If looks could kill, my driver would be a pile of ashes on the hideous, moldy, olive green carpet.
“Boss. A car is pulling into the drive.” Sammy broke the tension rising between my fist and Frank’s face.
“And the driver?”
Sammy stared at his screen. “Female, red hair.” He glanced at me over the monitor. “Looks like it’s her, Boss.”
I shouldered my way around Frank, not giving two shits that he stumbled from the force of my arm knocking against him. I hit the front door at a full sprint. Outside, a small red compact sat in the driveway, the engine off. The person behind the wheel made no move to get out of the car. I ran down the walk, circled to the driver’s side, and yanked at the handle. It didn’t open.
“Miri, baby. Unlock the door!” I thumped on the window, scared that something was wrong with her.
Haunted eyes turned toward me. The vacant, faraway look I saw scared the shit out of me. It was as if Miri didn’t actually see me, or somehow saw through me. Chills pricked my scalp.
I banged on the window again, panic rising, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Miri! Miri! C’mon, doll.” Nothing. Now I was truly frightened. “Open the goddamn door!”
Miri flinched, blinking rapidly as she came back to reality, finally responding to my pleas. This time, when she met my gaze, recognition shone in those big green eyes. “J-Jag?” The misery in her voice nearly broke my heart.
“Doll, please… open the door.” I was desperately pleading with my girl, begging her to listen. It wasn’t safe to be in full view of the street. Having Miri in the potential line of fire had me full on freaking the fuck out. The protective instinct ingrained in me demanded I get her out of harm’s way. Now.
Miri nodded and clicked the auto-locks. Thank fuck. I had the door open and her seat belt off before she could move a single inch. Half a second later, I scooped her up and held her close. My sweet doll was back in my arms where she belonged. I ran for the house and didn’t stop until we were upstairs in my room, shielded behind locked doors.
With Miri curled up on my lap, I sat on the bed. She made a pitiful sound and burrowed her face further into my chest. I was torn. Part of me was beyond ecstatic to have Miri in my arms, safe, warm, and smelling so goddamn good I wanted to throw her down and bury my cock deep inside her, not stopping until tomorrow morning. But the other part of me was terrified. Since fear wasn’t something I rarely dealt with, the out of control feelings made me irrational and angry.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I held back nothing, my tone harsh and clipped.
Miri shrank into herself, twining her small fingers into the cotton fabric of my shirt, holding on for dear life. Soft whimpers and small tremors wracked her tiny body. Even though I was still beyond pissed, every one of my instincts was screaming at the top of their lungs that it wasn’t safe for Miri to be here. I felt like an asshole for shouting, and listening to my doll crying because of me? Fuck, the crying slayed me.
“I’m sorry for yelling, doll.” I tightened my hold and ran a hand up and down her back. Pressing a kiss to her head, I inhaled deeply and all the torn pieces inside me realigned. Suddenly, I could see clearly and all was right in the world. Miri was exactly where she belonged. With me. I would protect her with my life.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to worry everyone,” she whispered between quiet sobs.
“How did you…? Jesus.” I ran a hand down my face, scratching at the short stubble. “Why are you here, doll?”
Miri tried to hide her face somewhere under my arm, but I was having none of that. I slid my hands to her shoulders and gently pushed until I could see those shimmering emerald eyes.
“Christ, Miri.” I ran my thumbs over the dark circles marring her pale skin. “You haven’t been sleeping.” Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, rimmed with red from crying. My doll wasn’t taking care of herself. And clearly my staff wasn’t taking care of her either if this was what she looked like. Before I could succumb to the building anger, Miri spoke.
“No, I haven’t.” She shook her head and dropped her gaze.
“Are you sick?” Frank said Miri took off from an emergency room, which meant she couldn’t have been in very bad shape when she left, but damn, she looked like hell. My hands drifted until my fingers slid across protruding collarbones. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I-I haven’t been able to eat much,” she mumbled, still not looking me in the eyes.
“Because you’re worried about my safety?” God, I hoped she didn’t stop taking care of herself because of me.
“Yes,” she said. “No. I mean… sort of. Both, I guess.” Miri chewed on her bottom lip. She was trembling from head to toe. Something else was going on here. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
My brow furrowed and another stab of fear sliced my chest. What was wrong? “Tell me, doll. I know you have something to say. You look… I don’t know, almost lost.” If her fidgeting and general unhealthy appearance weren’t enough of a sign that something was weighing heavily on her, then the fact she couldn’t meet my eyes sealed the deal.
Miri closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, blurting it out on the exhale. “I’m pregnant.”
You know how people say time freezes when they experience a significant shift in their life? A near-death experience, the adrenaline rush from jumping out of a plane, scoring the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl? That’s what happened at that moment. Time literally froze. Dust motes halted midair, my chest no longer moved up and down, my heart stopped beating. I think I even forgot to blink.
“Jag?”
Miri’s voice snapped me back to the present and the world started moving again, only now it was fast, panicked, plummeting in a free fall without a parachute.
“Pregnant?”
“Yes.” Miri sniffed and wiped at her tears, waiting for me to say something.
“I—”
“I’m sorry,” she cried, pushing off my lap and curling up on the bed. “I didn’t think about… I didn’t know.”
I had no idea how to feel. I was elated—the knowledge I claimed Miri in such a primitive way made my inner caveman roar with satisfaction. Knowing she would swell with my child gave me a high I hadn’t expected. Yet I was confused—what did this mean for us? How would it work? Could it work? I was terrified—what if El Cuchillo found her and killed our child? Or killed me, leaving Miri without a way to provide for our baby?
I had no clue how long I sat there unmoving like a statue. By the time I got my head on straight and turned toward my girl, she had her eyes closed, breathing steadily as she slept. It warmed me to think that even if I didn’t react the way she hoped, Miri felt safe enough now that she was with me to catch up on desperately needed sleep.
I sent a text to Frank to let me know if there were any developments and set the phone on the nightstand. A minute later, I had shucked my jeans and shirt and curled up behind Miri, slinging an arm over her midsection. Instinctively, my hand drifted to cover her belly and warmth washed over me. I spread my palm, my hand large enough to span the entire width of Miri’s tiny waist.
My baby. Our baby.
If I thought I was determined to kill El Cuchillo before, I knew everything had changed. Now, I would tear him, and anyone who stood between us, to shreds. I would do anything to protect my child, my love, my life.
I literally held my future in the palm of my hand.
Miri
I slowly regained consciousness, stretching out on the soft bed. My body felt liquid and relaxed. I probably slept more in one night than I had in weeks. I rolled over and reached for Jag, smiling as I remembered how he held me, his hand protectively covering my belly as I drifted off. The pain from carrying the weight of such a huge secret was gone. Despite my lingering fear, I felt lighter than I had in a long time.
When my hand found nothing but empty sheets, I opened my eyes and sat up. The room was nothing to look at, small, with a single chi
pped nightstand that held the saddest lamp I’d ever seen. I slid off the mattress until my feet touched the rough carpet. There was only one door in the room, so that’s where I went. The hall was empty but I found the bathroom and quickly used the facilities and washed my face. As I descended to the first floor, I heard the murmured voices of men having a quiet, but heated discussion. For a brief second, I considered going back upstairs. Then I smelled coffee and my stomach made the decision for me by rumbling loudly.
I turned the corner into the kitchen slash living area, which seemed to be the only room on the bottom floor, and stopped. Jag was on the phone, hissing his extreme displeasure to whoever was on the other end while standing in front of the stove and stirring something that smelled wonderful. Frank and another man I didn’t recognize were hunched over a bunch of computer equipment that was taking up half the kitchen table.
No one noticed me.
Heart pounding, I crossed the room, ignoring the shocked stares of Jag’s employees, until I was at Jag’s side. I felt his muscles tense and his conversation came to an abrupt halt. Jag growled as he ended the call.
“I’ll talk to you about this blatant screw-up later. This is not over.” He slid the phone into his pocket and pulled me into his arms, hugging me with such tenderness, it was difficult to believe he threatened someone a second earlier. “Good morning, doll. Hungry?” My stomach growled again and my face flamed hot. Jag laughed and kissed my forehead. “I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t you sit and I’ll bring you some juice while the eggs finish cooking.”
I didn’t want to leave his side. Having been apart for almost two weeks, plus those horrible days spent as a prisoner with Cat, the last thing I wanted was space between us. Jag misread my hesitation as nervousness around the other men.
“Leave,” he barked sharply. I jumped and almost fell down.
Frank and the other guy scrambled to their feet and vanished. Pasting a smile back on his face, Jag gently guided me to the table and pushed me into a chair. Before I could say a word, I had a glass of orange juice in front of me and Jag was scooping scrambled eggs onto a plate and buttering a slice of toast.
“Is there any coffee?” I asked, glancing at the countertops until my eye landed on a half-filled pot.
Jag placed his own plate on the table and sat next to me. “Coffee is bad for the baby,” he said before digging into his breakfast, avoiding my gaze.
Okaaaay.
Jag was acting weird. His body was stiff and his movements rigid, completely lacking the fluid grace he usually possessed, plus Jag wouldn’t look at me. We still hadn’t discussed anything—the baby, my escape from his protective detail, showing up here, what would happen next. The tension was so palpable, the few inches between us may as well have been a bottomless chasm.
He was pissed. No not pissed. Jag was furious.
“Jag, I—”
“What the fuck were you thinking, Miri?” I flinched at his harsh tone, recoiling as if he’d slapped me across the face. Blinking, I struggled to keep the tears at bay. “You shouldn’t be here, especially with…” Jag pointed at my stomach with his fork. “This is no place for you.”
I knew Jag didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. I knew he was overwhelmed. I knew he was lashing out because he was afraid for me, for the safety of the baby. But knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less. My lip trembled and I ducked my head so Jag wouldn’t see how much his words stung.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Miri.” A warm, rough hand landed on my bare thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. As always, I melted under his touch. Jag’s other hand brushed the underside of my chin, tilting my face toward his. “I’m sorry, doll. I’m just…” He huffed in frustration. “I want you with me more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I just don’t want you here, in the line of fire. If anything were to happen to you or…” Jag’s eyes flicked down to my abdomen and back up.
“I’m sorry. I-I needed you to know about the baby.” Moisture trickled down my cheek. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d hate me for getting pregnant, for forcing you into being a father. But if something happened to you and I hadn’t told you…” I choked on a sob. “I was hoping, if you knew, that maybe…” My throat tightened and a thick band cinched around my ribcage.
“You hoped if I knew about the baby, I would forget about killing El Cuchillo and leave?”
Jag’s blue eyes glistened with love. He put both hands on my cheeks and framed my face, his long fingers spanning all the way to the nape of my neck. His thumbs brushed across the pulse points on my throat in a move so sexy and possessive, if I had been standing my knees would have buckled. I clung to his forearms, the corded muscles tense beneath my hands. Jag tilted my head to the side and lowered his mouth to mine, the kiss soft at first. I wasn’t sure who moaned, but the ragged, needy sound set my body on fire. I shifted to the edge of my chair and tried to deepen the kiss, but Jag untangled my hands and pushed me back into my seat.
“Finish your food. You need to eat more.” I wasn’t hungry, but didn’t want to upset Jag any more than he already was, so I slowly ate everything on my plate. “Good. Now, I need you to go upstairs and wait. I called George to send someone to get you.”
I shot to my feet. “What? No!”
Jag stood and shoved his chair back, the feet scraping on the old wood floor. He towered over me, angled chin jutting out, jaw twitching. “This is not negotiable, Miri. I will not have you here while I’m luring in the man who kidnapped, tortured, and violated what is mine!” He put his hand on the back of my neck and squeezed, hard enough for me to feel it as he steered me toward the staircase.
“No, please. Don’t make me leave.” I dug in my heels and tried to turn around, but the pressure of Jag’s fingers pushing into my flesh held me in place. When I refused to climb the stairs, Jag swept my legs out from under me and slung me over his shoulder. “Stop! Don’t do this.” I struggled, uselessly hitting his back with my fists.
Jag deposited me on the bed and half-climbed on top of me, our noses almost touching. The look on his face was almost feral. His blue eyes were wild, his lip curled in a sneer showing a hint of teeth. “You are leaving. This is not a request and it’s not a question for you to answer because I’m not fucking asking. It’s an order. I insist you not be here, Miri.”
He backed off the bed before the first tears fell, hot and angry down my cheeks. The door clicked shut and I was alone. Always alone. Inside, I knew it was fear for my safety that drove Jag to the edge of his control. He would never hurt me physically. As much as my rational side knew he loved me, it still felt like rejection when he demanded I leave his side.
I lay on the bed for an hour or so, my hands resting over my midsection while I wondered what our baby would be like. Would he look like Jag? Tall and dark and intimidating? Or would she be small and freckled with red hair? Despite all of the horrors that happened the last few months, I couldn’t wait to meet the child we conceived amidst the chaos.
If Jag cared about the baby even half as much as he cared for me, it would have more love than anyone needed in a lifetime. Jag would be a wonderful father. I didn’t doubt that for one minute. Despite his rough and violent past—despite his fears of being inherently evil and undeserving, despite the streets he came from, the gang he grew up with, and how he had to live his life to survive—I trusted my lover with my life and that of our child, without question. We both had our sins, and as far as I was concerned, we’d both paid enough penance for ten lifetimes.
I took a deep breath and slid off the bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom for a minor bout of nausea—but thankfully no vomiting—I sat on the mattress and fidgeted, unsure how to let Jag know I would do what he wanted. I wouldn’t fight him on this and would go back to the hotel to stay safe. Jag was only sending me away because he loved me, and because I loved him, I would do it… for him.
14
Jag
“I can’t fucking believe she came here,” I muttered as I walked the small
length of the main living area, turned and doubled back. “Son of a bitch!”
“Are you sure you want to wait for George, Boss?” Frank asked, watching me pace, his eyes betraying his uneasiness. “I can leave now and take her back. Or Sammy could if you want me here as backup when El Cuchillo shows up.”
“Fuck… No.” I ran my hands through my hair, clasping them behind my neck. “No. I mean, I want her the hell out of town as soon as possible, but I need both of you here to confront that little bastard. No way am I leaving it to chance that he gets away again.” My emotions were betraying me, something I still wasn’t used to. Usually, I was cold, calm, and without concern. Miri changed everything. I couldn’t stop caring about her any more than I could will my heart to stop beating.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I whipped it out of my pocket as soon as possible. “George is an hour out.” Frank nodded.
“Boss, we got a problem.” Sammy was sitting at the table across the room in the kitchen, staring at one of his screens. His typical clinical way of speaking was off. Fuck, if Sammy was worried…
Crack!
The front door flew off its hinges as splintered wood flew everywhere. I had no time to react before hearing the loud gunshot. Frank fell to the ground behind me, blood staining his shirt at his shoulder.
Not a fatal wound. I tensed and turned back to the gaping front door, meeting the savage stare of a madman.
“Hijo de tu puta madre! You ruined me! I am going to kill you.”
Instinct overtook my rational mind, the primal part of my brain bursting to the surface, ready to protect my family—Miri and my child. I faced El Cuchillo head-on, feet braced shoulder-width apart, hands fisted, muscles tense and at the ready. I flexed my wrists, somewhat soothed by the tight sheaths with their blades tucked inside.
“Fuck you, you asshole!” I roared, sick and fucking tired of this piece of shit’s games. He came here to confront me, then he could damn well fight me like a man.