by Dee Garcia
“Ángel,” I moan, knowing I’m not going to get out of this bed if he’s still in it. “Wake up.”
But he doesn't. He doesn't stir at all.
Rolling toward him, I push up on an elbow and let my eyes sweep his form. The man is out like a light on his back, inked chest on full display. The white sheets are pooled at his waist and… And he's got his own tent.
I have to bite down on my lip.
Ángel, in his sleep, is another sight entirely. He’s too hard-lined to ever look truly boyish, but the serenity on his face gives off this sense of innocence.
Vulnerability.
My claws are ready to come out. Hell, I’m ready to pounce on him and have my way before he leaves tonight, but I don't think I can handle another round. After last night? Yeah, no…my pussy is beyond the point of abuse.
A kittenish smile tickles the corners of my mouth. He really made all too good on his promise. Hard and fast, slow and deliciously nasty, the man had me on the verge of passing out on more than one occasion.
Two months without him is going to be pure hell.
"Angel," I try again, scooting close enough to run a claw up his torso.
That gets him. He stirs gently at first, but on the second claw up, those stormy grays of his snap open. And when he sees me right there in his bubble, gazing down at him expectantly, he gives me that damned smile, one that widens all the more when he realizes I’m still very much naked beneath the sheets.
"Is it morning already?"
I nod. "Unfortunately."
Ángel stretches out every limb and belts out a mammoth, sleepy yawn. "What time is it?"
"Early as fuck." My less-than-enthused reply arches one of his dark brows.
“So, why are we awake, then?”
“‘Cause I’ve got shit to do.” I laugh, making way to roll out of bed, but I’m yanked backward and tucked under his arm before my feet even hit the carpet.
“Fuck that, Benni, it’s Sunday. Just stay in bed with me.”
Except we can’t. With a soft shake of my head, I push off his chest. "Can’t do that. You're leaving, remember?"
Wow.
Even I can hear the bitterness in my tone. I freeze right at the edge of the bed, eyes widening in surprise at how clear my susceptibility came through just now.
A tense wave of silence quickly clogs the room. It’s so stifling, I can’t bring myself to turn around and look him in the eye. With every painstaking minute that passes, I want to cringe a little more until finally, I hear the low timbre of his laugh.
“Ay, Benita, you’re funny, you know that?”
I’m...funny?
Brow arching, I risk a peek at him from over my shoulder. He’s clearly amused, smirking as he pushes up to sit and scoot up against my headboard. “And why is that?” I ask.
Ángel shrugs and motions toward me. “You made it clear last night that you don't want to come with me, yet in the same hand, you're mad that I'm leaving. So tell me…what is it you want? For me to stay here with you?"
"Did I say that?" I snap.
"No, but your actions, esa actitud que me diste ahora me lo dice todo."
My eyes nearly roll out of my head, arms crossing before my chest. "And what exactly did my attitude tell you?"
"Everything I already know. You want this, Benni. You want me…us…but you’re scared. I already told you I’d tell you everything, every little thing you want to know and more. I know I have to earn your trust, but you have to give me the opportunity to earn it first. Stop overthinking and jump in with me. This is all new for me, too, you know?"
Damn him. Damn him for always saying the things I want to hear, for making it harder to stick to a decision than it should be.
"Angel... Can we not do this right now?" I turn away again, rising onto my feet.
"When exactly do you want to do it, then, ‘cause we’ve been at it all weekend, going back and forth over and over again. The time has come, Benni…I'm leaving tonight, you know this."
"I'm…scared," I find myself admitting, squeezing my eyes shut now that the truth is out there in the open.
I sound so fucking stupid.
Ángel sighs, the bed squeaking as he rises to full height and ambles around to where I’m rooted in place. His hands gently claim my face, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Don't be afraid. You know more about me than you think you do."
My lips curl dubiously. "Somehow, I highly doubt that."
"You do,” he insists, “and I want you to know it all…want you to be mine."
"Why did you have to fall for me?" I whisper, throat bobbing through one hell of an emotionally-charged swallow.
Ángel’s lips spread in a faint smile. "Why did you have to make me fall for you?"
"I didn't do anything." And I really didn’t, other than agreeing to take what was a business relationship and mixing it with pleasure.
"Yeah, you did,” he counters, scoffing a little laugh and all. “Everything you did got me more and more caught up by the day. Then you went and gave me access to the best pussy I've had in my life, and well, that shit will seal a man’s fate. I think you had me before I had you."
My heart, that traitorous thing, melts into a puddle. With every word, every look, every touch, every kiss…it becomes harder and harder to say no to him.
To not jump in headfirst like he said and give this thing a shot. Because what can a good, solid shot hurt, right? If it doesn’t work, at least we tried.
"We have to go,” I insist.
Not that it flies, of course.
"Are you working at the restaurant today?" he questions.
I shake my head.
"Then no, we don't have to go anywhere. Just stay here with me a little longer."
"There is no way in hell you're putting that thing inside—"
"I'm not going to fuck you, Benni,” he laughs, scooping me up to lay me back on the bed. “I just want to be here with you. I want to kiss you, touch you, fucking absorb everything before you make me leave Miami alone…again."
"He lives," I say to my brother as I walk into Ma's house shortly after parting ways with Ángel a couple hours later.
He's just coming out of his room, all shirtless six-foot-two of him, his dark hair a fucking mess. At my greeting, he flips me off and ambles right into the bathroom to take a piss.
I'm already in the kitchen serving myself some coffee when he joins me and grabs a mug from one of the cabinets. "Ma told me you were with that fucking comemierda again."
No hello, no nothing—just that tone.
Seriously? "Jesus Christ, hello to you, too, Tomás. It's only been how many days since the last time I saw you?" I snap.
"She was livid when I got here last night, and guess who had to hear it? Me,” he barks back, reaching for the coffeepot. “So excuse me if I don’t feel super chatty or enthused to see you this morning.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a sip from my mug. “Did you put down the cigs or some shit ‘cause damn, this is grouchy, even for you.”
Tommy scoffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just tired as hell of coming home after a long-ass day and having to deal with mom flipping out on me because of you. Why do you keep doing this shit, Benita? Don't you listen?"
Apparently not. He sounds just like Ángel right now, which only irks me more. That’s like the pot calling the kettle black. "A little condescending coming from you, don’t you think? You're out there doing the exact same shit on the days you're not at the track, so what the fuck? Why is it okay for you to do it, but not me?" I counter.
My brother throws the pot back into its rightful spot—harder than necessary, I should add—and crosses his big-ass arms as he leans up against the laminate’s edge. "Because you don't know how to stay out of trouble. How many times have I been arrested?"
I know where this is going, and still, I find myself squaring my shoulders and responding. "None."
"And how many times have you been down to County?"
; "Twice."
"Ex-fucking-actly. So don't stand there and ask me why you shouldn't be doing this shit when you know damn well why. If you get caught, he's not going to take the fall for you." Those brown eyes of his, the very same ones we all got from Ma, stare me down as he brings the mug to his lips.
I feel my blood simmering in my veins. The fact that he thinks I’m that stupid is what pisses me off the most. "I would never expect him to, Tommy. I'm a big girl; I can handle myself."
"Then handle yourself out of all the shit you have going on and stick to La Carreta before you get fucked a third time. You thought County sucked? Max makes that shit look like summer camp."
My head nearly flies into the wall behind me. "Fuck’s sake, Tomás, who the hell pissed in your coffee?"
"You!” he belts. “I'm so tired of Ma worrying about your ass when, clearly, you couldn’t give three flying fucks. Every time he comes back around, she’s a nervous wreck. Is he married or some shit, and that’s why he’s not around much?"
Oh wow, we’re going there? I may be a lot of things, but I am not a homewrecker. "No,” I lift my chin. “but even if he was, it would be none of your business."
Tommy rolls his eyes and takes another sip. "Just stop, Benni. Shit's getting hot as fuck out there, and the last thing we need is for you to get locked up again over some asshole who wouldn’t give a fuck if you got locked up in the first place."
"Does that mean you're hopping out too?" I press because if it’s too hot for me, it should be too hot for him, too.
"My jump isn't as high as yours. I don't have nearly as much on the line if they snatch my ass up."
Oh, please.
My lips curl dubiously. "Do not act like el santo. You’ve been doing this longer than I have."
"Holy fuck, are you deaf? I just said my jump isn't as high as yours, and you wanna know why? ‘Cause I didn’t go out there trying to be el Jefe. I knew my place, and I did what I had to do to put food on the table and money in Ma’s wallet…that’s it. But you—"
“But me nothing! I didn’t go out there trying to be la Jefa, either. It just happened.”
“Because you got involved with him,” he grits, sharp jawline flexing as his teeth grind together. “He’s bad news, Benita. That lil’ fucking tat you got keeps popping up, and I don’t mean on tags. I mean on bodies.”
The Yakuza. That’s definitely their style. They brand their targets sometimes.
“I have nothing to do with that.” I’m actually offended he would or could possibly think otherwise.
“But you got that shit inked on your arm, right? The feds ever see that, they’re gonna assume you’re involved by association.”
“Why are you trying to turn this into something it doesn’t need to be? I literally just told you that I’m not involved in any of that and—”
"Can the two of you please shut the fuck up," Noely's voice resounds from the hall. "It is way too early for the two of you to be going at it."
Her dark, kinky curls are like a freaking lion’s mane, last night’s makeup still plastered on her pretty face. I’m surprised she made it out of her clothes and into that oversized white T-shirt she’s sporting. My lil’ sis parties hard—harder than I did in my day.
"He started it," I tell her, sipping my coffee as she ambles between us to the cupboard.
"I don't really care who started it. Just shut the fuck up, and we’re good. I'm surprised you didn't wake Ma up yet."
"She's not here," I inform, noting how Tommy takes her presence as his opportunity to escape. "It's Sunday…you know where she is."
Noely puckers her lips and nods enthusiastically as she goes about preparing her coffee. "Oh, she for sure won't miss la misa nowadays."
La misa—church.
My brow arches. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Snickering, she pulls out a spoon from the drawer in front of her. "You remember Mr. Delgado? El Colombianito chiquito?” The little Colombian man.
"Yeahhh..." I drawl.
She is not about to say what I think she is...
My sister tips her head again as if reading my mind and takes her first sip. "Well, I think she has a crush on him. You should see how red she gets when I bring him up. It’s so cute."
My mom...and Vicente? She has a crush on him? "What the fuck! Ew! Since when?"
Noely laughs, sending her eyes for a spin. "She's not dead, Benni. She's allowed to be happy again. It hasn’t been too long anyway, maybe a few weeks. Nothing serious yet."
A few weeks? Wow... I mean, I agree that she’s allowed to be happy—and she should be—but, why am I just finding out about this? "That’s so..."
"Weird?” she finishes for me, humming in agreement. “I know. She hadn’t looked at a single man after Dad, and then, all of a sudden, boom. She really does seem happy, though, and it might be a good way for her to stop worrying about you.”
My face melts in pure dismay, head falling to one side. "Oh my God, you too?"
"Sorry, hermana...” she pats my shoulder on her way around me, “but he’s got a point. It's exhausting listening to her bitch."
"Do you guys realize that it could literally be so much worse?” Setting my mug down, I follow her out of the kitchen. “Like, I could actually be a crackhead or a whore on the corner. I know what I'm doing, bringing home that money for all of…"
The way she stops dead in her tracks stalls the words on the tip of my tongue. Her brown eyes, ones far kinder than my brother’s, meet me from over her shoulder. "Not everything is about the money, Benita…remember that. He only gets on you about this shit ‘cause he loves you and doesn’t wanna see you trapped in a cage. None of us do."
And then she’s gone.
I stand there staring at the ghost of her form, her words playing on repeat. I know my brother loves me. Hell, I love him fiercely, too, but the righteous big brother act drives me up the wall when he hasn’t made—and still doesn’t make—all the right decisions. The only difference between him and me is he’s never gotten caught.
Trudging back into the kitchen, I swipe my mug off the counter and down what’s left. It’s cold, but I don't have time to warm it up. It’s almost eleven, and I still need to make the drive out to the port.
I still need to come to a final decision, too.
The thought vibrates my throat with a frustrated groan, and as I’m setting out to wash my mug, I see another one appear in the sink and feel soft lips press to my cheek.
Tommy.
“No seas cabeza dura.” Don’t be hardheaded. “I’m just trying to save you, Benni Bear before it’s too late.”
“I don’t need to be saved,” I mutter, “but I love you, too, Tommy.”
♫ Bad Things - MGK & Camila Cabello
Ten minutes later, I’m on the road, braving the busy Sunday streets rather than hopping on the highway. A bad idea on my part, that’s for sure. I shouldn’t have gone this way. It’s taking longer than necessary to get to my destination, but I needed these red lights, needed the time to finally dissect and pick apart my current situation—layer by layer—and come to a decision.
Because this is it.
Ángel’s leaving in just a few hours’ time, and he wants an answer.
At this point, my biggest fear isn’t even caving against rationality and taking the risk—it’s how he’ll respond if I don’t give him the answer he wants to hear. He could choose to end this entirely, and while I truly don’t think that we’re ready to jump into something more just yet, the thought of losing him altogether makes my insides hurt.
Because you want him, that little voice in my head whispers.
I do. I know I do, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I probably shouldn’t. It also doesn’t negate the fact that he could prove both my mom and all of my reservations wrong by turning out to be everything I want.
Everything I need.
I guess that’s how taking risks work, right? It’s a gamble either way.
The sunny Mi
ami scenery blurs past me as I make my way closer and closer to the port, catching more of the green lights than not. All the while, I weigh out my options, give myself a mental list of pros and cons to consider. The problem? There’s plenty in both columns, evenly balancing out the proverbial scale. With each mile, I grow more and more frustrated—more anxious. A resolution just seems improbable, and yet, half a mile away from the warehouse, it finally hits me.
Middle ground.
Compromise.
A happy medium without tipping said scale.
And I’ve got just the thing...I think. The minute I park in my usual spot, I’m yanking my phone from my purse and dialing Ángel’s number. Whether or not he can meet me before he leaves will determine when I’m gonna lay it on him.
He answers after only the third ring.
“Mami, you okay?” The smooth timbre of his voice assaults me almost as hard as it does in person, pebbling my skin with goose bumps.
“I’m fine, just pulling up to the warehouse. I have a question for you…”
“Dimelo.” Tell me.
“Do you have time to meet me before you take off tonight?” My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I wait for him to respond.
“I will always have time for you, muñeca, even on my busiest days.”
This man… There goes my heart melting again, lips spreading into a grin. “I’ll tell you where to meet me when I wrap up here.”
“Whenever, wherever, I’ll be there,” he assures me. “You’re not gonna tell me to fuck off, though, right?”
Despite the fact he can’t see me, I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Are you gonna make my whole fucking day and tell me you’re leaving with me?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, papi. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Me: Dania Beach. I’ll be by the pier.
I sent that text over twenty minutes ago. No reply has come through yet, but it’s still early…three o’clock. Ángel told me he could be held up as late as five.
That’s fine. I can wait. The business was taken care of without issue, and I have nowhere else to be right now.