Jeremy looked at me with a knowing look before his eyes landed on Liam.
‘I guess she’s even better at hiding than her father is. But don’t worry. I’ll find her,’ he’d assured Liam before he gave me a nod and walked out the door. Liam kept looking at me skeptically, but for some reason he didn’t bring it up again that day. Except for his bitching about my facial expressions.
“Is Jeremy any closer to finding the little bitch?” Liam asks like he does every day, snapping me out of my daydream.
He narrows his eyes at me while he rubs the back of his neck, holding back the need to call me out on any suspicions he has, I’m sure.
“No,” I lie, like I’ve been doing for the last week.
Eventually, I will tell him, but I first have to figure out what I want to do with her.
What am I going to say to the women who betrayed me, but my heart won’t let go? Do I tell her to run and never look back? Do I make her pay? My mind wants to torture her, making her feel the agony I’ve been feeling since she left, but my heart keeps pulling me back. I’m on unfamiliar territory here, and I need to be smart about this. Normally Liam is the one that tames my urges to be impulsive, but the roles are reversed in this particular situation. If he knows where she is, he will kill her.
I’m not ready for that.
My heart is not ready for that.
And at this point, I’m not sure if I will ever be ready for that.
Liam is scowling at me from above the rim of his glass when someone knocks on the door.
“Come in,” I eagerly bark at the door, grateful Liam doesn’t get the chance to start his interrogation.
Jeremy walks in with a worried face, his eyes bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days.
He looks at Liam and shoots me an apologetic look.
“Sorry, Kane. They found her.”
“What?!” Liam shouts incredulously while his head snaps to Jeremy.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I lean forward and place my elbows on the desk while I rub my palms over my face. I exhale loudly before my gaze moves back to Jeremy, ignoring the scowl on my brother’s face.
“How long do we have?”
“24 hours. Tops. I placed a fake threat on the airport of Malaga, which should buy us some time, but not much.”
I nod in agreement.
“Get everything ready. We will leave in an hour. Do you have someone shadowing them in the meantime?”
“Malaga?” Liam blurts, confused.
“Yeah. They should be safe until we get there. I’ll get everything ready.” He turns around, then walks out the door, forcing me to face my brother.
My eyes find his, and he just stares at me like a feral dog.
“Save it, Liam.” I shoot him a bored look, not impressed by his attempt to stare me into whatever thing he wants me to do.
“She is still in Malaga?” he finally asks.
“No. She is in Havana.”
Liam furrows his brows, telling me his brain is trying to process all the information he just got in the last thirty seconds. After a few heartbeats, the corner of his mouth rises in a grin that doesn’t match his fire-filled eyes.
“She fucked you over, yet you still want to save her?” he huffs, frustration dripping from his words.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose before my eyes find his again. I could just tell him to shut the fuck up and either be on board with it or get off my back. But for some fucked up reason, I want my brother to be on my side. I want him to understand why I have to do this. How my gut feeling has teamed up with my heart, leaving me with no other choice.
“I don’t fucking know if I want to save her. But I need to look her in the eye and see the same betrayal Cristina gave us.” I keep my gaze on him, trying to express how important this is to me.
He closes his eyes, slightly shaking his head before he opens them again. The hard features on his face soften a little, and I give him a grateful smile before he opens his mouth again.
“I’m doing this for you. But you’d better be damn sure about this.” His deep blue eyes pin me to my chair. I want to say I agree with him, but the truth is, I’m not sure about anything.
I want to fuck her, and I want to kill her equally. Maybe at the same time.
But mostly I want her to lift this aching weight that has been laying on my chest for the past three months. I want her to tell me it was her insecurity that fueled her lack of trust. I want her to tell me she meant everything she said, but her survival instincts kicked in.
I want her to fucking tell me it wasn’t all a lie.
“Until we dig up every piece of information there is to find about that damn family of pendejos and the evidence rules in her favor, she is not off the hook. If she turns out to be a piece of shit like her brother and her cousin, you are putting a bullet through her head yourself. Then we’ll find the rest of her family and finish this war once and for all. You got that?” The look on Liam’s face leaves no room for any argument, and I know he’s right. This war needs to end, no matter how my heart keeps fighting me, we need to bury every single one of the Reyes’s one by one.
Meaning every single person who is part of that family.
I know she is not a Reyes by blood.
But I need to know if she is a Reyes at heart.
I nod in agreement, but he won’t let me go that easily.
“Say it, Kane. I know she is not a Reyes, but that doesn’t mean she is not a part of their fucked up family. Say it. If she is one of them, you will kill her.”
“I’ll kill her myself,” I agree, not believing a fucking word I’m saying.
Six
Callie
Six years ago – 18 years old
Reign yells in my face before my fist lands on the punching bag with full force, “Come on, harder!”
“Again!” he shouts as I connect my fist with the black leather once more, pushing out every ounce of energy I have.
“Good! You’re getting stronger. Have some water, then we’ll move on to some self-defense maneuvers.” He throws the gloves on the floor, then he walks to one of the corners of the boxing ring to grab some water. His voice echoes in the stuffy room which we currently have to ourselves.
With heaving lungs I follow him, grabbing the white towel hanging over the ropes to wipe the sweat off my face.
He grabs his phone, sighing before he starts tapping the screen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, noticing his serious face.
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just Ronnie, needing some shit to blackmail someone.”
He keeps tapping for about ten seconds before he locks the screen and tosses it in the corner with a big smile.
“All done.” The first week or so, I kept looking at him in awe, asking him at least a hundred times how he was able to access shit so quickly. He tried to explain, but after a while I just took it as it was: he is a whiz kid hacker who looks like a tattooed model.
Sexy as fuck.
He hands me a bottle of water, and I eagerly grab it out of his hand before I gulp half the contents down my throat.
“Not too much! It will slow you down.” His eyebrows move together in a slight scowl.
He looks damn cute when he’s smiling, but fuck me, my thighs clench together as soon as he gets even remotely pissed at anything or anyone. He got in to a heated conversation the other day with Ronnie, and holy crap, it was fucking hot. It’s like he reaches a whole other level of sexy as soon as anyone pushes him over the line.
“I’m done for today,” I state while I glare at him, defying him with my stance.
“The fuck you are,” he counters, grabbing the bottle out of my hand then drinking it all in one big gulp.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished, asshole.”
“You think whoever is going to attack you will let you be done for the day?” He moves closer, crowding my space the way he knows I like.
His tattooed hand presses against my stomach as he
softly pushes me into the ropes.
“No, but I’m tired, it’s a Friday night, and I just want to hang out with you,” I purr while my arms snake around his waist. I look up at him through my lashes, shooting him an enticing look. His mouth curls in a cocky grin, making that addictive flutter enter my stomach, then he brushes his nose against mine.
“Angel, he’s not going to stop. I know these types of men. He marked you, and he won’t stop until he gets you where he wants you. Your brother has a huge network. He will find you.”
“It’s not like we’re hiding. Besides, you’ll be here to protect me, right?”
He sighs, obviously frustrated.
“I won’t always be by your side. You don’t want me to be. You need to be able to protect yourself. If you work with psychopaths, you need to always be prepared. They don’t play fair. You can’t play fair. You know I’m right because you grew up with the asshole.”
My mind instantly wanders back to a moment in my childhood.
My pet rabbit, George, was in a hutch in our garden. It was our weekend home, a place away because my mother felt trapped most of the time being inside the caves of Granada. It was a huge villa in the mountains of Andalusia, about two hours from Granada. Every time we arrived, I would immediately jump out and go see George, feeding him carrots and stuff. My brother always hated it, joking about how maybe one day George would end up on the dinner table. Naive as I was as an eight-year-old, I thought he was joking. One day I woke up and walked out to the garden, a bowl of rabbit food in my hand, when I noticed my brother with a lighter in his. Just standing there, flicking it on and off.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Do you like the flames, Hermanita?’ he replied, ignoring my question.
My brother always asked me weird questions, so I wasn’t even surprised by them anymore. So without thinking, I shrugged and said, ‘Sure.’
Before I knew it, he dropped the lit lighter on the floor, and a path of fire sparked all the way towards the hutch George was still in. The smell of gasoline mixed with the smell of fire entered my nose while my head stared at it in shock. I screamed. I screamed as hard as I could, watching my pet rabbit get burned alive. When my parents ran out, asking what happened, all I could do was cry hysterically while my brother sold my father some bullshit story about it being an accident. But I could still see his soulless eyes fixated on me, watching the terror glide into my body.
He was smiling.
Feeling the back of Reign’s hand brushing my cheek pulls my focus back to him.
“What do you know about psychopaths?” My voice is uncertain and insecure, knowing I may be crossing a line, but my curiosity won’t allow me to let this one slide.
“I was raised around psychopaths.”
I look up at him, my eyes asking him to elaborate, eager to learn more about him. To see if our childhoods match like our characters somehow do. His energy changes, and I can feel the heaviness in his heart. Immediately I regret my question, not wanting to sour the mood, even though I’m dying to know more about him.
“Don’t make me lie to you, Angel.”
I roll my eyes, knowing that’s the end of it, even though I’m dying to push him a bit further.
“Fine, I call cheat day.” I pout playfully, trying to lighten his mood.
“We’ve barely started,” he says, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine.
“I know, and we can practice some more tomorrow. Come on, we’ve been here every day for an hour for the last six weeks. Can we just have a cheat day? One?” I casually bite my lip, knowing he can’t resist it.
He lets out a soft growl before he presses his lips on mine, giving me exactly what I want.
We have been inseparable for the last few weeks, and every day I wake up, I become more addicted to Reign Delaney.
The epitome of rugged sweetness.
Arrogant asshole is how most people would describe him, but to me he is so much more than that. At first, he became my hero, but soon after that he became my best friend, my protector, my confidant, and the person who made me stronger in every way. When my mother had to go back to Ireland to visit my ill grandmother two days after the worst night of my life, he decided I was staying with him. The humble little girl in me declined his offer for about two hours before he left his house in an annoyed state. I waited for him in his small condo, thinking about a way to meet him in the middle, but I knew he wasn’t going to accept another no when he came back with two bags full of my clothes. Apparently, breaking into computers is not his only skill.
After he rescued me from Vernon Walt, he embedded himself in my soul. But when he came back with my clothes like the alpha male that he is, refusing to take no for an answer when it comes to my safety—that was the first time he got a small piece of my heart.
The second time was when he insisted on teaching me how to fight. He said, and I quote, ‘My Angel is fiery as fuck, and I need her to be able to throw a punch like that.’
I’m not sure if it was the my Angel part, or the part where he made me feel like I was capable of more than being pretty and sharing snarky comments that made him get another piece of my heart, but the list became endless pretty fast after that.
Our chemistry is undeniable, and it took him two days of resistance before he finally covered his mouth with mine. Since then, not a day goes by when he doesn’t kiss me as if there will be no tomorrow after that, but he still refuses to take me like I want him to.
To own me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs after he breaks our connection.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re begging me to eat you.” His mouth moves to my neck, pressing kisses all over my soft skin while his hand strokes my back.
“But I am begging you to eat me,” I sulk.
I’m serious. I love how he doesn’t want to rush things for us. Doesn’t want to rush things for me, making sure I’m ready to have that level of intimacy again. But every day the longing feeling between my thighs becomes more demanding, and I want the boy responsible for it to fix the problem he started.
“It’s too soon, Angel. But fine, we will take the day off. In fact, we will take the entire weekend off, do something fun. Just you and me, okay?”
“There’s only one thing I want to do. Just you and me,” I sulk.
His hand reaches up to cup my face, his thumb resting in the corner of my mouth.
“So impatient, my Angel. I just want to make sure it’s perfect. Because you deserve nothing less.”
“It will be, because it’s you.” My eyes find his in a pleading look, even though I know he’s not the type that gives in. He doesn’t mind head-butting with anyone, but he always gets what he wants.
“Stop, Angel. Before I make you go a few more rounds,” he warns before he silences me with an affectionate kiss.
Seven
Callie
Present Day
A few hours later, my black skater dress feels sticky on my sweaty skin while I sway my hips from left to right, mirroring every move Gloria makes. It took me a while to let loose, but after a few drinks, I’m actually starting to enjoy myself. It has been a while since my face has been covered with the carefree smile that hasn’t left my face for the last hour or so.
I shoot a smile to Imogen who is dancing her way towards me, grabbing my hands, while she moves her hips in sync with mine. I can feel the salsa music vibrate through every inch of my body while I look around to scan the crowd.
It’s not a big club. In fact, it feels more like a bar. The walls are an ugly yellow color, and the wooden bar is painted white. Everywhere you look are people dancing the night away, enjoying themselves on a Friday night out. The crowd is a mix of all sorts of flamboyant people.
Genny and I stand out with our fair skin and light hair, but not enough to feel uncomfortable.
I glance over
to Gloria, who has her curvy body tight against the guy who has been keeping her entertained for the last few minutes, before she twirls our way in her scarlet red salsa dress, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“He’s tremendo mangon! But I need a drink,” she breathes with her heavy Cuban accent in my ear, making me chuckle.
I don’t think I can ever get used to the word mangon. It means ‘hot’ in Cuban, but to me it really still sounds like you are calling someone a mango.
I don’t want to compare my men to fruit.
If I did, surely I’d only like the forbidden ones.
She lifts her hand towards her mouth, portraying getting a drink while looking at Imogen. Imogen shakes her head and waves her hand in the air, mouthing she will stay on the dance floor. Gloria nods her head in confirmation before she grabs my hand and drags me towards the bar.
“Callie, hermosa, you are a natural,” she yells over her shoulder. “Hijo de puta, you are becoming some serious competition for this mamasita.”
I let out a full laugh at her words, rolling my eyes before we crash our bodies against the bar.
“Oh, please, guapa. You can teach me all you want, but I will never be a natural like you.”
She shrugs her shoulders with a flirtatious grin, lifting her black curls to create a messy bun. She waves her hand in front of her face, trying to cool her honey brown skin.
“My hips may sway like they were born to do it, but the combination of you shaking that ass with a face as pretty as yours and hair that is as vibrant as fire? Niña, you are a showstopper.”
“I’m pretty sure half the room was looking at you. Not me,” I huff, lifting my hand in the air to grab the bartender’s attention.
“Ay caramba, chica, you are oblivious. They were looking at you. They already know me. They want to know tú, pelo rojo.”
“Yeah, well, this redhead is not really interested in any men right now.”
Catching Fire (The Fire Duet Book 2) Page 5