War (Wrong Book 4)

by Stevie J. Cole

  "When you have to go, you have to go. I'm sure Lupe didn't mind me pissing on his face."

  "And you wonder why we're balls deep in this shit, Jude. Fuck me," Tor bitches, pointing at Gabe. I pull off, the tires bumping over the bodies. Gabe and Marney chuckle. Tor shuffles forward until her face is by my shoulder. "Don't be running over dead bodies in my car!"

  Groaning, I place my hand on her forehead and shove her back in her seat. "Woman..." I turn out onto the main road. "I will deal with you later."

  She snorts, and Marney chuckles. "Good to have you two love birds back at it again," he murmurs.

  "Fuck off, old man."

  25

  Tor

  Jude is seething mad. Of course. I lie on the bed with my eyes closed, listening to him pace back and forth across the room.

  "Do you know how fucking stupid that was? Huh? Do you?" He stops his Neanderthal waltz long enough to stare at me. "Words, Tor. I want a fucking answer."

  I sigh and prop up on my elbows, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. "Yes, Jude. All the words." I sigh. "I'm alive. They're dead. I'm pretty sure it's me that should be mad at you right now, so calm your shit."

  His eyes pop wide and I see that tick in his jaw, the vein bulging from his temple. "Calm my..." His jaw clenches so hard he can't even finish his sentence. The next thing I know, he's charging me, grunting like an animal before his fingers wrap around my throat and he pins me to the bed. His face is right in mine, his eye twitching. "Do not patronize me."

  Glaring at him, I shove at his chest. But, of course, it does nothing. "Fuck you, Jude." His grip tightens, and I rake my nails down his forearm hard enough that I hope I've drawn blood. "What the hell do you want me to do? Sit here twiddling my thumbs?" I buck my body, trying to throw him off, but he presses his body harder over me, sliding between my thighs until I'm consumed by him.

  "I'll tell you what I want you to do," his grip on me tightens and I revel in it, the dominance, the anger, I let it sweep me up, because on some level I need it right now. "I want you to not be so goddamn reckless, how about? Shit, is it that hard to just let someone else handle something? For once, Tor. It's the cartel. It is the fucking cartel."

  "I'm well aware! Not like I didn't spend the last three months in that cartel or anything," I say with a snarl. "You don't get to do this anymore, Jude. This isn't about me. We agreed—"

  "I never agreed for you to go on a suicide mission. A fucking motorcycle, Tor. A fucking motorcycle!"

  "I'm not...I'm not suicidal," I say, my voice quietening. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow around my constricting throat. When I open my eyes again, he's staring at me. Hard, angry, desperate. "I just can't afford to be weak anymore."

  He shakes his head. "When have you ever been fucking weak?"

  My fingers relax, and I gently wrap them around his wrist. I became weak the moment I handed Cayla over to a stranger. "What greater failure is there than a mother who cannot protect her child?" I ask, turning my face away from him as I fight back that sense of complete helplessness.

  He sighs heavily, dropping his chin to his chest and completely releasing me from his hold. "Some things are beyond our control. One thing you are not, is weak." He grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "You are the best mother, and you did everything humanly possible. In that regard, Tor, you have been stronger than me."

  I hate that we keep riding this rollercoaster from pain and despair to anger and revenge and back again. I hate his pain, and I hate that I've made him think that he didn't do enough. My beautiful man who has always been so unbreakably strong. Now we're both breaking, and all we can do is hold onto each other as we do. I cup his jaw, stroking my thumb over the stubble of his face. I wind my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him down until his cheek is pressed to my chest. He releases a heavy breath and winds his arms around me as I stroke my fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry," I say. Yes, all we can do is hold on and hope that we can remain whole long enough to finish this.

  He lifts his face, his eyes locking with mine before he kisses me. Soft at first, then hard, desperately unsure then so certain, like a tidal wave of emotions ebbing and flowing. I allow him to bleed into me until our pain, our love, our loss, it all becomes one. He rolls over, dragging me on top of him until I’m straddling his body. His hands cup my face and he strokes over my throat almost reverently. The truth is, all we have is this, right here, right now. The path we're on, we don't know how much time we have. We could die tomorrow, and I need him to know that I love him, that he gave me a life so extraordinary, so full of love, that it was too perfect to last. And despite all of it, I would never change loving him. I couldn't. Even though being apart from Cayla is eating me alive, I don't want to waste a second that we have left fighting with him. I just need him in every sense of the word.

  I sit up and reach for the hem of his shirt that I'm wearing, pulling it over my head. His eyes trace my body as he glides his palms up my stomach, pausing over the scar below my right breast. His brows pull together as he stares at it. "I thought I lost you," he whispers, his finger trailing over the scar. "And that—thinking I'd have to find a way to live without you—it destroyed me."

  I take his hand and lift it to my face, kissing over his scarred knuckles, his calloused palms. "I'm right here."

  He sits up and grabs my face, kissing me hard. I kiss him back, reaching for his shirt and tugging it over his head. I just want to feel him. When everything around us is going to shit, and the clock is constantly ticking in my ear, I just want to love him and to feel his love in return. It's all I have to cling onto, the only thing I can offer anymore.

  The warm skin of his chest presses against me and I shiver. This is the only thing in my world that has ever been right. Him. Us. This. I wrap my arms around his neck and he grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, dominating and possessive. His hand slides between my legs, brushing over my underwear. His warm lips slowly kiss down the side of my neck, and I drag desperate breaths into my lungs. He makes me burn for him with only the slightest touch until my entire body feels like it's going to explode.

  "I love you, Tor," he says, his eyes locked on mine as he pushes my underwear to the side and slides two fingers inside me.

  I gasp, my entire body both tightening and relaxing at the invasion. My nails dig into his back and he hisses out a breath. He presses between my legs, working his fingers deep inside me. I throw my head back, a long moan falling from my lips. No one can make me feel the way Jude does. He plays me perfectly, like a master pianist, perfecting every single note.

  Within seconds, I'm falling apart, begging him for more. I just want this, to feel everything, to experience him while I still can. When you're on borrowed time, everything seems more precious. I reach for his belt, yanking it open. I undo the button of his jeans and shove them down his thighs. The moment my fingers wrap around him, his chin drops to his chest on a deep groan.

  "I want you, Jude. Always."

  His fingers wrap around my throat and my heart beats harder sending blood rushing through my veins, that rush of adrenaline pounding away at my eardrums in a beautiful crescendo. I feel the head of his cock press against me, and then he slides home in one thrust. My breath leaves me in a rush, and he growls against my lips. His forehead rests against mine and his fingers tighten around my throat as he drives into me. God, he feels so good, so perfect. I wrap my arms around him, trying to pull him closer. I need to touch him, to feel as much of him as possible.

  He fucks me deep and slow, his fingers flinching into my neck with every thrust. It's that fine line between love and hate, need and desperation. We're both so far from the people we once were and yet, nothing has changed because we will always have this. We will always feel this burning passion, an insatiable need to connect with each other. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, breathing him in. His lips brush across mine and I scrape my teeth over his bottom lip, pulling a growl from him.

  His grip on my
throat tightens so much that my vision dots and my head spins, pleasure tightens my body and I moan against his mouth. A long groan slips from his lips and he stiffens before collapsing on top of me. He releases me and I drag in a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to fill my lungs. Jude's heavy, sweat slicked body presses over me, his rapid breaths washing over my neck.

  "I love you, too," I say through ragged breaths.

  26

  Jude

  I wake up with my dick pressed against Tor's ass. Smiling, I work my arm around her waist and tug her closer because, damn, I've missed her. I press a kiss to her neck. She shifts, rolling onto her back and smiling softly without opening her eyes. Just as I cover her mouth with mine, the bedroom door bangs open.

  "Bullshit!" Gabe shouts.

  I sit up in bed and Tor yanks the covers over her chest. "What the hell, Gabe?"

  "Look, look out the window." He drops his chin to his chest and sighs, mumbling something under his breath.

  I climb out of bed, go straight to the window, and pull the heavy curtains back. "What am I looking—Oh..." There's a body hung over the side of Gabe's garden wall, birds tearing at the exposed entrails. "Shit."

  Tor comes to stand next to me with the sheets wrapped around her.

  "Roberta,” Gabe says, “my best hooker, and they gutted her. I wonder what that arctic fuck would think if it was his best whore with her guts hanging out." He paces as he lights a cigarette and begins puffing on it like a chimney. "That's it! The Sinaloa chlamydia-riddled whorehouse is going up in flames right along with their shitty cocaine." He takes a long drag, his eyes bulging.

  "Calm down," I say.

  He angrily points at the window. "They gutted my best whore, that's like taking a steaming shit right on my forehead."

  "You pissed on one of their dead men," I say.

  "And I'll piss on every last one of them. Hell, I'll take a shit on their chests if I get a chance."

  "Oh my god. You have a strange obsession with shitting on people," Tor says, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to go change." She shakes her head as she walks past us. The sheet drops almost to her ass, exposing her bare back. Gabe turns around, watching her go, and I punch him in the arm.

  Gabe looks at me as he flicks the ash from his cigarette to the floor. "I'm blowing up their whore house."

  "That's not constructive."

  His eye twitches. "Do you think I give a shit?" He points angrily out the window. "Look at Roberta!"

  "Fine, blow up a whore house if it will make you feel better, but it won't get you anywhere."

  Gabe glares at me, taking another long drag from his smoke. "So, suddenly you are an expert at the cartel?" Aggravation is evident in the slight tick of his jaw.

  "You don't have to go around spilling everyone's fucking blood."

  His eyes narrow and one side of his lips curl up. "But the blood is where the fun's at, ese."

  "Fuck, you're demented."

  He grins and takes a small bow. "Gracias."

  I swipe my hand over my jaw and shake my head. This has to be done right because we need to get Cayla, and the Russian doesn't seem to be one for much patience.

  Tor comes out from the bathroom wearing a pair of shorts and one of my t-shirts. She huffs when she sits on the edge of the bed and crosses her legs. "So, what's the plan?"

  I stare at her. Of course she thinks she needs to be involved. Of course she does. "Tor," I start.

  "How about you don't waste your breath on whatever bullshit you're about to say, Jude. We made a deal."

  Sighing, I drag my hand down my face and look at Gabe. He just shrugs. "We could get her to pose as a whore." He smiles.

  "The fuck no!" I shout.

  "Great idea," she says.

  "Of course you'd think it is. No!" There is no way in all fuck Tor is dressing up like some Mexican hooker and strutting into some shitty cartel crack house.

  Gabe steps over and thumps the side of my head. I have a visceral reaction where all I can think about is knocking his goddamn teeth down his throat, but I rein it in and clench my fist. He shrugs. "They have money that comes in from the gringos. Crosses the border every Thursday. The trucks are bullet proof and the drivers shoot first, ask questions later. But all men have one weakness, eh, ese." He snickers as his gaze drifts back to Tor.

  I shove him back a step. "You've got plenty of fucking whores. Call one of them up and tell them to do this shit. Tor's not doing anything, you fucking idiot."

  "What would you need me to do?" Tor asks Gabe.

  "Stay your ass right there," I say, glaring at her.

  Ignoring me, he glances around me at Tor and rolls his eyes. "This is the cartel. Some lines you don't cross. I'll blow people up, gut people, but stealing people's money sets a bad precedent. I steal Sinaloa money, they steal mine. And money's harder to replace than Roberta." Gabe crosses his chest. "God rest her soul." He sniffs.

  Tor huffs. "What would I need to do?"

  "Are you fucking deaf?" I ask, leaning down in front of her face. "I said fucking no."

  "Well," Gabe pushes me out of the way, and I punch him in the face.

  His head jerks to the side and he moves his jaw from side to side. He glares at me, nostrils flaring. I don't give a flying shit. "Gabe, stay out of this."

  He lifts a finger, grating his teeth. "I'm going to blame that on your shitty temper." He takes a breath. "Now, do you want your daughter back from the fucking Russian or not?"

  Groaning, I tilt my head back and step to the side.

  "As I was saying before Neanderthal here punched me—you know, you really need anger management classes, ese," —he shakes his head, "they always stop at Aqua Basal Truck Stop, so you just dress the part of a dirty cholita and seduce the driver. Get in the cab like you're going to ram his dirty little dick down your throat—" I grip his shoulder hard and clear my throat. Gabe huffs. "He's so moody. Anyway, just, you know, pretend like you're going to...” He makes some flourish movement with his hand, eyeing me, “and when you get inside, blow his fucking head off." He grins. "With a gun, not your—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I get the point, Gabe." Tor rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips.

  "And you expect them to just let her waltz the fuck in there?" I groan.

  He leans back, grabbing his chin with his hand as his eyes skate over Tor's body. "Ese...come on, now. Look at her." He growls. "Pretty gringo's like her—"

  "I'm not American," Tor sighs.

  "Yeah, yeah, pretty blondes like her." He blows a kiss. "Those dirty Sanchez fucks will cut off their balls to have a go with her."

  I grit my teeth, trying to force myself to breathe. It's just Gabe. Just fucking Gabe... Tor moves to my side, placing her hand gently on my forearm. "Gabe, can you give us a minute? You're not exactly helping the situation," she says, staring at him.

  "Oh, of course." He steps into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  I pace in front of the bed. She's fucking insane. He's fucking insane. I'm the only sane fucker around here, and that’s not good. I spin on my heel and face her, narrowing my gaze. "You are not fucking doing that shit."

  She steps toward me and sighs, placing her hand on my chest. She looks up at me all innocently through her lashes. "Jude—"

  "Ah, hell no." I slap her hand away from me. "Don't even start with that shit, Tor."

  She sighs and folds her arms over her chest. "Look, unless you're going to put on a dress and seduce some sweaty truck driver, I suggest you roll with it."

  "There are ten-fucking-thousand whores in Juarez..."

  "Be serious, Jude. A whore might sell her pussy for money, but her life? They'd have to be suicidal to rip off the Sinaloa."

  I drag my hands down my face and grunt. I don't want her doing this. At fucking all. She pushes up on her tiptoes, presses a soft kiss to my cheek, and wraps her arms around my waist. "Not like we expect to get out alive anyway. What do we have to lose?"

  And she's right. We won't get out of this a
live.

  This is about Cayla...but I fucking love Tor and it’s an animal instinct to protect her. Closing my eyes, I huff. "Fine, Tor. If you fucking feel it's best. Fucking fine."

  And I turn, walking out of the room and passing Gabe in the hall. "The two of you figure that shit out,” I say. “I'm just along for the goddamn ride."

  27

  Tor

  I step into the kitchen wearing the shortest dress I could find. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a top, but it works, riding up dangerously high. My heels click over the tile floor and I avoid looking at the three men seated at the breakfast bar. Gabe lets out a low whistle.

  "And what the hell is that?" Jude says, eyeing the bottom of my skirt…shirt…whatever it is.

  "A dress, Jude.” I sigh and look up at him. “A hooker dress."

  "You're not leaving this fucking house wearing that." His eyes flick from my legs to my cleavage, his lips pressed into a tight line. He readjusts himself, and I roll my eyes.

  "It's got you hard, so I'd say it's the perfect outfit."

  Marney chuckles before he goes into a coughing fit. "Ah, come on now, Jude. She's gotta look the part."

  He shakes his head at Marney. "You're okay with this shit?"

  Marney holds his hands up. "I didn't say that now, don't go shovin' words in my mouth, boy. I'm just a'saying, she's gotta look the damn part if it's gonna work."

  Jude groans. "This is fucking ridiculous."

  "It's Mexico, everything's ridiculous," Marney cackles.

  I cross my arms. "Look, last time I checked, neither of you were my father, so quiet."

  Jude glares at me, and Marney just pulls a cigarette from his pocket.

  Gabe checks his watch. "We need to go."

  "We?" Jude says, eyes wide.

  "Yes, I will drop her at the border." He takes a cigarette from his pocket. "My men will take her to the truck stop and bring the truck back. Gustavo is good people, ese. And technically, he's not one of mine." He winks and places a cigarette in his mouth.