“No.” She wasn’t cold, at all. Emotion crashed and swelled inside her and she ached, so full of want and hunger and need and confusion. She didn’t know exactly what she was. But it wasn’t cold.
Swallowing, Vaughnne smoothed her hands down his chest and hooked them in the front of his jeans, tugging him closer.
He came and they tumbled back onto her bed. The feel of his weight on her was almost a painful pleasure, and she curled her fingers into his arms, arching up against him, clutching him closer. “Naked.” His hand tangled in the front of her shirt, dragging it out of the way, down her arm until the material caught around her elbow. “I should have gotten you naked before I let you get us on the bed.”
She ran the insole of her foot down his calf. “Look who’s talking. You’re still wearing your jeans.” She might have said something else, but he’d tugged the cup of her bra down and dipped his head, catching her nipple between his teeth. As he tugged on it, pleasure blistered through her and the ability to speak died. The ability to think seemed to die.
Gasping, she shoved a hand into his hair, held him close.
He rolled on the bed, bringing her on top of him. Then he stripped her shirt and bra away and forced her to sit up. Vaughnne groaned, bracing her hands on his shoulders and glaring at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He cupped her breasts in his hands, plumping them together and circling her nipples with his thumbs. His touch, the way he watched her . . . she looked down and stared at his hands. Those beautiful hands, stroking over her flesh, bringing her more pleasure than she’d thought it was possible to feel.
* * *
HUNGRY for everything he could get, Gus watched as Vaughnne’s head fell back, the ends of her long, dense curls falling almost to her ass. Grabbing the skimpy strings that rode high on her hips, he jerked, tearing her panties away and tossing the scrap to the floor. He surged upward and tangled a hand in her hair, twisting it around his fist and tugging her mouth to his. “Unzip me.”
She watched him, her eyes heavy-lidded. Then she eased back, wiggling around until she could work the button, the zipper of his jeans. The light brush of her fingers against his flesh was a painful, sweet little tease and he wanted more. Needed more, a lot more than the one night he was going to give himself.
Once she’d eased the zipper down, he nudged her away and pulled a rubber from his pocket. Yeah, he’d come here for this, no denying that. Tossing it onto the bed, he shoved his jeans down, kicking them and his shoes off before rolling onto his knees and kneeling above Vaughnne. Her hair spread out around her, one thick lock curving around her breast. The dark circle of her aureole peaked through. She had a smile on her face. A sexy, female little smile . . . one that said she knew what he wanted, one that said she wanted the same thing, and it only made the hunger inside him burn that much brighter.
It was a picture he’d keep with him, he thought. Much better than that last one that had haunted him ever since she’d walked away in Mexico.
He tore the condom open and his hands actually shook as he unrolled it down over his length, fumbling more with the damn thing than he’d done since he was a teenager. And all the while, she watched, the smile slowly fading from her face until there was nothing on her face but need. He came down over her. “Hold on to me, mi vida. Hold on.”
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he settled between her thighs, shuddering at the heat waiting for him. Warm and welcoming . . . so soft.
He reached between them to guide himself home, groaning at the feel of her, shuddering as she yielded to him, the tight, clutching fist of her pussy closing around him as he slowly sank inside.
He sought out her mouth and the pleasure was like glory as she sank her teeth into his lower lip, as she rocked up against him, her hands, her body, urging him on. He sought out her wrists, guiding them over her head and pinning her in place.
“Slow down.” If all they had was tonight, then he’d make it last.
At least, he’d try.
Vaughnne twisted beneath him, clenching down around him so that all those tiny little muscles inside gripped him, stroked him. He shuddered and withdrew. “Carajo . . . stop it, Vaughnne,” he rasped against her mouth.
Her response was to catch his lower lip between her teeth again. When she bit him, he swore and surged deep inside her.
She cried out, the sound of it echoing through him. Her hands strained against his hold and she twisted, arching closer, harder. A flush spread out under the soft, warm brown of her skin and he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the elegant line of her collarbone.
“Let go of my hands,” she demanded.
* * *
HE stared down at her, the misty gray of his eyes boring into hers, hot as molten steel. Slowly, his fingers uncurled from her wrists, the pads of his fingertips tracing down over one arm, across her shoulder, and up her jawline until he could cup her face. He arched her jaw upward and took her mouth, his tongue echoing the rhythm of his body as he started to pump deep, deep inside her.
She wrapped her arms around him, sinking her nails into the ridge of muscle along his back, a scream rising inside her, only to lodge, breathless, in her throat. Too much . . . too much . . .
He drove into her, so hard, so fast, stealing the breath out of her.
And climax shimmered right there . . . just out of reach. Then, just when she was certain she would die from the painful pleasure of it, he shifted, moving higher on her body and changing his angle. At the same time, he tore his mouth from hers and set his teeth on the curve where her neck met her shoulder. As he bit down, the climax exploded through her and she thought she was just going to die from the pleasure of it.
* * *
THE faint, gray light of dawn was streaming in through the slit in her curtains when Vaughnne awoke. There wasn’t a sound, but she came awake the moment Gus rolled away from her. She already ached for him; he hadn’t even left yet and she was lonely.
She was going to miss him.
Every day for the rest of her life. It shouldn’t happen like this. Damn it to hell, it shouldn’t happen like this. If she was going to fall for a guy, why couldn’t she have fallen for one she could keep?
She rolled onto her side and watched him climb out of the bed and her heart skipped a beat. Wistful, she bit back a sigh. Then again, she was being stupid. She had absolutely no desire to undo a minute with him. Maybe she couldn’t keep him, but the days she’d spent with him burned brighter on her memory than any other she could recall.
If she had to settle for something vivid like this that would end in heartache, or something just . . . mediocre that she barely recalled a few months, a few years later? This was better, she thought. She hoped she could remember that later on down the road when she was cussing him out for leaving her.
He didn’t speak as he dressed. She didn’t bother saying anything. There was no point in trying to get him to change his mind. He’d already decided what he needed to do. He wasn’t there looking to see if she wanted him even. If he’d shown any sign of that, then she’d be all over him, giving him all the reasons he needed to stay.
But he’d come with a purpose in mind.
So fine.
Let him go.
Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she told herself she could get through this. The first few days would be the worst, right? After her father had thrown her out, once she’d gotten through the first few weeks, the first month or so, she’d figured out how to get along and she’d been okay. This couldn’t really be any worse than that.
In the dim light, he turned to face her after he’d pulled his shirt on, and she rolled onto her back as he came to sit on the side of the bed.
He reached up and touched her cheek. “Thank—”
“If you say thank you to me, I’m going to break your nose,” she warned softly.
A faint smile danced across his face, there, then gone. “Do you really think I can leave without saying thank you for helping me with Alex?”
>
She sat up and leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Anything else and I’m punching you, Gus. I did my job. Period.”
“Your job . . .” He sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “What you did, were willing to do, was so much more. We both know it. But if that is how you want it . . .” He shrugged. Then he reached over for something on the nightstand.
She hadn’t noticed it before. The sight of it made her heart slam against her ribs for some reason and her chest ached.
It was stupid, maybe. No reason for a piece of paper to make her hurt, she thought. Especially when she hadn’t seen what was on it. But she already hurt, just seeing him hold it, his head bent as he stared down at it. Although it was too dark for him to read it, it was as though he was committing whatever words were on that paper to heart.
“Alex is with your boss.”
And the pain in her heart ripped deeper through her, if that was possible.
Swallowing, she nodded slowly. Unable to sit there, naked save for the sheet and blanket pooled around her waist, she climbed out of bed and padded over to her dresser. She tugged open a drawer and pulled out a shirt at random. It fell to mid-thigh, covering her decently, but she still felt exposed so she pulled open another drawer and fished out a pair of yoga pants. “Yeah, he’s still with Dez and Taylor. He’s made some progress from what I’ve heard.”
“Progress.”
The sound of his voice, hollow and empty, set off warnings in her head.
Slowly, she turned to look at him.
“I did what I could, you know,” he said quietly. “I did everything I could think of . . . letting him practice on me until I was almost immune to the headaches. I read so many bullshit websites, searching for any useful information I could find that might help him. And I still failed him.”
“You didn’t fail him.” She stared at his bent head, feeling like she was bleeding inside. “You just don’t have the tools needed to teach him this. He can get that from somebody else. It doesn’t mean you failed him.”
He lifted his head and stared at her. “He was almost taken because I didn’t protect him well enough, didn’t give him the tools he needed to protect himself.”
He surged up off the bed and started to pace, a sign of restless, reckless energy she’d never seen from him. “He’s making progress . . . I saw him.” He stopped and spun around until he was staring at her from across the room. “I went to the house yesterday, where Jones is keeping him, and I saw him. He looked almost happy, Vaughnne. It was like the burden he has carried all these years was just gone. In just a few days, these people have given him what I was never able to.”
“You can love him. You’re his family . . . that’s a bond nobody else can replace,” she said.
“His family . . . esta chingadera.” He turned away. “His family? Like that is the answer to everything? You know what I did, yes? To his mama? To my sister? I killed her, Vaughnne. Tell me now, what kind of family am I?”
“Why?”
He turned, the look in his glittering eyes full of rage and pain and grief. “Because she asked me to. Because I had to. Because if I didn’t, Reyes would catch us and kill us all. And if I left her alive? Reyes would just torture her more before she died.”
Then he went to his knees, slowly, his hands coming up to cover his face as a sob ripped out of him. Just one . . . that slow, ugly sound coming from the very core of his soul.
She’d known. In her heart, she’d known there were reasons . . . and she’d known it had left a scar on him. Blinking back the tears, she went to him.
Because she asked me to . . . because I had to . . . She didn’t know if he’d welcome her touch now, but when her fingers brushed across his skin, he reached out, quick as a wish, and hauled her against him, so hard and sudden, it knocked the breath from her.
With his face buried against her neck, he started to speak. “She called me . . . from the village. I already told you that. But Reyes was already after her and caught up with her just minutes after she hung up. She acted like she was trying to run. He didn’t know she’d made the call, and just took her back home. He started to beat her. By the time I got there, he’d beaten her . . . so badly . . . too badly. He’d shattered the bones in her legs, let her know that it was because she had run. He’d broken her ribs. And he did it all while Alejandro watched. The boy had to watch as his father tortured his mother, almost to death.” He paused, his chest rising, falling in hard, heavy pants.
She lifted a hand to his cheek and just waited.
“I couldn’t save her.” Stark, haunted eyes lifted to hers and he said it again, “I couldn’t save her. I told myself I could and I even tried to take her out of there, but she wouldn’t let me. She . . .” He looked away, a nerve pulsing in his cheek as he lapsed into a long, heavy silence. “Alex got it from her . . . this . . . whatever he has. I know he did.”
“It runs in families,” she said quietly. “I got it from my dad. It’s in the genes, just like a lot of other shit. The color of your hair, your eyes. This isn’t any different.”
He nodded stiffly. “He got it from her. She . . . she saw things. Sometimes things that had already passed, but it was from long ago. But other times, she saw what would happen—the future, I guess. She told me that if I tried to take her, Reyes would catch up with all of us and we would all die, except Alex. There would be nobody there to take care of him. He’d be a prisoner, trapped in that monster’s home, just a tool, forced to do what Reyes wanted and be beaten if he refused. That would have broken him.”
It likely would have. Or maybe Alex would have become a monster like his father. Vaughnne didn’t know which was worst.
“She made me promise,” Gus said quietly. “Before she would say anything, she made me make her a promise . . . there she is, my little sister, in so much pain, begging me to promise her something. And I would have done anything to make it better for her. So she tells me that I have to take care of the boy. I tell her I will. And then she tells me . . .”
His voice hitched. Vaughnne leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”
But he didn’t even seem to hear her. Tears dampened his cheeks as he continued to speak. “She tells me, in vivid detail, what she has seen if I try to take her out of there. She tells me that she will not live through the night, because she is bleeding inside. I don’t know if she knew that or if she just guessed . . . she’d been going to school to be a nurse before she met Reyes. But she believes she is dying, and looking at her, I think she was right, even if I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t let myself believe it. I had to save her. That was all I wanted to do. Save her. Instead, she sends Alex out of the room—I had a man with me. Jimmy Doucet. It was his place we went to in Louisiana. He died a year later . . . cancer took him. He . . . mierda. He was the closest thing to a friend I had. But it was just the two of us. A quick job, in and out. He takes Alex out and I have my gun. She takes my hand and points to her head, tells me to kill her.”
* * *
YOU must promise me . . .
Even now, those words danced through his mind. Horror, pain.
No . . . Consuelo, stop this. You’re coming with us. Now come. It will hurt, but we will be fast.
No . . . you must do this . . .
Then she guided his weapon hand to her head and told him again what she had seen.
He will find us. He kills you first, from outside the hotel. Then, your friend. It’s a nice hotel. You didn’t want me to suffer and you brought a doctor. There are casts on my legs and I cannot even move from the bed when he comes through the door. Alejandro tries to run to me, but before he can, Ignacio grabs him. Then, while my son watches, that monster kills me.
He could still feel the way her hand had brushed his hair back from his face. The way their mother had used to do.
You can save my son, Gustavo. But you cannot save me. I cannot even move. Please . . . you must promise me. Take him, keep him sa
fe. And don’t . . . please don’t let Ignacio hurt me anymore. If he tries to make me talk, I . . .
He’d tried to pull his hand away, horrified at the sight of his gun so close to his sister. She hadn’t let him.
If he finds me alive, he will try to make me talk. And I am not as strong as you. Please, Gustavo. You must protect my son . . . you must do this for me.
“She begged me,” he said softly. “Begged me to kill her. Begged me to keep him from being able to hurt her again. Begged me to protect her son.”
Vaughnne’s hand stroked his neck and he realized absently that he was rocking. She was curled up on his lap. He didn’t even know how that had happened, but it had, and the two of them were rocking, while she held him with soft, strong arms.
“If he’d beaten her that badly, you know she would have slowed you down. If she was bleeding inside, if he had hurt her that bad, it might have been impossible to save her,” she said softly.
He stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. If I’d been faster . . . if I’d killed that bastard sooner. That cabrón hijo de su puta madre—if I’d killed him the minute I realized who my sister had married, then none of this would have happened.”
“And Alex wouldn’t exist.”
He closed his eyes as the bitterness of guilt chased through him. Yes . . . that was something else he knew. “I never cared that he was a drug lord,” Gus said softly. “Mexico is overrun with drugs. Many people there worship men like him. They are like folk heroes. There wasn’t much talk about Reyes, because he was careful. Always so careful. I should have paid closer attention, but I was never in the same part of the country, and if you look at a man like him too carefully, people notice. I looked, but I was careful about how I looked and I didn’t look too deeply.
“I was arrogant,” he said, his voice bitter. “I thought I would have known if he was a man that should concern me. I knew all the dirty secrets, and he was greedy and vain, but there were never stories about him being abusive or cruel. But I didn’t look at him hard enough. Consuelo paid for my arrogance.”
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