by Bethany-Kris
But she knew …
Sometimes, his hands still shook.
Sometimes, his mind took a second to catch up.
Sometimes, he just didn’t feel like him.
That’s where Cree came in, or so he said. Cree was the therapy and the recovery that he needed. Cree was the person pushing him mentally and physically. He was the one person Renzo could go to, and know if he needed to break without being judged for it, then Cree would be there to do it.
She didn’t think it was easy.
She knew Renzo left those sessions exhausted, but not ready to give up. He came out of them stronger, even if he was weaker for a time.
Lucia peered up at the ceiling. “I thought you weren’t seeing Cree until next week?”
Renzo grunted under his breath as he worked his herb grinder back and forth, and the briefest whiff of freshly cut bud drifted through the bathroom. “Needed to get my mind off some shit, I guess.”
“Like what? Because you know I’m here, too, right?”
He did look up at that statement, and his hands froze on his grinder. “I know that, Lucia.”
“Just making sure.”
Renzo smiled.
She winked.
He needed what he needed.
She didn’t judge or push.
“I found my mom,” he muttered, going back to his work as soon as he let those words escape his lips. “I thought … it’d been years, you know? Maybe she would be willing to try now. Maybe she was sick and tired of being sick and fucking tired, Lucia. I thought a lot of things, and so I went looking for her.”
“You didn’t tell me you wanted to find your mom.”
“I was going through some shit about her.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
“She can’t get better for me and Rose, you know,” he said, sighing. “It’s too late for us—we’re adults, and doing our own thing. But Diego, he’s still a kid. She could get better for him. Make a fucking effort, and fix the shit that’s wrong before it’s too late like it is for the rest of us.”
“Ren …”
“She just asked me for money and then when I wouldn’t give her any, she called me a bastard and said she was gonna call the cops on me.”
Lucia wished she could be angry.
Or surprised.
Really, she just felt numb.
A lot like the way he sounded.
“Diego’s got what he needs, Ren,” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah, but he also needs a mom. He doesn’t need someone who acts like his mom, or whatever, he needs her. The real fucking thing. I know, Lucia, because I needed her. I needed her and all she ever wanted to do was give everything she had to the drugs she pumped into her body. Our father, well, he’s a lost cause. Dead, I guess.”
“What?”
“He had a heart attack a couple months back,” Renzo said, dropping cut up bud into a folded up paper to roll. “I know where he’s buried. Haven’t been there yet, but it’s on my mind lately, too. So, yeah … I went looking.”
She could tell he was just talking to talk. He was giving her details because he felt like she needed to know them. She wanted to know, sure, but it was always up to him on whether or not he was willing to share.
She didn’t push.
“You want a minute?” she asked.
Renzo licked the line of the paper, and passed her a look. “Depends on if you want to share this smoke with me, baby.”
Lucia laughed. “Not while you’re in the tub.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Listen, some of us use the bathtub for its intended purpose, Ren, which is to take a bath.”
“I use it for that, too.”
“I know. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Fine. Christ, smoking is supposed to relax me, not make me give it more effort, Lucia.”
She rolled her eyes, and left him behind in the bathroom as she headed for the kitchen. He was quick to follow behind her, and she had already pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge to have while he shared his smoke with her.
Renzo already had the joint lit and burning when he took a stool at the kitchen island. Unlike him, who could smoke and smoke and smoke before he was satisfied that his mind was as high as he wanted it, she only needed just a few pulls to be good. He worked the joint down to a good point for her, and handed it over to let her have whatever she wanted off it. He leaned in as she took her last drag.
“Gun it, baby,” he murmured.
Lucia grinned, and pulled him closer by fisting her hand into his leather jacket. He hovered over her mouth, lips parted as she let the smoke come out. There was something sexy about the way his eyes locked on hers as the smoke drifted from her lips to his, and she loved it.
He inhaled her smoke, held it, and kissed her hard.
Renzo’s lips curled at the edges, and he inhaled every drop of the smoke she passed to him. His pupils blew wide while his gaze drifted down her face, and lingered on her throat. He closed the distance, then, his tongue lashing out against the hollow of her throat, and his teeth grazing her skin with the promise of more.
Her mind was light.
Her body, hot.
This was the part she liked the most about finding Renzo at her place when he decided to randomly make a trip. Time apart always seemed to bring them back together in the most brilliant of ways.
Sex was just one of those.
Lucia crawled over the top of the island at Renzo’s urging hands. Her legs hung off the edge as one by one, he stripped her of the clothes she had on. Then, she got to take her time to admire his body and the two new tattoos he’d had done on his stomach during his recovery—one read Ten Seconds and the other, a Madonna. She figured, in a way, they were self-explanatory. Renzo loved art as much as she did, just in his own way.
Once he was undressed, she eyed the red, puckered scar on the inner section of his left bicep. She used the tips of her fingertips to trace the scar—he’d gotten The League’s chip removed a couple of months back so they couldn’t track him anymore if he didn’t want them to. She understood why he did it, and frankly, was surprised he hadn’t gotten it taken out as soon as he got out of the hospital.
The cool air in the apartment whispered over her skin as he widened her legs, and kneeled down until he was eye-level with her pussy. She swore he licked his fucking lips too before he grinned up at her.
“Look at that—all pink and wet already, baby.”
Lucia couldn’t even find it in herself to be ashamed. “You should have a taste—it’s been a while.”
“You’re fucking telling me.”
Something wicked and dark flashed in Renzo’s eyes as he closed the distance between his mouth and her pussy. His tongue found her slit as she tipped her head back to just feel. There was nothing like his mouth working against her sex to put her in the best place. And he knew just what to do to get her higher than she already was. His tongue slipped between beating a fast pace against her clit, and then back down to her slit to work her there, too.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” she breathed.
Renzo’s chuckles rocked against her sex.
A deep bass.
God.
“You want to come, then?”
“So bad,” she admitted.
“Don’t hold back.”
Lucia laughed breathlessly. “Never.”
Yeah, sometimes his hand would still shake. And sometimes he got frustrated over little things that would have been nothing to him before. But when he wanted something to work … when he was focusing in on the things he loved to do—her—then everything was just fine for him, and her.
She swore Renzo took it as a challenge to see just how fast he could make her come. And being the kind of man he was, who loved a good competition, he liked to see if he could beat his fucking time. This was no different.
All it took was his tongue lashing against her clit, and then just as she started to climb that oncoming peak of
bliss, he sucked the nub in between his teeth. The pain was sharp, and the orgasm was intense.
“Ren.”
She was still trembling when he pulled away from her sex, flipped her over on the island, and pulled her down so that her knees were on the two stools. He fitted in behind her, his pants shuffled down, and her pussy was still clenching when he filled her full. That first thrust sent her body sprawling against the countertop.
He pushed one hand against her back, keeping her pinned to the countertop. His other hand wrapped in her hair, and pulled tight. He fucked her hard from behind as her sounds echoed through the quiet apartment. She was sure her neighbors were going to be happy people when she finally moved out, and they didn’t have to hear this every few days.
She couldn’t even meet their eyes anymore.
Fuck it.
“Fuck yeah,” Renzo muttered behind her, “back into that cock, baby.”
Was she?
Christ.
His pace picked up as her sounds got louder. He pulled her hair harder, and pushed her firmer into the countertop, too. There was something about giving her control to him that did it for her—it made her wetter, if that was possible, and got her body even hotter.
Insane, really.
“Fuck, there,” she breathed.
She came again.
Shaking.
Breathless.
So high.
He followed soon after, painting her back with streaks of come that warmed her skin up all over again. She felt his fingertips drag through the fluids before coming to rest at her backside. Trembling fingers. He leaned against her, and his breath pulsed against the back of her neck.
“Fucking love you,” he mumbled.
Lucia grinned. “Love you, Ren.”
“Sit up, huh?”
“What?”
He didn’t explain, simply helped her to turn around on one of the stools until she was facing him. She didn’t even care that she was naked, and he was already tucking himself away. She was going to have to clean the mess they made, but that was a background though, too.
Especially because he looked … nervous.
“Ren?” she asked, smiling.
He cleared his throat, and laughed. “So maybe now isn’t the right time.”
“For what?”
“Just, I’ll get you dressed first, okay?”
She just shook her head, but if that was what he wanted. It took a couple of minutes for them to clean up, and pull on clothes again until both of them dressed. He set her right back up on the stool, and both of his hands came to rest on her thighs as he came close enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. He kissed her until she smiled, and then he dropped another kiss to the tip of her nose, and her forehead.
Sweet kisses.
She just wanted more.
“Okay, now’s good,” he murmured.
“I still don’t know for what, Ren.”
One of his hands snuck into the pocket of his jeans, and when he pulled it back out, he held a letter. Renzo smiled a little bit—just a tiny grin that had her heart fluttering.
“One last letter,” he murmured.
“Oh?”
“I’ve replied to every single one you sent me, right?”
“Every single one except the last one.”
Sometimes, she would just wake up and a letter would be on her nightstand. Sometimes, he sent it in the mail. Other times, he gave them to her himself.
Renzo nodded. “This is the last one, baby.”
She took the letter when he handed it over, and unfolded it to read the words written inside. Water blurred her gaze as she read it.
Lucia,
I would do every second of this life again a thousand times over if you give me one second of you being my wife.
Would you give me that?
Love, Ren
She looked up from the paper to find he had kneeled down, and had his palm open for her to see the item resting there waiting for her to see.
Her mother’s engagement ring.
Lucia blinked, and sucked in fast breath. “Oh.”
Renzo laughed. “That’s not—”
“Yes.”
“Let me ask it first?”
Lucia nodded. “But you don’t have to. I—”
“Marry me?”
“Yes, Ren. Yes.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later …
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Renzo asked.
Diego tried to glance away like his older brother hadn’t caught him staring. Really, Renzo had been trying to ignore it for the most part. Diego had been doing this staring thing a lot more lately. Like he wanted to keep his eyes on his brother as much as he possibly could lest Renzo get out of his sights, and never come back. Or maybe it was just the fact that Diego was finally starting to believe that no, Renzo wasn’t going anywhere.
Maybe he’d go off for a day or two—he still had to work, he was who he was now. And now that he was—sort of—a free agent where The League was concerned, he could be a little more choosey with his jobs. If he wanted to bind himself to a contractor, like say the Marcellos, then he could. Or, he could work for whoever the fuck he wanted to as long as their check cleared, and they were smart enough to offer him good money to do a job.
But that was it.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
New York was fucking permanent, now. This was where he was going to live indefinitely. That was always the plan at the end of the day. His goal was always to come back to these goddamn streets that raised him and shaped him. This city made him into what he became … it gave him everything. The mindset he lived with every day; the go-out-and-get-it attitude that never left him; an ability to survive; the chance to become something bigger and better than he ever dreamed of … love, too. It even gave him love.
He was always coming back here.
Simple as that.
Plus, New York was Lucia’s home, too. This was where her family was always going to be. She might have stayed away for a while—because she so badly needed that space—but she had closed the distance, now. Sure, there was still some work yet to go before all those burned bridges could and would be rebuilt, but it would happen.
Eventually.
“Was thinking,” Diego said, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s all.”
“About what?” Renzo asked.
He crossed the room, and wordlessly, dropped down to one knee so that he and Diego could be on a more level playing field, so to speak. While he was down there, he put his hands to work and fixed Diego’s bowtie that had somehow managed to get a little twisted during the time he spent running around with the other kids in the church.
“I guess …” Diego started, his cheeks pinking as he glanced away from Renzo again, “… well, I’ve got the coolest big brother, right?”
Renzo’s hands froze on Diego’s bowtie.
He stilled all over.
His brother still wasn’t looking at him when Renzo peered up at him after his statement. Diego seemed more interested in watching the cartoon playing on the television in the corner. Not like he’d just blurted something out that kind of stunned Renzo like nothing else ever had before. So was the way of kids.
In an attempt to make Diego understand where his big brother had been for the last few years, and why he hadn’t been around, Renzo and Rose tried to explain without too many details. Mostly because a lot of the information wasn’t kid-appropriate. Plus, he didn’t think Diego would understand very much about The League. At least, not until he was older. But they did try to explain as much as they possibly could.
Renzo wondered … before all of this, how did Diego see him, then? When he was nothing more than a drug dealer trying to make do on the streets to keep them afloat, was he still the coolest?
Diego’s next statement let him know. “But you always were, Ren.”
Renzo chuckled. “If you say so, buddy.”
“There you are!
”
Rose’s head popped into the doorway of the private room, and a sweet smile split her face as her gaze landed on Diego and Renzo. Standing quickly from the floor, Renzo patted Diego on the shoulder, knowing Rose was likely here just to get him to the other side of the church again with the other children, so he could get ready to take his place and walk down the aisle. If he was a little bit older, Renzo would have put his brother beside him on the altar.
But Diego wanted something else. Something that he felt was a bigger responsibility.
He wanted to carry the rings for Renzo and Lucia in their wedding. Renzo didn’t know how to refuse the kid anything. Still, even after all these years apart, that hadn’t changed, it seemed.
Rose took a couple of steps into the room, and even as she offered a hand out for Diego to take, her gaze drifted to Renzo. Looking him over, another one of those soft smiles curved her lips, and pride shined in her eyes. “You clean up well, huh?”
Renzo laughed, and swept his hands down the front of his tuxedo. “Thanks, I guess.”
“First time I’ve ever seen you in a tux, Ren.”
He cleared his throat, and glanced to the side where a mirror showcased his form covered in very expensive, tailored-to-fit Armani. A silk periwinkle blue tie, matching vest, and pocket square added the final touches to his shined shoes and black tux. She wasn’t lying. He never did the suit or tux thing—not even now. Black leather and dark-wash jeans all the way. Preferably with a pair of combat boots that were well-worn, and scuffed all to hell.
He liked a bit of character in his clothing.
But for today … this was good, too.
“I can’t believe you’re actually getting married,” Rose said. Renzo opened his mouth to reply to his sister, but before he could, she glanced down at her watch, and her gaze narrowed. “Shoot—I promised to help Cella with the kids. I’ll make sure to circle back around and see you before everything gets started, okay, Ren?”
That was Rose. Always looking out for everyone else and taking care of them before herself. Maybe before Renzo had caused a mess in her life, she had been able to be a little selfish. She only had to take care of herself, then. When he turned around and put the responsibility that only he had constantly carried for his siblings—in a way—on her, he kind of forced Rose to grow up quick, fast, and in a real fucking hurry.