Fuck. I could go months without actively thinking about her or any of the other stuff. But then it’d hit me like this. All the memories would come rushing to the surface. And immediately after, I wanted to hide away.
Find a bar.
Get drunk.
Get into a fight.
Worse.
Don’t let him. You just tell Tante Didi who did this. Qui?
We can tell Tante Didi. She’ll make it stop.
Shoving the heel of my hand against my eye, I tried to drown out the visions and voices of a past I hadn’t only run from, I’d tried to bury them.
“Señor! Señor! Do you need a ride? We go to all the finest hotels.”
The young man standing in front of me was small, his head barely coming up to the middle of my chest. His smile was charming and impersonal. His eyes were greedier than hell.
Well, shit.
I’d been looking for a distraction.
I bared my teeth at him. “Okay. I wouldn’t mind a ride.”
LeVan was one of the first to remain standing after going one-on-one with me after one of my rages.
I wasn’t proud of them.
But I wasn’t ashamed of them, either.
I knew where they came from and they were just a part of me, like the size of my hands or the color of my eyes.
I knew them better than I knew my own strength, sad to say.
The greedy taxi driver tossed a few comments in Spanish at me on the drive. I pretended not to understand. But I knew he was in league with the three little Mexican thugs who came after me. The driver pulled over claiming he had a flat tire. By then, I wasn’t concerned about taking them on. I knew my own strength. They should’ve done a better job of sizing me up. And sure, they could also have been packing weapons, which would put me at a slight disadvantage.
But I’m the one who intentionally put myself in a dangerous situation. After all, I pretended not to know this whole fucking thing was a setup to either rob me blind or take me hostage. The hostage takings in Mexico City weren’t as violent or dramatic as they made it out to be in movies. Kidnappers wanted money, plain and simple. And they were smart enough to know they wouldn’t get shit if they killed the people they grabbed.
I looked like I had money. Maybe I should’ve left the Tom Ford sunglasses at home. Or the hand-tooled boots on my feet. But the boots were a lot more effective at kicking somebody’s ass than a pair of tennis shoes, and I was planning to do just that.
When he’d made the phone call in Spanish about a big, rich tourist with fancy boots, I decided he’d made his own bed mistaking me for a mark when it was the other way around. I tried not to think about the floodgate I’d opened up with that simple memory of Tante Didi. Micah.
You just tell Tante Didi.
“Señor, there is a problem with the car…”
The driver had pulled over to the side of the road and was now watching me with calm eyes. We were off the main drag. If I hadn’t been to Mexico City before, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. But I did.
I’d also been robbed before. At gunpoint. With LeVan. The first time he and I had a show down here before we’d hooked up with Sly. Back when I was still somewhat wet behind the ears…at least in some ways.
It wasn’t going to ever happen again.
“I can just wait in here,” I offered easily. He didn’t have to get hurt. The man still had a chance to redeem himself. To save his little face from getting fucked up.
“No, no, sir…you are a big man. The jack won’t lift if you stay in the car.” He flashed me a smile. “If there is an accident, you could get hurt.”
“Sure.”
Who hurt my bébé? You tell Tante Didi. You tell me now.
Sliding out of the car, I let myself listen to that voice from long ago. Tante Didi. And Micah. One part of me listened. The other part waited.
And when shadows moved at my back, I slid to the side.
Who hurt my bébé? You tell me!
It had been a long, long time since anyone had been able to hurt me.
That wasn’t going to change now.
And it didn’t.
Those three men and the driver had no fucking clue the kind of man they’d tried to victimize.
What could I say? That little scuffle with them tickled a bit.
The policia looked from me to the bloodied men on the side of the road. I waited for them to arrive. I’d also called the U.S. Embassy and my hotel with all the spare time I had.
Yes, I wanted to see Angel, but not when Tante Didi was stuck in my head. This diversion with my attackers was my coping mechanism. It was mandatory.
The hotel staff arrived before the police, offering profuse apologies. It wasn’t their fault. They’d had a limo waiting for me back at the airport. I’d even seen the guy holding a sign with my name, and I still left with the dumbass lying unconscious on the ground.
He was probably one of the luckier ones. I didn’t leave him with broken bones. He looked like he might be all of nineteen or twenty. If the police weren’t too rough on him, maybe he’d learn a lesson and get a real job as a legitimate driver after this.
But who knew? Mexico wasn’t exactly a country of opportunity for all. Sometimes it was easier to make a living breaking the law than earning an honest dollar. Though that didn’t mean I had to stand still and get worked over or robbed.
“Señor Knight.”
Glancing up, I saw two men from the U.S. Embassy—one was a guy who probably never got out from behind a desk. The man seemed scared of his own shadow. The other was his bodyguard. It was the bodyguard who took charge out here in the field.
As I sat on the curb, he flashed me a wide smile. “I’ve been a big fan of yours for years. Ever since I saw you perform here in Mexico City about five years ago.” He waved his hand over at the unconscious men. Now I’m even more of a fan. You should try out for WWE or something in an octagon.” He looked at the cops as they started to drag the men upright. “Although, with all your traveling experience, maybe you should’ve just stuck to a legit taxi service.”
“Probably. It slipped my mind.” Rising to my feet, I held out a hand. Instead of shaking it, he returned my passport. I took it, checked it, then slid it back into my pocket. “Thanks.”
“Sí, sí. If I may ask… what brings you back to Mexico City? You’re not here to perform.” He wagged a finger at me. “Trust me. I would know. I order tickets for all the American magic acts.”
His desk jockey colleague eyed me and spoke for the first time. “You’re a magician?”
“Yes, sir.” I ignored the fact that he said the word with about as much condescension as he’d ask if I were a two-bit stripper. Giving him the same smile I shared with photographers, I nodded. “Want to see me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”
“Ah, no. No, that won’t be necessary. Seeing as how you’re unharmed.” His eyes flicked to the scrape on my right cheek, then to my hands which were bruised. Nothing like the faces of the men I’d decimated.
He didn’t continue. Looking away nervously, with hands sketching skittish gestures in the air, he patted the bodyguard on the shoulder and returned to their car parked on the roadside, mumbling something under his breath. I didn’t catch it and didn’t care enough to ask him to repeat it as two cops stepped up to speak with him.
I was just glad they weren’t coming to speak to me this time.
“You never did say what brings you to Mexico City, Señor Knight.”
Without thinking, I replied, “My girl.”
Halfway through the word, I realized what I was saying.
Angel.
I was in Mexico to visit Angel. Well, I was here to back her up against the nearest flat surface, run my hands all over her soft, warm body, and discover any new changes the past couple of weeks had brought. I’d fuck her until she agreed to come back to Vegas with me.
I was here to fix things.
I could see her now that I’d gotten the rage out of my system
, thanks to my four attackers.
“A lady, sí.”
Why was this American persisting in talking to me, another American, with Spanish spattered into everything he said? It was annoying. Unaware of the turmoil in my head, he rambled on. I let him for about five seconds. To keep the peace and be sociable enough with people in an embassy. I figured it couldn’t hurt. But he wouldn’t stop.
Then I said, “Excuse me, but I should catch my ride now.”
Admitting to myself that there was more between Angel and me than the baby was akin to getting punched in the head. The physical attraction between us was strong, but I was avoiding the rest of it. Except for the baby. And a baby was one hell of a thing to have between us.
It was the middle of January now. How had that happened?
I was pissed off as hell, that’s why. I missed half a month of seeing the baby grow, even if the only way I could witness it was by watching Angel, but why the fuck did I let it happen?
Right. I happened. The asshole who shut her out.
Slumped in the back of the limo that whisked me away toward my hotel, I debated on how to handle the current mess I’d made of something decent and pure and perfect.
I was good at fucking things up. That I knew.
Angel still had no idea I was coming to see her. It was now almost midnight—she fell asleep pretty early, or that seemed to be the case. And here I was, wasting precious time with those little Mexicans who I lured into trying to rough me up for my money. And even more time driving to my hotel instead of going straight to her.
Leaning forward, I hit the button that lowered the window between me and the driver. “Hey, change of plans.” I handed him Angel’s school address information. “Take me there.”
Time to return my focus to the real reason I was here.
24
Angel
The waters of the cenote were cold and deep.
The trip to the ruins was hot and exhausting.
Bump wasn’t happy about any of it.
By the time we were in the van heading back to Mexico City, I’d made a decision. No more playing tourist until long after Bump was born, and old enough to remember the visit.
Still, I didn’t completely regret going. Even Neal had behaved and left me alone the entire time. The vista around the cenote was beautiful, vines draping down from the open entrance, birds flying in and out, the sun reflecting on the still water. It was almost surreal how stunning and pristine the place was.
The ruins weren’t as enjoyable or notable as I’d hoped, but I was hot and tired with swollen ankles, with the extra passenger along for the ride who kept bouncing on my bladder.
The trip back to the city passed in a blur of sleep, odd dream fragments, and mumbled conversations with Yvetta when I managed to remain awake enough. It wasn’t until about thirty minutes away from the school that I started to wake up.
“It’s about time,” Yvetta teased, nudging me with her elbow. “I was starting to think we’d have to ask Neal if he’d carry you to your apartment.”
“Not funny.” I made a face at her.
Out of habit, I checked my phone, half-hoping I’d have another message from Mac, but there wasn’t one. I’d replied to his last text while we were on the road and told him I was heading off for a weekend trip out of town, but it took a while to go through. If it went through at all.
I needed to switch to a local carrier at least temporarily if I wanted to have anything resembling normal service outside the city. At my apartment, I’d use a phone card on the landline to speak to my parents because of the poor reception on my cell. Even with the international roaming upgrade to my plan, the service sucked. Texts could take five seconds to send, or twenty minutes. Sometimes, they sat idling on my phone screen with a little pop-up message that read, currently unable to send until the service is available.
I wanted to call Mac and talk to him, but the phone tended to cut in and out. Besides, he was avoiding my calls. I wasn’t dumb. I wanted to wait until I could see him in the flesh before I even considered addressing that. But he kept avoiding me, so how was I supposed to make that sort of travel arrangement at this juncture?
“You disappeared again.” Yvetta sighed mournfully, dropping her head to rest it on my shoulder.
I playfully nudged her away. “I’m thinking.”
“You have this sadness in your eyes. Are you thinking about...the father?” She glanced at my midsection, brows arching.
“I…no.” I wasn’t against telling her what was going on, but as I didn’t want to jump to conclusions about Mac’s behavior, I chose not to. I was still trying to understand it myself. Deciding to go with something safer, more mundane, I added, “I don’t think I’ll be back next year. I’ve got another place in mind. I’ll probably start looking soon.”
That made her smile.
“I’ll be right back for your bag, Señora.” Carlos, the older driver nodded at me and disappeared inside the main building of the school while Yvetta and I stretched our legs.
“I’m not waiting,” I warned her. “I’ve got to pee. And that guy moves at two speeds. Slow, and slower.”
“You’ll hurt his feelings if you insist on carrying your bag in your condition.” Yvetta tsked under her breath at me, shaking her head. “I know you didn’t pack much and we’re only a block away from here, but let him have his pride.”
Before I could argue with her, a familiar voice hailed me. Neal. Good Lord. Back in action.
I set my jaw. “I’m leaving,” I mouthed at her, grabbing the strap roughly the same time Neal did.
Aw hell.
Neal was a solidly built man who stood three inches taller than me and was built like a linebacker. He was broad across the shoulders and chest, with an affable smile permanently etched in place.
He’d been teaching for a while, but only started coming onto me after the new year. Apparently, he and his wife—now deceased— had bought a small tienda convenience store around the block years ago. Some locals ran it for him while he was teaching during the week, but he’d swing by on evenings and weekends to check in on them. I’d made the mistake of going in there a couple weeks back, and he took it to mean I was somehow interested in him. He started following me around shortly after.
If he didn’t stop it soon, I’d have an honest conversation with him about on-the-job professionalism. I had a feeling that was what it would take, because he hadn’t been responsive to subtle, or even not-so-subtle hints. Like now, when I tried to jerk my bag away.
“Thanks for the offer to help, but I’ve got it under control, Neal. It’s not that heavy.”
“Nonsense. You could use a break from lugging it around. Come on, let’s get you to your place,” he said, putting a hand on my arm.
Yvetta was no help, standing there entertained. And worse, her apartment was a block in the opposite direction.
I shrugged off his hand. “Neal, I’m not kidding—”
“Señora, is this your…never mind me and my rambling,” Carlos said, beaming at me. He was married to one of the older teachers and helped from time to time. This time, with the driving and lugging bags around. The way he was smiling. Oh, man. He didn’t think Neal and I—
“Carlos, thanks so much. Yes, go ahead with the bag,” I said, hoping Neal would get the hint.
Neither of them did.
“You have all the help you need, I can see.” He smiled again and backed away, leaving me with Yvetta and Neal.
“I’m…going to let Carlos help with my bags,” Yvetta said, edging away.
“Don’t you dare,” I mouthed the words to her silently. But she was already turning on her heel and honestly, I didn’t blame her. She thought Neal was harmless, but I found him to be repugnant, condescending, sexist, presumptuous.
“Let’s get you home,” he said.
I pulled away before he could touch me again, and decided it wasn’t worth the tug of war just to get my bag away from him, especially as I still had to pe
e. I started off at a fast clip. He took a few jogging steps and caught up. Sadly.
“Are we in a hurry?” he asked.
“We aren’t. I am. I need my rest.” I was blunt.
He blushed and I hid a smile. He was quick to anger by the weirdest things.
It took less than five minutes to reach my place. I nodded to the ground outside my front door. “I’ll take it inside. Thanks for your help.”
“I should come in,” he said, still holding the bag, still smiling. “Make sure everything is good and secure.”
I didn’t have the time or patience for this.
Crossing my arms, I pinned him with a flat look. “No. No one broke into my place while I was gone. See? The lock’s fine. Now…can I please have my bag?”
Please…before I pee my pants? I thought.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Neal eased in closer, still holding my goddamned bag.
“I appreciate that,” I lied through clenched teeth. “But it’s not necessary.”
He didn’t seem to care how irritated I was. Reaching up, he brushed my hair back from my face. “You’ve gotten more incredibly beautiful since I last saw you. Do you know that?”
Everything in me froze.
Something about the way he looked at me always worried me a little. He was the sort of man I didn’t really want to be alone with. Standing here under my doorway light, beside a well-lit street, with people passing by, that didn’t concern me. I could take care of myself, but the thought of him coming into the house with me?
No. Just no.
“Neal,” I said, firming my voice and edging back into the doorframe. “This has gone too far. You need to think about your professional career before you ever consider touching me like that again.”
“You probably think I’m not interested, because of your baby,” he said. The insane man ignored everything I’d said and was still smiling into my eyes. “I’ve always loved children. I think you and me…”
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Oh, hell, no.
I moved out to sidestep around him, and that was when he dropped the bag right into my path.
Ruin Me: Vegas Knights Page 17