“It’s over, Enrique.”
“I don’t think so. Gina already made her choice.” Her dad leans forward, his expression as agitated as his tone. Making sure the message is clear. “It’s not you.”
Rage pounds in his chest, his shirt pulling taut from her balling the fabric on his back. Well aware of the kinds of decisions women in this life are asked to make. And she won’t be forced into one of them. “Fuck you. The only thing she’s doing is leaving.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She’s going back to her old life. To be the wife and daughter she should have been. Not the whore you turned her into.”
Motherfucker. He deserves to be killed for that comment alone. For making her broken sob bubble out from behind him.
“She was scared and grieving. We all make mistakes and deserve forgiveness. Especially from our own fathers.”
Soft fingers sweep under his trashed shirt and brush against his sweaty skin. A reminder that she understands his anguish too. Probably more than she ever knew. Until now.
“Forget this. I’m done arguing.” Enrique focuses his aim on Richard again. “There’s a hit on his girlfriend that only I can call off. Do you really want that pretty, young teacher to end up with a bullet to the head?”
God fucking damn. He’s thought of everything to control her. “What the fuck have you done?”
“A little insurance. You know, to make sure you don’t fuck up my plan.” Her father lifts his chin, calling to her behind his back. “So who’s it going to be, mija? Richard and Sarah?"
Enrique's lip curls in disgust. "Or your fuck buddy?”
Or Enrique. Son of a fucking bitch. Regardless how much he wants to believe there are options, he really has no choice. He’s already killed her brothers. He can’t be the one who kills her father. An innocent woman can’t die because of him. He’s been selfish for far too long.
“It’s okay, G. You don’t have to choose.”
“Wait! What are you doing?”
He ignores her shriek. The terror flooding her voice.
“I love you.” More than he ever thought possible. Giving him so much happiness. Yet far too brief. Not long enough for either of them. Yet, he’ll sacrifice everything he has. Everything he is to see her happy and safe. ”Always believe that.”
“No! Don’t do this!”
She jerks in front of him, clawing at his shirt. His cheeks. His hair. Pulling him down to her. Scanning his face. Trying to convince him to change his mind. Reverse the only decision he can make. But it’s too late. This is what he has to do.
“Max, no!”
He pushes her backward but she continues to struggle against him. Forcing him to hold her back. Tiny bones in her throat strain against his fingers, popping the joints as she fights with all her force against the strength of his grip. The roughest he’s ever touched her. First time he’s ever manhandled her. Even in these, his last moments, her passion intoxicates him. So strong and resilient. The only way he can accept his fate because he knows she’ll be okay.
One last caress of her silky skin. He inhales her lavender essence, deep into his lungs. His final breath filled with her, and he crouches down, laying the gun on the floor. The dull metal reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights as the Glock slides a few feet from his shove. ”I really do love you Gina.”
A satisfied smile lights up Enrique’s face. So fucking smug. The old man’s arm swings from Richard to him. Eager to have her witness his death. Doesn’t even have the fucking decency to protect her from the brutality of his murder.
Max turns toward Stone. The mercenary’s face remains stoic while scanning each man, each entrance, searching every foot of the vast space. Void of emotion yet hiding the frantic calculations occurring under the surface. Seeking an escape from Max's punishment. But there isn’t any other option. This is his choice to make. And accept.
He nods to his friend. “Take her out of here.”
“No!”
They both ignore Gina’s cry. Stone’s slow head bob answers his request, and he climbs out of the cab, sliding down the dented hood. The assassin reaches for her but she shakes her head, twisting away from his fingers.
Her chest heaves, a frantic gaze flying between Max and her father. A sharp cry rips from her mouth, and she launches forward, grabbing the pistol. Tiny hands curl around the handle before she raises up. Her trembling body taut as she extends her arms. “I’m so sorry Daddy.”
4
Chapter FOUR
Enrique’s body recoils from the bullets ripping through his body. Yet he doesn’t fall. Just studies Gina. And the thick crimson coating his fingers as his hands slowly twist back and forth after clutching his chest. Disbelief scrunching his face that his own daughter would shoot him. Confusion from the redness slowly dampening the crispness of his white dress shirt.
“Why mija?”
Fucking shit. Max races to him. Already knowing it's too fucking late. But he has to try. For Gina.
Her brother joins his efforts, laying the man down and ripping open his shirt, buttons skipping across the cement like pebbles on a choppy lake. Enrique’s back arches, and he grasps toward Gina. His words too garbled to understand.
More blood than skin. Uncertain where the gashes through his flesh end and begin. Enrique’s hand drops, bouncing on the cracked stone from his muscles falling slack. Unable to reach Gina, who stares at him wide-eye. Her own shock holding her in place. Unmoving except for the shivers overtaking her body.
“O papai! O papai!” Frantically stroking over his father’s chest, her brother tries to make sense of the damage stealing the old man’s life. His son lifts up the limp body, clutching it to his own. Nothing left for him to do but comfort Enrique in his final breaths.
Max falls back on his heels. Fighting through the tornado in his pounding head. A silver flash catches in the corner of his eye. Fucking shit. Not from his concussion but the other bodyguards. Seeking revenge for their boss’s death.
Stone takes on the two men. The mercenary’s trigger shots downing the bastards in quick succession. Making the ringing in his ears amplify a fucking thousand decibels. But Gina’s brother jumping up scares him even more.
“You bitch!”
Weak and debilitated, Max can’t scramble off the floor fast enough before her brother’s fist slams her good cheek, sending her flying through the dusty air.
“How could you kill our father for that bastard?”
The cord tethering any remaining rationality snaps. Sanity’s loose grip on his racing mind gives way. Fuck if he’s her brother or not. This motherfucker must die.
He tackles the asshole from behind, curling his hands around his skull and slamming his forehead into the concrete. Over and over. Again and again. The splatters puddling into a burgundy pool from his face shredding open against the coarse surface. Relishing his fingers aching from the force of the blows against the bastard. Welcoming the life seeping out of his flopping body. No one hurts her. Not ever again.
“He’s dead, man. He’s fucking dead.”
Stone’s voice calls to him from far away. A choke hold squeezing the oxygen from his lungs. Arms encircling his biceps. Pulling him backward. Resisting his lurch forward. He’s not done. He’ll never punish this bastard enough to make him pay for touching his woman. For beating his own fucking sister.
Joseph’s in his face. His countenance red and strained as his friend screams at him, inches from his own labored breaths.
“It’s over, dude. You killed him.”
Max follows the assassin’s long finger, pointing toward the fragile body curled into a ball on the broken concrete.
“Your girl needs you.”
Gina.
He lets his rage ruin her. The desire for revenge greater than the need to salvage the family that remains. The guys release him after his body slumps against their restraint, and he races to her. To the woman who always sacrifices herself for everyone. Never fully understanding her worth to him. To all
of them. He refuses to make that mistake again.
He drops on his knees next to her, and his heart slams against his chest. A sickening canvas of red, black, and purple covers her delicate face. She trembles, jerking away from his hand stroking a few inches of unbruised skin on her arm. Unaware who touches her with her gorgeous eyes swollen shut.
“You’re safe now, G. I’m taking you home.”
Bile tosses his stomach from the words. The consolation he always uttered when rescuing the victims of some bastard’s vindictive captivity. Not ever expecting to say them to her.
Tears glisten on her long lashes. Small solace in this nightmare she can’t see the devastation around her. Proof of her agony to see the rare release wetting her skin. He scoops her up. Swaying from his own lightheadedness, he welcomes Stone’s steadying hand on his back.
“Come on. Let’s get her out of here.”
Max nods to his friend, and they stride to the door, dodging the damage from their battle. Their shoes slipping in blood, thick and flowing as rich merlot. This shit is over. She’s going back to the penthouse. He may not be the bastard who hurt her. But he’s damn sure as hell going to be the man to heal her. And protect her from it ever happening again.
“Wait. What about Richard?”
Her confused whisper draws him out of the crazy spiraling in his mind. Fuck! He’d only focused on her. Unable to concentrate on anything but her survival. Not giving a damn about anyone else.
He turns slowly, attempting to minimize the vertigo threatening to topple him, and carries her toward her ex-husband. Joseph somehow already there and cutting through the bindings. Once he’s free, Richard pushes himself up, slow and awkward before steadying himself. Yanking the rag out of his mouth, he gingerly steps closer to Max. But his gaze remains on Gina, his shaking hand stroking the bangs off her forehead. Despair lining his pale face.
“She needs to get to a hospital.”
Richard’s right. But that’s not how the process works in their world. Too many questions, too much exposure. No hospitals unless absolutely necessary. He’ll have Nathan or one of the other physicians on their payroll take care of her. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s seen by a doctor.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t you take her—”
“Please don’t argue.” Gina lifts from chest, her grip tightening as she swallows hard. “I’m okay.”
Richard drives his fingers through his hair, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You’re not okay. This is...this is messed up.” He glances at Joseph and Christophe as they press Enrique’s finger to his phone screen. Unlocking it with his print to try and stop the hit on Richard’s girlfriend. “And what about Sarah? We have to warn her.”
“She’ll be okay. They can get it called off.”
Her ex nods yet disbelief furrows his brow. All of this chaos more than he can absorb. More than he can understand.
“What about you?” Despite his concern for Sarah, his devotion to Gina fills Richard’s worried countenance. He may have accepted the end of their marriage, but his signature didn’t sever his love for her. Richard's slow gaze spreads across the space, taking in the bodies and bullets, deepening the doubt playing on his face. “I think you should come with me. I need to make sure you’re all right.”
Hell no. He really is fucking crazy if he thinks Gina’s leaving with him. That Max would ever give her up again. Regardless of the past she and Richard shared, Gina belongs with him. Now and always.
And her ex is going to understand that completely. “I’ll take care of her. You can fucking trust me on that.”
“We got it!” Joseph slides the cell back into Enrique’s pocket before he falls back on his heels, relief filling the nod to him and Richard. “It’s done. She’s safe.”
Richard’s body softens a bit and his hands rake over his face. Only one worry remaining. “Are you sure, Gina? I don’t want him to hurt you again.”
Motherfucker. If he wasn’t holding her, this bastard would be dead too. “What the fuck are you talking about? I would never—”
“Enrique told us the truth. How you love someone else. How you’re just using her...”
The words fade away. Richard’s angry accusations swallowed by the revulsion pooling in his chest, stealing the oxygen from his thudding heart. Her father knew. Richard knows. And thinks it’s true.
“My dad…” Her voice cracks and she shakes her head. Soft strands of her black hair rubbing against his shirt, her small hand fisting the grimy fabric. His guilt still raw and throbbing. “He was wrong.”
Panic engulfs him. Not from fear of Nick’s wrath or Shae’s disappointment. But from her. Her defense of him. That he doesn’t deserve. Of her being ashamed or embarrassed. Worse than any fucking torture he can imagine. How could he be so fucking dumb? To somehow think his stupidity wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
“That’s not what you said before. You were going to leave with Enrique.”
Leave?
Him?
Goddamn son of a bitch. Even worse than he thought. She still doubts him. He clutches her tighter, fearful of losing her. Terrified his idiocy may drive her away. Although it may already be too late.
“He would have died for me.” A shudder rips through him from her voice. Weak but unwavering. Absolute certainty he never expected. “I know how much he loves me.”
Fuck yes he would have, and fuck yes he does. This time her grasp on him draws her deeper into his embrace. Forgiveness he doesn’t deserve but he damn sure refuses to deny.
“Please take me home.”
Gladly. He kisses her forehead before striding to the door. Nothing and no one able to stop him.
5
Chapter FIVE
The SUV stops, yet she remains motionless. Only her soft breaths blow against his neck. Never said a word the entire ride. Not even during his call warning his mom of Gina’s fragile state. Or the instructions delivered to Joseph for cleaning up the mess they’ve made. Quickly spiraling into an argument with Richard still squawking in the background like a wounded bird. Fuck him and his doubts. Gina may be traumatized, but she knows what she wants. Who she fucking needs. Just like he does. Only her.
Through tiny slits from her puffy eyes, her exhausted gaze meets his as she lifts her chin. She chose him, and he’s not going to let her down again. He slides out, curling her tighter against his chest, and strides past the suspicious doorman, who strains to peek at her face hidden against his shirt. Ignoring the desk clerk eyeing the dusty film matting his pants. The housekeeper pausing in her mopping of the salmon tile from the traces of black and red his footprints leave behind. Their confusion and curiosity following them to the elevator. Thankful they’re too scared to ask him. And, she’s too dazed to notice.
His gait finally wavers when they reach the top floor. Unsteady after standing still for so long on the ride upward. His body so fucking weak while his mind rails. Almost like a mirage, his mom steps out from the penthouse entryway. Her face red and blotchy with worry. But her shoulders roll back, her body stiffening with confidence. The badass lawyer attitude busting out and taking charge. And he’s never been more grateful. Because he can’t do it alone anymore.
Appreciative too that his mom’s not one for hysterics. Because any more craziness would push him over the edge. She waves him inside and leads them to his bedroom, where the comforter has already been turned down. Two glasses of ice water and a bottle of whiskey sit on the night stand. Both of the accouterments so desperately needed.
“I think she needs a shower first.”
Doubt lines his mom’s face from his assertion, but quickly clears, and she gives him a brief nod. Acquiescing to his request even if it’s irrational. She knows he’s at his limit and can’t be pushed. “Okay son.”
He drops down into the chair, welcoming the chance to rest while his mother scurries into the bathroom. After a few seconds, the white noise of the shower fills the
room. He looks down at Gina’s face, pressed against his shoulder. All of her fight tapped out. He kisses her forehead. “We’ll make it quick.”
She nods and grips him tighter as he stands. A gasp from his mom as he wobbles. But he straightens and keeps going. He owes this to her.
Steam already covers the mirror, which is probably for the best. He looks like death. And she’ll complain that she does too. Even though she’s still so fucking beautiful.
He feels like fucking hell. Luckily it’s only a feeling. She’s alive. He presses his lips to her temple again. She’ll always be safe. Because he’ll always fucking protect her.
He steps onto the warm tile and sits her on the stone bench. Too fucking tired to strip first. His mom once again smart enough not to question before she pulls the bathroom door shut behind her.
“Come on, G. Time to get naked.”
No smile or smirk, but she does kick off her heels and allows him to unzip her dress. Lifting her legs one at a time to let him slide off the fabric and her thong out from underneath her. He takes out his fury on the clothing, balling up the silky fabric and throwing the wad into the corner. Trying to hide his rage at the damage to her slight body. Face. Shoulder. Hip. All bruised and battered from her fucking father.
The remnants of his shirt and filthy pants land on top of the small pile. His cock hardens out of habit to have her wet and bared to him. That finally elicits a bit of expression to her face and she reaches out, a single finger stroking the sensitive skin.
His dick bobs upward from her touch. “You own me. Can’t deny it even if I wanted to.”
“Yes.”
Barely able to hear her soft agreement. Yet a bit of the fear squeezing his taut muscles releases. The first thing she’s said since they left the warehouse. She’s still here with him.
Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me (Surviving Absolution #4) Page 4