I moaned happily, feeling satisfied like nothing else. That was one hell of a fuck.
He pulled out of me, disposed of the condom and then climbed into bed, pulling me up so I was beside him. I wanted to get up to go to the washroom, to have some water, to wash my face but before I knew it I was succumbing to his arms once again.
We must have dozed off for a few hours because when I woke up in his arms, the sun was bright and relentless through the window. I turned to look at him and was surprised to see him staring at me, blinking at the light.
“Hi,” I said softly. I couldn’t help smiling. It danced on my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I had woken up with a man beside me. Usually one of us left during the night.
I also couldn’t remember feeling this warm and secure before. For once I wasn’t waking up with a pit of loneliness inside me.
“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
I nodded. “How long was I out for?”
“Hours.”
“Did you sleep?”
He smiled stiffly. “I rarely sleep.”
Right. The nightmares.
“Listen,” he said, adjusting himself on his side and trailing his fingers along my collarbone. “I’ve been thinking. I think you should stay with me.”
I raised my brows. This was new. “What, here?”
“Yeah. Just for the time being.”
“You don’t trust me?”
He gave me a steady look. “I don’t trust anyone and especially not around you. I told you I wanted to take care of you. I want to protect you. I can’t do that when you’re injured and living all the way out there, by yourself.”
“My friends …”
“Your friends are wonderful but they’re busy with their own lives. And they’re women. No offense, but unless one of them has some special training up their sleeves, they’re going to get hurt in the process. Except for maybe Luz. She seems like she’d be brutal.”
I bristled at that. “They’d protect me. You don’t know them.”
“I know they’d try and that’s admirable. But I’m a strong man and I have military training. I have ways of protecting, real ways. You know these people aren’t playing, that this isn’t a game. If there’s a chance that someone is still out there, wanting you dead, then I have to do what I can to ensure they don’t touch you.”
“But we don’t know that.”
“And I’m not willing to chance that. You’re off work now, you obviously need help even if there wasn’t anything going on. Let me do this for you.”
I blinked at him. “But why?”
“Well, if you can’t already tell, I like being around you. With you. Inside you.” He put his hand under my chin and pushed it up so I was looking at him. His gaze was so focused. “Maybe some of this is selfish. I want you for myself.”
Butterflies scattered in my stomach.
“Okay,” I told him. “I’ll stay here. Just for a bit. Until you get tired of me.”
“Never,” he said and kissed me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Derek
Even though Alana had agreed to stay in my hotel room for a while, we still weren’t in any rush to get out of bed. In fact, we stayed there all day, only taking a break to have room service.
We were both wrapped in hotel robes after enjoying a shower together. She’d gone down on me in there. She couldn’t drop to her knees because of her cast, but the shower seat worked just fine. The woman certainly knew how to fuck with her mouth. She also had this uncanny ability to fuck you with her eyes at the same time.
When Carmen died, everything had changed for me. Her brutal, haunting demise, right in front of me changed the course of my life. It was all my fault. The two cartels, she never should have been caught in the middle of it. I never should have been involved. They said she was in the wrong place at the wrong time but I knew it was more than that. Carlos had shown such little compassion for his sister before, the fact that she was there at all, during that transaction, was a sign. He didn’t care who got hurt, who died. Neither did the other side.
She was gunned down in front of my eyes. I can still see her running for me from across the road, the fear so rampant on her delicate face. She was telling me to get out of there while I stood there dumbly, my mouth open. I think I was yelling at her to do the same. I can’t really remember. One minute I had been waiting in the car, the next I was trying to reach her. It was all a blur. But I do remember the rose shade of her lipstick, the way her long red and white dress flowed behind her and how, somehow in that terrible moment, she looked more beautiful than she did on our wedding day.
Then it’s all erased by gunfire. Hot blasts. Bullets bouncing off the pavement. Smoke.
Blood.
She was shot on both sides. She was riddled with bullets from her brother, from the people I worked for, and ripped apart by the Gulf Cartel.
She was the first victim. The only innocent one.
Seconds later, others died. The cartels faced off, both meaning to leave no one alive.
I don’t know how I didn’t run into the middle of it all, to go to Carmen’s lifeless body as she lay face down on the street, the blood pooling around her and creating new abstract patterns in her dress. I know at that moment I wanted to die. I wanted to join her.
But after everything I’d been through, my survival instincts were stronger than my soul. I removed myself from the scene. I drove back to our house. I packed up everything I had that was important. It all went in a gym bag.
I got back in my car and I drove.
I drove for days and days, my eyes burning behind the wheel during the day. At night I cried and grieved.
Nearly everyone had died in that battle. Everyone except for Carlos.
It didn’t seem fair.
I didn’t want anything to do with the Gulf cartel – I blamed them as equally as I blamed Carlos. So I went to the Zetas. I had a few contacts there. I gave them everything I had on Carlos. Then I offered my own brand of services.
They paid me a large amount of money. The next day I killed Carlos, three shots into his head while he was sleeping in his leather armchair. The maid knew me and though she was surprised to see me back, she let me in.
I had to kill her too.
And now I had blood on my hands. But I didn’t care. When Carmen died, I lost the ability to care about anything except blood and vengeance. I lost my humanity.