Guilty by Blood (Santiago Family)

by CJ Bishop

  The man’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with the boy. He wasn’t very old, maybe eighteen or nineteen.

  “What…what did you do?” the boy choked. He clutched his weapon and brought it up, hands shaking as he aimed it at the man. “You…you killed her!”

  “Easy…” the young man held up one hand cautiously and slowly laid his gun on the floor, then raised his other hand. “Just take it easy, kid…”

  “Fuck you!” the boy cried, gripping the gun with both hands. He blinked, trying to clear his vision as the man swam before him. “You killed my mom! Why did you kill her?!”

  “No…” The man started to rise and the boy yelled at him not to move. He sank back down, one knee on the carpet. “You don’t want to do this, kid…just put the gun down. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m gonna hurt you,” the boy trembled, jaw clenched as tears streamed down his face. “You’re gonna die, you fuck!” He pulled the hammer back, his whole body shuddering with sobs, and thrust the gun out further as his finger tightened around the trigger. The man stared at him in fear; there was nowhere for him to run. “You fucker!” the boy screamed and squeezed down on the trigger—when a thumb suddenly jammed in front of the hammer and the gun was ripped from his hands and thrown away.

  The boy was caught in a man’s grip and he screamed again, fighting his hands. He felt pressure on his neck and blackness poured into his vision. His legs gave out as the darkness engulfed him and he fell back, catching a fleeting glimpse of the man who grabbed him—a cowboy?—before he sank into a black abyss.

  • •

  Flynn opened his eyes, surfacing from the darkness of the dream. Not a dream; a memory. He remembered thinking, as he’d sank into the blackness, that he would never wake up again. They would put a bullet in his head, too. But he had awakened, in his own bed. He’d thought it was all a dream, that his mother hadn’t really died, that men hadn’t come into their house and started killing everyone.

  It wasn’t a dream. The men had come. They’d killed his mom. Killed others, too. He didn’t know why they left him alive and he hadn’t cared—he wanted them dead. Especially the one who had shot his mom—and the man who’d stopped him from avenging her death.

  Flynn knew who they were now. His dad knew. They were the same ones who had killed his uncle.

  Still, his dad had yet to do shit to them. Biding his time, his dad had said. But the man was just a fucking coward—as he’d always accused Flynn of being. Flynn couldn’t go after them on his own; even he knew that would be a suicide mission.

  But now…

  He looked at the woman sleeping beside him. Was she the door he’d been looking for since he was thirteen? Could he get close enough, through her, to finally avenge his mother’s death?

  If you use her this way—you will lose her forever.

  Flynn stared at her; soft dark hair fanned over the pillow, cheeks retaining a light flush from the sex, lips so full and soft and kissable…

  He shifted his eyes. She was undoubtedly the most desirable woman he’d ever met, and he hadn’t lied when he’d told her that she was the best fuck he’d ever had. But that’s all it was—great sex. He wasn’t in love with her. They weren’t building something together. He had intended to end this in the morning anyway. If he kept it going a while longer to get his foot in the door of her home, then so be it, but that was the only reason he would postpone their departure. It wouldn’t crush him if he had to give her up after all the ugly stuff was over.

  You give a convincing speech, my man. Keep telling yourself all those things and maybe you’ll actually start to believe it.

  Unease tightened his chest. He looked at Caterina. Touched her hair, sliding his fingers through the silky strands. He wasn’t a monster; he didn’t want to bring her pain and grief. But he hadn’t wanted to lose him mom at age thirteen, either. She had been his whole world and the only one who really gave a shit about him. She was a good woman who hadn’t deserved to be gunned down in cold blood. He couldn’t rest until vengeance was served.

  And that wouldn’t happen until his mother’s killer was rotting in the cold ground…next to the cowboy who had saved his worthless life.

  •

  Cruz shuddered as Sanchez hovered over the top of him and pushed in deep…then a little deeper. His whole body quivered and cock turned to steel as his lover found his magic button. “Fuck…” His fingertips trembled against Sanchez’s ribs and he opened his legs wider, lifting his hips, urging the man to fuck him.

  Sanchez sank to his elbows and kissed Cruz with warm passion, taking his time as he began to glide his cock in and out, going in to the hilt with each gentle thrust.

  “Mmm…” Cruz wrapped his arms around the man and caressed his back, his ass, squeezing his hard cheeks as they flexed with every movement of his body. He drew out of the kiss and gasped unsteadily, fingers digging into Sanchez’s ass cheeks, pulling him in deeper as Cruz stroked his ass on his thick, hard rod. “Fuck yeah, baby,” Cruz groaned and kissed him again. “You fuck me so good.”

  Some of Sanchez’s best fucking was when he was comforting Cruz, soothing his fears and anxieties. Sanchez combed his fingers through Cruz’s hair and kissed him deeply, his thrusts picking up pace, hips developing a nice little pivot that hit the spot every time.

  “Oh fuck,” Cruz gasped, head tilting back. Sanchez bit his throat, then sucked his hot, damp skin, fucking him a little harder. “Shit, baby…yeah…oh fuck—don’t stop—oh God, right there…”

  Sanchez panted against his neck, hips pumping, rocking, rolling—his plump cock head assaulting Cruz’s prostate.

  “Oh shit,” Cruz choked and clawed his ass, clutching desperately. “I’m want to cum. Fuck. Fuck me…harder.”

  Sanchez relinquished a bit of his control and thrust harder, faster, burying himself balls-deep again and again, rocking Cruz on the bed. “Fuck,” Sanchez ground out tightly, his strong body straining beneath Cruz’s hands. “Shit. I’m gonna cum, baby,” he shuddered. “Oh fuck—come on—cum for me!”

  “Oh my God!” Cruz shoved his hand between them and grabbed his cock, pumping furiously as Sanchez let go and fucked him wildly. “Fuuck!” Cruz came, emptying a massive load onto his stomach.

  “Yeah, baby,” Sanchez panted erratically and kissed him fiercely, drilling him hard and deep, then released a strangled cry and filled him with hot cum. “Fuck!” He gasped hard and fucked through the orgasm, then dropped on the bed beside Cruz, body drenched in sweat, chest heaving rapidly. “Shit.” He shuddered and shoved his hands through his damp hair, letting out a deep exhale. “I’ll never get tired of that.”

  “What?” Cruz smiled, eyes heavy, breathless.

  Sanchez turned his head. “Making love to you.”

  His smile stretching, Cruz panted, “I thought that was unadulterated fucking.”

  Sanchez chuckled and kissed him. “When it’s with you,” he grinned against Cruz’s mouth. “Same difference.”

  Cruz kissed him back, then frowned. “What do you mean when it’s with me? Who else would it be with?”

  Laughing lightly, Sanchez looked apologetic. “Sorry, poor wording. It’s always with you.”

  “Damn well better be,” Cruz muttered with a tight smile, his heart swelling at the unquestionable truth of Sanchez’s words. One day, baby—when I quit being such a fucking coward—I’m going to ask you to marry me. And you damn well better say “yes”.

  “What?” Sanchez murmured, twisting onto his side. He drew patterns on Cruz’s slick, fevered skin.

  “Hm?” Cruz raised an eyebrow.

  “You had that look on your face, like you were thinking serious thoughts.”

  Cruz smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “You going to share with the class?”

  “No.”

  Sanchez chuckled and kissed his neck. “Brat.”

  •

  The car rolled through an iron gate that closed and locked behind them. The cowboy followed
the circular drive up to the massive house then turned onto a straight path that led around to the rear of the place and parked near two large metal doors, latched from the outside.

  “Stay here,” the cowboy ordered Tae in a gruff voice then he and his friend got out. The rear door opened suddenly, startling Tae, and the cowboy tossed in his denim jacket. “Put this on.” He closed the door again and moved to the trunk where his partner was waiting.

  Tae slipped into the warm, thick jacket and pulled it around his thin body. The coat engulfed him and saturated him with the cowboy’s lingering body heat. He tugged it tighter around him and twisted on the seat, peering out the rear window.

  The trunk popped open and there was a slight commotion as the two men dragged the customer from the club out onto the ground, then jerked him to his feet. The cowboy’s friend—who looked like an Indian to Tae—hauled the guy over to the metal doors, unlatched the lock, then disappeared inside. The cowboy closed the trunk and returned to the rear driver side door and opened it.

  “Get out.”

  Tae crawled out and stood barefoot in the dirt, hugging the jacket around him.

  The cowboy stared at him, brow tight, eyes narrowed. “How old are you?”

  Swallowing nervously, Tae whispered, “Nineteen.”

  The cowboy looked him over then studied his face skeptically. “Bullshit. Try again.”

  Tae trembled and mumbled, “Sixteen.”

  The man grunted but apparently believed him this time because he didn’t keep asking. “Come on.” He walked Tae back around to the front of the large house and inside. The place was huge—and nicer than any house Tae had ever been in. He was taken to the kitchen and ordered to sit at the table. The cowboy left him and returned a few minutes later with three men; two who looked a little older than the cowboy, and one who looked younger.

  Tae sat nervously on the chair, watching the men warily. He didn’t know how to trust in the goodness of men…he’d never known any good men, even when he was back in Korea. He hadn’t been as afraid of the cowboy because anything was better than being in that club, and he wanted to believe the rumors about the cowboy and how he had helped that other boy. But what if the rumors were wrong and he had simply brought Tae from one bad place to another?

  Had the nightmare ended—or was this just a new chapter in the horror story of his life?

  CHAPTER 17

  “Good Men”

  ______________________________________________

  One of the older men spoke to the cowboy. “Where did you find him?”

  The cowboy huffed and leaned closer. “Take a whiff. I’ll give you one guess.”

  The man grimaced. “They should burn that place to the ground.”

  Tae agreed.

  The younger of the three new men approached Tae slowly, non-threatening. He pulled out a chair and sat down a few feet from Tae. “Hi. My name is Adrian. What’s your name?”

  Tae stared at him, hugging the cowboy’s jacket tightly around his body. He felt self-conscious wearing only the G-string beneath the coat. At the club, that’s all any of the boys wore. But here…

  He swallowed thickly. “Tae,” he whispered.

  “It’s really nice to meet you, Tae.” His voice was friendly, eyes warm. Tae could always see the true nature of men in their eyes, no matter how nicely they spoke to him. There was no monster lurking behind this man’s pretty silver/blue eyes. “I realize that you don’t know us, but I hope you will believe me when I say that you’re safe here. No one wants to hurt you.” He glanced at the cowboy, then back to Tae. “Our cowboy friend here—Clint—he has some business to take care of. So, you’re going to hang out here with us for a little while, okay?”

  Tae nodded silently.

  “You can take a shower, and we’ll get you something clean to wear. If you’re hungry, we have plenty for you to eat. Then you can just relax, watch TV, take a nap if you’re tired, whatever you like.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Sound okay to you?”

  Tae licked his lips slowly, blinked at the sting in his eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered.

  It sounded better than okay. It sounded like heaven.

  Tentatively, he grasped onto the hope that maybe…maybe…these really were good men…and the nightmare was really over.

  •

  Just before dawn, Caterina awoke to Flynn lying awake beside her. He lay on his side, watching her and she sensed that he had been doing so for some time. “Didn’t you sleep at all?” she whispered and moved closer to him. She flattened her palm on his chest and kissed his throat.

  “Some,” he murmured. He rubbed his hand down her back, sparking tiny shivers. “Bad dreams, though.”

  “Bad dreams?” Caterina raised her head. “About what?”

  He stared at her silently. When she thought he wasn’t going to tell her, he said low, “My mother.”

  Caterina trembled. “Why are you having bad dreams about your mother? Did…did something happen to her?” Thoughts of her father came to mind; one never really gets over the loss of a parent.

  Flynn sighed and turned onto his back, staring above him. “She died when I was thirteen.”

  “I’m sorry,” Caterina said softly and kissed his shoulder. “I lost my dad when I was twelve. I know how much it hurts.” She hesitated, then asked, “How did she die?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, his brow knit tight. Finally, he murmured, “Intruders broke into our home and she was shot.” His voice wavered and strained. Anger knotted his words. “They didn’t have to kill her. She was no threat to them. They could’ve taken what they wanted and just left us alone.”

  Tears filled Caterina’s eyes. “My God. I’m so sorry.”

  Flynn cleared his throat, his eyes glossing. “She tried to hide me when she heard them come in. But then…then I heard her scream. I grabbed my dad’s handgun and went to help her, but…but she was already…”

  “Did you see who did it?” Caterina whispered.

  Flynn nodded. “Yes. He was right there, kneeling next to her body, gun in hand. I was going to shoot him.” His jaw tightened, squeezing his voice. “I was going to kill the fucker right then and there. But one his guys grabbed me from behind and stopped me.”

  Fear crept into Caterina as she asked, “What did they do to you?”

  He shook his head. “Knocked me out. When I woke up, they were gone. Everything was over.”

  “Did the police catch them?”

  “The police?” Flynn murmured dully. He blinked. “No. There weren’t enough leads to follow.”

  His mother’s killer was still out there? No wonder he still had nightmares; how could a person rest when their loved one was dead and the murderer walked free?

  Flynn looked at her, tears swimming in his eyes. “Do you think I was wrong to want to shoot him? That I still want to find him and make him pay for taking my mom away from me?”

  A tear slid down his face and she wiped it away. “I think you reacted the way anyone would have in your place,” she whispered. “It’s not wrong to want to bring her killer to justice.”

  Flynn shook his head. “I don’t want to bring him to justice…I want him dead.” He shoved back the sheet and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. His back was to Caterina as he rested his head in his hands. “My mom was the only person who cared about me. My dad was, is, and always will be a piece of shit. But my mom…she was the best.” His hands slid up through his hair and gripped lightly. Tears thickened his voice. “Since that day, I can’t sleep without dreaming about her death…about that fucker who shot her. Maybe you think it’s wrong to take the law into your own hands, that we should just let the cops deal with these things. But it’s been nine years and that fucker is still out there. And when I find him…I’m going to kill him.”

  Caterina stared at his back; the hurt, anguish, and anger tensing his body. “Flynn…” She touched him and he bolted to his feet, shaking his head.

  “I’ll understand
if you want to leave,” he whispered tightly. “If you want to get away from me, knowing I could kill a man. I don’t expect you to be okay with it.”

  Caterina crawled out of bed and walked over to him. She hugged him from behind and kissed between his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to leave,” she said softly. “I know how it is to love a parent so deeply. If my father had been murdered, I wouldn’t have rested until his death had been avenged…one way or another.”

  Flynn turned around and wrapped her in his arms. “You don’t think I’m a monster?”

  “No.” She kissed his chest then laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re a monster at all.”

  Flynn pressed his lips to her hair. “Caterina…” he whispered hesitantly. “Do you…do you still want to see me after tonight?”

  Her heart suddenly erratic, Caterina lifted her head and met his eyes. “I do.” She smiled and kissed his lips. “Very much so.”

  “I didn’t know I would ever meet a woman like you,” he said quietly. “A woman who could demand my full attention and blind me to all other women out there.”

  “I did all that in two nights?” Caterina laughed softly, nervously, her pulse fluttering.

  “Yeah,” he smiled. “You did.”

  She bit her lip, her cheeks warming. “You were pretty miraculous, too.”

  “Oh? How so?” he asked, intrigued.

  She gazed at him warmly. “In two nights…you healed a broken heart and made it want to…love again.”

  “Love?”

  Caterina lowered her eyes. “I-I just meant, you showed me that there are men in the world who are better than Armand. Men who are…worth loving.”

  Flynn lifted her chin and softly kissed her lips. “I wasn’t upset with what you said. I was just…confirming that I heard you right.” He smiled and kissed her again, then drew her closer, their naked bodies quickly responding to one another. “Want to go back to bed?” he whispered against her lips. “It isn’t quite morning yet. Man of my word and all that.”