by Em Petrova
“First, you didn’t take me away from anything—I had some free time. And secondly, you did right in calling me.” Hernan was a little punk back in the day, and Roades had spent some time with him in hopes of showing him that life wasn’t all gangs and wrongdoings. That it wasn’t cool to commit crimes like Hernan’s friends believed.
And lording over the water supply to a town as ravaged as this one was wrong to the nth degree.
Carissa wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“What else aren’t you telling me?” His gut instincts were never off, and he knew Carissa better than he cared to admit.
Her eyes flicked to a cupboard and then back to him. “I need medicines. For my patients. I went this morning but what I need…”
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I get them off the black market.”
Jesus. “The black market?”
She nodded. “See, I have something to… trade.”
His hand snapped into a fist. If she was talking about her body, he was going to explode.
In a rush, she said, “A doctor friend of mine fled to the mainland after the disaster, but he left me with crates of narcotics. Oxycodone and fentanyl. Things people abuse. And you’re going to think terribly of me, but I’ve been trading the crates for medicines and supplies for my people.”
Oh God. His dear, sweet Carissa was embroiled in a dangerous game with dangerous people.
“And now these people you trade with are saying the crates aren’t enough?”
She nodded.
His thigh muscles burned with the effort to remain calmly seated and not jump up to grab Carissa and pull her against his chest. To shelter and protect.
“Mon coeur,” he said slowly, his Cajun drawl sticking out like a rhinoceros in a city compared to her accent. “What is it they’re asking of you?”
She looked away and pushed out a breath. “Sex,” she stated simply.
Roades leaped to his feet, the ice pack hitting the floor. The gauze she’d placed over the cut temporarily fluttered to land on his boot, but he ignored it and closed the distance between them.
“Like hell. Like hell!” His roar made her step back and her spine came up against the wall. Fury quaked within him, and he fisted his hands. “Tell me where.”
She shook her head, and Roades gripped her elbows, towering over her.
“Mon coeur, if you don’t tell me, I’ll go looking for them myself and you won’t want to hear what happens then.”
She felt fragile in his hold. The urge to protect strengthened by ten times.
“Don’t protect these assholes,” he said.
“That isn’t it. They move around.”
“How do you find them then?”
“I sort of guess between the places where they hole up.”
“Give me the locations.” Her lips were so close, so plump and inviting. One dip of his head and he’d have them under his. Fuck, he wanted it bad.
She searched his face as if trying to tell if he was a stranger or the man she knew. He was both, and there was no way to tell her that. Explaining the things he’d seen and done, the battles he’d engaged in and put an end to, and the things he’d fucked up in his life—including leaving her—were beyond him.
“Roades.” Her voice came out on a plea. “You have no choice but to take me with you. But know this, if I didn’t truly need these medicines desperately, I wouldn’t take you there. The people I’m dealing with…”
Would be dead in an hour, if he had anything to say about it. What they were doing was bad enough but asking Carissa for sex in trade?
His bowels turned to water at the thought that this could have happened before. That she might have given in to help her patients receive aid.
Curling his hand around her nape, Roades looked into her eyes. “Is this the first time they’ve made this demand of you?”
“Yes,” she said at once.
Okay, so he might not have to kill them right away. He could wait for them to make a move first.
“I will take you there, Roades. But only because I need these pills for a little girl.” She raised a hand, letting it linger over his chest, but did not touch him.
Battling the need to kiss her—claim her—he dropped his hand from her nape and stepped back. Still feeling the warmth of her body on his skin and the silky strands of her hand on his fingertips.
Putting a hand to his spine where his weapon was nestled, he turned for the door. “Let’s go.”
He wanted to get this over with and then deal with Hernan. But once those jobs were finished, more problems would crop up for Carissa. In her eyes, he saw the way life had beaten her down, and damn if he could leave her like that.
* * * * *
“Tell me you don’t come here in the dark.” Roades’ rough tone washed over Carissa like a tidal wave on parched land, leaving her shaken, but his statement came through.
She tossed him a look over her shoulder and glimpsed the hard set of his jaw and narrowed eyes. He wasn’t looking at her but beyond her, as if checking for danger. Not for the first time, she wondered what he did for a living that had not only packed so much muscle on him but given him such a hard demeanor.
He groaned. “You do come here in the dark.”
No response was necessary as she moved down the alleyway. Between the tall buildings, sunlight didn’t penetrate easily and if she didn’t know better, she’d think it was dusk.
Looking around, she realized what Roades must be seeing—cracked pavement, junk piled in the path for people to hide behind. And no way out except a long run ahead.
He caught her by the shoulder, hand warm and heavy. He drew her to a stop and slipped around her. “I’m going first. My radars are going off.”
She was faced with his back and even without a lot of sunlight, she made out the glide of muscle as he moved.
“Keep close.”
“It’s not all that dangerous, Roades. What do you do for a living anyway? Are you some kind of superhero expecting someone to jump out at you around every corner?”
He tossed her a look that bordered on wry.
Curiosity burned on her tongue but she didn’t say more, because he raised a hand to silence her. He canted his head slightly as if listening hard. Then a door in one building opened and the head of the alley darkened as men poured out.
“Goddammit,” Roades drawled, sounding too nonchalant like they weren’t suddenly facing down the danger she’d told him wasn’t here.
Her heart slammed her ribs in a disjointed rhythm, and she plastered herself to his back. Then she realized the men could be Angel and his friends.
She peeked around Roades. “Angel?”
A harsh laugh sounded. “That you, puta? No, we drove that Estupido out. We took all his goods too.” The laughs multiplied as the man’s friends chimed in.
A couple men stepped toward Roades and Carissa, and the unmistakable gleam of knives being pulled had Carissa twisting the fabric of Roades’ shirt. He reached behind him and squeezed her hand.
Then he shoved her into some junk. “Get down. Stay small!”
She barely had time to get her bearings before his boots thudded pavement. Wait—he was running straight into a group of guys wielding knives?
A cry broke from her, and she covered her head with her hands, listening for screams and sounds of violence. The first grunt of pain hit her, and she darted her head out from behind a twisted piece of metal that might have once been a car door.
What she saw made her jaw drop.
Roades moving like a panther, and dressed all in black like one too, as he did a dance of what could only be a martial art. She knew nothing of the varieties but he was clearly trained.
A click of a weapon sounded. “Don’t come any closer, man!” someone yelled in Spanish.
Ignoring the warning, Roades continued forward. Men came at him, one latching himself onto Roades’ back while another jabbed at him with a lethal blade.
Carissa issued
a strangled cry, but before it was completely past her lips, Roades had the situation handled. The man with the knife lying in a heap, probably sporting a broken arm and the one on his back flipped over his head and his spine smashed into the pavement.
Tremors broke over her. What the hell was going on? Was she really seeing this?
Awed, a bit frightened and a lot turned on, she watched from her hiding spot as he singlehandedly kicked no less than five thugs’ asses. One was still moving on the ground, and Roades quickly dispatched him so he no longer even twitched.
He stood there a moment, arms loose at his sides but hands still fisted. She couldn’t even blink because looking away from him would mean she’d miss something, and she definitely did not want to do that.
When he slowly pivoted, he said, “Stay there another minute while I check something.”
He walked to the door and opened it. Seconds later, he closed it and came back to her, reaching a hand down into the pile of junk to pull her out.
She looked at his hand, and there wasn’t a speck of blood on it, but she knew without a doubt this was a hand that could kill—or had killed.
An uneven breath puffed past her lips as she allowed him to draw her to a stand. She couldn’t meet his eyes and stared at his chest. So much power was harnessed behind that black cotton shirt. Power she hadn’t guessed at and didn’t know how to process.
This man was not the Roades she’d known.
* * * * *
Christ, she wouldn’t even look at him. And he still wanted to put someone through the side of the building for trying to attack them. If Carissa had come here alone…
He growled and tightened his hold on her hand. She followed him to the door he’d opened. Inside was nothing more than a back room of some abandoned business with boxes and tables piled with loot. One glance had told him this was what Carissa had been looking for.
When she saw the haul in front of her, she gasped.
“Take what you need.”
He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and get her on Cohen’s plane back to Louisiana. Fuck this disaster area and fuck Hernan. Let the man come to his own end. Roades wanted to bust out that little punk’s teeth for leaving his sister to fend for herself. Any brother worth a fucking damn would have gotten her to safety, not gone his own way while she repeatedly took chances.
Carissa moved a hand toward some items. Roades reached past her and snatched up a box, swiping everything on the table into it. “Fuck it. We’re taking it all.”
She made a squeaking noise but said nothing. She had to be reeling from what she’d seen him just do, and for that he was sorry. But he’d do it again for her.
At the door, she clutched at his arm. “We can’t take it all—they’ll come after us.”
He thought of the bodies littering the ground. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Is this what you’ll do to Hernan?” Tears were in her voice, and he turned, softening at once.
“He’s your brother. I’ll try to talk sense. And if he won’t listen?” He looked through the open door at the nearest man lying in an unnatural position, though he wasn’t dead. None of them were. “Then I’ll kick Hernan’s ass too. He deserves it from what you say and isn’t that why you brought me down here? C’mon.”
He didn’t wait for her to walk around the limbs scattering the pavement but reeled her close with an arm around her waist and lifted her. With Carissa’s soft body snug against him and the box balanced in the other hand, he navigated to the head of the alley and made his way into the sunlight again.
He set her down and she tipped her head back to meet his stare—at last. Electric need zapped his system, and he didn’t give a damn about what had come before or brought them to this point in time.
He swooped in and kissed her.
A small gasp escaped her, and he deepened the kiss, angling his head to fully taste every square inch of her plump lips. That mouth of hers had been driving him crazy for years, haunting his dreams so he’d wake with a hard-on no man could fall back asleep with. Then Roades had let his fantasies take over.
But he was finished with fantasies—he had the real deal in front of him.
He yanked her onto tiptoe, one hand on her firm round ass. She parted her lips and he plunged his tongue inside her mouth.
Sweet fucking heaven.
Dear God, how had he lived without this for so many years? How had he forgotten? Her flavor, pure woman, was something that rushed back at him and after drowning for so long, he was finally breaking the surface and gulping real air.
He slid his tongue across hers again and again until she began to respond with throaty moans and small flicks of her own tongue.
He let out another growl, and she responded with a quiet mewl.
“Hell, I’m a goner for sure now. That sound you just made…” He ran his hand up her spine to her nape, guiding her closer. What he wouldn’t give to drop the box and yank her fully into his arms, but he was afraid of who’d run up and try to steal it. He didn’t want to have to break someone’s neck in Carissa’s presence.
Though adrenaline coursed through him at the mere thought of what she might have walked into if he hadn’t been here, he had no doubts about what would have happened to her.
Drawing her tighter, he pulled from the kiss. “I want you home to safety and a promise that you’ll never attempt to go out looking to trade without me again. Then I want your clothes off.”
She stared up at him, lips swollen from his assault, and damn if he could feel sorry about it. Her eyes were blurred with desire. Then they cleared and she stepped back. “We have some things to discuss.”
“Yeah, we do. Like why the hell you would think it’s okay to deal with criminals like this without a bodyguard.”
She stiffened. “I do what I must. You would too in my situation.”
He studied her. Dark hair tumbling down from its perch on top of her head and enough grit in the set of her spine to help her survive… well, this.
She started walking in the direction of her house. What he remembered of the small town was nothing like what he saw before him, and it broke his heart. Those weeks he’d spent here with her had been the best of his life. Street parties, music and so much loving. Carissa wrapped in his arms as he fell asleep each night and a promise to love her forever on his lips.
He dragged in a deep breath through his nose and adjusted his grip on the box so he could take her by the hand and still make a grab for his weapon if it came to that.
“What was that back there?” she asked after a few minutes.
“That was a gang of thugs who apparently overtook the thug you regularly deal with, if I’m guessing correctly.”
She side-eyed him. “I mean the thing you did. Was that karate?”
“I call it Roadese. My own brand of martial arts.”
“You’ve trained in many?”
He didn’t know how much to tell her, and especially out here in the open streets where somebody could easily overhear. “Let’s say I’m proficient enough to mash the arts together into a bastard skill set.”
She didn’t speak for more long minutes, and he grew mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the length of hair on her back, fallen from the confinements of the bun when he’d thrown her into the junk to keep her safe.
“Did you kill them?”
Her question caught him off-guard, and he chuckled. “No.”
“Are you sure? That one looked like he might have a broken neck.”
“Just the angle he fell. Believe me, I’d know a dead man if I saw it.”
Now he’d gone and terrified her. The lights in her eyes dimmed and she shied away, putting distance between them.
He touched her shoulder to bring her back to him both emotionally and physically. He shouldn’t want to keep her so close, since he’d be leaving again after this was done or he was called back to the Knight Ops—whichever came first. But he wanted her, dammit. His cock was still throbbing w
ith need and he’d imagined her naked at least half a dozen times since telling her he wanted her clothes off.
“Look, I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know once we reach your house.” He turned his head to look at a family camped out in a makeshift shelter on a sidewalk, small kids sitting cross-legged, tossing a pebble back and forth across the cracks of the concrete. Their faces were dirty and they looked hungry.
“Dammit.” He reached for his wallet and stepped up to the mother, who sat nearby looking as downtrodden as any human could. He handed her a wad of bills, and the woman burst into tears.
She jumped to her feet, noisily thanking him in Spanish that he followed with an increasing amount of discomfort. He didn’t want to be recognized for helping the family—and now they were drawing a crowd.
He disentangled himself from her hold around his neck and gave her a nod and wave.
He took a few steps before he realized Carissa still stood rooted back on the sidewalk. He twitched his head for her to catch up and she did, a dazed look on her face.
“Roades, that was…”
“The least I could do.”
“I was going to say kind. And a lot of money.”
He shrugged, his shirt feeling suddenly too tight across his shoulders. He felt like he was back in Afghanistan watching the war unravel the people and their lives until there was nothing left but bombed buildings and hopelessness.
Except a natural disaster had done the bombing and either the efforts hadn’t yet reached the island or nobody gave a shit about the people who were left.
He jammed his fingers through his hair and squinted as the sun worked its way higher into the sky. God, he was tired. He’d walked all night and kicked no less than nine men’s asses. He’d also experienced an emotion he hadn’t in a long time.
Fear.
When it came to himself or his team, fear almost never arose. He was always certain they’d take care of business. But knowing Carissa was here doing this alone… God.
He swung his head right and left, keeping on alert as they walked the rest of the distance back to her house. When she stepped up on the stoop and threw him a mischievous smile, he caught his breath.