he never had been.

  Feelings hadn’t been blooming inside me—they’d been planted long ago, taking root without my knowledge.

  I couldn’t pretend that in my darkest hour, I hadn’t fought harder so I could get back to him. Had it been the same for him? Was that how he was still standing?

  Because he should’ve been dead. Alejandro suspected he’d been drugged—I’d forgotten to ask the doctor about it. That would mean the attack hadn’t been spontaneous. Belmonte-Ruiz had had Cristiano at their mercy and hadn’t even done any serious damage. It made no sense.

  “You can’t sleep there,” I heard from behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder. Jaz stood in the doorway with an armful of towels, a green plastic bowl, and a sponge. “He needs to be cleaned up,” I said.

  She entered the room. “That’s why I’m here.”

  My husband receiving a sponge bath from another woman? That wasn’t going to happen. I rose from the edge of his bed. Our bed. “I’ll do it.”

  She set the items on his nightstand and unfolded a towel from the top of the pile. “I’ve been tending to señor de la Rosa for years.”’

  “That was before,” I said.

  “Before what?” she asked but kept her eyes on the task in front of her. She knew the answer.

  “Before me,” I said.

  Alejandro had been right earlier—gone were the days of conceding to others. Cristiano needed me to step up now and act as his wife. To care for him as one, and to make decisions in his best interest.

  “You care about Cristiano,” I noted.

  She paused and dropped the towel to her side. “And you’ve made it clear you don’t.”

  “Things change,” I said. “People change.”

  Jaz shook her head. “People don’t change. Circumstances do. I don’t trust you alone with him.”

  “And I didn’t trust you, either,” I said. “You eavesdropped on my call with him last night, then threatened my life, not for the first time. But you also helped get me and Pilar to safety.”

  She shrugged and took the bowl and sponge to the bathroom. “I did that for Cristiano,” she said over the sound of running water.

  “Then we do have something in common,” I said. “Our loyalty to him.”

  She poked her head into the room. “You call feeding outsiders information loyalty?”

  The cell phone Diego had given me. Jaz had likely helped Cristiano find it. “I never shared information outside these walls,” I promised. “It was a mistake to accept the phone. I paid the price. Cristiano has forgiven me.”

  She turned off the faucet and returned to his bedside with a bowl of soapy water. “He’s blind when it comes to you.”

  Her words echoed the distrust she’d made clear to me the night before. But then there was also that other thing she’d said. The one I hadn’t remembered until this moment.

  “Even if he doesn’t know it yet, he loves you . . .”

  Last night, I hadn’t known how to feel about that, but now? Was it possible I felt the same about him and hadn’t known it, either?

  I went quiet with the startling thought. Then pushed it away, considering Jaz tilted her head as if she could read my mind.

  “Nobody can deny you’ve been good to him,” I said. “But you have to make room for me, because if it’s one or the other, you know who Cristiano will choose.”

  Jaz crossed her arms. “You’re sure about that?”

  I couldn’t fathom Cristiano having to pick between the two of us, but he’d worked hard to get me here—and even harder to ensure I couldn’t just walk away. I pulled my shoulders back as I nodded. “I am.”

  “Jaz.” Alejandro leaned in the doorway. How long he’d been listening, I wasn’t sure. “This is Natalia’s job now.”

  Jaz sighed. “I hope you prove me wrong,” she said to me and walked away.

  Alejandro winked, then shut the door to give me privacy.

  I picked up the sponge.

  And I prepared myself to tend to the devil. To fix the monster who’d destroy all other monsters. To bring my husband back to life.

  4

  Cristiano

  I’d opened my eyes once and seen my dark angel above me, silhouetted by sunlight streaming through the balcony’s arched doorways. She wasn’t here now. Maybe it’d been a dream, but she was one I hoped to have over and over. And yet, I’d almost died without having her even once.

  I ached for her gentle touch, the curled ends of her midnight-black hair brushing my skin as her oval eyes soothed me, even when they were filled with defiance. “Natalia.”

  “Welcome back to the living.” It was Alejandro who stepped up to the bed, crashing through my fantasy with a grin on his face. “You’re a little slower to recover in your old age. I had my money on you waking up this morning.”

  Reality hit with brutal force. I shot into a sitting position, pain searing through my chest and down my side. “Where’s Natalia?” The words scraped from my dry-as-fuck throat as the machines around my bed beeped faster, loud
er. “What happened to her?”

  “Don’t move.” Alejandro laid a hand on my shoulder to try to ease me back down. “Your wife is here, don Cristiano. She’s sleeping.” He nodded backward to where her sock-clad feet stuck out over one arm of the sofa. “She hasn’t left your side.”

  Even my relief was exhausting, hitting like a tidal wave and forcing me back against the bed. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, but she hasn’t slept much in the last thirty-six hours.” His voice deepened. “I can wake her, but first, I should debrief you.”

  “Let her rest,” I said, despite my demanding need to look into her eyes and hear her tell me she was all right. “What happened?”

  “Belmonte-Ruiz. They’ve claimed responsibility for your attack and for the one here. They targeted every woman in the house.”

  My wife’s blood-curdling screams echoed through our bedroom. A room where, until recently, I’d never felt anything but safe. Anger roiled through my chest like a Mack truck. “Natalia. Someone put his hands on her?”

  “She fought back. She survived. Not everyone was so lucky. I’ll fill you in later.”

  I closed my eyes to steel myself against a pain far worse than some stab wounds. Some of my people had paid the price for what had started as a personal vendetta. It’d grown into much more over the years, and Calavera had the support of everyone in the Badlands—but I’d let them down. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “We’ll arrange a service for them,” Alejo said. “Once you’re recovered, that is.”

  With Natalia’s safety established, and my immediate concerns eased, hazy details from the attack at the hotel came into focus. My wounds announced themselves, tight and throbbing. Tension in the bridge of my nose made my head feel on the verge of exploding.

  I’d experienced worse, but this particular strike had me on edge. I wasn’t sure how many times the attendant had stabbed me, but even once was too many. I hadn’t been able to stop it. The assault had seemed to go on forever, delivering me slowly to death’s doorstep. What had kept Max and Daniel away?

  “Why aren’t I dead?” I asked.

  “Because your attacker is.”

  “Max got him?”

  Alejandro hesitated. “No.”

  “Daniel?” I asked. “I think I heard a gunshot, but I was out of it.”

  Alejandro glanced at the ground, taking too long to respond.

  “What?” I asked.

  He raised his eyes. “Daniel’s dead. Found around the side of the hotel. His body’s in transit so we can give him a proper burial with the others.”

  Fuck. My throat constricted. It’d been some time since one of my immediate team had taken a bullet for me. Things had happened so fast, and at the same time, they hadn’t. This had been an organized attack. My final moments with Daniel played through my head—him teasing me for being overly protective of Natalia. The insinuation that I was paranoid. And yet, he’d always done exactly as I’d asked, up to his final moments. “And Maksim?”

  Alejandro inhaled, his chest expanding. I tried to brace myself for the same news, but there was no preparing for that. Daniel had been a good and loyal man, but Max was more than a comrade. He was as good of a friend as I’d ever find. We’d been together since the start and had defeated many who’d like to have seen us both dead.

  Finally, Alejandro exhaled. “They have him.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. And when they did, the heart rate monitor beside me went haywire. “What?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Belmonte-Ruiz captured Max. The good news is, he’s still alive, which means they need him. I’ve seen proof of life.”

  Blood rushed in my ears as I sat up. “Then what the fuck are we sitting here for? We have to go after him.”

  Alejandro’s brows furrowed. “We will. But first, we need a plan. And in order to make one, we’ve got to figure out why they tried—or didn’t try, according to Sosa—to kill you and not Max. If he’s bait, then they must’ve known—”

  Despite the way my torso protested, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, nearly knocking over the monitor. “If you think I’m going to sit here while Max is in trouble”—I yanked an IV from my inner elbow—“then you don’t know jack shit about me, Alejandro—I’d do the same for you.”

  “Ay. Tranquilo. You need rest—”

  “Don’t tell me to relax.”

  Alejandro shoved me. Already out of breath, I went down easy, and the resulting pain was enough to remind me I could still make things worse. “I wouldn’t ask that of you, and neither would Max,” Alejo said. “You’re useless to us dead, and that’s what you’ll be if you go after him at anything less than a hundred percent.”

  “You underestimate me,” I said, failing to control the volume of my voice. My face burned at the thought that Max had been gone for over a day, and we’d done nothing.

  “You’re a danger to yourself, but also to those who go with you,” Alejandro reminded me. “We’ll get him. But not today.”

  “We don’t leave men behind—”

  The air in the room shifted. I looked past Alejandro, and my anger immediately fell away as my gaze landed on Natalia.

  Long, dark hair in disarray, breathless and pink-cheeked in a white satin robe, she stared at me as if she’d seen a ghost. “You’re—you’re awake.”

  “You’re alive.”

  Natalia drew toward the bed. Did she also feel the magnetic pulse beating between us? She scanned me head to toe. “And you’re bleeding.” She looked to Alejo. “Why is he bleeding?”

  “He’s trying to leave the bed,” Alejandro said—the fucking snitch.

  A dark, red rivulet ran down my forearm. I didn’t even feel it. I wanted Natalia in my arms as soon as possible. “Leave us,” I told Alejandro. “Stabilize everyone within these walls who can fight. We’re going after Max.”

  “With all due respect, sir—”

  “You’re too polite, Alejandro. The answer is no,” Natalia said. Her voice faltered but not with doubt—her vocal cords sounded strained. Her posture lengthened as any sign of distress left her. “You’re not stepping foot outside this bedroom until you’re fully healed.”

  I slow-blinked at her. “You’re telling me no?”

  “She just did, and she’s right.” Alejandro lifted his chin, no doubt smug that he had back-up. “We’re not ready. We’d only be leaving ourselves open to another attack here and putting more men at risk. Max knows that—so does Belmonte-Ruiz.”

  All at once, exhaustion hit—along with the urge to promise Natalia I’d never leave her side again as long as she wanted me there. “Call a meeting,” I said. Still woozy from whatever medication had been administered, I could admit I wasn’t in the best state of mind to make decisions. But I would be soon. “We’ll finish this discussion then.”

  Alejandro exited the room, leaving me with my shame. My partner was in trouble because of me, and I was doing nothing. And yet, Natalia was here. She was safe.

  “Come here,” I said, and softened my command with, “mi amor.”

  “How do you feel?” she asked as she approached slowly. “What can I get you?”

  The warble in her voice resounded in my chest. I couldn’t go to her. I was still hooked up to more than one machine, and even if I hadn’t been, my body didn’t move nearly as fast as I needed it to. My weakness was on display.

  “Just you.” Everything smarted when I reached for her. “Please. Come.”

  “Lie back, and I will.”

  Willing to concede to anything in that moment for her touch, I rested against the mound of pillows behind me. “You’re losing your voice.”

  She ignored me and opened the drawer of my nightstand to take out a cloth. “Let me just call the nurse Doctor Sosa arranged for us—”

  I stopped her. “Please, Natalia. You are my medicine. Only you can heal me.”

  Her lip curled as her eyes went foggy. I couldn’t tell if she was smi
ling, grimacing, or trying not to burst into tears. She sat on the edge of the bed, scooting closer until the heat of her body warmed me. The contempt, resentment, and anger that sometimes marred her face when she looked at me had vanished. So I hadn’t imagined the intimacy of our last phone call, then. The girl who’d once pointed a gun in my face seemed relieved to see me alive.

  “Here.” She held out a glass of water from the nightstand. “Drink this.”

  Damn it, Natalia. She was just trying to take care of me, but I needed answers more than fluids or nurses. I gulped down the water as quickly as I could while she disappeared into the bathroom.

  When she returned, I gave her back the glass, and she pressed the now dampened cloth to my inner arm where the IV had ripped. The wound was the equivalent of a scratch, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop her.

  “I’m sorry I was asleep when you woke up,” she said, wiping the area clean.

  I’d seen glimpses of her over me, her hand in mine as I’d drifted in and out of consciousness, her normally violet eyes gray.

  My freshly stitched wounds protested as I lifted my arm to touch her cheek, but it was worth the pain when she turned her face into my palm. “I know you’ve been here,” I said. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  “One of the valet attendants attacked you. How much do you remember?”

  “I don’t mean me.” I took the cloth from her, discarding it on the floor. It hurt like fuck to lift my arm, but I took her chin and turned her head to examine the nasty looking cuts on her forehead and cheek. She had her own stitches. When I spotted a long, scary gash running from under her chin down her neck, my free hand curled into a fist. “Who did this to you? What happened here?”

  “Tasha shot him, by the way.” She ran her thumb over the red mark on my arm. “The Belmonte-Ruiz member who attacked you. She came on the helicopter, and she’s here now.”

  Tasha. So that’s why I was still alive. “She’s at the house?” I asked.

  Natalia nodded solemnly and added, “She . . . she saved your life.”