by Paige Hill
Teagan tosses me a gift, preventing me from snapping the fucker’s fingers in half.
Taking turns, everyone opens their present one at a time. Declan picks his up and eyes the tag.
“To Declan, I expect full return on my investment. From Celeste.” His laugh is deep and genuine. “Always something in it for you, huh?” he teases.
“You know it,” she winks at Declan then Teagan.
Declan tears the paper off and digs into the box. He pauses, not touching the item inside. He takes a deep breath, and lifts what looks like a decorative glass pie pan. He turns the pan to face the rest of us and I’ll be damned, my breath actually catches. I’m not an emotional man, but I know exactly how much this means to him.
When Celeste asked for Martha’s contact information, I had no idea what she had up her beautiful little sleeves. Staring back at me is a pie pan etched with a hand-written apple-pie recipe. Not just any recipe, though. Declan’s mother’s recipe in her own handwriting. Declan’s mom was a baker, but as fate would have it, she was murdered when he was a teenager.
“Wow. I—just—thank you. This is incredible,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath.
“How did you do it?” Teagan asks in awe.
“Aiden gave me Martha’s number, so I called and asked if she had any handwritten recipes that were his mom’s. I’m so glad you like it.” She beams.
Declan stands, wrapping his big arms around Celeste’s small frame, whispering, “thank you so much for giving a piece of her back to me.”
Celeste pulls back, glossy-eyed but smiling.
“Briggs, it’s your turn,” Teagan announces.
Looking at the packaging, I only see my name. Unwrapping the vintage looking paper, I can’t hold my laughter in. Wiping a hand over my face in mock shame, I pull out a bottle of bourbon and a box of condoms. The bottle has a tag that I read aloud.
“To Briggs,
Merry Christmas!
Get fucked up, not fucked over.
Love, Erin.”
Shaking my head, I turn to witness her mischievous smile. “Thanks for the wisdom.”
After the laughter dies down, it’s Celeste’s turn and suddenly I’m nervous as hell.
“Dang, this thing is heavier than I expected.” She peels back my shitty wrapping job and turns to glare at me. She’s hiding a smirk when she pulls the fire extinguisher from the box. Reading the tag, she continues, “To Blaze, I hope you enjoy the cooking classes I booked for you. Safety first.”
The room erupts with laughter, a few trying to hide smiles with a poorly placed cough. She looks like she wants to kill me, but her eyes shine with amusement. I wink at her and she shakes her head. “You’re an ass.”
Shuffling the box to the floor, she pauses. “There’s something else in here.” Pulling it out, she turns it in her hands a few times as full-blown tears fall from her deep green eyes. “Aiden.”
“You’re welcome,” I smile, feeling jittery for eliciting such a reaction from her.
“I-I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” She shakes her head slowly with a hand on her chest.
“It’s just a book.”
“Aiden, you know that’s not true. It’s a first edition copy of Where the Wild Things Are.” Her words catch in her throat and the tears fall faster when she reads the note on the book mark inside.
“Let the wild rumpus start!”
There is a tiny human waiting for you to start reading.
-Aiden
Celeste crosses the room with purpose and flings herself into my arms. I’m sitting on a backless ottoman and she hits me with so much force, she nearly takes me down.
“Thank you so much,” she cries into my neck. “You can’t see it yet, but Aiden, you’re a beautiful soul.”
Her words pull me back into reality and my eyes dart across the room, meeting nothing but shocked faces.
“What the hell am I missing?” Erin asks with her jaw bobbing.
Celeste pulls back and as much as I don’t want to, I let go.
“My dad read this to me when I was little. After he died, I read it to my little brother.” She explains our moment to the group.
Resounding awes fill the room as every female flocks to her, embracing her tightly.
Declan snickers and I whip my head in his direction, “What?”
“You’re so fucked,” he replies having the nerve to grin at me.
“Aiden, wait,” I hear as I open the door to my car. Celeste runs to catch up, and my eyes drink up how damn gorgeous she is. She’s since lost the antlers, but the form fitting jeans and white blouse remind me of what I know is underneath.
“Yeah?” I ask when she gets closer.
“I wanted to say thank you again. No one has ever given me a gift that meant so much.”
My gut tightens, and my skin warms with pride. “You’re welcome.”
“Would you let me buy you dinner as a thank you for everything?” Her eyes widen, and she continues, “Not like a date or anything, I know you don’t do that kind of thing.”
I think about her offer for a few seconds and my brain wars with other parts of me. This is a bad idea.
“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s weird.” She shakes her head. “Get home safe.” She turns to walk away, and I reach for her arm.
It’s my turn to ask, “Wait.” I start to panic because I hadn’t actually worked out what to say. “Go to the thing at Blind Luck with me on New Year’s Eve?”
My request catches her off guard, so I keep talking, “All of our friends will be there, so there won’t be any pressure or not a date awkwardness.”
“Uh, okay. It’s not a date.” She smiles. “I’ll meet you there.”
Such a bad idea.
Chapter Sixteen
Aiden
“So, here is what we know,” Ramos says as he passes out the briefing packets. “Turns out our boy Alvarez was connected to the Tri-Locka gang in the mid-to-late nineties. Sometime in early nineteen ninety-nine he fled to Cuba. What we don’t know is why.”
“I don’t give a shit why he left. I want to know why his ass is back on American soil.” I try not to growl.
Gwen has called every single day and it’s putting me in a shitty mood. It’s just the perfect reminder that I need to stay the hell away from Celeste Martinez and every inch of her soft as fuck caramel skin.
“He’s a sociopath, and a smart one. He wormed his way into one of Cuba’s most notorious organized crime groups and learned from the best. Then he outplayed them at their own game. Once he was on top, he dug his claws into the Miami shoreline. With his history, it didn’t take much for him to obtain the Tri-locka gang. When Governor Langford went down, he went for the kill. Suddenly the Miami drug trade was on the market and he has a big ass bank account.”
I swallow the bitter black coffee and let it burn down my throat as I process the information on Alvarez. “What are his weak spots?”
“The only one we have been able to identify is women.”
“Aren’t they every straight man’s weakness?” Trent pops off, earning an unamused glare from Ramos.
“What do you mean exactly? Like prostitutes?” I question, feeling my blood pressure rising.
“He prefers them a little less submissive,” he exhales and something in his demeanor changes.
“The girls in the cargo container,” I mumble, breathless as my brain unfolds unwanted images.
He nods. “Not the same organization, but yeah. We have suspicions he’s trafficking girls. But he’s obviously better at it than Governor Langford because we have don’t have enough evidence to move in on him.”
“So, how are we going to use that information, exactly?” Declan asks.
“I don’t know yet. I’m grasping at straws here.” He slams his file folder against the conference table. “This asshole is slick. We have to be extremely cautious. One small fuck up and he walks, ya’ get me?” He makes eye contact with everyone at the table, mak
ing sure we understand how delicate this situation is.
“Have we been able to get anyone inside?” Declan asks, flipping through his files.
“We have a man undercover, but he’s moving slow. Alvarez is being very careful about who he trusts. Our guy tells us they think they had a mole, they just don’t know from what agency. We don’t either.”
“What about professional courtesy? If we’ve got another government agency sniffin’ around our backyard, we deserve to know about it.” Frustration laces my voice.
“I’ve called around. No one claims him. We don’t know who the hell this guy is.” Ramos sinks into the weathered leather chair and it groans against his weight. “For now, we need to focus on how he’s getting that shit on my streets.”
His tone is a dismissal, so I stand to gather my things. As people file out of the room, Declan stops beside me. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“What do you mean? It’s the cartel, nothing about this is right.”
“It just feels like, while we’ve been looking over here, something is happening over there. At some point, it’s bound to blow up in our faces.”
Nothing stays quiet for this long without a nuclear level fall out.
I grimly nod in agreement before taking a detour to Erin’s office. I need to see if she’s found anything new with Alex.
“This kid is good. He’s basically gone off the grid. I can’t locate him anywhere in Florida and I have no indication that he’s even left Miami. I’m seriously starting to doubt my skill. This has never happened.” Her voice sounds on edge.
Erin’s shiny blonde hair slips through her frustrated fingers, falling into her eyes. Taking another look at the four monitors above her desk, I scream in my head.
“He can’t just disappear.”
“He can. Think about it, Aiden. I don’t want to be the bitch that breaks Celeste’s heart, but he’s an amateur trying to play in the pro leagues. Do you really think he has the means to cover his digital footprint?”
Shit.
“He’s probably dead,” I murmur under my breath, but she hears it.
If he is dead, I want to resurrect that bastard just so I can kill him again for the heartache he’s put his sister through.
“That would be the most logical answer. But I’m not giving up. Something will slip up. In the meantime, you need to keep an eye on the girls.”
“I’m doing the best I can from a distance. Ramos is pissed, and riding my ass over the Alvarez case,” I rub my temples roughly, “I need to focus on that because I don’t have nearly enough leads. Or any for that matter.”
“Do what you can to not piss him off. The asshat takes it out on me. I’ll have eyes on the girls. Do what you have to,” She picks up one of the many disposable coffee cups littering her desk and takes a healthy swig. “Now get out of my office.”
I tug on my shades as I make my way out of the building, I try in vain to stifle a grin at her cockiness.
But I don’t have to try long.
Because she’s sitting on the hood of my car.
“Get the fuck off my car,” I growl, barely containing my rage.
“Baby, don’t be like that. You won’t answer my calls, so I had no other choice.” She presses her unnaturally perky tits against my side, flipping her bleach blonde hair over one shoulder. Her voice feels like sandpaper against my ears.
“I have nothing to say,” I grit through clenched teeth as I try to open my car door. “Move.”
“Please just hear me out,” she pleads.
“Move before I move you myself.”
She doesn’t move, but thrusts herself at me, beginning to sob. “Grandfather is dying.”
In this moment, two emotions hit me deeply. The first being deep-seeded grief. Gwen’s grandfather is an honorable man that I very much look up to. It was a shitty thing to do, but when I cut ties with Gwen, I cut ties with him as well. I could no longer face him without anguish drowning my mourning soul. The second emotion coursing through me is guilt. And it only makes me resent her that much more. She took more than our love when she did what she did. She took nearly every person I’ve ever loved.
Swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, I force the words out. “Where is he?”
Her smile is triumphant, like a puppy who’s been a given a treat.
“He’s at home. They have hospice nurses with him around the clock. The doctor says he has weeks at best.”
My stomach drops, the now empty cavity filling with regret.
It’s not his fault his granddaughter’s a despicable human being, I remind myself.
“Thank you for letting me know. Now move.”
“Well aren’t you going to go see him? I can take you there.” Her whiny voice makes my skin crawl.
“I don’t need you to take me there. I know where he lives, remember. I’ve been there far more than you have.” I glare at her and she finally gets the message, stepping back to let me open the car door.
“You can’t keep running from me. We need to talk.”
“I don’t have shit to say to you. And if I remember right, you’re the one who ran away.”
Firing up my Camaro, I let the rumble of the rebuilt V8 chase away the memories that threaten to consume me. Somehow the universe always knows when it’s time to grab my ankle and pull me under.
How am I supposed to close a chapter of my life and move on when one of my biggest fears is forgetting the most important thing that ever happened to me? How can one person be responsible for giving me both the brightest and darkest moments of my life?
I will never allow anyone that kind of power over me again.
Redirecting my thoughts, I think about the case. At least I try to. My attention moves to the tiny woman who’s taken over what’s left of my brain cells. I need to find her damn brother and figure out what the hell he’s up to. I’ll have his ass locked up if that’s what it takes. I can’t let this go because nothing makes sense. Facts don’t lie and everything I have tells a different story. Why would an intelligent young man do something as stupid as join a gang? Especially one responsible for the death of his father. And, why would a man who just found out he’s a father, suddenly go into hiding?
I’ve been racking my brain all day and can’t come up with a single logical scenario. I’m focusing more on finding Celeste’s brother than I am my damn case.
My phone starts to vibrate again, sending a missile straight into my gut. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me or why I don’t just block her number. I can’t seem to take the final step. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose the last reminder that it happened. That she existed.
Staring at the screen, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Briggs,” I answer in greeting.
“How much do you love me?” Erin asks.
“Spill it,” I say, sounding bored.
“It may not be a super helpful lead, but I think I figured out where the mole is.”
Relief settles in my bones as I remind myself to get her a thank you gift. She is a fucking genius.
“Thank fuck, have you shared this with Ramos yet?” I ask, knowing we need to follow protocol and send this up the chain of command.
“Not yet,” she pauses, “I thought you would want to investigate things first.” Something is off about her tone, but I don’t acknowledge it because I don’t even know what to ask her.
“Where do I find them?” I ask, all business.
“He’s staying in a studio above a pool hall. I’ll send you the address.”
“Thanks,” I add, about to end the call.
“Aiden, be careful. We don’t know who this guy works for or where is loyalty lies,” she says somberly.
“You know me, Erin.” I’m unsure why she feels the need to reiterate how dangerous this situation could be.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she voices before cutting the call.
Almost immediately my phone pings with an incoming message.
Tapping the address into the GPS, I make a U-turn.
When I park outside the rundown building, my senses go on high alert. I should have called Declan, he’s going to be pissed. I slip a pistol into the holster at my ankle and make my way inside. I have no idea what I’m walking into, but I don’t get the feeling it’s going to go smoothly.
The room is dimly lit, the only light source being neon beer signs and low hanging lamps over the pool tables. It smells like stale beer and cigarettes. Several of the patrons watch me wearily and others don’t realize I exist.
Assuming the apartment is located up the only set of stairs, I make my way up, trying to assess the possibilities of who this guy is and who he works for.
I heavily bang the back of my fist on the door a few times and wait for the door to open. There isn’t a peep hole and I see no obvious signs of a security camera.
My vision is drawn back to the door when it opens with a swoosh and a revolver is pressed firmly to my forehead. Moving my eyes from the hand holding the weapon and down the arm, he speaks.
“What do you want?”
My eyes make contact with his and I’m forced to take a step back as recognition washes over both of us.
“You,” I blurt trying to grasp the turn of events.
He lowers his weapon before grabbing my arm and jerking me into the apartment.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he seethes. “Does Celeste know you’re here?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Alex?”
Chapter Seventeen
Aiden
This has to be a mistake.
“It’s Aiden, right?” He asks, setting the revolver down and reaching to shake my hand. I nod, grabbing his hand.
Damnit, Erin. Thanks for the heads up.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you here?” His eyes harden like he’s suddenly suspicious.