It takes everything he’s got not to pound this son of a bitch’s face. If Nick hadn’t promised Shae he’d spare Evan, this dumb ass would be fucking dead. “Motherfucker, I will hurt you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
Evan doesn’t back down but at least he closes his motherfucking mouth.
"But what if it was one of the guards? Just like..." A shudder rolls through her body, her voice wobbling in terror. "...Gina. Please Max we have to help her."
Guilt rolls through him at the reminder of his failure. At the panic darkening her face as she scans his, searching for relief from Evan’s bullshit. He swipes his bloody hand across his shirt and pulls out his phone, punching the buttons for Carrie. Thank fucking God her friend answers on the first ring.
“Hey-hey. What’s going on?”
Shae’s hand flies to her mouth at Carrie’s playful tone and she lets out a relieved sob, her shoulders sinking down. He nods to her, encouraging her to speak.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Confusion threads through Carrie’s voice. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Just a misunderstanding.” Shae swallows hard, her fingers curling around his wrist. Almost as if grounding herself from the evidence of her best friend’s well-being. “I’ll come over after my appointment with Dr. Meyer and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You’re with Max aren’t you?”
He welcomes her arm sliding around his waist, easing the throbbing of his body coursing with adrenaline. The gentle hug proving her faith in him and the abolition of her fear. “I’m here.”
“Okay, good.” A hint of doubt still pulses in her tone. “And you’re sure everything is all right?
“Yes, I swear. I love you and I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“I love you too. Bye friend.”
Warm breath blows against his bicep, employing one of her relaxation techniques to calm herself. She twists, still holding onto him.
“I can’t believe you Evan.”
Or maybe not. Her tiny body stiffens as she squares her shoulders and unleashes her rage on the bastard. Good for her.
“How can you be so cruel? With the baby and now Carrie, you’re nothing but a monster.”
“It’s the only way I could get you away from him. You’ve got to listen to me. He’s going to end up killing you if you don’t--”
“There he is officer.”
His head swings toward the accusing voice behind them. The instructor points a wobbly finger towards him.
“He’s bothering my clients and vandalizing my property.”
“Sir, move away from the woman.”
Fucking shit. Obeying the policeman’s command, he lets his hands fall to his sides and tries to step back. But, Shae’s grip only tightens.
“No. I won’t let you arrest him for protecting me from him.” She nods toward Evan who’s dropped down in one of the chairs, holding his head in his hands, and her gaze moves to the gym owner. “Please Aaron. Don’t press charges. I’m fine, and I promise I’ll pay for the damage.”
After a few seconds Aaron’s frown softens and he shrugs. “Okay, Shae. For you.”
“Thank you.” She bends down to the contents of her bag spilled at her feet and picks up her towel, gingerly wrapping it around his swollen hand. A small smile curls her lips as she meets his gaze. “You too.”
The officer hustles Evan out of the room, minimizing the potential for another altercation, before he beckons to Shae. She and Aaron talk to him near the door. Low voices but he can still make out the policeman’s questions verifying she’s really okay and her confirmations of his innocence.
Only he’s not fucking innocent. The exact fucking opposite. He missed it. He fucking missed checking the back entrance. Letting that fucking bastard sneak in and get to her. Too caught up in his own bullshit to guard her. He thought he was fine. Back to his old self. But, that’s a fucking lie. He’s nothing but a God damn fucking mess who can’t protect his best friend’s wife from some motherfucking punk. Bile swirls in stomach, burning a trail up his chest. A worse enemy could have reached her. Someone who would have hurt her so much more than Evan.
Shae could be dead.
Because of him.
With shaking hands, he yanks off the soaked cloth and slides out his phone. He can’t be trusted anymore. And, she will never suffer again because of it.
Chapter 19
I love you too. I wish you didn't have to go already either."
Shame swirls in Gina's stomach as she nestles into her mother's embrace. The first sentiment is the absolute truth. The second assertion, not so much. Not that she's above lying. Her list of indiscretions remains long and robust.
Agreeing to her mom's heartfelt declaration, solidified by her worried countenance, must be claimed to keep the peace. She wants her mother to stay with her, but without the constant denial of reality. The woman just needs to be grateful that she and Richard have restored their friendship if not their relationship. Her father too.
Begrudging tolerance of their separation. Probably because the hope, no matter how minute it was, existed that they would reconcile. Now with the divorce official, neither one of her parents can accept what she already knows. Her marriage was a failure before either of them uttered their vows.
"Por favor, me prometa que você vai tentar resolver as coisas com Richard. Ele é seu marido. Não importa o que algum papel diz."
Promise me you'll work things out. "I can't Mamãe. It's over. The paperwork is real. We are divorced."
Her father tsks, shaking his head. "Nonsense. Richard is your husband and you belong together."
"No. We don't."
A furious gaze bores into hers, another wave of guilt engulfing her at his disappointment. He shoves back his chair. Scraping across the tile from the force of his long legs pushing off the floor, he jerks up, pointing at her with an accusing finger. "I should have sent you back to Brazil a long time ago. Then none of this would have happened."
He means Max. Unwilling to say the words that his daughter is a failure as well as a whore. To admit she fucked up and fell in love with someone from their world when she was married to someone who wasn’t. When all he ever wanted was for her to escape, as much as that's possible with their lineage handcuffing them to this life. Live a dull existence as an accountant. Or, bored but safe with Richard, raising half a futebol team just like the two of them.
Homesickness stabs her heart thinking of her brothers. She does miss them. More than she likes to admit. Because as much as she loves them, they agree with her father, and she can't withstand their embarrassment of her too.
But, that's a life she can't lead even if she wanted to. She refuses to be hidden away like her mother.
Unable to tolerate the sacrifice Renata made to keep her children safe. Living a life separated from her husband except on special occasions like weddings, holidays and their daughter almost dying at the hands of a bitter bodyguard. Yeah, good times at their family reunions.
He grips the handle of her mom's suitcase, yanking it upright so hard the wheels lift off the ground. Well, he can be pissed all he wants. Her heart is fucking broken, not that he cares, and all she wants to do is forget everything that reminds her of who shattered it.
"You better get going or you'll miss your flight."
She's an immature brat ignoring her father. But, he won't be on the plane. Won't be gone for months again. No, he'll be back in a few hours to berate her some more. They'll have plenty of time to argue then. Lecture her about ruining their family’s reputation rather than console her over her lost happiness. Too bad she didn't have the chance to go to the liquor store before Oscar demonstrated his disapproval of her too.
One more hug from her mom and a nostril flare from her father before the door clicks shut. Her shoulders sink down. For the first time in months she's finally alone. Just like she used to crave. Hiding in her townhouse with her booze and her bru
shes. Letting the peace wash over her.
Yet now, after finally allowing herself to surrender to Max's tender affection, she can't quite welcome returning to the solitude. The respite he gave her from the self-imposed exile too addictive to let go of without the pain of withdrawal.
Might as well focus on the one thing she can make successful. She strides into her studio and unrolls the layout for the largest exhibit. Old school, but somehow more comforting to hand sketch rather than tap on a screen. She can finalize the perfect lighting angles for the somber pieces and then move on to the animated sculptures.
With the original launch postponed, this is her only shot to make the studio a success. A hell of a lot of work, but worth the effort if everything comes together. That’s what’s important. Not her fucked up life. Or her crushed spirit.
A pulsing beat fills the air, drawing her out of her thoughts, and she smiles at Shae's ring tone. Her favorite song of all her friend's hits.
Fuck! Daggers slice through her torso as she stretches across the wobbly pile of sketch pads trying to grab her chirping cell. She clutches her tender muscles cramping from the abuse. A constant reminder she’s not completely healed. Physically or mentally.
A shudder rolls through her from the memory invading her mind of the last time she fought to reach an insistent phone. She blows out a deep breath and strokes her throbbing stomach, forcing herself to push down the fear. She’s fine. And needs to focus on the goal in front of her.
Swiping the phone off the pile of tubes, brushes, and rags scattered across the table, she taps the button for speaker with one fingertip while attempting to keep the papers flat. Shae probably wants to know if she can help. Or checking to make sure she’s taking care of herself. Which of course she’s not. But her friend’s too sweet to nag even if she disappoints her. “Hey! I know you’re--”
“Gina?”
Goosebumps sprinkle across her arms from the fear drenching the one word question. Please let her and the baby be okay. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Max. He…”
Fire races through her taut body. The kind of call she never lets herself think about. Her father, Nick, Max – all of them just one vengeful bullet or car bomb away from death. “What?”
Not sure if Shae even hears her breathless whisper. But after a second her friend’s soft voice floats through the air.
“Evan cornered me while I was at yoga, and Max and I got separated for a few minutes. I’m fine, but he was so upset he quit. Nick tried to talk him out of it, and they fought. Max left, and now I can’t get him to answer his phone.”
Fucking shit. She drops back into the chair, her chest aching from the guilt that must be destroying him. Enough to leave behind everything he loves. To jeopardize the safety of the people who mean the most to him. Because in this business, no one just quits. Either you die at the hands of your enemy or, even worse, your boss. The only two ways to escape.
Nick’s probably fucking scrambling to figure out how not to look like a pussy for letting a deserter on his own team continue to live. Otherwise, the threats won't stop until he's eliminated too.
“He was so...He just looked so lost. He said he let me down. That he keeps letting everyone down. I tried to tell him that wasn’t true. But he wouldn’t listen.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Not when he broke the promise he made to his best friend as well as to himself.
“Now Nick’s holed up in his office with your Dad and Andy. He’s worried about me and the baby. I promised him I wouldn’t leave, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Hysteria tinges Shae’s voice. Everyone freaking out over the man who never does. Until now. Fuck! This cannot be good for her pregnancy. “It’s okay. Calm down. We’ll figure something out.”
“I know things are bad between you two, but will you please go talk to him? I think he’ll listen to you.”
A bitter laugh bubbles in her throat. Shae’s kidding herself. He hasn’t trusted anything she’s told him so far. Not sure why he would start now. “I doubt that.”
“Will you at least try? I’m really scared.”
Her friend’s voice cracks, weakening her resolve to say no. Or, guard her heart. “Where is he?”
“Andy tracked him to the penthouse."
“I don’t know if he’ll even see me. Besides, how am I going to get in? I don’t have a room key or anything.”
“RJ can help you. He said he’d meet you there if you’d agree.”
What the fuck? How does she even know about the techno nerd? Nick usually shields her from the shadiness of their world, hiding the details as best he can. She must be really worried to have figured out who to call for help.
“Please Gina?”
Yes? No? What the fuck is the right answer? He doesn’t want her. Or least doesn’t want to want her. But, there is absolutely no doubt, if she was the one who needed help, he’d be there in a heartbeat. Without thought or question or care what anyone else thinks or does. Including herself. She must do the same for him.
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.” Gratitude blows through her friend’s breathy acclamation. The appreciation is undeserved. Her influence on Max way less than Shae realizes. But, there’s no going back now.
Grabbing her keys, she yanks open the front door and meets Richard's wide-eyed expression.
"What're you doing?"
"I have to go out. I…” She shakes her head. What is she going to tell him? That she needs to chase after the guy she trusted more than her own husband? Try to save the only man she’s ever loved. She cares about him too much to be that cruel. “I’m sorry. But I just really have to go.”
“Wait! You’re still recovering. What do you need? I can get it for you.”
Still so good to her. Generous to a fault. “It’s okay. I have to do this myself.”
He frowns, the possibilities of where she's going playing out on his scrunched face. Maybe he’ll think she needs tampons or something. Please God, anything but the truth.
“You’re going to see Max aren’t you?”
Or not. Damn. She deserves this. To pay for hurting him for so long and so much. But the wound pierces even deeper in him. The question of her infidelity now answered. “How’d you know?”
“He was at the hospital. I could tell by the look on his face he was more than a bodyguard like your dad tried to pretend." He rolls his eyes, realizing her father's absurdity. "He was devastated. But he left right after I got there.”
A part of the story she guessed but never knew for certain. Not sure if knowing makes it better or worse. To hear about the reason behind his departure. That Richard’s presence is what finally broke his commitment to her.
“You love him, don’t you?”
More defeated than mad, his voice remains soft. Nothing ever driving him to yell. Even though she should be screamed at, berated for her sins, he would never do it. “Yes.”
“And, he loves you.”
“Yes.” The irony not lost on her how karma has come back to bite her in the ass. “Enough to let me go so you and I could try to work things out.”
“That’s big of him.”
“Don’t." The shittiest she’s ever heard him snark. She shakes her head, needing to defend Max. An innocent man sucked into the deception of her fucked up morals. "You can't blame him. It was all me. He didn’t even know we were still married when I…”
White blanches his fingers gripping the top of his forehead. Proof of what he probably always suspected now confirmed.
“I would never ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But, I do want you to know I was never with him when you and I were together. I never slept with him and then came home to you.” Her head droops down. Fucking sad that the only thing she can pride herself on is not making love to both of them on the same day. God she was so fucked up back then. Not that she's much better now. “I’m not sure if that even makes any difference or not. But, I need you to know what was b
roken between us didn’t have anything to do with him.”
“You would have left me anyway.”
Yes. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. Me too.” He blows out a deep sigh and jerks his head toward his SUV parked behind him. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
“No, that’s--”
“Really? After all we’ve been through you think things can be any more awkward than they already are? Might as well just accept it.”
She can’t help but laugh. More true than she can ever explain. “Okay. Thank you.”
After she gives him directions, they ride in silence. Not totally uncomfortable. A new kind of understanding growing between them.
“Since we’re being honest…I met someone too.”
His eyes remain on the windshield. Like he should have even an ounce of fucking guilt. Happiness courses through her. “You did?”
“Yeah, at school. She’s subbing for a teacher on maternity leave, hoping for the chance to get on full time.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sarah. She sings in a jazz trio on Friday nights at Sinclair's.”
Teacher. Musician. Perfect. “That’s tonight!”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Go see her.” Hesitation darkens his face at her suggestion. That she totally has to absolve him of. “I mean it. I’m fine. You should do this.”
His shoulders lift, a small smile playing on his lips. He really likes her. The sentiment fades as they drive under the hotel awning. He’s intuitive enough to know more is going on than she tells him. “Are you sure you’re okay? This is okay?”
“Yes.” Leaning across the console, she gives him a tight hug, ignoring the pain rolling through her torso. “I love you. Please go and be happy.”
“Okay.” He squeezes her back, harder than she can ever remember. Almost crushing her with his intensity. As if letting go of her and everything they once had. “I love you too. Be careful.”
She nods and hops out. Only glancing back once, not surprised to see him waiting, making sure she makes it inside safely. Watching her walk away from him for the last time. This is finally the end – for both of them.
Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3) Page 16