Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3)

by Nikki Belaire

  One last glance at her delicate face before he forces himself to walk away. Unable to touch her, which is probably for the best. He wouldn't be able to fucking ever let go if he holds her again.

  "Enrique, please tell her..."

  His voice falters at the frown crossing her father's face. Tell her what? That he loves her. That all he wants is for her to be happy. That maybe someday she'll understand and forgive him.

  None of which can be spoken without creating more problems for her. "Nothing. I'll go."

  Enrique nods, relief filling the older man's eyes. Understanding the message Max sends to him. Confirming he's made the right decision no matter how much it kills him.

  He strides to the door, yanking the handle to escape from the tidal wave of grief drowning him. The nurse frowns at him, another person disappointed by his lies. But saying he was Gina's husband was the only way he could stay with her. And, he'd do it again in a fucking heartbeat to have the last three days with her. "I think she's in pain. You need to check her meds."

  Nick's head flies up from scanning his phone screen but he brushes past him. Unwilling to answer the questions scrunching his boss' face. He just has to get the fuck out of here. Nick falls in next to him, keeping up with his fast pace, his shoes pounding on the tile as hard as his. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Trying to keep from going fucking crazy. “I'm out. It's over.”

  “You’re leaving her?"

  Irritation crawls up his throat from the incredulity in Nick's tone. "Fuck you. She doesn't belong to me."

  "The fuck she doesn't. I know how you feel about her." Nick jerks his arm, forcing him to stop. "Don't let that motherfucker have her."

  Too fucking late for that. He already does. "When we were in Nassau I told her when we got back to the States to go see him and figure out her marriage." He blows out a deep breath and scrubs his hands down his face, failing to calm his ass down. "That's why he's here. He said they worked through everything."

  Doubt still plays on Nick's face. "That doesn't mean they got back together."

  "Don't you fucking get it?" He's a fucking dick for taking out his rage on his best friend. But this inferno has built up and has nowhere to go. "What if you and Shae were having problems? And some bastard swoops in and confuses her even more. Makes her question if she can work things out with you because maybe she has feelings for him."

  Nick doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. The fierceness of his expression answers for him. Yeah, he knows exactly what his friend thinks. Motherfucker would be dead before he could ever even touch her. A husband protects what's his. No matter how precarious the relationship may be.

  Max put his hands up, giving up the fight. Giving up everything. "It doesn't make it right just because it's me. I can't be that bastard. I can't be the reason her marriage fails."

  No answer, Nick reaching the same painful conclusion. The game's over, and he fucking lost.

  Only their steps sound in the empty corridor. Just like his heart.

  Chapter 17

  “Come on, Gina. Only three more. You can do it. You're doing great.”

  She bites back a shitty retort at the physical therapist’s enthusiasm. A knowing smile fills his face as his head bobs in encouragement. Which, even after all this time, seems genuine despite the bitchiness she directs toward him. Never wavering no matter how much she complains or resists.

  Maybe that's why he has a reputation for being the best rehabilitation specialist in L.A. Willing to withstand earnest patients whose resolve flounders when the work requires too much effort. Who claim they want to get back to their old selves but fight the pain, and thus him, every session.

  Or maybe that's what being on Nick's payroll does to a man. Too scared to be anything except for a cheerleading fool.

  Just like this place. Another attempt to ease Nick's guilt. The specialty hospital, disguised as a luxurious resort, his secretary arranged for her to move to once she was released from ICU. So she can be tortured two times a day under the guise of getting better. Which she is. At least physically. The rest of her remains a fucked up mess. No amount of therapy can fix her head. Or her heart.

  This time she can't hold back a grunt as she lifts the weight. Is it possible to want to throat punch and hug someone at the same time? "God fucking damn."

  Now it’s Kyle’s turn to blister her with a dirty look. Not a big fan of her swearing compulsion. But, his reproach is no match for the pain searing up her side. This might be his idea of fun and all, but these strength building exercises hurt fucking worse than getting shot in the first place. At least from what she can remember. Everything’s kind of fuzzy until she woke up in the hospital. It doesn't take long to figure out things are crazy bad when even her dad cries.

  Yet, for as much as she hates the physical therapist's regimen, Kyle's been her greatest ally. Knowing when to push and when she’s had enough. Especially with her mother.

  If Kyle declares her exhausted after her workout, her mom will go back to the hotel to ‘let her sleep.' She’ll close her eyes and pretend to drift off to her mother’s tiptoeing steps out the door. Because as much as she loves the woman, she cannot argue about Richard any more.

  Yes, he's a good man.

  But, so is Max.

  Yes, she's safe when she's with him.

  Max's dangerous. To both her mind and her heart.

  Richard's always been there for her. No matter what.

  Max is gone. And, he's probably never coming back. No matter what she says or does.

  The pain in her chest throbs harder. But, she can't blame the incessant ache on the exercises. Sure, Max's flowers decorate her room. Kyle's updates to him, which the therapist isn't slick enough to hide, are sent after each session. This time a smirk does curl her lips. Privacy laws must not apply to rich mobsters who own this city and control its inhabitants through fear or force. Hell, he's even roped Shae into giving him reports after her daily visits, the sweet woman unable to lie when Gina figured out his schemes.

  But, none of it matters. All of his checking and confirming and controlling means nothing. When it's not him. All she wants is him. Not in Nassau. Not hiding. Not giving her what he thinks she needs. Just him. Here. With her.

  "Okay, last ones." Kyle takes her right hand in his, stretching out her fingers. "The bones have healed nicely but we have to make sure we keep your range of motion."

  She flinches as he uncurls the pinkie, snapped in three spots from Oscar's heel grinding the tiny finger into the carpet with maniacal vehemence. Until Marta's bullet stole all of his force as well as his life. A smile twists her mouth amidst the agony. Who knew the grandmotherly housekeeper was packing? Or has such a deadly aim?

  Kyle slides the rubber ball out of her palm. "All done. You did really well. You should be proud of yourself. You're coming along faster than I ever expected."

  Not because she's that dedicated. Just so she can get the fuck out of here. Even though there's no real reason to rush home. Not like anyone's waiting for her. Nothing and no one to celebrate with when she gets released.

  "Thanks. And, sorry, if I was a bitch."

  His quiet chuckle relieves a bit of her guilt. "I've had worse, believe me." He stands up and steers her wheelchair closer before lifting her up and setting her on the cushioned seat. "When we get back to your room, can your mom come in or do you want me to send her home?"

  "I think I want to rest for a while."

  Another fucking lie. But what does it matter now? The absurdity of her entire existence can withstand the consequence of another indiscretion.

  The frown lining his forehead contrasts with his small grin. He knows her better than she realized. "Okay. I’ll let her know."

  After he helps her into bed, she cuddles under the blankets like a little kid. Hiding from her mom, who argues in a twisted fusion of broken English and rapid Portuguese with ever-patient Kyle, until the voices and her heels fade down the hallway. Relief flows through her, and she s
lowly rolls onto her back, holding her breath at the pain slicing through her belly. Her fingers glide under her tee and trace the bumpy, raised skin across her stomach. The plastic surgeon said the lines would fade over time but never completely disappear. Kind of like the scars Max left.

  Maybe being alone isn't the best idea. Because now all she can do is think. Torturing herself with the thoughts circling around and around in her head. Although no answers ever spin loose.

  It’s been over three months. More than ninety days without hearing his rich voice. Feeling his warm skin against hers. Seeing what she’d let herself believe was love in his eyes when he was inside her.

  She's so fucking stupid. He was never hers to lose, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. The memories of him at the hospital seem so real. His lips almost touching hers, begging her to believe he loved her, to come back to him. She blows out a deep sigh. Nothing but wishes her weak heart created in her dreams. But, her mind knows the truth. Just like every other man in her life. He could never accept her for who she really is.

  A light knock sounds from the hallway before the door pushes open a few inches. Just enough to reveal Shae’s hesitation.

  Thank fucking God. “Come in."

  "Are you sure? I can--"

  Fuck yes. She waves her friend in before bracing herself to push up against the headboard. "Definitely. I need the company."

  Pursing her lips together to keep the litany of curses from escaping her mouth, she lies back against the pillows. Shae may be used to Nick's rampant swearing but she can at least pretend to have some class around the innocent lady.

  Andy props the door open with his shoulder while guiding Shae inside the room, the intricate design of his colorful tattoo sleeve draped around her waist a stark contrast against her beige dress. So weird seeing her without Max. Another reminder of their world fucked up without him.

  The bodyguard nods to her. "Hey doll. You're looking good."

  Thanks, Andy."

  He looks down at Shae as they pause by the chair. "Here you are love. Do you want to sit first or give her the surprise?"

  Shae's face lights up and Andy chuckles, leading her to the bed. Gina resists an eye roll. Her friend is perfectly capable of walking on her own. Yet Andy follows Nick's absolute orders. No chance for his wife to faint again without being caught.

  She has to admit a bit of excitement swirling in her stomach from Shae reaching into an oddly shaped bag, much larger than her normal clutch. It's been a long time since someone's surprised her. Well, with something good any way.

  Now it's her turn to giggle at the little fur ball wearing an even tinier diaper. What the fuck? "I didn't know they made Pampers for dogs."

  "This is Charlie." Shae curls the black puppy into her outstretched hands. "He's not housebroken yet, and I didn't want him to make a mess."

  Andy lowers Shae onto the seat and tips his head at her. "I'll be right outside. Let me know when you're ready."

  "Thank you so much." Shae squeezes his hand, knowing as much as she does the mercenary doesn't usually baby-sit. A favor to the friend they all miss.

  Although never much of an animal lover, she can't resist cuddling the dog to her. His neck stretches long as he twitches a few times before settling against her. Silky fur glides under her fingers while she strokes his back, warming her with his small body. "Where did you get him?"

  "He's a present from Nick."

  Shit! All the days blend together in this place. "Did I miss your birthday or something?"

  "No, nothing like that." Pink tints her friend's cheeks, and a shy smile crosses her face. "He's part of the perfect life Nick says he's creating for me."

  Of course he is. Dude's a fucking nut ball over this woman. But at least he's consistent. She stifles the self-pity brewing in her gut. Shae deserves this happiness, and she refuses to be jealous. At least not completely. "He's adorable."

  "I thought you might like another friend to keep you company for a while so I snuck him in."

  "You're a wild woman Shae DeMarco." And your husband's pussy whipped. But since she wants to remain living, she'll keep that smart ass opinion to herself. She rubs over his white-tipped ears, flicking after each caress. "So, what else is included in this perfect life?"

  The blush turns to crimson while her grin grows bigger. Her friend's turn to be excited. "There's one more surprise, but he won't tell me what. All I know is that it has to do with our honeymoon, and Max is somehow involved with getting it ready."

  The mural. Fuck! With everything so jacked up, she'd forgotten all about her project at the beach house. And, her hope he would take her back. Now she'll never get to finish it.

  "I'm hoping he'll tell me now that Max's back, and I..."

  Shae's wide-eye gaze meets hers, realizing her mistake in revealing the humiliating truth. Not just that he's finally home. But he didn't come to see her. She's a fucking fool for ever thinking he would. Too damn insistent in his conviction she should be with her husband rather than the man she loves.

  Shae smooths her dress over her swollen belly and down her crossed legs. Always awkward when his name comes up. No sense pretending he's not permanently in her thoughts. "How is Max?"

  Her attempt at nonchalance fails, the squeakiness of her tone giving her away. Her worry too strong to hide.

  "He loved being at his sister's and spending time with Gabby and Henry." Shae's nose crinkles before she smiles. Proof that she's fucking hiding something. Lying to protect her feelings. Although the deception is unnecessary. She's already fucking crushed.

  "And?"

  "That's it. They had fun together, but he misses all of them already."

  The evasiveness more than she can stand. Regardless of how much he hurts her, the need for him to be okay overwhelms her. If that's even possible for either of them. "Please just tell me."

  Shae's voice drops along with her shoulders, a deep frown darkening her face. "Things were really tense with his dad and I guess they got into a pretty ugly argument. Nick said William blames Max for what happened to Gabby and he told Millie she shouldn't have let Max stay with her because all he does is hurt them."

  That son of a bitch. How the fuck is it Max's fault that the so-called hero jeopardized innocent children - his own kids - to save his mistress? Even her father, delusional in his own right over her breakup with Richard, wouldn't be so fucking blind to reality. She should have told William off when she had the chance.

  She pushes herself all the way up, cupping Charlie to her chest and kicking off the blankets. Ignoring the stabbing ache in her torso, she swings her legs to the side of the bed. Fuck Max's conscience. He needs her. They need to work through this. "Take me to the house. I've got to see him."

  Shae's eyes widen and her head shakes furiously. "Wait. No. You can't get out of bed."

  "I can't just lay here anymore and do nothing. I'm done waiting for him to get his shit together. We have to talk."

  The zipper on the doggie carrier scratches the back of her hands as she shoves the sides apart and nestles Charlie inside. Shae can take her to the mansion and then she can finally force him to hear the truth. She has to find her clothes. She whirls around at Shae's gentle grip on her arm, needing to slow down and take care of her friend. "I know I'm acting crazy. I'm sorry. I'll have Andy help you up and then we can--"

  "He's not there."

  "Where is he?"

  Shae hugs herself, trembling hands rubbing up and down her arms. The same chill engulfs her from her friend's uncertainty, and goosebumps sprinkle across her skin. “The penthouse at Aqua Maison. Nick bought it after Spencer drugged him and he thought…”

  That he would hurt Shae. Like Nick would ever fucking put his hands on the woman he loves more than his own life. For too damn long he wouldn’t accept the truth. Just like Max with her – unable to believe what she knows - they belong together. Why the hell are these men so fucking stubborn and hard headed?

  "Why?"

  Shae's focus re
mains on her lap, swirling her fear even more.

  "Why is he at the hotel?"

  Fear drives her voice louder than she intends from Shae's silence, the echo reverberating across the room as the door flies open. Andy's gaze bores into her before turning to Shae.

  "Is everything okay ladies?"

  Ignoring his question, she grips her side and bends forward, her own query all she can think about. "I deserve to know."

  Shae nods to Andy, a posed smile filling her face. Confirming they are fine. At least physically. Her friend's spirit seemingly as broken as hers.

  Once the door closes, Shae turns back to her. Another chill rolls through her from the sad tilt of her head. "When I told Max that Nick and I were going to ask you to stay with us until you're well enough to be on your own, he moved out." Her heart drops at Shae's sympathetic tone. Almost as if she's embarrassed for her. "He said he doesn't want to see you."

  Humiliation heats her checks as she stands up. Her ass bumps the mattress as she steps backward, fighting the burning behind her closed eyes.

  "I'm sure it's just too soon. He's been so worried and he - he always--"

  Her palm flips up. No more. She can't listen to her soft-hearted friend's sputtering excuses, trying to make her feel better. To pretend like his rejection is misguided. Or well-meaning. Or temporary. Time to accept what she never thought she could.

  It's really over.

  Chapter 18

  Max dumps the last of his protein shake down the drain. No time to finish or he’ll be late. Unnerving how often he loses track of time. Because it isn’t like he overslept or anything. Not when he never fell asleep in the first place. Tossing and turning for hours before giving up and heading to the gym. Trying to hide from his turmoil and fucking lying to himself that pounding out his frustrations might actually help.

  He jogs to the bathroom and strips off his running shorts, waiting for the water to warm. His gaze darts to the unfamiliar reflection staring back at him in the mirror. Still not quite used to seeing the ink running along his torso. A consequence of his pity party after he arrived in Nassau. The night his poor brother-in-law came searching for him, and ended up baby-sitting his sorry ass. A good guy, Alex was sympathetic enough to put up with his bullshit and not rat him out to his sister when he almost had to be fucking carried home like a pussy.