The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) (41 page)

Running a hand over his hair in a sharp swipe, Caleb had to clear his throat before he could squeeze out a breath, let alone talk. “She’s . . .” Again with the throat. “She’s hard-core in love with you, brother.”

The guy shook his stupid, inflexible-as-a-brick head. “She’ll get over it.”

“No. She won’t.”
You fucking moron
, he added silently. Never out loud.
He
wasn’t the moron—wasn’t picking a fight with the Reaper. He went over and stood beside Boulder for Brains. “She won’t get over this any more than you will. You haven’t seen her the past couple of weeks.”

V didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stood there staring at Nika’s image on the small screen, watching her talk with Eva and Tegan, who had just walked in, while Gabriel stood next to the table chatting with Quan and Jak.

“She’ll be fine.”

Fine. Right.
Caleb felt that same burning anger ride up his throat that he’d felt when he’d held his sister as she cried her eyes out the morning after that horrific scene with Kevin. “Yeah. Fuck you, V. Fuck you if you think she’s gonna be
fine
. You know, I think maybe I was right before. I think maybe you’re not feeling her.” He didn’t even flinch when he was speared with another deadly stare. “Because a man in love with a woman would do anything
not
to hurt her, like Moretti with Eva. But you? Nah, not so much.” He made an impatient cutting motion with his hand and spun away to stalk to the door. “You just keep watching that monitor and we’ll see how many fucks you don’t give,” he spat as he slammed out, his cell already at his ear.
Let the good times roll, motherfucker.

CHAPTER 25

Vincente stared at Nika’s image in front of him and felt like . . .

Fuck.
He couldn’t feel at all anymore. It was almost as if the pain he’d been living with for the past weeks had manifested into a cold numbness that filled him out from head to toe.

He pulled the chair up and sat, hanging his head off the back, eyes on the ceiling. He truly believed what he’d told Caleb. Nika would get over this and move on. She’d eventually find someone who was better suited to what she deserved in life.

Huh.
That excruciating tearing feeling behind his breastplate sure as shit didn’t feel numbed out.
Fuck.
His hand came up to rub over his sternum.

He didn’t know how long he sat there with his head back, studying the slate-gray tile above him, but when he finally lifted his head, he was tempted to slam it into the desk in front of him until the fucker stopped screaming the word
no
!

Fucking Vex was rolling through the club, proudly wearing his colors, two cameras picking up his trail as he moved into the same frame as Nika. If Caleb, who was also at the table now, had called this cocksucker to try to prove something . . .

Nika’s fucking shit-disturbing brother took that moment to look up at the camera, nodding in a way that had Vincente slamming his fists down, cracking wood, wishing it was the biker’s smug fucking face.

Vex leaned over to speak to Nika, his hand moving onto her shoulder, his thumb stroking. Vincente’s heart rate slammed into dangerous territory, his muscles locking down with a pain a million times worse than any GSW he’d ever received as he fought not to react. Not to go for his gun and open fire in front of anyone who wanted to witness what would be one hell of a massacre.

He dropped his gaze and focused on the floor. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .

Yeah. Sure. Like he wasn’t going to look.

He shifted his gaze up, and they were gone! He scrambled to pick up their location, going from screen to screen. They were headed for the door. Nika and Vex. Alone.

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. You’re letting her go, remember? It doesn’t matter. She needs to find someone else. Remember? For her own good.

Within the next beat of his raging heart, Vincente was steamrolling out of Maksim’s office, palming his SIG, finger already on the trigger. As he blew into the softly lit club, Alesio stepped in front of him. Without a single feeling of regret, Vincente sent the kid to the floor with a right hook that sang, “Good night, Sally.” And just kept going. Gabriel and Micha were next on the happy train when they tried to stop him from reaching the door, which he could now see the couple disappearing through.

“Hang on.”

“Slow down, V.”

He hammered through them both, G receiving a crippling jab to the gut—had his knuckles touched a kidney there?—and Micha catching an uppercut to the chin that spun the tough sonofabitch like an out-of-control Indy car in a rainstorm.

Wasn’t going to do much to keep them down, but at least it got him by.

Throwing open the metal so hard that it cracked into the wall with a sound like thunder, he flew out of the club . . . just in time to watch Vex’s Carrera peel away from the curb.

Fuuuck!

Rage was all he knew as he retraced his steps, ignoring the fearful looks aimed at him by the dancers and the evil ones by the associates he’d disturbed. He walked right up to Gabriel, gently easing Eva to the side, halting her ministrations to her man’s clearly aching belly.

“How could you let her leave with him?” he roared. The volume of his voice did a prime job of shutting everyone in the place up. Like he gave a fuck.

“Seemed to me you’d washed your hands of the sitch, V. She wanted some company. Asked if it would be all right to take him to the house.” Gabriel shrugged. “Who was I to say no?” He reached over and grabbed Eva’s hand to protectively tuck her in behind him, as if Vincente might hurt her. Which just pissed him off all the more. “I gave her the codes, and off they went.”

Vincente’s head bobbed up and down, shock and betrayal a living thing inside him. In a move too fast for anyone to anticipate, he grabbed his best friend by the scruff, yanked him away from his pregnant wife, and landed a lefty to the side of the bastard’s jaw that he’d be feeling for weeks.

“Thanks for having my back. And you,” he growled at Caleb when the biker stepped forward, distracting him from the guilt that had filled Gabriel’s eyes. “Stay right the fuck where you are or your sister’s gonna be laying flowers on your grave by the weekend.”

He stormed from the place and was pulling into the driveway of the house a record eighteen minutes later. Seeing that Carrera in front of the stairs, he didn’t even have to think about it. His truck was sturdy, big, heavy. Vex’s flashy slut-mobile wasn’t.

Vincente stomped on the gas and nailed that fucker so hard he was halfway up the steps before the two vehicles came to a grinding halt.

He shoved hard on the door, because the sports car was now wrapped like a hot dog bun around the front end of the Kombat, and dove out. Alek had the front door swinging wide before he even reached it, eyes practically springing from their sockets when he saw the mess Vincente had made.

“Where are they?” he growled as he shoved by.

“Uh, Nika said she was heading to your room. But you might—”

Vincente nearly stumbled and fell to his knees on the tiles of the foyer, the muscles in his legs wanting to give out at that. She’d taken
Vex
to
his
room? He looked down to see his gun still in his grip.
Good.
The biker was going to eat one of his bullets in the next minute. Just one more thing Nika was going to have to get over. And he’d help her this time.

Thought you were giving her up?

Fuck off
, he growled to Fan Boy, who was already squeezing off rounds as he faded slightly.

He wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t have the necessary unselfish gene that Vasily and Alek had apparently been born with to back away from the women they loved. He was selfish, like Gabriel. Selfish to the very core when it came to his redhead. She was his, goddammit! Body, heart, and soul. His!

And now that he’d finally accepted that, he had to let her and everyone else know it.

He surged forward once more, vaguely hearing Alek spew some shit about putting the gun away, but he ignored him and bounded up the stairs three at a time. The walls were nothing but a blur as he barreled down the hallway. The crash of his bedroom door was so spectacular; wood splintered, a metal bracket flying away to bounce off the love seat cushion before it hit the floor.

The first thing to register was the scent permeating the air. Oranges and jasmine. His body stiffened in reaction, hurting. The second thing: small metal lanterns lit with candles hung in every corner, soothing musical chimes tinkling around the bottom of each one from the breeze he’d created entering the room. The lights were dimmed, and as Vincente’s eyes grew accustomed, whipping around to find his target, other little changes began to register.

Gone was the cold, barren room he’d lived in for so many years. Instead he saw warmth and color. On the walls, his grayscale prints had been replaced by warm canvas paintings of bright summer seascapes, Ireland’s green hills brilliant with life. Vibrant plants littered the floor and a few tables. Scattered around those were doggie chew toys—was that one of his riding gloves, gnawed and crusty with dried drool?—and rawhide. The sight reminded Vincente of a house littered with toys the kids hadn’t bothered to put away after playing all day. The bland, rectangular gray area rug he’d had next to the bed had been replaced by a large round one; the bright jewel tones of purple, yellow, green, and red ran together to form a vibrant polychromatic symphony. Throw pillows in the same colors littered the bed over the top of his royal-blue comforter . . .

What. The. Hell.

“Looks like we’ll have to call a repair man.”

The quiet remark came from the right, and his gaze zeroed in on the source of that voice. Musical, soothing . . .

Vincente had to lock his knees before he found himself on the floor. Where he belonged. At this woman’s feet.

Nika moved a couple of steps over to stand nearer the bed, arm still in that sling, her fiery locks falling all over her shoulders and down her back in glorious disarray. Her eyes were glittering in the candlelight. He forced himself to take stock, and he prayed he wouldn’t pass out from how fast his breath was now dragging in and out of his lungs.

She still wore what she’d had on at the club: a short loose-fitting black chiffon dress that had a V-neck and long sleeves. She had four-inch heels on her feet.

Did she choose that to wear for Vex? Does she plan to take it off for him in my room, which she’s clearly redecorated while I’ve been hiding from her?

Why had she done that? he wondered somewhere behind his rage as he caught sight of a perfume bottle and a treelike thing hanging with an assortment of jewelry on the dresser next to the bowl he used to throw his spare change into at the end of each day.

Uh, he might want to pay the fuck attention before he got an eyeful of Vex sauntering out of his bathroom, showing off a massive hard-on that the biker intended to use to claim Nika on
his
bed.

So. Much. Fury.
“Where is he?” His demand came out so cold and harsh that Nika’s eyelids flickered.

“He’s gone.”

He blinked at the droll note she used.

“But his car,” he said stupidly.

“Was left out front to make sure you actually entered the house.”

His mouth went crooked.
Oops.

“So, you’re finally out of hiding.”

“I—I’m—”

“In love with me. I know.” Her gaze glowed with a returned love that destroyed every single defense he’d ever had against her. “You owe your friends an apology, by the way,” she whispered as she closed the rest of the distance between them. Her hand came up, and she curled her fingers around the back of his neck. He trembled like a teenager. “Eva’s mad at you for hurting Gabriel.”

He shook his head and continued to devour her features, greedily inhaling that orange and jasmine as if it were the oxygen he needed to live. His muscles went lax; his brain shut down. His anger drained as his emotions overflowed, heart swelling to bursting in his chest. He was done. Through. Wiped the fuck out. “Are you okay?” he croaked.

She drew in a soft breath, her lips pressing together as she nodded, and his love for her overwhelmed him. A love he would no longer deny himself.
Could
no longer deny himself.

But she’d left the club with Vex!

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he demanded with little steam. “Leaving Rapture with Vex?”

“Getting your attention.” She shrugged, the motion careless as she released his hair and ran her fingers over his bristled jaw and down his arm. A wave of goose bumps flowed down his left side. “Won’t be needing this anymore.” She attempted to remove the SIG from his tight grip. Her gaze came up and locked with his when he didn’t release it.

“I will use it on any man that comes anywhere near you. I swear to God.”

She smiled. “We’ll find out their intentions first, ’kay? Because I think my supervisor at TarMor is a man.”

Unable to deal with that yet, he ignored it. He wanted to touch her so badly. Didn’t want to wait one more second. So, like the selfish bastard he’d accepted he was, he slid the safety back on his piece and dropped it to the floor before picking her up with his hands on her waist. He hefted her against him, forcing her to wrap those long legs around him. She did so readily and circled his neck with her good arm, tightening it until their faces were a breath apart. Her shoes thumped as they hit the floor behind him.

“Red?” Fear wrapped a tight fist around his throat. “You’re not . . . mad at me?”

“Furious, actually,” she said as she brushed her lips over his. “You abandoned me. Kept yourself away from me. Made me miss you. Cry for you. I couldn’t help you through this. For that, you have a lot of making up to do.”

And he would. For as long as it took. “Nika, I . . . Please, babe. Fuck, I’m so—” He squeezed his eyes shut.
Dammit.
His brain wasn’t working right anymore. But that was okay, because the feel of her against him, holding him so reverently, combined with the look in her eyes that told him more surely than any words could have that she was his woman, settled over him like a soothing, curing balm that finally began repairing his damaged soul.