by Shayla Black
“What do you mean ‘deal with’?”
“Kill him.”
Her eyes went soft and wide with terror. “No! You can’t.”
“I don’t have a choice. It’s my job. But I’m not going to lie; I’ll relish snuffing this son of a bitch. No one threatens what’s mine and lives.”
“Can’t someone else bring him to justice? The Mexican police, the DEA, the—”
“No.” He hated to burst her naive bubble, but justice had nothing to do with this now. It was personal. And it would be a fight to the death. “He threatened me. He’ll come after anyone I care about. That’s why, the morning I came home from St. Louis, I told you we needed to take a step back.”
He explained his run-in with Montilla in Valeria’s abandoned safe house. She listened quietly, shock and fear twisting her delicate features. He did his best to hold and soothe her.
“Oh, my goodness.”
“That’s an awfully nice way of putting how dangerous this asshole is. That morning I ‘walked away,’ I only meant to protect you. I thought you’d be safer in the dark, and I’m so fucking sorry I caused this mess. I hate like hell that I hurt you.”
“You had good intentions. We both kept secrets, hid things…” She cupped his cheek. “Let’s not do that anymore.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “From now on, I’m your open book, pretty girl. Anything you want to know, just ask.”
She hesitated, thoughts clearly whirling before she sighed. “We never talked about what you did to your father.”
“Oh, fuck.” He hadn’t given that shitbag two thoughts since the night he’d asked her to move in with him, but she clearly had. As close to her own dad as she was, his admission would definitely have rubbed her wrong. “It’s not what you think.”
“Was it self-defense?”
He’d love to say yes and see relief slide across her face, but he refused to lie. “No. It’s…complicated. But I did what I thought was right and I’d make the same choice again. I’ll explain right now if you really want me to, but I’ll be honest. I’d rather not waste tonight talking about someone so toxic. I’d rather make sure you’re as safe as you can be while I’m gone. But it’s your call.”
Brea hesitated, then shook her head. “What happened between you and your father is something we’ll have to address, but it’s not important until after Montilla. Nothing is, really.”
Yep. If there was an after.
“Exactly.” One-Mile loved that she understood what was really important. “I’m working on a plan. I need some intel. I have to devise a strategy. I should have more information in a couple of days. But my first priority is you. As much as I hate you even pretending to be engaged to Cutter, it’s a great cover. So unless he breaks things off, don’t end it. Anyone guesses about the baby? Let them think that’s his, too. It sucks, but if people believe you’re with him, Montilla won’t have any reason to suspect you’re mine.”
A little frown burrowed between her brows. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes sense.”
“So keep talking about the wedding, say you’re excited, put something on social media. Be as public as possible about your engagement to him.”
“All right. But if the paparazzi learns Cutter’s identity, won’t that cast negative attention on me?”
“Yeah.” And the backlash was likely to be brutal. Still, unless push came to shove, he didn’t want to worry her about that. “That’s not a bad thing, either. It will suck. The press is nothing but leeches. But Montilla operates in shadows. If he somehow manages to figure out your engagement to Cutter isn’t real, you’d have so much light on you he wouldn’t dare come after you.”
At least for a while, hopefully long enough for One-Mile to figure out how to end him.
Her expression told him she hated the idea. “I’m not used to being the center of attention. It makes me anxious. But you’re probably right.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“What do I tell Cutter about the engagement?”
“I’ll handle that.”
Brea looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “He’s far more likely to listen to me than you.”
“But he and I speak the same language. Even if we don’t get along, we both understand what’s most important.”
“Me?”
“First and foremost.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her closer, pressing her naked body against his. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe, I promise.”
Her big amber eyes were filled with worry. “I know, but—”
“Shh.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “No buts. This situation…it is what it is. But I’m going to take care of you.”
“Certainly I can do more to help than smile and pretend to stay engaged.”
He wanted to assure her that she didn’t need to lift a finger because he didn’t want to scare her. But it was more important that he didn’t leave her defenseless.
“Yeah. Start self-defense classes and basic firearms training today. Get a concealed carry permit. Don’t wait.”
“I-I don’t know if I could shoot someone.”
He raised a brow. “If they were going to kill you and the baby?”
Her face hardened. “I’d have to.”
“And you’d succeed.” He palmed his phone again, then scrolled through his contacts and forwarded one to her. “Call this number before you leave for work. That’s Matt. He’s a good guy; he owes me. I’ll let him know you need a security system in your house ASAP. You tell him when he can come install it.”
Brea’s phone dinged from across the room, but she frowned down at his screen. “Area code 307. Where is that?”
“Wyoming. I spent my summers there with my grandpa. I’ve known Matt most of my life. He’ll fly down here. He’ll hook your house up with the best equipment available. He’ll take care of it for me.”
“What do I tell Daddy? We’ve never had a crime problem here in Sunset. Heck, half the time he forgets to lock our doors and windows.”
“I know.” He snorted. “I went there before I came here.”
She scowled. “Since I wasn’t there, how did you figure out I’d come to Cutter’s?”
“Really want to know?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I have the feeling you’re about to scare me?”
“Terrify might be more accurate.”
“Oh, my gosh. What did you do?”
“Well, since your dad is at Mrs. Collins’s house, or he was at one this morning, I—”
“Doing what?” The truth seemed to dawn on her. “Oh, you think they’re…”
“Fucking. Absolutely. But I found an unlocked window, searched your bedroom, broke into your computer—”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “That’s…stalking.”
“Occupational hazard.” He shrugged. “I also found the video you took of the baby’s heartbeat and sent it to myself. Damn, pretty girl, that hit me hard. I’m not too macho to admit it. I just hate like hell I wasn’t there with you to hear it.”
Her face softened. “I wish you’d been there. It was so humbling to actually hear the life growing inside of me that you and I created together. I barely made it out of the doctor’s office and to my car before I started sobbing.”
One-Mile brought her closer, loving her soft heart. “Yeah? What else did the doctor say?”
“Everything looks normal. She’s pleased with my weight, blood pressure, and measurements so far.”
“So it’s been a normal pregnancy?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Normal…but hellacious. Now that I’m in my second trimester, I’m not tired all the time, so that makes me happy. And the constant nausea has finally tapered off. I don’t know why it’s called morning sickness when it usually lasts until dinner. And now I have heartburn at night, which makes it harder to sleep. But I’m changing my diet and building more breaks into my schedule so I can have the healthiest baby possible.”
Regret clutched his chest as he held her closer. He dusted kisses across her forehead, silently apologizing for the fact she was going through this pregnancy alone. It sucked that he couldn’t see her, soothe her, or share the baby’s progress with her every day. “I’m sorry there have been some shitty parts, but I love that you’re pregnant. And I’m thrilled you’re doing well. In fact”—he swept her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her luscious breasts as he rolled her to her back, settled himself between her legs, and eased inside her so slowly Brea arched and groaned—“I want to compliment you on a job well done in the most personal way I know how. Orgasms work for you?”
When he pressed in to the hilt, she closed her eyes and groaned. “Please…”
“You’re welcome. I intend to be thorough and make sure you know just how much I appreciate you.” He covered her lips with his and fucked her mouth slow and deep, just the way he fucked her body.
But with every deep, grinding, back-clawing thrust inside her, One-Mile swore that if he was still alive after dealing with Montilla, he’d wrap Brea in his arms, claim his place beside her, and make her feel both safe and well pleasured for the rest of her life.
Chapter Seven
One-Mile kissed Brea’s forehead as she slept. Then he dressed, swept up the broken glass in the kitchen so she didn’t cut herself, and reluctantly let himself out of Bryant’s apartment before the sun rose. He locked it behind him with a sigh of utter satisfaction.
Damn, he’d enjoyed corrupting Brea. For a good girl, she fucked like she was bad to the core. But that big, pure heart of hers he’d always wanted was undeniably his.
He was the luckiest bastard on the planet.
Or he would be if he could make his Montilla problem go away—once and for all. From a foreign country, this asshole was ruling his life. No more. He had a baby coming, and if he didn’t kill this motherfucker before the day Brea and Cutter were scheduled to tie the knot, the life he wanted might be out of his reach forever.
He hopped into his Jeep and withdrew his phone from his pocket, then shot off a text to Logan. His boss probably wouldn’t be up, but what the hell.
Shit has changed, so I’m taking my fight to Montilla. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Fire me if you want.
The phone rang immediately. Not surprisingly, it was Logan.
One-Mile answered as he started his Jeep. “Yeah?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Good morning to you, too,” he quipped as he backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the empty street.
“Don’t yank my chain, you son of a bitch. I had a really shitty evening and—”
“Yeah, I stopped by your place last night and talked to your dad. I guess I won’t be getting you a Razor scooter for Christmas.”
“Ha ha. I don’t need a fucking comedian. I do not have the time or the energy. Cutter is in California sucking face—”
“With Shealyn West. Zy and I saw last night.”
“So did most of the world. Thank God the press hasn’t identified him yet.”
“Yet. Too bad that, instead of protecting the client, the Boy Scout thought his assignment on the West Coast would be a great time to work on his safe-sex badge.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
One-Mile was wrung out and worried. He had the fight of his life on his hands, so Logan’s shit just set him off. “You want to talk about an asshole? Look in the mirror. I’ve fucking had enough of this. You don’t like my attitude? Fine. I don’t get along with the guys or act like a team member? Who gives a fuck? It doesn’t affect my job performance. Except my screw-up in St. Louis, which I’ve taken full responsibility for, I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked. I almost died for this job. But I’ve never been irresponsible enough to fuck a client, much less a high-profile one like Shealyn West. So next time you want to bitch at me, why don’t you worry less about what I’ve said and think more about what I’ve done.”
Logan was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. My brothers and I don’t like that you’re a maverick or that you don’t take orders for shit. Every time I’ve tried to toss you an olive branch, you seem inclined to gnaw off my whole arm. But you’ve never let me down.”
That was a big admission coming from the hottest head among his bosses. It took One-Mile’s anger down a few notches. “Did choking those words out hurt as much as I think it did?”
“More, you motherfucker.” Logan chuffed. “So what’s your terrible plan?”
“I’m going to Mexico. I’m done letting Montilla fuck up my life indefinitely. I don’t know how long it will take, but I’m not coming back until one of us is dead.”
“Jesus, Walker. He almost killed you the first time and—”
“You think I don’t remember that?” He scoffed. “But this time, I’m doing things my way. I’m going to slip into the country, figure out where he is, how to get to him, then put a bullet in his head when he least expects it.”
“That’s murder.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit.” One-Mile clutched his phone, wanting to punch someone. “If I’d followed my instinct the first time, he’d already be dead. But we’re valuing the poor, victimized drug pusher above innocents now? Think about how many lives I can save by ending his. Valeria’s, for sure. I won’t let her die. Her son needs her.”
He’d also be saving Brea’s and his baby’s. And as far as he was concerned, that more than justified offing the soulless, homicidal tyrant.
“Legally, that’s wrong.” Logan sighed. “Realistically, that’s valid.”
“I’m not doing this on your dime or your time, so if I get caught and there’s blowback, disavow me. Say I’ve gone rogue or crazy. Whatever saves your ass.”
“Don’t make me do that. I’m worried about more than saving EM. I just… Why do this now?”
“I’ve got someone to protect and something to fight for.”
Logan didn’t speak right away, and One-Mile could all but hear the wheels in his head turning. “You’re worried Montilla is coming after someone? The only person besides yourself you give two shits about is Brea.”
He considered letting his boss think whatever he wanted, but if Montilla brought the fight here while he was gone and Cutter was still too busy losing his dick inside the blond actress to protect Brea, he’d rather have someone watching her back. “She can’t protect herself from him.”
“Why would Montilla come after her? She’s engaged to Cutter.”
“It’s bullshit. And if his fling with Shealyn West goes public, it won’t take long for the whole fucking world to figure that out. Montilla’s goons saw her at the hospital holding my hand. If I piss him off enough, he’ll hunt her down. So I can’t afford to miss.” One-Mile weighed his next words, but Brea’s protection was far more important than her reputation. “It won’t be much longer before her pregnancy shows.”
“Her… Oh, son of a bitch. That’s not Cutter’s baby, is it?”
“No. He’s never touched her. But I can’t have any sort of life with her or our child as long as that fucking drug lord is still breathing hot air down my neck.”
Logan’s sigh was rife with frustration. “You’re putting me in a really shitty position.”
“Maybe, but what would you have done in my shoes? If he had threatened Tara?”
“Whatever I had to do. Hell, I would have pulled the moon out of the sky and moved mountains.”
“Exactly.” And One-Mile was done with the argument. “Listen, I need a favor. If I don’t come back, liquidate everything I own and give Brea every dime. And whatever happens, don’t let her anywhere near my fucking funeral.”
Logan hesitated, but he didn’t argue, just caved. “All right. You’ll have to come to the office on Monday morning and sign papers to that effect—”
“Will do. Then, as soon as I talk to Cutter, I’m leaving. When does his flight land on Monday?”
“Oh, come on. Leave it be, man. You got
the girl. She’s having your baby. You won.”
“I’m not after a blue ribbon in our pissing contest. I need to talk to him, convince him to watch Brea while I’m gone. I know he probably wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, but he’d give his life for her. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I hate this fucking plan.” But Logan’s tone said he understood.
“Thanks.” One-Mile hesitated, then figured he’d be honest with Logan in case he didn’t come back. “For what it’s worth, you’re more like your dad than I first thought. See you on Monday.”
A faint pinging noise jolted her from sleep. Brea opened her eyes and stared at the clock. Just after three in the morning. What the devil?
She was about to decide she’d imagined it and curl up in her blankets when she heard the sound again.
Frowning, she sat up and turned toward the noise.
She found Pierce lifting her formerly locked bedroom window and stepping inside.
Was he crazy?
“What are you doing here? My dad is home! How did you open that?” she whispered furiously as she rose to him, glancing at her bedroom door to make sure she’d closed it before crawling into bed.
Thank goodness she had. Still, if Daddy was having another sleepless night, it would be a miracle if he didn’t hear them.
“We’ve got problems, pretty girl. Cutter has been identified by the press. His name is everywhere.” He extracted his phone, tapped the screen, and shoved the device in her hands. “So is yours…as his pregnant fiancée.”
Shock banged her chest. The air left her lungs in a terrible rush. “What?”
She glanced down at some tabloid’s Twitter feed to find a picture of her and Cutter taken at the live nativity last Christmas, which had been posted on the church’s Instagram page. He’d draped an arm around her shoulders, and she’d been smiling up at him. Brea remembered that moment. They’d been laughing that Mr. Carlson had volunteered to play one of the wise men, but couldn’t stay awake. There’d been nothing romantic about it. This trashy post painted her as the jilted girlfriend. A small-town object of pity Cutter had tossed over for the hot TV star. The comments were even more wretched and biting.