I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two

by Knight, Natasha

  Tonight, I could have been done with it.

  But I chose Scarlett instead.

  And I’m not sure if it’s even puzzling that I did.

  I walk away, noticing the whiskey Lenore left on the coffee table and pour some into each of the tumblers. My uncle’s eyes burn into my back. He’s pissed.

  Picking up both glasses, I turn and walk to him. I hand him one.

  “You got to the old man who rented the boat?”

  He nods. “He’s taken care of. Not that he’s any of our concern.”

  “He’s a human being.” I didn’t want the cartel returning to punish the old man for the tracking device he’d had on the boat every time they’d taken it.

  “Sometimes I don’t recognize you, Cristiano. You even put your own brother’s life at risk and for what?”

  I turn to walk to the window. I feel his eyes on me as he drinks his whiskey. The sea is calmer today, the sky clearer, as the sun sets. Apart from a moonless night when stars blanket the sky, it’s the most beautiful time on the island.

  “What did you expect me to do? Let her die?”

  He faces me, eyes hard, jaw set. “She is a means to an end. That is all. Not worth Dante’s life. Or yours.”

  A means to an end. If I want to work with the cartel, I need her. It’s why I married her. But there’s something fundamentally wrong with this. Something my uncle isn’t privy to. At least I don’t think he is.

  I don’t understand myself why I did it—why I married her—because I’ve known all along this isn’t my reason. I never had any intention of working with the cartel. I never planned for any future after killing Rinaldi.

  Not that I ever contemplated suicide. Not consciously. It’s more that after Rinaldi, after avenging my family’s murders, the picture ends. There is only a void.

  Or there was. Until Scarlett.

  And whether he realizes it or not, it’s what has kept me focused on the task. The thing that’s kept my determination sharp.

  But when the possibility of a future with Scarlett comes up, it muddies the waters. When it comes to Dante, I feel guilt at my choice. At what I’ve known for a long time. But with Scarlett, it’s different. My guilt for Dante is to live to spare him pain. With Scarlett, it’s to live. To really live.

  “I wasn’t going to let her die,” I say finally.

  The phone in my pocket buzzes and I dig it out, turning away.

  Lenore enters the living room from the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee. I walk toward my study to take the call. It’s Charlie.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he says.

  “Am I going to like it?”

  “I doubt it. You alone?”

  “Yes.” I close the door to my study.

  “Jacob De La Cruz had a text about two hours after the wedding.”

  I swallow the last of my whiskey, feel the burn down my throat. “Go on.”

  “It’s an address. You can figure out which. And one sentence.”

  “What’s the sentence?”

  “Remember what we agreed.”

  I grind my teeth together. “And the sender?” I’m pretty sure of his answer but I ask anyway.

  “Burner phone. Untraceable.”

  My mind goes to Alec. To how he’s injured but not dead. If the others had been killed differently, a gun fight, I’d understand how he survived. It would make more sense. But this? Him shot in the arm and the leg when everyone else took a bullet to the back of the head? It doesn’t fit.

  “Thank you, Charlie. You’ve been a great help.”

  “I’ll keep looking, see if I can find anything else.”

  I disconnect the call and go to the window. From here I can see the shoreline, the rocky beach. Cerberus comes running around the corner of the house, tongue hanging out as he charges into the water. I smile when I see him. I love his innocence. It’s something I lost a long time ago. But it’s not only innocence that I envy. It’s his freedom.

  Lenore walks out behind him. She’s pulling on a sweater and hugging her arms to herself as she watches Cerberus. I’m about to go back into the living room when I see my uncle walk around the corner. He’s got his hands pushed into the pockets of his slacks.

  It surprises me he’d go out there. First, he doesn’t like the beach. Second, he isn’t a fan of Cerberus and Cerberus is certainly not a fan of him.

  I watch them together for a minute, but Lenore and my uncle keep their gazes on either the dog or the water. They exchange a few words, but their expressions remain the same. I don’t like something about the exchange though. I don’t know what it is, but it rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s my uncle’s disdain for the help. But he’s different with Lenore, isn’t he? She’s more family than anything else. And even if she won’t say it, I know Lenore isn’t exactly my uncle’s cheerleader.

  Maybe I’m overthinking it.

  Lenore must call to Cerberus because he emerges from the waves, shaking himself out when he’s nearer my uncle. I smile. He’s predictable and steadfast in his likes and dislikes.

  My uncle’s expression changes, and I can almost hear the curse he mutters as he wipes water off his slacks before he turns to walk back into the house.

  Lenore bends to pet Cerberus, offering him a treat from the pocket of her apron before taking him back into the house.

  I check my watch, doing the math to figure out what time it is in Mexico, not that I give a fuck. Pushing the button on Jacob De La Cruz’s phone, I call Felix Pérez.

  “Jacob,” he answers on the second ring. He sounds lazy. “Is it done?” I hear him take a drag on a cigarette.

  “Jacob’s dead.”

  He clears his throat and I imagine him sobering up real quick. It takes him just a moment to get his shit back together.

  “Cristiano Grigori,” he says knowingly.

  “It’s about time we talked. You and me.”

  “I’d say it’s past time.”

  “You asked if it was done when you answered the call. If what was done? Kidnapping my wife?”

  “In fact, I just heard of your happy nuptials. Congratulations,” he says, sounding more collected. More cocky.

  “Answer. My. Question.”

  “I assume you got her back if you’re calling. If Jacob did this, then he acted outside of my authority.” I wonder if he ever gave a shit about his father-in-law. I get the feeling that answer is a no.

  “What about Marcus Rinaldi. Did he act outside of your authority too?”

  “Marcus is a fool. Diego and Angel made a deadly mistake working with him. I wouldn’t do it. Bad for business.”

  “The business of selling women and girls?”

  “Bad for any sort of business. He’s a hothead. Unpredictable and too fucking emotional. Just take what he did to your family.”

  My hand tenses around the phone and I have to drag in a deep breath.

  “I’m going to ask you this one more time. Did you have anything to do with my wife’s kidnapping?”

  “Then I’ll answer you one more time. No. Why would I? What purpose would it serve for me to fuck with you? You’re my potential business partner, after all.”

  “I’m putting you out of business, Féfé.”

  It goes silent for a moment and I almost have to laugh because he’s bothered by it. Fucking idiot is bothered by a nickname a child gave him.

  “You won’t be trading in flesh in territories I control.”

  “Well, aren’t you a man of high morals. Incorruptible. Your father’s son. It got your family killed, remember.”

  “I will continue my arrangement with the cartel on other goods because of the other families, but this is non-negotiable. Although I have to say I’m starting to wonder if the De La Cruz Cartel isn’t more trouble than it’s worth. You are replaceable.”

  “Everyone is replaceable.” He’s flippant and I dislike him even more.

  “I want Rinaldi’s location.”

  “Sadly, I don’t have it to give you.
Did he hurt her?” he asks, and I’d almost say he is genuinely concerned. Almost.

  “What do you think?”

  Silence. “Will she be all right?”

  “She’s a fighter. Stronger than any in her family that I’ve met.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I hope you are. If I learn you had a hand in this, I will kill you. Slowly.”

  “Then I’m in no danger.” I hear him take a puff of his cigarette. “You want an act of good will? Trust building?”

  “Fuck you. You’re wasting my time.” I’m about to hang up when he calls out my name.

  “Cristiano.”

  Something in his tone makes me stop.

  “I will give you Rinaldi’s location once I have it.”

  8

  Scarlett

  I wake to the smell of coffee. I move, rolling onto my side, but wince and stop as soon as I do. I remember instantly why I’m sore. Everything that happened comes flooding back to me at once.

  “Good morning,” Cristiano says.

  I open my eyes. Deep orange light, the first light of morning, filters into the room washing it in its warm glow. I watch Cristiano get to his feet from the armchair he was sitting on. His clothes look rumpled, his hair like he’s been running his hands through it all night.

  I’m back on the island. Back in his room. In his bed.

  “Morning,” I say, slow to push myself up to a seat.

  “Easy.” He’s by my side in an instant, lifting me gently.

  I suck in a breath and he draws back. Even the lightest touch hurts.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “It’s okay.”

  He adjusts the pillows behind my back.

  “Is Noah okay? Did anyone—”

  “He’s fine. Safe. They only hit the house you were in.”

  “The soldiers are dead.”

  He nods.

  “Alec. Is he…”

  There’s a momentarily shadow that crosses his features but he hides it quickly. “He’ll be okay. Took two bullets, but nothing fatal.”

  “That’s good, I’m glad.” I adjust the blankets, just wanting to feel their softness, their warmth. Almost not believing I’m here and safe. I look back up to find Cristiano watching me. “Did I dream your brother in the water?”

  He smiles. “No. He went in after you.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Really.”

  “How did my uncle know I was there at that house? That I was alone?”

  “He was tipped off.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know that yet.”

  I nod, look down to find I’m wearing a negligée in dusty pink. I don’t remember it, but it must have been in the things Cristiano bought for me on our shopping trip. It’s meant to be sexy but with my striped, bruised skin beneath it, it falls short.

  “I don’t remember coming back here,” I say. It’s true. I don’t remember much after my breakdown in the shower. The thought of that makes blood rush to my face. I’m embarrassed.

  That person breaking down, that woman who couldn’t hold her own, that’s not me. I don’t lean on people. I don’t trust people. Not even him. I can’t.

  And I’m embarrassed about it.

  “You were pretty out of it,” he says.

  It’s silent for an awkward minute and I watch him turn to the side table to pour me a cup of coffee from the small pot.

  “Have you slept?” I ask.

  He returns, cup in hand, eyebrows raised.

  “Sleep. Did you sleep?” I repeat only to get the signature grunt as he hands me the cup. I take it. Sip the burning-hot liquid. It feels good after all that cold. The memory of the ocean, of being dumped in, sends a shiver through me. I’ve never been afraid of water. I don’t know that I am now, but I was scared then. The vastness of it. The depth. The dark.

  “Cold?” He picks up the blanket at the foot of the bed.

  “I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head. Clearing it. “Why did you do it?”

  “Why did I do what?”

  “Jump into the water after me.”

  “The alternative would mean you drowned,” he says like he’s confused by the question.

  I know. I’ve come close to death more times than I care to remember but this one, it feels closer. More real.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  He studies me, big and silent. “I wasn’t going to let you drown, Scarlett.”

  “You could have had him.”

  “The cost was too high.”

  “I—”

  “I wasn’t going to let you die. Period. Is that so hard to understand?”

  It is.

  “Besides, I’ll find him again. I’m not worried about that.”

  I nod and silence falls again for a long minute. I feel him close by. Feel his eyes on me. I can’t look at him just yet though. “I’m not a whore.” I don’t know why I care if he thinks I am, but I do.

  “No, you’re not. I know that.”

  I look up at him. “Why did you accuse me of being one then?”

  “I expected…” he shakes his head, gaze shifting away from me, forehead wrinkling. “No, that doesn’t matter.” He looks back at me. “I heard what you said. Finally.”

  “What did I say?”

  “It won’t hurt as much.”

  I’m surprised. I guess I don’t expect to hear that. I remember the words. My words. Did I expect him to understand their meaning? Did I want him to? Why say it otherwise?

  I shift my gaze away from him feeling suddenly too hot.

  “Did he hurt you? Before, I mean? Did Rinaldi—”

  I snap my gaze back to his. “Rinaldi didn’t touch me. Not like that.”

  Cristiano looks confused. “Then—”

  “He made me watch him hurt others, but not me,” I cut him off before he can ask the question I know he wants to ask. If not Rinaldi, then who? That’s what he wants to know.

  I remember my uncle then. Shot. Dead. The bullet an utter surprise from the look on his face. I don’t feel anything at the memory. Not afraid. Not upset. Not relieved.

  “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” I ask.

  Again, I see confusion.

  “I mean I don’t get upset…It doesn’t bother me.”

  “What doesn’t bother you?”

  “I watched my uncle kill my brothers. I watched Marcus kill him in turn. And I can’t tell you how many other murders I’ve seen. I don’t get upset anymore. I’m not even sure I get scared. I don’t feel anything when I see it. Even when I feel their blood splatter my skin, I feel nothing. Not an accelerated heartbeat. Not fear. Not upset. Nothing. I just…stand there and watch.”

  Grunt. He takes my coffee mug and sets it down.

  I wipe a lone tear, looking down as I process. “Maybe I’m more like them than I think.” A monster.

  “They were bad men, Scarlett. I know monsters and you are not one. Not even close.”

  “I’m not so sure, Cristiano.”

  “Listen, you have many, many things wrong with you, but this isn’t one of them.”

  His comment catches me off guard and when I look up at him, I see a corner of his mouth twitch and his eyes are bright. Opposite how dark they were on the boat. He winks and his smile stretches wide.

  “Jerk.”

  He shrugs as if saying ‘if the shoe fits’. I push the blanket off and it takes me a good minute to process the pain as I swing my legs too quickly off the bed.

  “What are you doing? You need to stay in bed.”

  “I need to pee.”

  From the expression on his face, he’s surprised I’d have this human need, but then he nods. Looking like he’s on a mission, he puts his coffee cup down and bends toward me. He slides his arms underneath me to lift me up.

  “Whoa.” I hold up a hand. “I draw the line at you taking me to the bathroom.”

  “You could fall.”

 
; “I’ll be fine. It’s literally two steps away.”

  “Marcus did that? Put those marks on you?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “But it was him?”

  I nod.

  “I’ll punish him for it,” he says after a long moment.

  I give him a weak smile and he steps aside, giving me some space.

  I put my hand on the nightstand, just in case, before getting to my feet and making my way to the bathroom. I’m slow, each step painful, but nothing I can’t handle. When I get to the bathroom and close the door, the first thing I do is look at my reflection. I want to see how bad it is. And it’s bad. There are a couple of bruises on my face but most of the damage is down my front. The marks of Marcus’s belt. My wrists are raw, too, but I remind myself that it’s nothing compared to what could be happening to the other women right now.

  I need to talk to Cristiano about that. Need to figure out a way to help them.

  After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I return to the bedroom where Cristiano is texting someone. He tucks the phone into his pocket when he sees me.

  “I want to get dressed. See Noah.”

  “You should stay in bed. Clothes aren’t going to feel good on your skin.”

  I shake my head, walk toward the closet.

  “This is what I mean about your faults. For starters, you’re stubborn as a mule,” he mutters, taking my arm, his touch light.

  “You mean as stubborn as you?”

  “Get back in bed. I’ll get you something.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re far from fine.” He comes to stand a few inches from me. “Get back in bed. Don’t make me put you there.”

  I raise my eyebrows, fold my arms across my chest. “You’d put me there?”

  “And I’d tie you down if I needed to.”

  “I’m not even…How exactly would you put me there? I’m not a thing.”

  “You’re really asking me that?” he asks as I realize how stupid a question it is. Without a moment’s hesitation, he lifts me in his arms and carries me back to the bed. “Like this,” he says as he sets me down. “Are you going to stay put or do you want me to demonstrate how I’d tie you down?”

  “You’re a Neanderthal.”

  “This Neanderthal saved your life.” He points to himself then to me for the next part. “Keep your ass in bed.” He turns to walk to the closet.