by Rose Harper
I wish I could hate him. Wish my body would allow me to stop yearning for him for good, like a junkie trying to kick the habit.
Nothing I have done over the years has been able to get the thought of Gavino and how he made me feel when we were together to leave my head. Instead, it’s on constant repeat, mocking me with the thought of a life I would absolutely kill for, but a life that’s no longer possible.
He dove headfirst into a life that leaves no room for others that aren’t fleeting fixtures. From the way he talks and carries himself, it’s clear to see he’s become nothing more than one of the bad guys your parents tell you to stay away from.
He’s a monster.
A killer.
A man who rips you apart one minute, just so he can put you back together the next.
Except, something tells me that Gavino isn’t in the market to fix what has already been broken.
Instead, he’s the person who wants to break you, then stand idly by and laugh while you try to pick up the pieces.
I’m already a person too broken to be repaired. Too shattered to allow anyone the opportunity to sneak in and destroy me even more.
Huffing, I stub up. “I’m not going anywhere with this …” I puff on stagnant air, unable to get the curse word to pass my lips, no matter how much I want to at this moment. It’s definitely easy to think them, but to actually put a voice to the terrible words buzzing through my head? Impossible. “This …”
“Asshole? Freak? Monster?” he laughs. “Take your pick, sweetheart. I’m all of those and so much more.”
Disregarding him altogether, I bring my eyes to Father Avery, who looks like he’s at the end of his holy rope. “I’m not going with him. I don’t care who you have to call but get someone else here.”
A look of remorse passes over his features before he slowly starts making his way to the chair setting adjacent to mine. Sitting, he places his arms on the arm rest, threading his fingers together as he stares down at me.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bow, but Gavino is the best at what he does, whether protecting or … or—”
“Spit it out, grandpa,” Gavino inserts harshly, but still I make no eye contact with him.
I’m going to pretend he doesn’t exist. Like the old game “Do you hear something?” I know it’s childish and immature, but I refuse to give him another iota of my attention. He doesn’t deserve it.
That is, until his body comes dangerously close to mine within the span of a heartbeat, the musky scent of him invading my senses. I can feel the heat of his skin, he’s so close; his scarred, masculine hands clenching the armrest on my chair. His face pressed close to mine, so the only option I have is closing my eyes or looking him right in his.
“I’m the best at what I do, Sky. And what the old bastard can’t say is this—I’m either protecting you or the one snuffing out your life. Right now, it’s up in the air which one I plan on doing with you.”
After all these years, he’s still angry at me over something. When he left school, no one told me why. Nor did they tell me why everyone seemed to think I was the reason. The only thing I know is that within two weeks, he went from being the man of my dreams to the figment of my nightmares. He turned cruel, spiteful.
He went from being a fresh-faced youngster to a scarred, hardened man who kept himself closed off.
The only question that remains is why. Why is he the way he is, and why does he hold such anger toward me?
All I remember from that point in my life is the part he and I attended; the football rave where everyone got too drunk and rowdy. There are bits and pieces I can’t remember that night, most of which is how he came to be as cut up as he was when he returned to school.
Only, that information was given to me. By Brock Johnson, who was captain of the football team at our Catholic high school. He told me, in detail, how Gavino had picked a fight with one of the football players, and both ended up as cut up as he was.
Is that why he’s angry? That I wasn’t there to have his back when I could barely even remember my own name? To stop a fight I didn’t even know was going on at the time because I was mingling with what little friends I had at the school?
None of this makes any sense.
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Jerking back like I’d hit him, Gavino’s eyes harden further, the pupil almost eating the iris completely. He looks demonic, with his chest rising and falling in hurried succession. He seems to grow in size as all his fury threatens to come to the forefront of his being.
He’s terrifying.
“Why?” he repeats, then again as if he can’t believe those words came from me.
My eyes flick between him and Father Avery, seeing a terrified glint enter the priest’s eyes. Apparently, whatever happened, everyone has been privy to the knowledge except for me. They know the demons Gavino suffers from.
A loud growl rumbles in his chest just seconds before the entire weight of his body slams into the front of my chair. The legs of the seat screech across the marble flooring, grating on my already abused eardrums as a squeal of fright rips from my throat. His face is a mask of frightening monstrosity, but I can’t help but look at him and nothing else.
“You want to know why I am this way?” he snarls, nose to nose with me.
I’ve never been more terrified in my life than I am right now, and it’s because of the man who was assigned to protect me.
“Y-Yes,” I stutter, swallowing hard.
“You want to know why I’m this hardened killer who looks like a patched quilt? Why I’m this hideous beast who knows nothing but cruelty and depravity?” he blazes, caging me in with his arms.
That’s not what I wanted to know at all. I wanted to know why he acts like I’m the one who damned him to hell. As if I’m the one who made a deal with the devil in exchange for Gavino’s soul.
I want to know why he hates me when the only thing I’ve ever done is love him.
There is nothing I can do besides gaze into his eyes that are bottomless depths of despair. No words threaten to fall from between my parted lips. No thoughts swirl around my mind.
The only thing I can manage to focus on is the fact Gavino is this close to me and he’s looking at me with such hatred it feels as if the flames of hell are licking my flesh.
But then, his mouth opens and my soul dies with each word he allows to slice through my flesh. The penance he thinks I owe him.
“You, Sky. You are what happened.” He leans in closer, and I fight the pull to melt into him like I did thousands of times when we were together in school. He whispers, “And I’m going to make you pay for every last bit of it. You should have run far away, Sky. Because when I’m through with you, you’ll be begging me to put a bullet between your eyes.”
My chin quivers as I fight with the emotions rising inside me. It’s not anger I feel, nor is it fury. It’s sadness. Complete, overwhelming sadness.
Even though he tried to remain impassive, I could clearly hear the pain of truth in his words. He will make me pay, and for something I have no idea was even my fault. But he’s not going to without my knowing what it is I did first.
“What di—”
Shooting downward, he strikes faster than a viper as his hands wrap around my knees. Using brute strength, he picks me as well as the chair up into the air. My hands release the grip they have on the chair, flying to his back as peals of screaming terror leave me.
“That’s about enough out of you,” he growls, carrying me like I weigh nothing more than a sack of potatoes. “You’ll do well to watch, listen, and observe, little one, because one false move out of you, and you’re going to wish that piece of shit you’re running from got to you before I did.”
My eyes meet Father Avery’s as Gavino stomps out of his office, a look of contempt resting on his pursed lips. No amount of pleading I do with my eyes makes him move from his spot in the chair. He allows this Neanderthal to manhandle me out of his church.
&nb
sp; It truly terrifies me to think of what evil Gavino can conjure up inside his demented head, but something tells me this is just the tip of the iceberg.
5
GAVINO
In my familia, I’m the man who Mateo always turns to for answers or a good debate on what we should do with new clients. I’m the man he always turns to, to stay levelheaded in a time of duress if Domino isn’t around.
But me? I have no-fucking-body. I’m on my own, with nothing but the Brotherhood to answer the questions I seek finality in. A one-man show that borderlines on a circus.
The Brotherhood should have known better than to give me this assignment, knowing what they know about my past. Damon should have put a stop to this shit … No. Strike that.
The goddamn Papa should have put a stop to this shit. He’s my grandfather, for crying out loud. He knows everything about everyone, including what this little number did to me. All the lies she told me when she made me believe she was falling in love with me. When she fucked me over so she could mess around with the captain of the football team—who coincidently went missing a few weeks later.
I’m not the right person for this job. How can I be when I’m just as much of a threat as the one chasing her?
And, another thing, what the fuck am I protecting her from? The Brotherhood is tight-lipped about this assignment. Only saying that I need to watch her every second of every day, making sure no harm comes her way.
What they’re asking for is unfathomable, downright cruel. I’d laugh my ass off if anyone else had the job of playing babysitter to a little bitch like Skylah, but I sure as fuck ain’t laughing now. I’m furious.
“Let me out of here!” her muffled voice echoes through the interior of the car.
Gritting my teeth, my hands tighten on the steering wheel until they turn an unhealthy shade of white. Sweat pebbles along my forehead, my eyes flicking left and right as if I’m a junkie jonesing for a fix.
I can’t fucking stand the sound of her precious, sultry voice. It elicits too many emotions that are far better left buried. My ironclad control needs to slip back in place, burying my emotions so deep inside they never see the light of day again.
Other people can afford to allow themselves the ability to feel, love, and lust. Anyone else can allow their emotions to shine brightly through their eyes without a thought of how it could hurt you, your familia in the process.
You never allow your enemy to see your weaknesses. You could be on fire, smoldering in front of them, but you still have to remain just as heartless and cold. A blank mask. Even if you see your entire world laying in front of you dying, a person in my position would still have to remain aloof as if they don’t care.
The Brotherhood taught me that.
No guilt.
No pain.
No weaknesses.
Give nothing to the enemy they can use against you. If you do, you may as well start digging your grave now.
My outburst at Mateo’s house, and again at the church, is something I never do in the presence of strangers. Ever. I always bottle it up, leaving them guessing what’s going through my mind. And the idea of watching Skylah instead of killing her drives me fucking crazy with bloodlust.
I can’t stand the ground she walks on. Can’t stand the air she breathes.
The bad part about it is—I don’t know if it’s related to our past or the fact I want to fuck her so hard she’d feel me until the day she drew her last breath.
No matter how hard I try to push that night from my thoughts, it’s there, taunting me. Every time I look in the mirror, seeing my soulless eyes and scarred up flesh, she comes to mind. Not the vision she is now, but the tall, lanky, mosquito-tits version. The one with braces on her teeth and big scrunchies holding her hair away from her face.
Pure innocence I thought was going to be my salvation. Yet, it ended up damning me to a life of nothingness.
Slipping free from my thoughts, I slowly pull up to a stop sign. My eyes lift up to the rearview mirror, settling on the trunk through my rear windshield. She’s been quiet for some time. Not that it’s worrying me, because I couldn’t care less, but I can’t explain my explicit need to make her beg.
Beg for her life at the tip of my blade. Beg for forgiveness for screwing me over instead of screwing me.
I was ready to give it all up for her. My familia. The Brotherhood. All of it. And I should have known better because a slit like her doesn’t deserve anything more than a rough fuck before I disappear into the night.
Sighing, I contemplate pulling over. Allowing her to actually sit in the car with me instead of the trunk I threw her in when we left the church. I’m not normally a bastard to the fairer sex, but I can’t stop being that way when it pertains to Skylah Bow.
A vehicle slowly pulls up behind me, causing my eyes to lift from the trunk. Just as I start to take my foot off the peddle and gas it, something cold washes over me. A sickeningly frigid feeling of trouble.
Sky must see the lights through the tiny cracks in my trunk because her belting screams echo through the interior of my car once more as she beats against the trunk of my car.
Only, in this case, my feeling leads me to believe she should keep quiet and stay as still as possible. That whoever this is, they aren’t going to help her.
I always go with my gut feelings. In all things. And this time, it’s telling me to get away. Fast. That danger is behind those two headlights, instead of a regular bystander.
Punching the gas, the car shoots forward at breakneck speed. My eyes filter between my rearview mirror and the road in front of me, seeing the headlights gaining speed.
We’ve been made. There’s no doubt about it. Whoever is behind us is the one chasing her, and I have two options.
I can either slow down and stop altogether, or I can get the hell out of Dodge and get her to safety.
Decisions … Decisions …
6
GAVINO
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, heightening my senses, as I make a choice that could potentially end both of us.
I slam on my brakes, jerking my wheel to the right. The putrid smell of burning rubber greets my nostrils as I spin the car all the way around. Just as predicted, the vehicle barrels past us, the driver taking those few precious seconds to register what I just did before they stop just as fast.
Protecting what I’m assigned to is the code of my life. Never backing down. Doing what needs to be done. It only takes a split second—one wrong decision—to end up with a bullet in your goddamn head. I, for one, am not known to make rash decisions without playing every scenario out in my mind.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as a recognizable feeling washes over me. It’s a strong force, a pull drawing me in. Reaching inside my jacket, I pull my 9mm out of its holster, then open my car door with a shove.
Everything about me is emotionless. My eyes. The stoic expression resting on my face. My pulse as it slows back down to a steady hum.
The first thing I see is the—rather expensive—Bugatti with its menacing headlights and sleek body, pointing in our direction. Fucker wants to play, huh? I smile snidely as I make my way to the back of my car. Quickly pressing the button I had installed, it flies open.
“You need to get in the driver’s seat, Follow the GPS to a T, Sky, and I will meet you there when I’m finished here,” I instruct, never once taking my eyes off the threat in front of me.
I still want her dead. But if she’s going to die, it’s not going to be by this son of a bitch’s hand. It will be by mine.
On my terms.
In the way I want her to go.
“Gavino, why did you put me in the freaking trunk?!” Her voice sounds a little off kilter, and abnormally higher than what it did in Father Avery’s office.
Glancing at her from the corner of my eye, my lips thin in displeasure when I see she’s not making a move to get out of here, yet staying right where she is as if she wants to fucking die. It’s confusing bec
ause the whole goddamn reason she’s even in my care right now is because she wants to live.
It’s also fucking confusing as to why I haven’t been filled full of lead from the waiting car in front of me. Instead, the only thing coming from it is the steady hum of the powerful engine and blaring lights as they brighten further.
What the fuck are they waiting for?
“If you don’t want me to kill you myself, you’ll do exactly as I say. If you’d rather die, keep fucking talking.”
I expect her to get out. Expect her to jump in my car and bolt out of here. Tuck her tail between her legs and run more after witnessing God knows what to land her in this mess in the first place.
But she just sits there, as if she isn’t fucking hearing me right now.
“Are you fucking deaf, woman?!” I yell. “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Why did you put me in the trunk?!” she yells again, her voice slightly slurred as if she’s having trouble making the words out.
I’ve had enough of this shit. Cocking my gun, I place it right between her eyes. The cool, sleek, blunt tip of my 9mm indents her skin as I glare down at her, talking slowly so she’ll get the goddamn hint. Her eyes widen, terrified, as her throat slowly bobs from swallowing hard.
“Get. The fuck. Out of here. Follow my GPS, and wait for me, Sky!”
I refuse to get killed simply because this broad doesn’t have the fight or flight instinct that most carry with them.
Nodding slightly, she goes to get out of the car. The moment her foot hits the asphalt, hell reigns down on us. Bullets slice through the air, the sound of each shot reverberating off the empty streets surround us. I dive on top of her, slamming the trunk closed.
She grunts as all of my weight bears down on top of her, the tinkering of bullets hitting my car never once letting up as I think of a way out of this. They can shoot all they want to, but it’s not going to make a difference. Sooner or later, they will realize this car, and everything on it is bulletproof. They will end their assault, and the only thing left for them to do would be to physically open the trunk and execute her. But then, they’d have to deal with me, and I have a feeling I was the one who stopped their hail of bullets in the first place.