by Eve Langlais
“Did Tanya find anything?” Judy asked.
“Hold on a second. Are we just talking in front of him?” Portia asked. “Has he been given clearance?”
“Mother approved it.”
“Did Mother say why?”
Carla shrugged. “You know how she is. She doesn’t always give us a reason. Just orders.”
“And we listen,” Portia said with a frown, still staring at him.
“You guys are sisters?” he said, trying to follow their conversation.
Portia replied, “We are tighter than blood. Can we trust you?”
“I would never do anything to hurt Carla or Nico.” The truth.
“Fine.” Portia turned away and rummaged in a purse. “For Pedro, I’ve got a sedative you can use if you get close to him. Also, one more dose of the TTT43 in case you want him to confess to the cops. If you can’t eliminate him due to witnesses, then see if you can drop the teal one into a drink. It will cause a massive cardiac arrest…”
“More drugs?” Philip said dryly as Portia handed over three plastic bags, each with a pill inside.
“Useful if we get close enough, but more than likely, things will get rough,” Carla admitted.
“Which is why you should let the pros handle it,” Philip reiterated.
“The cops aren’t pros. And you don’t have to come if you’re scared.”
“Not scared, just not stupid. You’re hunting a known criminal. You can’t expect him to follow any rules.”
“I don’t have a problem with breaking the rules. You ready, soldier?”
As he’d ever be.
Because more than ever, he wanted to know who the real Carla was. Did she have what it took to go after a thug?
What if it came down to a life-or-death situation? Could she act?
The first kill was hard. For some, too hard.
If he could prevent it, Philip would make sure she never had to make that choice.
Chapter Eighteen
Philip stuck close to Carla as they hit the bars near the neighborhood most likely to host Pedro. A guy like him would want to be surrounded by folks who believed in keeping their mouths shut when cops showed up. A place that didn’t see any problem with stealing from the rich—or the middle class. That believed the drug trade was just another commerce.
“I think I’m overdressed,” Philip muttered after they’d entered the first tavern. Business was sluggish given it was midafternoon. Hours still until the true crowd arrived.
Carla stifled a chuckle. At least now, Philip better understood her outfit of torn jeans, faded, snug T-shirt, and hair left unbound. She fit right in this neighborhood with her foul mouth and sassy attitude, whereas he, with his slacks and collared polo shirt, did not.
The side-eyed glances angled his way didn’t deter him. Nor did the muttered insults, not all of them in English.
Philip didn’t seem to care. He stood tall. Wide. Over the counters in the bars, in the large mirrors, she could see his menacing countenance.
Kind of sexy. Also, very annoying.
He made it hard to get any replies. People froze at the sight of him, his military bearing reminiscent of law enforcement.
All this to say, people weren’t talking around him. Still, she didn’t need actual verbal confirmation of Pedro’s patronage. A flicker of the eyes, a too convincing, “Never seen him,” was enough for her to spot the liar.
No surprise, the tavern that hosted Pedro was Mexican in nature, offering authentic cuisine and tequila from bottles holding a worm.
“Well, if you do see him, tell him Carlotta’s looking for him.” She felt more than heard Philip’s disapproval. He’d given her hell the first time she’d done it.
“Are you trying to make yourself a target?” he’d hissed when they exited that first bar.
“I don’t have time to wait for Pedro to make his next move. This will hopefully flush him out.”
Or she’d corner him later tonight after he’d drunk a few. Given that was probably a few hours away, she’d driven them a block away to a motel she’d seen. The kind that rented by the hour.
She paid cash for a room and dragged Philip to the third floor. He eyed the bed. “Think they ever wash these sheets.”
The disgust made her snicker. “Probably not. Come here.” He joined her at the window and then whistled. “Is it me, or does this room give us a perfect vantage point over the bar?”
“At least from the west side. We can spot him coming.”
“So long as he enters through the front.”
She shrugged. “True. Which is why we’ll be paying another visit around tenish.”
“Which is hours from now.”
“Oh my, whatever will we do while we wait?”
“We won’t be using that bed. I’d rather not need shots later.”
A laugh escaped her. “I wouldn’t have taken you for such a princess. I thought soldiers could handle any conditions.”
He straddled her body, pinning her against the window where her ass sat on the old heating/cooling unit. “Are you calling me a pussy?”
She grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him down. “Are you really going to pass up a chance to bang me because of some dirty sheets?”
“I already said, we don’t need a bed.” He palmed her ass and lifted her. “But someone needs to keep watch.” He spun her around so she faced the window. His hands were at her waist, pulling at her jeans, tugging them down.
She didn’t stop him. She knew no one could see them. Not only were they high enough but the outside glare also kept anyone from seeing in.
His hand slipped between her legs. Stroking. Touching. Making her wet.
Oh, so wet.
When his tongue followed, she might have closed her eyes rather than watch the street. She couldn’t help herself as he licked her. Brought her pleasure just by using his tongue. When he added his fingers to the mix, she moaned and thrust out her bottom. Pushed against his digits, begged for more.
When she came, she didn’t hold it in. She screamed. Loudly. Not caring if anyone heard. He slid into her, the hard length of him teasing her still-throbbing flesh. He moved inside her, stroked her, revived her fading orgasm, his finger finding the nub of her clit and rubbing.
Stroking.
Stringing her higher and higher until she came again. Harder this time. Her screams more like short, loud barks of bliss.
He remained folded over her for a while after. Holding her. And she loved it.
Loved—
She abruptly straightened and shoved him away. “I should get cleaned up before I got to run out of here with cum running down my leg. Which, by the way, wouldn’t happen if you’d use a condom.” Good thing she was on the pill.
“I’m clean,” he announced as she entered a bathroom that wasn’t as gross as expected. The water at least ran clean, and while she didn’t trust the dingy towel, she wiped herself and splashed water on her face.
Spent moment staring. What am I doing?
Falling for him, obviously.
Was that such a bad thing?
Probably, because she got the impression he still didn’t take her hints about who and what she was seriously. He still thought it all a joke. That she played at being a tough-ass killer.
When he found out the truth…would she have to eliminate him? She wasn’t sure she could.
Hell, she’d not even wanted to let him in on her secret, but her sisters and Mother had convinced her to give him a try. If things didn’t work out, well, she at least knew where to bury the body.
But what if things did work? In a sense, that frightened her more.
Exiting the bathroom, Philip had his back to her as he stared out the window. “No sign of a big, bald dude yet.”
“It’s early still.” Early being the twilight before true nightfall. While Pedro might have come to threaten in the daytime, she got the impression that he usually stalked at night. Cowards preferred the cover of darkness to hide.
>
Shadows wouldn’t be enough to save him once she found him.
“Tell me about Matias,” Philip said, the sudden query startling.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“He’s the father of your child.”
“The only good thing he ever did.”
“So why get with him if he was such a shit?” Philip asked, turning to face her.
“It wasn’t so much my choice as just something that happened. He saw me. He wanted me. He had me.” She shrugged. The elation at having the baddest boy in the neighborhood interested didn’t last long once she realized what kind of man he was—and wasn’t.
“Did you leave him?”
“Yeah.” Then, because he might as well know the entire ugly truth. “He killed my family because of it.”
“What?” His words emerged low.
“My mother. Two brothers. Shot. In our apartment. Then the friend who shielded me was next.”
“Geezus, Carla. I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault I made a shitty choice in life. The only good that came of it was Nico. And after Matias killed my family, I was terrified I’d lose my son. Luckily, I made a new friend who helped me escape before anything else could happen.”
“You said Matias died?”
“He did.”
“Good.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because, otherwise, I’d have to kill him.”
She could see by his expression that he meant it. She reached out to cup his cheek. “That is sweet. But I handled it myself.”
“What’s that mean?”
Rather than reply, Carla pointed out the window. “There’s the motherfucker.” Pedro’s bald pate proved noticeable among his friends as they sauntered up the sidewalk. The car at the curb was the same one used in the drive-by.
There was no more time for talking as they exited the room. Only as they reached the sidewalk did Philip say, “Where are you going?”
“To see Pedro.”
“I thought the plan was to call the cops.”
“Change of plans.” She hastened her step.
“Carla!”
She didn’t slow, and in moments, she was inside the bar. It proved much busier than before. The press of bodies making it tough, especially given her stature, to spot Pedro in the mix.
The hand on her ass didn’t belong to Philip—too small—and as Carla turned, she only had a brief glimpse of white teeth in a dark face before the guy was wrenched away.
Philip got in the dude’s face and snarled, “Hands to yourself, asshole.” He shoved the young guy, who stumbled hard against a table.
The jealous streak was cute but misplaced as silence descended.
“Hey, gringo, you think you’re so tough picking on my little brother?” The guy who spoke wasn’t exactly huge by any means; however, he had a few friends at his back.
Philip gave them all a cool smile. “Maybe your brother should try respecting women if he doesn’t want to get schooled.”
“I’m going to fuck up that pretty face of yours, asshole,” the guy spat. Carla inched out of the way, not really wanting to get involved, especially since she caught a glimpse of a bald head. She stood on tiptoe and caught sight of Pedro leaning over the bar, talking to the guy behind it.
Eyes suddenly veered her way. Pedro saw her. Smirked. Gave her the finger.
Fucker. Carla tried to squeeze between a pair of bodies, only they were intent on the fight developing at her back. A skirmish started by a jealous Philip.
I should have left him with Aunt Judy.
A glance over her shoulder showed the situation getting worse. Philip and the guy he’d pissed off stood toe-to-toe. Which meant, Philip didn’t see the other fellow sneaking up.
“Behind you!”
Too late.
The chair smashed into Philip’s back, and she winced. That had to hurt. However, it didn’t stop Philip from whirling and swinging. His fist connected, and while she didn’t hear the crack over hoots and hollers of excitement, she could imagine it. Training had taught her not to cringe at the sound of bones breaking and flesh getting pummeled.
It seemed Philip knew how to hide pain since he didn’t even grimace at the agony he surely must be in. A spot in front of her opened as the crowd shifted, and she eyed it. Then behind her at Philip again. Things were getting worse. The concept of a fair fight totally went out the window as about four guys threw themselves at Philip. He didn’t let that daunt him, his fists moved quickly, his body ducking and absorbing blows.
He was good, but numbers would prevail.
I’d better help him. Flipping around, she shoved her way through the gap between two bodies and joined the fray. Her small, lithe frame allowed her to slip in between opponents where her well-placed elbow jabs, foot stomps, and knees to the balls had men gasping and stumbling. Her aid gave Philip some breathing room, and with a shot to the face that would probably result in nose surgery, he laid out the fellow he’d started the fight with.
It didn’t stop the brawl, but the good news? The focus was no longer entirely on Philip. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of there, emerging into the cooler evening air. The door swung shut behind them, cutting off most of the chaotic battle.
They kept moving, Carla still holding Philip’s hand as she made it to the corner and turned into the alley.
“Where are you taking me? The car is the other way.”
“While you were playing my dick is bigger than yours, Pedro slipped out the back.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t be too sorry. At least I learned one thing.” Philip had a little psycho in him given his jealousy issues. She also realized she wasn’t bothered by it. It only made him sexier. But she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she went with, “You aren’t a half-bad fighter.”
“Says the woman who was taking out guys twice her size.”
“If we’d had more time, I would have made them cry for their mothers.”
He shook his head as they jogged the length of the alley. No one in sight. “Where did you learn to fight?”
In a grassy field where she’d enjoyed the taste of dirt the first few months of training. Then, she got better.
In the winter, they moved indoors to the wooden floor of the old converted gymnasium. The academy ran out of an old school situated on several acres of land. Remote and perfect for a training camp.
Given they weren’t exactly in a private place or with time to spare, she kept it to the short version. “A girl should know how to protect herself.”
“I think we missed Pedro.” Reaching the far end of the alley that joined with a small residential street, the only thing moving was distant taillights.
“Yeah, but now he knows I’m looking.”
“So, he’s going to hide.”
She snorted. “Please. A guy like him? Pedro ain’t going to hide. He’s gonna have to do something to get his balls back. All his buddies know he ran from a woman.”
Philip stared at her. “You made yourself a target.”
“I already was a target. I just waved a red flag.”
“Hoping Pedro would be dumb and just charge you.” Philip sighed and rubbed his face. “You never intended to call the cops, did you?”
Her lips twitched. “Will you spank me if I say no?”
“I’ll spank you no matter what,” he growled.
And she just might let him.
The door behind them opened, spilling light and noise. Someone yelled, “Out here. I think I see them.”
She tugged at Philip’s hand. “We should go.”
They ran the few blocks to his car, and this time, when she held out her hand for the keys, he didn’t argue.
She drove like a bat out of hell with gangbangers on her tail. She went straight home because the whole point of poking Pedro was to get him to do something stupid. Like attack her on familiar and protected turf.
She parked Philip’s car on t
he street, across from her place. “Probably safer here,” she noted.
“You think they’ll hit tonight.”
“I’m counting on it.” Entering her place, she whipped out her phone and opened an app with a house in a locked box. She began tapping icons.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Arming the house.”
Given it was a townhouse, she only had to worry about frontal and rear attacks.
From the back, anyone sneaking would have to climb a fence lined with an electrical current.
Anyone not wearing insulated gloves would be drooling and pissing their pants on the ground.
If they made it to the yard, she had motion sensors. No booby traps. It wasn’t safe with Nico and his friends sometimes playing back there.
All the windows and doors were equipped with alarms. Each one a different pitch to indicate what section of the house was breached. Her roof—which Pedro probably wouldn’t think of—had a motion and sound detection camera. No one was getting inside without her knowing it.
“Take off your shirt,” she said once everything activated.
“Is now the time, considering everything?” he asked.
“Now is the best time. Or are you worried we’ll be underpowered? Does this make you feel better?” She dropped to her knees and rummaged under the couch. Her fingers caught the Velcro seam of the fabric. Tugged it free. She reached inside the opening and closed her fingers around a barrel. She lay the assault rifle she pulled from under the couch on the living room table. Dumping out a vase with plastic flowers, she pulled out a false foam layer, then a few extra cartridges. She waved at the pile. “There. How about now? Feeling reassured?”
“Not exactly. Where do you hide the flamethrower?”
“Attic. I also keep my mini Gatling up there.”
“The sad part is I believe you.”
“I like being prepared. So, strip off that shirt.” She left the room on that order, returning with a first aid kit and a bag of frozen veggies.
“I don’t think a bandage will help,” he noted.