My phone vibrated in my pocket and I snatched it out, thinking maybe it was her. “Hello?”
“Have you tried calling her, sir?” George asked in his polished voice.
I glared over my shoulder towards the waiting car. I couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, but I knew he saw me. “I don’t have her number.” The words came out muffled.
“I apologize, but I may have misheard you.” No way the bastard didn’t hear me. He could’ve rolled down the window and heard me. “Did you say you never got her number? An oversight, then. Such a shame.”
My jaw popped. “You realize I don’t pay you to mouth off at me?”
“Merely an observation,” he said calmly. “Sir.”
I hated how right he was.
Tremble one and all. For I had planned and set in motion the takedown of a notorious criminal organization but overlooked having a way to contact the most important person in my life.
So. Fucking. Stupid.
“Just make a distraction,” I ordered, hanging up.
A moment later, the tires squealed, rubber burning. Everyone turned to watch as the powerful car loudly shot off into traffic to the sound of honking horns. Which meant no one was paying much attention as I brought my polished shoes up and kicked the door in. The moment I stepped inside, fear made my heart constrict at the same time adrenaline surged through my veins.
I stopped just inside entryway, closing the door with my foot. I smoothly pulled the pistol from my shoulder holster and gripped it two handed, pointing at the ground.
The entire place had been demolished. There was really no other word for it. Pictures were on the floor, broken glass from the frames spread everywhere. Deep gouges ran through every piece of furniture, spilling fabric messily, and the walls hadn’t fared much better.
I carefully moved from room to room, doing my best to avoid crunching anything under my feet. A glance in the kitchen showed it’d suffered much the same treatment. The refrigerator was tipped on its side, the contents spilling out. There was a puddle of what looked and smelled like milk and alcohol soaked into the floor. Similar gashes marred the metal surface.
Fear tried to crawl inside my head, whispering that the Cartel had found her. I briefly closed my eyes, stuffing the useless thoughts away. Someone had done a number on this place, but it couldn’t have been them. No fight caused this much damage. This much chaos. Even a thief wouldn’t go this far, cutting up every single surface.
No, this was pure, unrelenting destruction.
I crept to the stairs, squeezing the gun tighter in my grip when I spotted the small, red droplets.
Blood. Hers? My heart started racing, beating a drumline against my ribs. Caution was forgotten, swallowed by the consuming need to find my woman.
I bounded up the stairs, following the trail until I came upon a sight I knew would haunt me for eternity.
If downstairs looked like a wild animal had gotten loose, the first bedroom I came upon had been struck by a hurricane.
Plaster fell from holes in the ceiling, drifting through the scattered rays of light coming through the shredded blinds and broken window. Pieces of mattress were everywhere, the frame itself upturned and broken. A flat screen had been pinned to one wall by several blades, the guts of it exposed and releasing the smell of burnt wires.
And in the middle of the room, sitting with her knees pressed to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, was Sylvia.
I holstered my pistol, double checking the safety before removing the whole rig and sliding it into the hall behind me. I wasn't worried about anyone else being in here. I was no detective, but it was easy enough to put two and two together when I took in her appearance.
What had likely started off as flannel pajamas were a tattered mess, hanging from her like rags and covered in pieces of plaster and glass. The long sleeves no longer covered her arms, and her ivory skin was covered in scratches. Some large, some small. Most of them filled with blood that dripped onto the carpet around her, staining it a bright red.
My heart squeezed painfully at the lost look in her silver eyes. She stared at the ground without blinking. Only when I stepped into the room, cracking a piece of glass, did she glance up.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered so quietly I had to strain my ears to understand her. Her voice was hoarse, making it deeper than normal.
Still talking though. Good sign, or bad?
I slowly moved towards her, very aware of the multitude of knives scattered around her in varying sizes. Some of them were covered in paint and plaster and oil from Lord knows what, but there was no blood on them. I released a fear I had refused to acknowledge. “What happened, diosa?” I asked softly, doing my best not to startle her as I shuffled closer.
Sylvia’s gaze dropped back to the floor, looking around without seeing. “No goddesses here. Only broken things. Just like me.”
My very soul rebelled at her statement. I wanted to put my fist through one of the damaged walls. But I kept my tone gentle. “You are not broken.” I hunkered down beside her, close enough to assess her injuries. They were numerous, and minor, from what I could see. “You're a survivor, and survival comes at a cost.”
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me.
I felt useless and I fucking despised it.
What was the point of the things I had done if I was unable to help her when it truly mattered?
I reached out for her.
“Bad idea,” she whispered in that same trembling voice. “Even the people I care about stay away when I'm like this.” Sylvia glanced at the knives, then back to me. “I'll hurt you.”
“I don't care,” I growled, hand settling on her knee.
She lunged, tackling me to the floor. I grunted as my back hit something solid and shards of debris bit into my skin through the fabric of my jacket. I managed not to lose my focus on the woman on top of me, or the sharp blade suddenly pressed to my throat. Sylvia looked wild and desperate, but her hands were steady.
I narrowed my eyes on her. “Is this supposed to scare me? This might as well be the way we say hello at this point.”
“Leave. Me. Alone.” The knife pressed harder against my skin. This time, I felt the sharp bite of skin breaking. She stared at the spot, and I knew blood was welling to the surface.
Sylvia thought she could push me away? The idea of it was nearly laughable. She was my finish line. My end game. The sum total of every single moment of my life.
She could drop a mountain range on top of me and I would rise from the rubble to find her again. And again. And again.
“Never.” I sat up suddenly. Her eyes widened an instant before she reared back and dropped the knife, sliding down into my lap. I caught her around the hips and she was so busy flushing with anger, she didn’t notice.
“Are you crazy?” She pushed at my chest, eyes molten. No longer lost, I was pleased to note. “I could’ve killed you.”
“But you didn’t. You’ve got more control than you think.”
“Obviously, I don’t. Or the house wouldn’t look like a fucking bomb went off.”
I shrugged. “You see a bomb. I see passion. You only need a better way to channel it.”
She slumped against me, head on my chest. “You have no idea what you’re signing up for.”
I glanced around the room, putting a hand at the back of her neck and lightly massaging. “I think I have a pretty good idea. I would have a better one if you told me what set this off.”
Fat chance of that, but I’ll never stop trying. At some point she’s going to-
“Not now.” She sighed deeply, tucking herself closer against me, and I blinked in surprise. “This passionate work took me… a while. I don't know what day it is, and I’m probably going to pass out any minute. Just to let you know.”
She was being surprisingly frank and I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I was both elated she was in my arms and terrified that whatever had happened had pushed her s
o far. My thoughts were interrupted by how still she was.
“Hey.” I shook her slightly. “We need to treat these cuts.”
“Trashed the first aid kit,” she muttered, seconds away from being completely out of it, judging by the slight slur to her speech. She must not have been kidding about that part.
“Of course you did.”
I thought quickly, but there weren’t many options. Being well known and well liked throughout the city wouldn’t keep me out of hot water if I showed up at a hospital with an injured woman. Plus, they would undoubtedly take her from me. I wasn’t a family member. I also wasn’t her husband.
Yet.
Looks like I’m playing doctor.
“If I pick you up, are you going to stab me again?”
There was no answer. I leaned back, tilting my head to see her profile. Eyes closed. Mouth partly open. Her breathing was deep and even.
Great. I was talking to myself.
Doing my best not to jostle her awake, I secured her in my arms and stood. It surprised me how light she was, despite the hard earned muscle on her frame. This turn of events was a reminder there was a woman beneath the strength and hard edges. A woman who had been hurt, and recently.
Never again. Not if I can help it.
The urge to string whoever was responsible for this to a board and flay them alive rode me hard. My arms flexed, grip on her tightening. Then her head shifted where it was tucked into my neck, her soft breath fluttering over my skin. The need for vengeance abated and I shook my head to clear it completely. My only concern was her. Judgement day had no time limit. I would find whoever was guilty and exact my price.
I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I have you, sweetheart,” I whispered, heart swelling with tenderness as she fully relaxed against me. “I always will.”
CHAPTER 13 - Sylvia
The smell of peppermint and soap tickled my nose, stirring my senses into wakefulness. My lashes fluttered but I kept my eyes closed. No way was I getting up. Every bone in my body felt like it weighed a hundred extra pounds and I was cocooned within something sturdy as steel but warmer than any heated blanket on the market.
“There she is,” rumbled a deep voice right next to my ear. Which was when everything came rushing back.
Tanner’s cruelty and betrayal.
Me completely losing it.
Carlos effectively stepping into a room with a live grenade - aka, me - and not giving a single fuck.
My cheeks heated, knowing how wild I must have looked. He should’ve been running for the hills. Tanner had. Tone too. Neither of them had so much as come back to check on me.
Carlos had come looking for me. He’d also stayed once he found me.
Actions speak louder than words. Which was saying a lot, because his words by themselves were already pretty damn impressive.
He hummed and I felt the vibration down to my toes. My warm, steel blanket started making a whole lot more sense now that I could clearly feel the outline of hard muscles wrapped around me. I held my breath for a moment, waiting to feel caged in.
It never came.
A deep yawn caught me off guard and I stretched, sore muscles protesting. My eyes blinked open to soft, lavender walls and a well lit bathroom. His place, then. But where was the smell of peppermint coming-
Oh.
Oh.
There was a good chance my eyes bugged out of my head when I realized he was sitting on the edge of the biggest damn garden tub I had ever seen in my life. Three of me would fit easily, with room left to spare. It was already filled with bubbles. I leaned towards it, and Carlos gave me enough slack to dip a finger in, savoring the perfect temperature.
Saying I was giddy would be an understatement. I loved baths. They were meditation on steroids. Slipping into the water was like leaving my baggage on an island while I floated on top of the sea, unreachable.
My lips quirked and I absently reached for something to write with before I caught myself. “Scale of one to ten,” I said slowly, waiting for a rush of discomfort and not finding it. Smiling, I focused on the bubbles. “How badly were you hoping for an excuse to bathe me?”
Am I flirting? Do I still know how to do that? Huh, go me.
His hands flexed on my hips. I couldn’t possibly miss the hard length of him twitching beneath me. “Badly,” he rumbled.
I turned my smile over my shoulder at him. I could just make out the soft corner of his quirked lip and the stubble covering his sharp jaw. Even that glimpse did funny things to my chest. “That’s not a number.”
“Because your scale doesn’t go high enough.”
“You still have another condition.”
“Don't remind me.”
He wouldn't appreciate me telling him so, but his annoyed grumble was cute. Also, oddly empowering.
I was a fighter through and through, but I wasn't delusional. In pure strength, I would never match up to most men my size - especially in this position - and Carlos had at least fifty pounds on me, if not more. Every bit of it was chiseled muscle. He could've forced himself on me already.
Admittedly, I might not have fought him at this point.
He was showing the kind of restraint I had come to believe was a myth and it was turning me on.
I was sure it said something about my state of mind that I was genuinely surprised a man wasn't taking advantage of me, but there it was.
I squirmed in his lap and felt his cock poking my hip. Carlos stilled, holding his breath, and I bit my lip. Teasing him was way too enjoyable.
What would it take to break that ironclad control?
Was I prepared for what would happen afterwards?
“If you're ready to get up,” he said. “I'll leave you to it. I got all the glass I could see without undressing you, and there's an ointment on your cuts that'll need to be reapplied.”
The muscles in his thighs bunched, arms tightening around me as he stood and let my feet hit the floor. Carlos held me steady for a moment and I looked into his face for the first time since I had woken up, watching as those honey and caramel eyes traced a slow path up and down my body. My attention lingered on his gaze before moving down to his neck.
There was a small bandage over where I’d cut him, and the collar of the white shirt he had on beneath his dark suit was stained red.
He noticed where my attention had strayed, because he always noticed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said roughly, lips curling again. Lord, that half-smile. It wasn't fair. No one should be so damn hot. “I’ve had worse. I also have a dry cleaner that doesn’t ask questions.”
Of course he does.
I glanced at the bath, a daring idea filling my head and causing my pulse to race out of control. My heart started hammering against my ribs so wildly I wondered if it could break free and escape. When I spoke, it came out at a bare whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”
Carlos frowned. I didn't need to see him to know. “You owe me nothing.”
For a change, he was wrong about something. I owed him for a lot of things, but I wasn’t interested in compiling a spreadsheet right then.
Summoning every ounce of my courage, I grabbed the hem of my tattered flannel and pulled it over my head, letting it fall from my fingers. Carlos sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flashing and instantly falling to my bare chest. My breasts rose and fell with each panted breath spilling from my lips, and the tips of each nipple hardened beneath his attention, sending electricity straight through me. Desire built and swirled between my legs like a whirlpool.
The absolute longing on his face, like heaven’s gates were opening up right in front of him, made me bolder. There was no tremble to my hands when I shimmied out of my flannel bottoms to stand completely naked in front of him.
Carlos was throwing off the kind of heat a furnace couldn’t compete with as he took in every detail. When he got to the juncture between my thighs, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles paled. His attention alone wa
s a soft stroke against my folds. My breathing hitched, slickness spreading.
“What are you doing?” His voice was deeper than ever.
I smiled innocently back at him. “What’s it look like? Taking a bath.” I lifted a foot into the water, legs parting, and a string of accented curses left his mouth rapid fire.
His single minded focus never wavered as I slowly crouched, sinking into the bubbles until they were up to my neck. Only once my body was covered did he manage to blink and glance at the door.
Nuh uh. None of that. I wasn't about to give him enough time to muster his restraint.
I lifted a leg out of the water and onto the edge of the tub, bubbles clinging and sliding off my skin. I didn't know who this woman was, or how she knew to be seductive, but I knew I loved the way it felt. I liked the way he couldn't walk away.
His focus snapped back to me almost audibly. Energy and heat cracked around him, warming me from the inside out.
“You’re punch drunk on leftover adrenaline,” he muttered absently, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. How sweet. He was trying to convince himself to leave. “Once it’s out of your system-”
“Let me worry about that,” I interrupted softly.
He moved closer to the tub, looming over me. The bulge in his pants seemed bigger, looking up at it, and my mouth went dry.
“Bathe me, warlord.” The nickname slipped out, leaving my tongue on accident but settling between us like it belonged there. I wasn't sure he’d even heard it. His focus was elsewhere.
I swear I could hear his willpower protesting under the pressure.
Just a little push. That’s all he needs.
My back arched, wet breasts pushing to the surface, nipples beaded.
“Fuck,” he cursed, letting himself drop to his knees. Carlos braced his weight on the side of the tub, gaze skating wildly across every exposed inch of me. He was having a hard time choosing where he wanted to look the most. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Touch me,” I breathed. He hesitated. “Please.”
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