He pulls me in tighter. “No, baby. You needed to know who I am. You’re naïve.” My body stiffens, but he keeps talking. “I’m not saying you haven’t dealt with the bad in this world. But my life… it’s an entirely different level of bad. It’s evil. In my world, the good guys don’t win.”
He rolls so I’m splayed over him and his chest is now my pillow. His fingers thread through my hair. My dirty hair. I almost laugh. I can’t though. This man has kissed me and loved me with my bruised and damaged face. How many men would do that? Even my parents would look at me in horror. Not Moon. He has a way of making me feel special like no other man has managed.
This is why people love him and keep his secrets. I knew from my class that no one has been able to breach the walls of his organization. He helps the people who are loyal to him and they give him absolute respect.
I’m finally gaining control of my emotions and I’m able to ask about the more important part of what’s bothering me. “Why me? Why turn my life upside down and bring me here the first time? I don’t buy the fucking Alex Gomez story you fed me. There’s another reason.” I’ve turned my head and all of this is said without his muffled chest hiding my rising anger. Anger is good.
Moon rolls us until I’m back on my side. He stands and crosses the room until he disappears into the closet. He comes out a minute later and turns on the bedside reading light. He places a large album on the bed. “Pick it up,” he says softly. I’m in no mood to do anything he asks, but the look in his eyes lets me know I should pick up the album. Moon’s knee hits the bed and he situates the pillows before joining me and sitting back against them. He reaches over and literally pulls me up so my back is against him and I’m wrapped in his arms.
He takes the album from me and flips through several pages until he comes to a full-page picture of three teenagers. One is Moon, another is Gomez, and the third a young woman. Her skin is lighter than Moon’s, but her Mexican heritage is evident. What astounds me is that if my skin were darker, we could be sisters.
I don’t understand. “Who is she?”
Moon’s finger slides over the image. “Alex’s sister.”
“What happened to her?” I’m so afraid to hear his answer.
“She lives far away from our ugliness. It’s the only way we can keep her and her family safe.”
I still don’t understand. “So I look like Gomez’s sister?” I refuse to call him Alex. It makes him more human to me and I don’t want that.
Moon gives a faint laugh and gently squeezes my arm. “I was in love with her. Alex told me he would kick my ass if I ever touched her. I took him at his word. Family is everything to us. I wasn’t good enough for her. She married a man who takes good care of her and keeps her away from our world.” He stops talking and kisses the top of my head. “Alex saw you and decided to play matchmaker because I did as he asked and stayed away from Theresa.”
“That’s fucked up,” I whisper. Now I know why Moon laughed so hard when I told him I might want to date Alex.
“It is. And he was so incredibly wrong. I’m not good enough for you either. You deserve so much more than I could ever give you.”
Four days. What if we’d met back when we were teenagers? Would that have made a difference in Moon’s life? Alex’s sister is not a criminal and Moon didn’t change for her, so I guess that’s my answer.
I haven’t said anything, so Moon continues. “Theresa is actually nothing like you. She’s traditionally Mexican. It’s not that Mexican women aren’t strong. It’s a different type of strength, though. You’re her opposite. You have fire; whereas, she wants to cook and clean and take care of her husband and children. Her ambition is to raise daughters just like her and a son to be just like his father. Those aren’t bad qualities; they’re just not what I look for in women. When I was young and in love, I felt differently.”
“Did you love her very much?”
His chuckle is low and sexy. “My wet dreams were made up of all things Theresa.” Moon’s head tips down and the side of his face rests against my hair. “Don’t ever tell Alex I told you that. He’s still entirely too protective of her.” His breath ruffles my hair and I’m aware all over again that it needs to be washed.
My mind is wandering, and the pain meds are finally beginning to work. I’m safe and warm and exactly where I want to be.
“Is she the reason you haven’t had sex with me? My orgasm doesn’t count,” I mumble sleepily. He’s holding the album, and I’d love to look at more pictures, but my eyes won’t stay open.
He sweeps my hair back and kisses the side of my cheek. “A severe car accident, an aching shoulder, and your second concussion in a week aren’t enough for you?”
“Add a black and blue face and I see your point.”
“No,” he whispers in my ear. “I don’t think you do. I’m so bad for you, baby.”
“That’s why I need to leave here. You’re wrapping me inside your cocoon where I’m safe and cared for. This isn’t me.”
“Two more days. Carlo is coming in the morning. He’ll throw a fit if you aren’t here. My conference call generated some business and I won’t be around tomorrow. The day after that, you are all mine. You need this time to fully recover too. I know you can take care of yourself, but those are my terms.”
There wasn’t even a small part of me that wanted to argue. The damn drugs take away my free will. I won’t be taking them tomorrow. “I’ll go stir-crazy,” I whisper.
“You’ll have a visitor, so don’t worry about that.”
I yawn. I’m incapable of thinking about a visitor. Moon places the album on the nightstand and turns off the light. After he readjusts the pillows, he spoons me. I’m too tired to do anything about his erection. The breeze from the ceiling fan keeps us cool even while we lay mostly skin to skin.
I fall asleep in Moon’s arms.
Chapter Nineteen
I’M ALONE IN BED when I wake up. The album is gone and there’s a note on the pillow that is short and to the point.
Carlo will be here at 9 and your entertainment at 10.
A cell phone rests beside the note, and I’m able to check the time by pressing the Home button. It’s a new phone so I check the contacts. Only one number is there and I know it’s the phone Moon gave me. It’s a little after eight in the morning. I have no idea what to wear, so I choose beige shorts and a white tank top. After Dr. Santos leaves, I’ll wash my hair in a full shower. To hell with the sink. My headache is gone. I have body aches, but I won’t need pain meds.
I wash my face and do my best not to cringe at what I see staring back at me in the mirror. My bruises are multicolored and I look worse than I did yesterday, if that’s possible. The only consolation is that the swelling is down around the bandage that covers the stitches. There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and I exit the bathroom as Gabriella carries in a tray.
“You eat before El Doctor arrives,” she tells me in stilted English. She doesn’t appear impressed with my miraculous recovery and by that I mean being up and walking around.
“I’d be happy to go downstairs and eat.”
“You stay,” she commands and rests the tray on the nightstand. She leaves the room without looking back.
There’s a glass of water and one of orange juice. A metal room service-type cover is over a large plate. I lift it and breathe in huevos rancheros. It looks delicious. I pull the thin cotton bedspread over the sheet, adjust the pillows, situate myself, and dig into the eggs, corn tortillas, rice, and beans. It’s to die for and I gobble almost half before I’m able to slow down. I’m trying my best to figure out a way to save the uneaten food for later, when Gabriella knocks on the door and enters.
She shakes her head and reaches for the plate. “El Doctor is downstairs. He will come up.” The rest of her words are in Spanish, and I think she’s unhappy that I didn’t finish a meal made for two or three grown men.
“Gracias. The huevos rancheros were wonderful.” By the tighten
ing of her lips it’s obvious she’s not the least bit impressed with my three words of Spanish.
I receive another spiel in Spanish and pick “stupid white girl” out of the mix. Gabriella is not my biggest fan, and I bite my lip so I don’t laugh. As a cop, you learn very quickly that some people just don’t like you. I got over that while working the streets and I can get over Gabriella’s dislike too. She’s the least of my current problems.
She carries the tray away and I jump up so I can brush my teeth. Dr. Santos knocks and waits for me to open the door before he enters.
“The improvement appears to be everywhere but your face, Miss Kinlock.”
I smile. “I’ve had enough honesty in the last twenty-four hours to last a lifetime. I need you to lie to me from here on out.”
He laughs. It’s nothing like Moon’s. This is a man who laughs often. “I shall do my best to mix truth with lies and keep that smile on your face. Now, please lie down so I may examine you.”
He follows me to the bed and I lie down. “Any dizziness?” he asks.
“No, none since waking up about an hour ago.” I wince a bit as he pulls off the bandage.
“This will be tender for a few more days. I will leave the bandage off and give you a few waterproof transparent dressings so you are able to shower.” He carefully touches the skin surrounding the sutures. He’s gentle and it doesn’t hurt.
All I can think about is a shower. “Are you married?” I ask him. “I’m single and will make you a lovely bride once my hair is washed.”
He laughs again and talks while checking my eyes with a small light. “Yes, I am married, and my wife would not like to share our home. I graciously pass on your generous offer. I will check your shoulder now.”
“Okay, so I guess the honeymoon is over.”
“I like you, Miss Kinlock. You will be good for Captar.”
The name throws me for a moment until I realize he must mean Moon. “What does captar mean in English?”
“My pardon, señorita. Captar is catch.”
It comes back to me. Catch Xavier Moon. That’s Moon’s full name. I heard it in class but couldn’t remember. Chase the moon and catch the moon. His parents were romantics.
“What has you worried, Miss Kinlock?” The doctor is peering at me with concern.
“I’m not worried, just maybe a little sad. Moon told me of his brother, Chase.”
Dr. Santos’ smile disappears. “He was a special child. You must value what el jefe has shared with you. He is not an easy man to know and even less so to understand why he does the things he does.”
“El jefe?” I’ve heard the term but have no idea what it means.
“Forgive me twice. El jefe means ‘the boss or chief.’ He takes care of his people and from what I’ve seen, you are now one of his people. Value his loyalty; he is a man with many faces.” His hands move to my shoulder and he begins rotating the joint. Another slight wince escapes me.
“No change?”
“It only hurts when I move it or someone tries to twist it off,” I reply deadpan.
A twinkle replaces the solemn look in his dark eyes. “Then I would say don’t move it and don’t allow anyone to twist it off.”
“Your bedside manner is flawless, Dr. Santos.”
He grins and then looks away. When he turns back, his cheeks are tinged red. “I do not have these conversations, because my patients are children.” He clears his throat. “It is your decision if you wish to return to sexual activity.”
Oh my hell, this is priceless. “Did you tell Moon that I couldn’t?” I laugh.
Merriment enters Santos’ eyes and they actually sparkle. “I have never before examined a woman in Captar’s bed and I wanted to be sure he did not cause you further injury. Even good men tend to think with their sexual organs when a lovely woman is involved.”
Poor Moon. He tried very hard to abide by the doctor’s orders. I definitely received the best end of the deal. “Is Moon a good man, Dr. Santos?” There’s a wistfulness in my voice that I can’t help.
Dr. Santos stares at me for a long time before answering. “The best, Miss Kinlock. Captar is the best of men.” He places the penlight in his bag and removes a card. “I will leave you now.” He hands it to me. “Do not hesitate to call me if you have headaches or your shoulder does not improve.”
“Thank you, Dr. Santos.”
“You are most welcome, Miss Kinlock.”
I check my phone after Santos walks from the room. I have thirty minutes until my visitor arrives. I’m extremely curious about who Moon has invited. I cover my stitches with one of the clear bandages Dr. Santos left me. I can’t even express how good it feels to wash my hair. Moon’s shampoo and conditioner smell heavenly, and I now know that it isn’t cologne he wears that makes him smell so good. I allow the shower to spray over my body while I wash the rest of me. I’m also using Moon’s razor and shaving all the parts that have grown furry.
The cell phone is ringing when I walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head. I’m holding the towel in place because the weight is pulling on my stitches. I answer the phone and Moon’s voice makes me smile. “Is Carlo gone?”
His question isn’t sexy in the slightest. So why am I suddenly breathless? “He’s gone and I just finished taking a shower and washing my hair.”
He makes a slight humming noise into the phone. “What are you wearing?” His voice has dropped, and we’re on the same page.
“A towel... around my hair.”
“Your hair?” He takes a deep breath. “What about the rest of you?”
“Too bad you’re not here to check me out yourself. I’m heading back into the bathroom to use your lotion on my skin. All my skin, very slowly so I don’t miss anywhere.”
His heavier breathing turns into a quiet moan. “You’re killing me.” He’s silent for a moment. “I wanted to talk to you before Danita arrives.” My sexual teasing stops and I go on instant alert at the woman’s name. Not that I recognize the name. “Do me a favor and give her a chance,” Moon requests.
No, this isn’t good. “Moon.” I’m trying to stay calm and not give the thoughts rushing through my head a chance to propagate.
“Gotta go, baby. I’ll see you this evening.”
He hangs up on me. No more sexual teasing or answering my biggest question: Who the hell is Danita?
Chapter Twenty
DANITA INVADES MOON’S ROOM without knocking and startles me as I walk from the bathroom. Moon’s damn lotion smelled like him and I took my time putting it on. At least I’m dressed in shorts and a tee when I see her.
She’s much older than I am, though she hides it well. Her hair is short, black, and styled. Whoever her plastic surgeon is, he’s good. She doesn’t have that pulled skin look. Her makeup is tasteful and her jewelry expensive. She’s dressed in a designer getup that you would see in exclusive stores where I never shop. Give me Old Navy or Gap any day.
Her saccharin smile, which is more a pursing of lips, is as phony as her tone. “I’m Danita, Moon’s aunt. His father was my half-brother.” She hasn’t looked into my eyes. She’s too busy analyzing my body. “The ladies are in quite the uproar over you. We’re having a pool party downstairs, honey, and you’re the guest of ho…nor.” Her gaze meets mine and her phony concern drips venom. “My word, you poor dear. What happened? If Moon hasn’t killed your pimp, I will.” Her outrage is completely fake. She’s Moon’s surrogate mother whether he knows it or not. She’s found me lacking like all the other moms. She’s also just told me the type of women Moon shares his bedroom with.
I want to tell her to cut the shit but decide to keep my temper in check. “Car accident,” I reply. I couldn’t care less if she believes me.
Danita’s not only beautiful, she’s elegant and has that natural condescending attitude that I’ve run into a million times. She places her purse on the end of the bed and approaches me. She touches one of the bruises below my eye and I do my best
not to flinch. I refuse to let her know she’s getting to me. Play nice, I silently tell myself. Using her fingers, she tilts my chin back so she can peer at my stitches in the light. Moon said to give her a chance. I’m sure belting his aunt across the face is not what he meant.
She drops her hand and also the pretense of playing nice. Her eyes narrow while she continues speaking. “Moon could have mentioned your condition. He said he had a special guest and you were staying in his room. He made that quite clear.” What she makes clear is that she doesn’t approve of me being in Moon’s room.
I step back because I can’t handle her in my personal space. She doesn’t budge, and her eyes hold satisfaction because she thinks I’m shrinking away from her nastiness. That’s not the case. I’m trained to keep a good amount of space between me and the bad guys, or ladies as the case is at this moment.
“How long have you known my nephew?” Her voice is firm and she expects an answer. Like Moon, I’m guessing she’s accustomed to being in charge.
I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, and allowing her to touch me went way past my comfort zone. “Look…” I slowly appraise her body just as she did mine. When I meet her eyes, I continue my statement. “Moon asked me to give you a chance. You’ve checked me out from my toes up, touched and examined my face, and now you’re butting into my personal business. I don’t give a flying fuck if Moon is your nephew; I don’t answer to you.”
Her laughter is nothing like Moon’s. It’s tightly controlled, and while she laughs, the calculation doesn’t leave her eyes. They flash with venom when she speaks and her claws come out. “No. You’re the one who needs to… look. I chew women like you up and spit them out. That’s why I run Moon’s escort service.” She picks up her purse and removes a card. “When Moon’s finished with you, call me once your face is healed.” She doesn’t bother handing me the card, just places it on the bed. “If you can manage to use your vulgar mouth for something besides cattiness, you’ll make a lot of money. Some of the girls are downstairs and they plan on enjoying the pool for a few hours. Take my advice and stay up here. You can’t handle me, sugar, and you don’t stand a chance with a group of women vying for Moon’s bed.”
Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) Page 13