by J. E. Parker
Anthony didn’t hesitate to explain.
“That girl Anna,” he said, tongue raking over his bottom lip. “The one you and my non-listening, crazy-ass wife just saved?” Pride, mixed with irritation, morphed his stony face into an expression that mirrored my own. “She’s not just some random teenage girl from off the streets.”
Carmen’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Anthony clenched his jaw again. “Her name is Anna Sokolov.”
Sokolov. I knew that last name.
But hard as I tried, I couldn’t place it.
“Six weeks ago,” Anthony continued, rushing to explain further, “she was kidnapped outside a restaurant in downtown Charleston while out with friends from school. And the people she’s connected to, the people she’s related to, have been searching for her ever since.”
“Connected to?” my Pixie asked, confused.
“It means she’s marked... protected.”
With that, clarity struck me like a two-by-four, and my eyes widened in response. If Anna was from Charleston and she was marked for protection, that could only mean one thing.
“Oh hell.” A bark of humorless laughter spilled out of me. “He kidnapped a girl that’s under the protection of the Fallen Kings?” I shook my head as I looked down at Voodoo, the soon-to-be dismembered corpse. “How stupid can you be? Arianna Ivanova is going to take you apart, piece by fucking piece!”
It was the best news I’d heard all day.
Unable to reply, Voodoo groaned.
“Not just a girl,” Anthony corrected. “Family.” Removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt, he closed the space between him and Voodoo, then dropped to his knees beside his hip, directly in front of me. “Anna is Casper Sokolov’s little sister.”
Oh, this just kept getting better. Voodoo wasn’t just going to die. He was likely going to die painfully, not to mention slowly, by Ari’s right-hand man. I wasn’t intimidated easily, and I admit I’d only met Casper two or three times back in my gambling days, but that had been enough for me.
He was not someone you fucked with.
Anyone with a lick of sense knew that.
Clicking the handcuffs into place and restraining the beaten monster who’d only just begun to feel my Pixie’s wrath, Anthony jerked Voodoo onto unsteady feet and hovered his lips next to the walking dead man’s ear.
“You signed your own death warrant the minute you took Anna so you could sell her body to any man that was willing to pay.”
Carmen’s eyes slammed shut. Shoulders shaking, she shook her head. “You sick and twisted hijo de perra! I hope Anna’s hermano slices off your—”
“And bringing her back here,” Anthony cut in, interrupting my woman mid-scream, and continuing with his earlier thought, “to a shithole I’ve tried to make sure stay cleared out in order to keep history from repeating itself, was the biggest mistake you could’ve made.”
“Fuck”—Voodoo gasped for breath—”you." His half-lidded and swollen eyes swung to Carmen. “You think this is over, bitch?” An evil grin that put me on edge curved his lips. “One message. That’s all it’ll take for Dom to find out you’re still breathing.” His grin grew even as he swayed, still fighting to breathe. “Then it’s game over.”
I opened my mouth to speak, same as Anthony, but my Pixie beat us both to the punch. “Well, do me a favor then, pendejo,” she replied, standing tall, refusing to be intimidated even though I could tell by the way her hands shook that his words had terrified her. “When you see or speak to the hijo de perra, make sure you tell him it was me—the puta who he tried, but failed, to kill, that cracked your shoulder, then busted your kidneys and knees.”
She sneered, her face the picture of disdain.
“I know you expect me to be scared, to maybe even piss myself, but newsflash, asshat”—great, now she’s channeling Shelby—“threats don’t scare me anymore.”
Her voice was calm, soft even, but her face was anything but as she kept speaking. Swear to Christ, if Anthony didn’t get the bastard out of here quick, she was liable to finish what she started even as he held the scumbag up.
“Especially not ones coming from weak men who no longer hold any power over me after I took it back.” Her tears returned. Not that they’d ever stopped. “Power that I’ll let no one, a demon like you especially, take from me again.”
A wave of pride filled my chest.
My woman had crawled through Hell on her hands and knees, where she’d been tormented by the most twisted of the devil’s demons.
Yet despite all the bullshit she’d been through, the endless hurt and lasting trauma included, she’d emerged from the flames an angel possessing a heart of gold and a spine forged from steel.
She was the strongest woman I’d ever met.
And she was mine.
“As for El Diablo,” she carried on, not quite finished with Voodoo yet. “He’s behind bars, caged like the animal he’s always been. And with any luck, you’ll soon be joining him.” A smile contorted her gorgeous face. “That’s if you live long enough to make it to trial.”
Voodoo roared in outrage and jerked toward her, against his restraints, but he had no chance of escaping. Still, my hand fisted. If he somehow got loose, I intended to knock him on his ass before he got within a foot of her.
“She’s right, Bryson,” Anthony spat, tightening his hold on the asshole and calling him by what I assumed was his legal name. “Even if she doesn’t realize just how much. Because according to what she told my wife right after I pulled up, it seems Anna made another call before dialing the shelter.”
Anthony smirked, enjoying his taunts.
“The first was to her big brother.” Voodoo’s swollen eyes widened, opening the most I’d seen them since walking into the room, showcasing his pinkened sclera. “And he’s on his way to Toluca.” A darkness I rarely glimpsed from him shadowed Anthony’s face. “Along with Ari.”
Looks like Voodoo is well and truly fucked...
“Wait,” Carmen said, releasing the crowbar she’d still held, allowing it to clatter to the floor by her feet. “If she called her brother first, then why would she call the shelter too?”
Anthony pulled his hate-filled gaze from Voodoo and moved it to my woman. “Because she knew you could get to her faster. Casper and Ari are over an hour away.”
That made sense to me.
Anna had wanted out as soon as possible.
No one could fault her there.
Anthony shrugged. “Or maybe it was just fate.”
Carmen jerked back. “Fate? And what does that mean?”
Grasping both his arms tight, my son-in-law shoved the shithead toward the busted door, more than ready to transport him to county lock-up.
“It means,” he replied, his voice softer than seconds before, “that maybe something told Anna to call you since you needed to save her just as badly as she needed to be saved.”
Carmen sucked in a swift breath. “I saved her?” Chin trembling, her disbelief was clear as the battle-ready armor she wore melted, and vulnerability crept in, taking its place. “I didn’t fail this time?”
That was it.
I’d had enough.
Less than three feet separated my body from my heart, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Reaching over, I grasped her upper arm and pulled her into me.
I inhaled when her body crashed into mine, and her signature scent of wildflowers and sunshine teased my nose. Right arm banding around her lower back, I sunk my hand into her hair, holding her in place, same as I always did, while her essence filled me, inflating my chest and calming my racing heart.
Forehead dropping to touch hers, I massaged her temple with my thumb. “You saved her, baby.” I shifted, brushing my lips across her tear-streaked cheek. “Evil didn’t win this time.”
Her legs grew weak, her weight dropping the slightest bit before I tightened my arm, holding her steady. As strong as my woman was, she was vulnerable, too. And that killed me.
I leaned back the slightest bit and shook my head. “No, it didn’t. And I swear to you, he’ll never get the chance to hurt anyone else.”
It was the truth.
By the time the Kings were finished with him, not even his blackened heart would remain intact. And with the price Ari undoubtedly had on his head, there was no escaping his fate.
Not even in jail.
As for Dominic fucking West, that would be handled soon as well. This nightmare was ending—one way or another.
“Want to know something, Pixie?” I didn’t wait for her to reply. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
Her lips lifted into a shaky smile, warming my heart. “So you’re not mad that I didn’t listen?”
A choking sound rumbled deep in my throat. “Baby, I’ll be honest”—I widened my stance, fighting to once again tamp down my anger—“I’m mad as a hornet and close to spitting nails over you not listening and then putting yourself in danger.” I paused. “Even if I do understand why you did it.”
My cheek twitched as I suppressed the slew of curse words my tongue ached to let loose. “But we’ll talk about all of that later. Right now, I’ve got other plans.”
“Si?” She rolled her eyes, attitude returning full-force and reminding me of Jade. “And what plans are those?”
Removing my hand from her hair, I cupped her jaw, forcing her eyes to remain on me. “Ones that involve me getting you out of this place”—where I know your blood coats the floor and your wails are embedded in the walls—“putting it in the rearview mirror for the final time, and then taking you home, where I can show you just how much I love you.”
Her eyes slid closed. “What about work?”
“It’s been handled. I’m done for the day. Same as you.”
Eyelids fluttering open, my beautiful Pixie wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed to her tiptoes, ghosting her lips against mine.
“Then let’s go because Cristo knows I don’t want to...” She pinched her lips together in a thin white line, stopping herself from speaking the words I already knew she wanted to say.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
“Can we just go?”
Her unease was palpable.
I had to get her out of the trap house.
Right then.
If I didn’t, her mental state would spiral.
Dropping my arm from her lower back, I bent the slightest bit and scooped her up in my arms, holding her bridal style.
Exhaling a pent-up breath, she turned her head, burying her face against my chest, where her eyes slid closed, the remnants of her tears wetting my shirt. “Move, Guapo.”
Not in the arguing mood, I turned toward the door, realizing for the first time that Anthony had already dragged Voodoo from the room.
For that, I was thankful.
I was tired of looking at his face.
Even if my badass woman had messed it up.
Choosing to focus on Carmen instead of the monster who’d had a hand in hurting her and my daughter both, I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, baby,” I whispered, needing to say the words aloud. “Always will too.”
Her hand cupped my cheek. “Yo también te amo,” she whispered, her declaration of love going a long way in calming the anger that still simmered in my veins. “Forever. Now take me home.”
Without stalling further, I did as she asked.
I took my Pixie, the love of my life, home.
29
Carmen
James hadn’t spoken a word.
Not on the drive home or as he’d carried me into the empty house and up the stairs, never once allowing my feet to touch the floor before depositing me on the bathroom counter where I now sat, my eyes fixated on his tensed shoulders and muscular back as he started the walk-in shower.
It put me on edge.
“Guapo,” I whispered, the need to hear his voice, to be reassured that he wasn’t too angry with me over the situation that had transpired at the trap house, thrumming through my veins. “Talk to me, por favor.”
My throat bobbed as I swallowed around the tightness the guilt I carried created, constricting around my neck like a noose. “I know you’re angry with me over what happened, but I—”
He whirled around so fast I squeaked in surprise.
Closing the space between us in record time, he slammed his hands down on each side of my thighs, cracking his palms against the granite, then leaned forward, bringing his nose to less than an inch from mine.
Red dusted his sharp cheekbones as his chest heaved, and he stared down at me, his eyes shadowed, refusing to give away his thoughts. “I’m not mad over what happened.”
My mouth formed an o shape. That hadn’t been the reply I was expecting, and I was just about to tell him as much. Only, I never got the chance because he spoke again, his harsh tone causing my spine to snap straight.
“I’m downright fucking furious.”
I blinked before looking him up and down, sizing his culo up, proving I was neither intimidated by his raised voice nor the tantrum he was throwing.
If he wants to fight fire with fire...
“Si, I can see that. But do tell, what exactly are you so enraged at?” Grabbing the front of his shirt, I clutched the fabric. “The part where I didn’t listen, refusing to stay put until you reached me...”
My voice trailed off as he growled.
Swear to Cristo, he sounded like a bear.
“Or,” I added, determined not to let his sour mood silence me, “the part where I decided as a grown woman to help save an innocent chica from the same fate I suffered?” My brows rose. “How about when I beat a man with a rusted piece of metal—is that what you’re so worked up over?”
Moving his hands to my hips, he gripped my flesh. “That piece of shit is not a man.” His cheek ticked like it always did when he was close to blowing a gasket. “He’s a goddamn waste of skin, that with any luck, will soon be nothing more than a rotting corpse.”
That was one way to put it.
“Then what—”
“I’m not mad at you for what you did to him,” he interrupted. “You did what you needed to in order to heal, and I’m proud as hell of you for that.
I softened. “Guapo—”
“But, Carmen”—he sucked in a breath, fighting to keep a rein on his volatile temper—"don’t you ever put yourself in a situation like that again. Like I told you, I get why you and my hardheaded daughter, who I’ll be dealing with next, went after Anna without waiting for backup. But what if that fucker had been armed? Or what if he hadn’t been alone?"
I flinched. That would’ve been so bad...
“I know I sound like a selfish asshole since you were only trying to help. I fucking know that. But I can’t lose you again.” Eyes sliding closed, he removed his hands from my hips and cupped my cheeks. “I won’t survive it a second time.”
I sighed as the guilt returned tenfold. “You won’t lose me.” Pulling my hand from his shirt, I circled his wrist, the one where my bracelet was secured. “Been there, done that, not doing it again, remember?”
He exhaled as I inhaled. “Promise me.” He brushed his lips against mine once, then twice, calling forth chill bumps to erupt along my arms. “Promise me you’ll at least wait for me next time.”
Smile faltering, I hesitated briefly as I slid off the countertop and to my feet, refusing to make a false vow or speak a mentira.
“I can’t promise you that. If another chica needs my help and is in danger, I can’t give you my word that I won’t act without waiting if such a situation arises. Not when I know that doing so would be untruthful.”
Dropping my head back, I stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. “Not everyone has someone to save them, James.” A tear, one I hadn’t even felt form, spilled down my cheek. “Not everyone has you.” My smile returned, though it was shaky. “And if I can be someone else’s salvation, like yo
u always were and still are to me, then I won’t think twice about doing so, no matter the consequences.”
I half expected him to pitch the hissy fit to end all hissy fits, as Jade would say, but to my surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he dropped one hand, using the other to trail a knuckle down my cheek, then the sensitive column of my throat.
“I didn’t save you, Pixie.” My brows bent in confusion. “You never needed me to either.” He was wrong. “All you needed was for me to remind you of who you are. Along with just how strong you’ve always been.”
My chin trembled; more tears fell.
“I may be your prince charming, baby”—he winked, making my lips tilt even higher—"but it isn’t me who’s been busy slaying your demons. That’s all you, beautiful. All I did was hand you the sword."
Emotions spiraling and chest burning as his words mended even more of my vast wounds, I pulled my gaze from him and dipped my head forward before looking up once more, my watery eyes re-locking with his.
“I don’t deserve y-you.” My voice cracked on the last word as the bottomless well of gratitude and love I had for the man before me erupted into my throat, nearly stealing my ability to speak. “But I’m keeping you, regardless. Because you, James Cole”—I slid my arms around his lower back, anchoring my chest to his upper stomach—"are mine."
“Carmen—”
“Shut up, Guapo.” His brows rose, just like mine had done a minute before, as I spoke, half-heartedly slinging a dose of sass his way, a suppressed smile playing on his lips. “I’m tired of all the talking.” Grasping the top of his waistband, I kissed his jaw. “I want more doing.”
I gasped when his right hand curled beneath my chin, fingers holding me in place. “Yeah? Then tell me what you want.”
My heart hiccuped, then swelled with adoration. He wanted me to say the words, to give him the permission he sought before he’d allow himself to touch me. Because like he’d once told me, it was my body, my choice, and in our home, along with our bed, my voice mattered.