Unrequited (Fallen Aces MC #1) (17 page)

And judging by the way Apex is watching me, I’d better make it soon.

Palming the handle of my Glock, I walk across to where Hugo cries like a baby on his back, his hands clutching his leg, which steadily pumps red over the polished floorboards. He staggers his breaths, and tries to quiet as I lift a boot and lay it down on his chest.

“You listenin’ to me now,
esé
?”

His nostrils flare with his suppressed wails.

“Scared?”

“Just let me go, holmes. I promise I won’t say nothing.”

“Not so tough now, are you?”

“Fuck you.”

He sets his jaw firm as I lift the business end of my gun to point at his right eye. And it’s there—the recognition Twig told me about. This guy knows he’s done bad. Sure, we’re following through on orders because he tried to steal from the wrong guy, but fuck, I could guarantee this asshole’s done worse given the way he prepares for the inevitable.

I take a step back before I fire, hoping to minimize the filth I’ll have to clean off my jeans later. The bullet tears through his head and the room falls silent, save for the crackle of Apex’s cigarette behind me.

I wait for it—the shame, the regret, and the horror at what I’ve just done. But it never comes. There’s a void where those reactions should be, nothing but a cavern in my soul. A piece of me left with that bullet. A piece of who I was, forever gone. There’s an empty sense of grief when I process the fact that I’ve crossed that final line. I’m now a fugitive, and a murderer, and nothing I can do will ever change that. There’s no coming back from where I’ve gone.

“Good work.” Apex pats me on the back of the shoulder and walks out of the room, sucking on the last of his cigarette.

I take stock of the scene around us and try to think if I’ve touched anything, if there’s anything here that will link me to this crime. What use is it, anyway? It takes days for men like this to be missed. It wont be until some street-corner dealer wonders why his supply has dried up that people start to ask questions.

I look down at the woman as I walk out to join Apex. Does she have family? Anybody who’ll look for her? How long until they ask questions? If they even care that she’s gone.

Because I certainly don’t.

TWENTY

Elena

“
Señora
?”

Sighing, I swipe the sponge over the compact powder again and apply another layer under my eye.
It’ll have to do.
“Coming, Maria.”

Two months, I’ve been Mrs. Elena Redmond. And for two months I’ve woken up each morning crying, screaming, or a combination of both. Cleansing the soul, starting the day fresh. Some people meditate to begin the day right. I break down.

Glancing around the foot well of the vehicle, I can’t find my purse anywhere.
Where the hell did I leave it now?
I know it was here a moment ago because I tossed my phone in it after I tried calling Mama again.

She still doesn’t answer.

Carlos bought a cell for me in the days following Papa’s funeral. He said it was in case of emergency, but what I think he really meant to say was in case he needed to track me down. I’m not stupid—just because I chose not to have one doesn’t mean I don’t know how they work.

I tried to call Mama at Papa’s funeral. Aside from a shady man in a pleather jacket, Carlos, Sully, and I were the only people to attend. The pastor said the few standard lines, and then Papa’s coffin rolled away to be cremated. Nobody shed a tear. I tossed the ashes the following day at a national park, hoping he’d at least be happy they were spread somewhere beautiful. I just didn’t want to have to carry them around like he meant something to me when he didn’t.

“I have your bag here.” Maria gestures to my purse, slung over her arm.

We’ve become friends, as much as our unusual relationship will allow. We bonded over mutual interests: being held here with blackmail. For me, it’s Mama. For her, it’s family too. Turns out, Maria owes a few people who owe Carlos, and this is her repaying both debts.

“Thank you.” I scoot across the back seat of the Escalade and step out into the warm sunshine, bagging my compact after she hands me the purse.

Maria waits to my left while our escort, Sully—I hesitate to call him a bodyguard, considering he’d shoot me as soon as save me—closes the car door and locks it.

“Where should we start?” I look down the line of Ma-and-Pa stores that fill the street.

“I guess we start at the beginning?” Maria smiles and walks ahead to the first shop on the street—a used-book store.

She’s a pretty girl—petite, and with eyes that always seem to be smiling, no matter what hell she’s enduring. And there’s been plenty. I’ve seen Carlos bring her to tears for delivering a drink without enough ice.

She already peruses a bin of bargain books, fingers roaming the spines, when I enter the shop. The musty smell of old paper fills my nostrils, quickly followed by the sharp tones of Sully’s, aftershave.

“You can wait here, you know.” I look up into his lifeless brown eyes. “You don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

The man-mountain doesn’t say a thing. Just shadows me two steps behind as I walk down the aisles to a section with the classics. I lose myself in the selection, excited that I could buy as many of these as I wanted thanks to Carlos’s money. Enjoying anything of his leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to deny myself the simple pleasures for the sake of trying to make a point to a man who couldn’t give a fuck either way. These past two months I’ve been bored to tears. His house has an empty library in it; rich timber bookcases line every wall, recessed to sit flush with the windows and doors. Ten points for guessing what I plan to do with them.

With an armful of books, I reach above my head to get a copy of
Little Women
from the top shelf. A heavy hardback slips from the tower in my left arm and crashes to the floor, crippling my toes in the process. “Damn it.”

“Can I help you with that?” The blonde woman to my right startles me. I never saw her come into the shop.

I glance across to where Sully now leans on the counter, talking to the old man who runs the place, while he watches my every move.

“Sure. I’d really appreciate it.”

The woman bends down to pick up the strewn title, and my eyes rest on the stitched patches that adorn the back of her vest.
Fallen Aces
,
Fort Worth
, and most obviously in the center,
Property of Mike
. My heart comes to a grinding halt, my breath hitched somewhere in my throat.

King.
Is he here? What are the chances? I lost the card with his number on it the day Carlos took me from Papa’s. Sully went back as promised and got most of my things, but he wouldn’t have thought to look where I’d hidden the card between the kitchen drawers. Even if he had, I wouldn’t have wanted him to find it.

What kind of trouble would that have caused?

The blonde woman straightens and holds the book to her chest, smiling. “Can I help you carry them to the counter?”

“There was just one more.” I point up to the elusive copy.

“Oh, no problem. Wait here.” She turns away and walks to the shop front where she whistles loudly.

A man appears on the sidewalk, tall and built so solid that he has to twist slightly to make it through the narrow front door of the shop. He walks in, boots clunking on the hardwood floor, and after exchanging words with the blonde woman, follows her to where we stand.

Yet again, I’m mesmerized by the tag stitched to the front of his vest:
Fallen Aces
.

Sully materializes at my side. “What’s going on?”

“I’m getting help to reach a book,” I snap.

He grumbles, his arms crossed as he watches this enormous biker come to a stop on the other side of me. The man has dark, messy hair that compliments the beard he sports. Plugs adorn his earlobes, and tattoos peek from under his sleeves and neckline. His skin is weathered, his eyes hard, and his apparent feelings toward Sully are as dark as his attire.

“Sonya said you needed help reachin’ something.” His voice is a rich baritone.

“
Little Women
.” I point to the book that’s become the Holy Grail, sitting on the top shelf.

He extends an arm covered in leather cuffs, and plucks the material-bound copy for me. “Ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re a good man, Hooch.” The blonde woman, who he named as Sonya, slaps him on the chest with her palm. She turns to look at me, and nods. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I stand dumbstruck as she crosses to the counter, places her cash down, and picks up a bag of children’s books the old man passes over. The dark and dangerous newcomer, Hooch, looks across at Sully a final time before they disappear onto the street.

“You need help again, you let me know.” Sully scowls after the two good Samaritans.

“Whatever.” I brush past him as Maria comes dashing around the corner of a trestle table to join me.

“Are you okay?”

I hold Sully’s angry glare as I answer her question. “More than okay. Turns out there are actually some half-decent people in this world.”

***

Twenty minutes later, and Maria stands beside me while we watch Sully load the books into the back of the Escalade. “
Señor
is going to be shocked when he sees how many we bring back.”

“His library is nothing but bare shelves, Maria. He should be thanking me for making it a little more welcoming.”

Sully slams the back door closed and wipes his shirtsleeve across his brow. “It’s hot out. How about I walk you ladies down to the store there to get a couple of cold drinks for the drive back?” He points to a corner store that has placards advertising ice cream, cool Coke, and slushies, crowding the pavement.

“That’s such a nice thing to do,” I tease. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

I swear I almost had him. Those thin, hard lips twitched.

“Come on.” He jerks his head toward the store.

Maria waggles her eyebrows as we walk ahead of him, always in his sight. The moment has such a touch of normalcy that I allow myself to smile and enjoy it. The past two months have been spent living on a knife’s edge, wondering when Carlos is going to flip next.

Every night we eat at opposite ends of the gigantic table in his dining room, and every night our conversation after the meal goes the same way. He asks, “How did you enjoy the food?” to which I always reply, “How is Mama?”

He never answers. My stomach turns the same as it does every time I think about what that could imply. The smile slips from my face.

“What would you like?” Sully opens the fridge door and pulls out a Red Bull for himself.

I clear my throat, realizing I’d followed Maria in here in a blind state, daydreaming about Mama. “Dr. Pepper, cherry.”

Sully takes the lemonade Maria’s selected and heads for the counter to pay. The small shop stifles me, the space to move not seeming nearly enough. I move from one corner of the open floor to the other, and still my unease grows.

Thoughts of what might have become of Mama fill my head. I’ve been trying so damn hard to deal with each day as it comes that I never have thought what would happen when it all catches up to me—when I realize just how fucked I am.

What happens after Carlos has got Mama to the States? Does he use us for whatever we’re worth and then dispose of us like a dirty napkin? Is there a time limit on my life? Surely I didn’t really believe he’d just keep us around until I’m old and gray.
You’re so damn naïve.
How long did I think this fraudulent marriage would last?

I leave Sully sorting his change, and Maria flicking through a gossip magazine to step out into the fresh air. The sun hits my face as I stop on the edge of the street gutter and I close my eyes, sucking in two huge breaths.

“Elena?”

My heart slams into my ribcage and then stutters. “Yes?”
He
was
with them.
I open my eyes to find just as I’d suspected, the clearest green staring straight back at me. “King?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” I frown. “You?” He’s every bit as enticing as I remember.
Damn, I’ve missed him
.

He jerks a thumb to the four motorcycles lined up over the street. “Riding home with a couple of brothers from down south.”

I rub the heel of my hand into my breastbone and try to alleviate the pressure. “It’s good to see you.” It’s better than good; it’s thrilling.

I need to tell him what’s happened, why finding a chance to meet up with him has got a hell of a lot harder.

“How’ve you been?” He leans a shoulder into a light post, his eyes roaming my body. I’ve never felt more naked while fully clothed in my life. Even worse, my body reacts and my nipples stiffen . . . he notices.

“Things have been complicated.” I cross my arms over my chest and glance to the shop where Sully pockets his wallet and reaches for the drinks. “I need to talk to you.”

“What—”

“I can’t now, though. Just wait here for a moment.”

“Elena!” Sully’s booming voice has me leaping to my toes.

My legs shake involuntarily. “Sully?”

“Get to the car. Now.”

King narrows his gaze on Sully and follows where he’s looking, to the Escalade. His frown deepens when he spots the emblem on the guard, his back going rigid as he straightens.

“In a minute,” I tell Sully sternly. “I’ve decided Maria and I need some chocolate.”

“Make it quick,” he grumbles.

I look across at Maria and smile. “I’ll be right out.”

She nods, backing around Sully a little to place him between her and King.

Sully looks between King and myself. “We’ll wait here.”

“Whatever.” I force myself not to look at King as I turn back for the corner store and rush inside, turning hard left to stand before the chocolate display.

My heart races, I’ve got seconds before Sully checks on me, tops. Thrusting my hand into my purse, I search the depths with frantic fingers.
Got it.
Yanking the pen out, I tear a corner off the price label on the shelf and scribble a quick message on the back.

‘I lost your number – here’s mine.’

Sully steps inside as I drop my pen in my purse and crumple the paper in my fist. “Do you think she’d like caramel, or nougat?” I ask nonchalantly.

His eyes harden as he takes a step toward me. “Hurry up, would you?”

“Ugh.” I snatch up two Twix bars and stomp to the counter. “You don’t have to be so damn grumpy all the time.”

My skin buzzes with the adrenaline coursing through me.
Fuck, I hope I can pull this off.
I hesitate while Sully leaves the shop, dragging out how long it takes me to pay the man. As soon as I’m clear, I slip a prepaid sim card in with the chocolate. The man behind the counter takes my cash and passes all three items over. I pick up the phone card first to peel off the label that displays the number assigned to it. Sticking it to the back of the price-tag note, I crumple both together, snatch up the Twix bars in my free hand, and exit the shop under Sully’s careful watch. Praying to whoever’s listening, I stop before Maria, aware King’s still leaning on the light post, but not chancing a look at him yet.