by India Kells
Even surrounded by the likes of Shane and Nick, he realized his security measures were, to say the least, excessive. He knew it, but he didn’t care. He’d never be caught unawares again. The thought made him frown as memories assailed him for a second before he shut them down.
An electric fence that was almost invisible to the naked eye ran the entire circumference of the property line. Motion detectors and lights picking up anything heavier than a rabbit made sure he was always aware.
People who didn’t know better would assume he was a prepper, but that wasn’t the case. He just wanted to know that his home, his haven, was secure from the predators that would attack given a chance.
He stopped the car and turned to find Frida fast asleep in the passenger seat. Her face was relaxed in rest, and he noticed the lines of exhaustion on her exotically beautiful features. She really was exquisite to look at, the calm controlled lawyer, the fiercely independent woman, the caring employer, all of them intrigued Malco more than he cared to admit.
He debated whether to wake her or carry her inside and decided that as she struggled to sleep, it was wise to let her while she could. He reached in and lifted her sleeping form from the car, his lips curving into a smile when she nestled closer to his chest and sighed in her sleep.
Adjusting her weight, he carried her to the side door leading to the garage and hit the opener to turn off the alarm. Her weight was negligible in his arms as he opened the door and secured it again, before walking up the stairs to the spare bedroom, taking care not to jostle the sleeping woman in his arms.
The temptation to take her to his room to see all her gorgeous silky hair splayed across his pillow was strong, but he resisted. If the woman in his arms ever ended up in his bed, it would be because she didn’t want to be anywhere else, not because he had tricked her. He was, however, going to do everything in his power to make sure that happened though, because the connection they’d developed in the last twenty-four hours was not something to be denied or rushed.
Malco lay her on the guest bedroom’s bed and bent down to gently tug off her shoes, taking care not to hurt her abused feet. Satisfied the bandages were clean, he pulled the cover over her and left the room quietly, closing the door but leaving enough of a gap that when she woke, she wouldn’t be too disoriented.
Moving back down the stairs, he went outside and drove the car around the side to the garage and parked inside. Making sure the house was once again secure, Malco headed to his room and sat on the queen-sized bed. The cotton of the sheet was cool on his skin as he stripped to his boxers and removed his prosthetic, massaging the aching limb and checking for any signs of skin breakdown. Satisfied all was as okay as it ever would be, he lay on his back and tucked his arm behind his head.
Today had unwittingly opened a lot of old wounds for him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he absolutely wanted to help Frida with this case. On the other, he was being faced with demons which had almost destroyed him. Could he go there again and come out with his soul intact, or would the scars that he lived with every day destroy the peace he had found at Alliance?
He didn’t know, but a reckoning was coming, he felt it in his bones as if it were a living and breathing thing. Frida’s mysterious mission was a sure sign a storm was skittering through the underbelly of the gang world, and this one might very well destroy the city he loved and the people he cared about—the only family he had left now. Pain tightened his chest at the thought, and he buried it down, not willing to allow it room to hurt him again. His careful control was a way for him to establish peace of mind.
His mind went to the woman in the room next door, and he thought of her bravery, her grit and determination to do the right thing, and he knew he’d stand beside her in this fight. He owed it to his family. He owed it to the young men he worked with every week at the gym as they fought to escape the gang life that was embedded into their lives at every turn, threatening to suck them into the path that would only end their lives prematurely.
He owed it to Jay; his older brother, the person he’d looked up to, had followed and worshipped and, ultimately, the brother he couldn’t save.
Malco sat up with a jerk, his ears cocked for the sound that woke him. He stilled, listening over the familiar noises of the house for it to come again. When it did, he moved, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Urgently needing to get to the source of the noise.
A keening, heartbreaking sob came from the room where Frida slept. As he grabbed for his leg, slipping the limb on with practiced ease, he resented the extra seconds it took, hating that he couldn’t get to her faster, yet knowing he was more use to her with two working legs.
The sound came again as he pushed open her bedroom door, the sun from the corridor skylight casting light across the room and illuminating her form. Frida was fast asleep on her back; her hair spread wildly around her; her covers tangled at her feet as if she’d been restless in her sleep.
Malco moved closer and saw the wetness from the tears she was shedding in her sleep on her cheeks.
Pain and relief squeezed his chest as he realized she was in the throes of a nightmare. Sitting gently on the bed beside her, he wondered what to do. Wake her and risk embarrassing the proud woman or leave her to face this torment alone? Something about leaving her to face any kind of pain alone didn’t sit well with him.
Again, the desire to protect her and stand between her and anything that wanted to hurt her was strong. Reaching out a hand, he stroked the soft hair from her face and murmured reassurances. Her face turned into his touch, and he wiped the delicate warm skin of her face. From her brow to her chin, he kept going as he spoke.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” His words or his touch, perhaps both, eased her. The racing pulse beneath his fingers and the breathy sounds of fear stilled until she was once again relaxed, her breathing deep and peaceful.
Malco sat for a second taking her in, wondering at the pain she’d witnessed that haunted her in her sleep. Perhaps that was the reason she didn’t sleep well? Had they more in common than he knew? Were they both nursing a pain that couldn’t be changed?
Standing, Malco backed away, easing the door almost closed before heading to his room to shower and dress. He wouldn’t sleep again now. Looking at the clock, he noticed he’d had three hours straight, which was good for him.
Once he had showered and dressed for the day in his usual denim jeans and dark polo top, he moved to the door in the laundry room that led to the back garden. He needed to check the grounds. This had become a morning ritual he enjoyed. Walking the perimeter of his slice of heaven. Listening to the birds as they woke, seeing the sun make its magnificent ascent from the darkness as it spilled color and warmth over this part of the world.
He checked the lines and sensors and noted they were all as they should be. The silence, except for that of nature, spoke to him. Living as he had and then being in the army, peace and quiet had not been something that was readily available. Now though, he relished his quiet time at home.
He loved work and his friends, but his home was his haven, and he looked at it once again with a sense of pride and guilt. Pride that he had built this, he had succeeded. The guilt, though, never seemed far away, and he lived with that as his penance. It was his burden to carry for the mistakes he’d made. He tried to make amends as best he could, working with young teens at the Youth Center to help them find a way out of the lives that circumstance was trying to force them into. It would never wipe his debt clean, though, and nor should it. Shaking off his thoughts, he moved back toward the house. At six am, it was still early, but the heat of the Miami sun was already making itself known.
Pushing start on the coffee pot, Malco took eggs, peppers, cheese, sausage, and spinach from the fridge. He had no idea what Frida liked, but if he made his usual and some toast and fruit, he should get somewhere near. He enjoyed cooking, he was no MasterChef, but simple
food was all he needed and having someone to cook for felt good.
He began to sing as he cooked. It was not something he did often or in public, but he enjoyed signing; it made him happy, and he wanted to be happy. To find what King and Syd had, or Mason with Cleo. He wanted to share his life with someone, not just move from one meaningless fuck to the next. His mind automatically flew to Frida, and he wondered if she was single. She’d never mentioned a husband or boyfriend, perhaps the pull he felt to her could be more?
Malco scoffed. What was he doing thinking about love when the most important thing right now was to keep her safe and stop this impending gang war he sensed was coming? That was his mission, not love. He vowed not to make the same mistakes he’d made last time something this important was put on him. The ache in his leg reminded him to keep focus no matter what.
Chapter Six
It was her growling stomach that woke Frida. The enticing smell of food was a great motivator, but when she tried to push the cover aside, the aches gripping every single muscle of her body made her regret moving. With the pain, all that had happened the day before came back into focus, justifying why each move cost her a moan. Wiggling her toes to test for pain, she realized her feet still hurt, and she was apprehensive about putting her weight on them.
Her eyeballs were the only part of her not registering pain, so she looked at her surroundings. The light made its way through an open sliver in the curtains, illuminating a beautiful room. Pale blue and green colored the walls, the lines slick and elegant, but simple and fresh. A lot of thought had gone into the design, and her brain clicked. She was at Malco’s house. That realization made her move and sit, ignoring the pull in her body. Was she in his room?
The lack of personal male items made her think it was probably a guest room. But was she reassured or disappointed? She couldn’t remember walking in there, and as she was still dressed in yesterday’s outfit, it was clear Malco has carried her inside and remained a gentleman. Her thoughts were taking a dangerous turn, imagining how she would’ve reacted if he hadn’t, when a deep, melodious voice came from beyond the closed door. An old Spanish song she’d heard years before.
It touched her somehow, a reminder of a simpler time, and was a glimpse into the life of a man she guessed was very private.
Her insistent stomach pulled her from her reverie and forced her to test her feet so she could make a much-needed stop at the bathroom.
Refreshed, hair brushed, and glad the soles of her feet didn’t burn as much as the day before, she pushed her shoulders back and opened the bedroom door to wobble toward the voice in the kitchen.
Malco had his back to her, busy at the stove, his kitchen vast, bright, and inviting. Her eyes slid over the wide, muscled back of the man busy cooking and singing, and lingered on the mussed dark hair she was curious to touch.
He turned, a pan in hand, his dark eyes on her. Breath seized in her lungs when his eyes scanned her body, and the corner of his delightful mouth quirked up. “Just in time. Breakfast is served if you’re hungry.”
Frida nodded and forced herself to smile. “Yeah, and I’m desperate for coffee.”
Now there was a blazing smile from him. “I have no doubt. Take a seat, and I’ll serve you.”
Frida couldn’t help but smile too and resumed limping toward the kitchen table, hoping her body loosened up and her feet improved, especially when she had to put a pair of shoes on soon.
As she headed for the table by the window, she heard the clatter behind her of plates being put down, and before she could react, a pair of strong arms swept her up.
“Hey!” Her reaction must have sounded outraged, but when Malco’s scent enveloped her, and his warmth seeped through her skin, everything in her relaxed.
Too soon, he gently deposited her on a chair.
“You know I can walk, don’t you?”
“You’re capable of anything, but you’re clearly in pain, and you can’t fault me for helping.”
She couldn’t deny what she was feeling, even if her pride had taken a hit. Malco came back with a steaming cup of coffee, then went and fetched a glass of water and two pills. “I thought you could use some painkillers. Between the running and your feet, you must be in pain.”
Wise man. “My savior, once more.” She took the pills and downed them and could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle.
Frida took a sip of the coffee and groaned at the delicious brew, her foggy brain awakening.
“I have milk and sugar if you want.”
“Are you insane? Why sully this cup of heaven?”
Malco came back with two plates heaped with food that made her mouth water, almost as much as the man himself.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so there’s a little bit of everything.”
Frida looked up as he sat down in front of her. “I barely have time to eat, let alone cook. So, for you to cook something so amazing, I’m almost tempted to fall on my knees and praise God.”
Mirth made his eyes twinkle. “That’s an interesting image, Miss Montalvo. But I guess it’s better we eat while it’s still hot.”
Was he teasing her? Ignoring the blush creeping up her neck, Frida instead focused on the food. Not only was it filling, but it was incredible. Malco seemed to eat with gusto, but locked eyes with hers often over their plates.
The mountain of food eventually got the better of her, but Malco easily finished his. Without a word, she pushed what was left in his direction. “I have a feeling you’re still hungry.”
The look he gave her had her shivering with anticipation. Frida had a feeling she knew what he was hungry for and it wasn’t food, but her. She’d never felt that kind of attraction before, and it destabilized her. She was the kind of woman who always took charge, who knew where she was going, but for the first time in her life, Malco shook her very foundation. In any other situation, it would’ve been tempting to succumb to him and explore what could be, but there were other forces at play, emergencies and dangers which took precedence.
“You have to stop that.” The words cost her, but they had to be said. “I’m not stupid. I feel it too. This attraction between us. I won’t deny it. I just think the timing isn’t right.”
Malco looked at her, his usual impassive expression on his face, but this time, she saw past his expression and to the emotion in his eyes. Hard as onyx, she suspected he was fighting with himself. He was the kind of man who had his own ideas, assessing the situation before deciding on his plan of action. Only her extensive experience in a courtroom allowed her to see and appreciate that.
“Are you always so certain of everything? Always planning ahead? Isn’t it a heavy burden and tiresome at times?”
Frida took her mug into her hands, taking a sip before answering him. “Where I come from, to know where you were going and how to get there was the defining line between life and death, the only way for a woman to reach freedom, so yes, that’s who I am. It’s heavy and tiresome, and I know I’m a pain in the ass, but because of my attitude, I’m right where I need to be.”
“What happened to you to make you like that?” The question was asked with true curiosity, and for the first time ever, without a hint of accusation. Still, she was startled by his asking it; it was forward and assumed a level of intimacy between them.
“Is this the part where we exchange childhood stories and start sobbing? It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”
Malco shook his head, clearly amused. “And now you’re defensive. Interesting. All that because I looked at you.”
Opening and closing her mouth, Frida realized it was exactly what had happened. He hadn’t asked or suggested anything. He’d only glanced at her as if he couldn’t help but imagine what she tasted like—a tactical error from a lawyer’s point of view.
And Malco didn’t seem inclined to let go of his newfound advantage. “What intrigues me more is why you’re so against dipping a toe. I’m not on one knee about to propose, Frida. To be honest,
it’s been a long while since I’ve wanted to be with a woman. And I want you.”
Heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading fast between her legs. It had been a while for her too. Life had kept her busy from the moment she’d left LA, and men hadn’t been a priority. And right in front of her was a gorgeous man, her protector who wanted her and simply stating it. No annoying emotions, no strings attached. Still, she hesitated.
“I have so much to do. I don’t think there’s time…”
Without a word, Malco rose and came around the table. Her breath caught in her throat when he pulled her up against him and stole her lips for a searing kiss.
Her brain exploded as her body melted into the hard muscle that was Malco. His mouth was pure seduction, coaxing her to fall under his spell. The taste of him mixed with coffee made her head spin. His hands remained on her hips at first, then started to inch their way up, stopping just underneath her breasts—making her body tingle and her pulse stutter.
Slightly frustrated, she pushed her chest forward and gripped his shoulders, silently begging for his touch.
A low groan rumbled from his chest, and instead of answering her prayer, he pushed her back against the table. Dishes smashed to the floor in a loud crash, but Malco didn’t seem to care or even notice. He circled her waist with his large hands and lifted her to the table, positioning himself between her spread legs.
When his lips returned to her, they ignored her mouth to skim her neck and ear. “Tell me you can’t find time to explore this. Us. I have no intention of distracting you from what you have to do, but I have every intention of reminding you to take time to sleep and enjoy yourself, with me, in my bed.” He nipped at her shoulders. “Or outside of it.”
A shiver raked her body, and she gasped when he trailed his mouth down her t-shirt. His teeth bit gently at her nipples, and Frida leaned back, bracing her arms on the table to give him better access.