Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  "I won't stop. Not unless you need me to, or you look away," I replied, answering her muttered plea. "As soon as you tell me you're ready, I'll give you any and everything you want. But fair warning, once I do, you’re never getting away from me."

  "Anything I want?"

  I nodded. "Anything."

  "Will you help me find Alejandro then?"

  Knocked off-kilter and not expecting her to ask such a question when her pussy was so close to my cock that I could feel her scorching heat through my jeans, I stilled, my shallow breaths nearly ceasing.

  "I don't know if he's even alive, or if seeing him again would ever be an option, but the night that you helped me celebrate his birthday, you—"

  "Promised that I'd help you find him."

  "Si, you did." It was a promise I hadn't forgotten. "I just need to know if his heart still beats." Tears, the millionth ones she'd cried, spilled. "After being under the Cartel's rule for over twenty years, I realize he's no longer the little boy I used to hold in my arms as we fell asleep each night...”

  She was likely correct.

  "But even if he truly grew to become the puppet he appeared to be the last time I saw him, moments before I was dragged from Melendez's estate, I still love the monster he's become. And though many would say I shouldn't, I always will."

  I pulled my hand from her back and wiped away her fallen tears. "Baby, please don't cry anymore. It breaks my heart." My soul rioted with fresh rage over the shit hand she'd been dealt in life. "And I swear to you, we'll find out about Alejandro. Anthony's got contacts all over the place: FBI, CIA, DEA, Homeland Security. All we have to do is ask for his help, which I'll do tomorrow."

  I forced a smile.

  "Now, closing that chapter...” I brushed my nose against hers. "Beautiful, I'm begging you, nix the tears for me, because if you don't, the Crazy Old Biddy will sense that you're hurting."

  Don't ask me how Grandmama knew when someone she loved was crying, but she always did—without fail.

  "And if she thinks I'm the one who made you upset, she'll run over here with one of her guns and shoot my dick slap off."

  My truthful words were all it took to change the tide of emotions ebbing and flowing through my woman. That was evident when she slid her hands back up my shoulders and twined them around my neck once more, a smile gracing her gorgeous face.

  "Guess I should stop crying then, because I have plans for"—her lips ghosted over my cheek before she flicked her gaze down—"that."

  My hands shook. "Carmen—"

  "Shh," she whispered, silencing me. "Less talking, more doing." Sliding off my lap, she stood between my spread knees and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Just remember... slow, si?"

  I stood, forcing her to step back.

  Over a foot taller, I towered over her as my right hand sunk into her hair, the feel of the silky strands an addiction I'd acquired. "You keep your eyes on me."

  My softly spoken demand wasn't a question.

  Still, she nodded.

  "And as I said before, if you want or need me to stop, I will stop." Even if it kills me. "Because in this house and in our bed, your voice matters."

  Her glossy lips parted on a sigh.

  "Don't get me wrong, there will be times when I tear your panties from your pussy with my teeth before burying my cock so deep inside you that neither of us knows where I end and you begin, but I'll only do those things with your consent. Your body belongs to you, Carmen. Whatever you allow me to do to you is your choice."

  Hands slipping beneath my shirt, her fingernails scored my abs as she pushed to her tiptoes. "Te amo," she murmured, her declaration of love breathing life into my scarred soul, which had been floundering in darkness for too long.

  Chest pressing into my upper stomach, she slid her hands lower, fingers dipping beneath the top of my jeans, causing my cock to jerk. "But if you don't start touching me, I will scream the house down."

  Tongue raking over my lower lip, I gripped the sides of her strapless dress in my hands. "You sure you’re ready for me?"

  "Are you deaf, pendejo?" she teased, arching a delicate brow. "Because I'm certain I—"

  I ripped the dress over her head in one swift move, leaving her standing in the middle of my bedroom, dazed and clad in only a white bra and matching panties.

  One look at her lace-covered tits, and my mouth ran dry. But then, as my gaze skimmed lower, my thumping heart shredded, blood oozing from its fresh wounds. Incensed eyes locked on her scarred belly, a new emotion, one I was all too familiar with, took hold.

  Rage.

  And like many times before, I saw red.

  17

  Carmen

  In an instant, my stomach dropped.

  With the urge to hide riding me, I wrapped my arms around my bare belly and sides, then stumbled back as James glared at my body, furious.

  Squeezing myself tighter, I tried my best to cover the vast array of scars that marred my middle, their pink and white coloring a stark contrast to my tanned skin.

  Hideous and raised, the visual reminder of each slash and puncture I’d endured that fateful night made me sick. More than once, I’d vomited after spending hours standing before a mirror, studying the horror El Diablo, that cold-blooded hijo de perra, had inflicted on my flesh.

  I was grateful to be alive after surviving an attack that should’ve killed me, but between the damage Dominic had done with my blade and the wounds left behind by hundreds of dope-filled needles on my inner arms, I was a far cry from the beauty queen I’d once been.

  And knowing that hurt—always had, and always will. But seeing that cold hard truth reflected on James’ face as he glowered at me with what I knew was fury boiling his blood?

  It was shattering.

  “Guapo,” I whispered, darkness circling like a predator preparing to strike. Once again, my heart was the prey. “I know I’m not...”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed.

  Pull your shit together, chica.

  You’re stronger than this.

  Mental pep talk working, I latched onto every ounce of courage I could gather. “I know my body isn’t as magnificent as it once was, but I’m still alive.” Tear-lined eyelids opening, I stared up at him, my cracking heart high in my throat.

  I hesitated for a moment before dropping my arms, allowing them to hang freely at my sides. “Scarred, yet alive.”

  Exposing the inner bend of my elbows, I lifted them for him to see. His assessing stare roamed the permanent track marks, taking in the plentiful scars but lack of fresh wounds. “Not to mention, clean. And I have been every minute since that cabrón ripped you and I apart.”

  His face softened. “Carmen—”

  I held up a hand, silencing him. “Don’t. As you’ve said close to half a dozen times since we’ve been in this room, the past is the past, remember? And if we’re going to have a future, one that isn’t shrouded in darkness and orchestrated by our demons, then we have to put it all behind us. This”—I gestured to my middle with trembling hands—“included.”

  “He fucking hurt you,” he growled, the waning control he had on his nuclear temper close to slipping. “And for that, he will damn well die.”

  “He did hurt me,” I agreed, nodding. “And right or wrong, I pray he meets his end via a homemade shank, but you know what else El Diablo did?” His cheek ticked, and I stepped forward, erasing most of the stumbling retreat I’d taken a minute before. “He gave me my freedom.”

  And the pendejo had.

  It makes me sound loca, but I would’ve endured every moment of the pain all over again as well if the end result remained the same. Because if Dominic hadn’t tried to kill Jade and me before ordering Clyde to dispose of us in the swamp, giving us the chance to escape, and Chiquita the courage to run away the first opportunity she had, then we’d still be trapped in Hell, where the devil himself commanded our every move.

  Or worse yet, truly dead.

  Si, we’d had
plans to run to the shelter that fateful night, but despite the unending pain and incessant heartbreak we’d all suffered through afterward, the way things had played out were better.

  Our family, our beautiful family, had lost seven years together, but on the flip side, we’d gained so much.

  El Diablo was in prison. Ellington, too.

  As for Clyde, the hijo de puta was dead.

  It had taken longer than it should’ve for each thing to happen, but the threat to my bebés, along with James and I, had been eradicated the night Dominic tried but failed to kill Little One and me.

  For that, I was thankful.

  For a multitude of reasons.

  And it was because of said reasons that it was time James saw the bigger picture and became grateful too. But as stubborn as he could be, especially when angry, having to beat such appreciativeness into his thick skull with a hefty dose of attitude and iron-will, was a possibility.

  I swear if he doesn’t listen to me...

  Determined to make him see the beauty hidden within the ugly, my hands gripped his tensed forearms. “Don’t you see?” I smiled through the pain and regret that continued to eviscerate my heart, battling in vain to pull me back into the dissipating darkness. “El Diablo may have hurt me, which he did, majorly so, but he also gave me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.”

  I pushed to my tiptoes, lips now an inch from his delicious ones. “Forever,” I whispered the moment his hands found my hips and his fingers curled, digging deep into my flesh in a possessive hold that made my fluttering belly flip. “He gave me forever... with you.”

  More tears fell, and my breath shook, rattling free of my lungs. “Now stop being such a grumpass”—apparently, I’m channeling Shelby again—“and make love to me.”

  More than ready to bust free of the mental chains holding me captive once and for all, if he didn’t start touching me, I was likely to scream loud enough for the Grandmama, and the rest of the street, to hear.

  “First, you say it. Then I’ll spend the rest of the night showing you what my body can do to yours.”

  Rocking back on my heels, I stood flat-footed once more, though I still felt unsteady, almost intoxicated. What is he doing to me? “Say what?”

  Head growing light, he could’ve demanded I break out in song and dance, and I would’ve done so. Desperate for more of his touch, along with his lips on mine, I fully admit I would’ve done the Macarena, followed by the Electric Slide, naked as the day I was born if he’d so much as asked.

  For him, I was that far gone.

  “That you know it isn’t your fault.” Forehead wrinkling, I parted my lips at his muttered words, but he gave me no chance to ask what he meant. “Tell me you understand that what happened to neither your mother and Alejandro, nor Ashley Jo and Jade, is on you. Just as the fate my mother suffered at the hands of my monstrous father isn’t on me.”

  Emotions all over the place, I dipped my head, fighting to ground the chaos orbiting my heart before I shattered, only for James to grasp my chin once more and right my face. “Say it, Carmen.”

  “It isn’t”—my voice cracked on a harsh exhale—“my fault.”

  And it wasn’t.

  I’d done many things in my life that I regretted, more than I could ever count, but I didn’t kill my mother or enslave my brother, and I hadn’t beaten or raped Chiquita and Little One.

  For the life of me, I didn’t understand why it had taken me so long to believe such a truth. And that truth? It was that the guilt I carried around in my belly like a stack of corroded dynamite was not mine to bear.

  It had to end.

  Right now.

  My spine straightened as I tapped into a well of new strength, which I’d never known I possessed, refusing to give in to the agony that worked to unfold inside me each time I thought of the past—which was often.

  “I hate them for what they did to all of us. And though I don’t want to carry around such ugliness, I’ll never be able to forgive the ones who’d hurt us.” I shook my head. “Not a single one of them.”

  A smile that, even without looking in a mirror, I knew mimicked the one my mother used to wear in the darkest of times, curled my lips as something broken shifted inside me, snapping back into place.

  One fractured piece at a time...

  That’s how we fix ourselves.

  “But what I can do”—my grin grew as I took a page from Jade’s book—“is live the life I was meant to have, with a man who’s always been mine, and the kids who, even though I didn’t give birth to them, I love as fiercely as a madre can, with every beat of my healing heart.”

  The anger that still painted James’ features vanished, and before I could pull in a single breath, he lifted me into the air, forcing my legs to encircle his hips and my arms to twine around his neck.

  Rough hands finding my culo, he held me tight, his fingers biting into my panty-covered skin. “You’re marrying me.”

  My eyes bulged.

  “I’m sure as hell not kidding either,” he grumbled, turning us so my back faced the bed. “Don’t care how fast we’re moving, before long, you’ll have my last name even if I have to drag your pretty little ass down the aisle where Grandmama will be waiting to officiate the whole thing, shotgun in hand if need be.”

  Lips pressed into a thin line, I giggled.

  Oh how little he knows.

  “I hate to be the bearer of shocking news,” I replied, unable to wait another second to spill one of the secrets I still held onto. “But that’s going to be sort of hard to do.” I paused, ramping up the drama, much like Hendrix, Shelby, and Jade did. “Especially since I already have your last name.”

  Confused, he blinked slowly. “What?”

  Chest vibrating with restrained laughter, I shifted my weight on his hips, tightening my legs. He’s going to love this. “After Little One and I survived, we needed new identities to fly under the radar. And since she’d already laid claim to you and Hendrix both, Jade told the police our names were Evelyn Jade and Camilla Carmen Cole. Evelyn after her first mother, and Camilla after mine.”

  Cue his heart attack in 3, 2, 1...

  “After that, a volunteer at the shelter where we temporarily lived helped us make everything official. Now, here we are.” Unable to hold it back a second longer, my laughter broke free. “So, you see, I don’t need to marry you because I already—”

  The air was ripped from my lungs when my back hit the mattress with no warning, and James followed me down, his front covering mine, hips remaining between my spread thighs.

  “I don’t care if you already have my last name or not”—liar, liar, pants on fire—“you’re still marrying me and wearing my ring.”

  Panting, I arched a brow. “Is that so?”

  Hands sinking into my wild hair, he grinned, making my lower belly and inner thighs tighten. “Yeah, beautiful, it is.”

  Fingertips ascending his muscular back, I hummed. “Then maybe you should show me what I’ll be getting if I one day agree”—I fired a pointed look his way—“to be your wife.”

  That grin, the one that warmed the most sensitive parts of me, grew as he lowered his face to the juncture of my shoulder and neck, lips finding, then teasing my pulse point.

  Pulled free of my locks, his right hand suddenly landed on my side, where it then slid upward, coming to a stop beneath the swell of my breast, earning a frustrated whimper from me.

  “Tell me again that I can touch you.” His teasing lips moved to the sensitive shell of my ear as I plotted his inevitable death in my head. “Tell me for the last time that you’re ready for everything I’m about to give you.”

  I shifted beneath him, desperate to feel more of his body against mine, but he pulled back, not allowing me such deliciousness, and stared down at me, his heated gaze searching mine.

  “You can touch me,” I replied, giving him the truthful answer he sought. “I’m—”

  His mouth seized possession of mine
, stealing what little oxygen I’d pulled in, erasing the words I was about to speak.

  A groan—his—filled the room.

  Whimpering once more, my starving lips yielded to him, and his searching tongue found mine, igniting a spark that I was sure would soon blaze into a roaring inferno.

  Anticipation exploded inside me, electrifying my nerves, and causing my belly to knot as he ripped his mouth away.

  Alternating whisper-soft kisses with spine-shuddering nips to my electrified skin, he trailed his lips down my neck, across my collarbone, and to the top of my aching right breast before leaning back, putting unwanted space between us.

  I sneered, ready to sink my hands into his hair and pull his handsome face down to where I wanted him to taste me.

  Only, I didn’t get the chance.

  Slipping his hand beneath the thin white lace connecting the cups of my bra, his gaze hooded, James curled his sinful fingers. “Eyes on me so I know you’re good. You look away, and I stop. Got it?”

  “I—”

  A tearing sound echoed off the walls as he tugged—hard—ripping the lace down the center, exposing my heated flesh. “Fuck me,” he mumbled, pushing the scraps of ruined fabric to my sides, his calloused hands scraping over my tingling nipples. “I knew your tits would be beautiful, but goddamn, Carmen.”

  My back bowed, my need for him clear.

  “I’m never going to get anything done now. Not after seeing these.” He licked his lower lip. “And damn sure not after I get a taste.”

  “Guapo...”

  He chuckled, the sound low and deep. “Patience, beautiful.” Was he trying to get me to matar him? Because I was close to doing just that and burying him behind Grandmama’s tool shed. “I’m about to make you feel good.”

  Patience depleted, my head snapped up, leaving the mattress where it rested. “Por favor, would you get on with it then, because I am—”

  Lungs freezing, the words I’d been about to speak were replaced with a silent scream when he dipped his face and took a nipple between his lips, sealing his scorching mouth to the sensitive peak in a joining that was equal parts Heaven and Hell.