Dahlia couldn’t feel her limbs. She sat in the backseat of a vehicle as it moved with no idea how she got there or where she was headed. The instant two men entered the private room after Austin pulled that trigger, Cruz thrust her towards them with muttered instructions to take care of her, and disappeared.
She should be glad he hadn’t killed her, right? Except she couldn’t thaw out the film of ice sliding through her veins long enough to really care about that.
Austin was dead. By his hand but that was mere semantics. The look in Cruz’s eyes as he eyed both her and Austin.
Cold. Dead. He’d wanted blood and as she stood there she just knew without a shadow of a doubt hers would be spilled.
Her mistakes and actions took away his sister and she should have confessed but instead she’s taken the coward’s way out.
She clenched her stiff fingers in her lap. The deafening silence inside the vehicle hurt her head and her throat felt raw. That’s right, she’d been screaming, screaming as Austin’s body slumped over in that chair, screaming as Cruz turned those dead eyes on her and lifted his gun hand as though to shoot her.
She’d screamed and begged, offering the apology so late in coming. Her heart ached.
She loved him and he hated her. Not that she blamed him.
The vehicle lurched to a stop and she sat up. The man seated next to her hopped out and held the door open.
She couldn’t make out anything other than tanned skin under the black cap pulled low, but she absently wondered if he was one of the men who’d stolen her from her bathroom a lifetime ago.
Yep, she recognized his voice now. He was one of her abductors. She sighed and offered her hand to him. He grasped her tightly with a slightly callused palm, helping her out. Her feet hit the ground and she lifted her head. A wide open space, no one about, deserted except for the small plane waiting.
Her ride, no doubt.
The man spoke. “You’ll be taken back to Miami where a driver will pick you up at the airstrip and take you home.”
What? No bullet to the head? No Cruz standing at the ready to tar and feather her, lay into her for all her dark deeds? She frowned. Didn’t he think she’d go to the cops and give him up?
But no, she wouldn’t. She was complicit in all the events that happened since Ciske approached her in the bar. “Where’s…” She licked her cracked lips. “Where is he?” She sounded so pathetic, so needy.
“Come.” The man grabbed her elbow and led her to the plane, boarding with her. He helped her to a seat at a window, buckling her belt when her trembling fingers made the task impossible.
Dahlia stared out the window into the darkness, searching the shadows for a glimpse of a tall body and wide shoulders.
“The pilot is ready to take off, Ms. Pierce. Have a safe trip.”
She jerked her head up. His eyes were gray, sharp, and full of pity. For her. So he knew of her sins and how close she came to losing her life by the man she loved. She turned away and the man walked off, bending and disappearing.
Was she alone on the flight? She looked around. A large unopened duffel bag sat on a seat next to her, a small laptop peeking out from it. Engines whirred, her seat and body vibrating as the plane began moving.
A sob caught in her throat as she watched the night pass her by. She was on a way back to a life she no longer wanted, without the man she loved. Her heart remained with Cruz, wherever he was.
as the island drew farther and farther away, hot tears running down her face.
Voices jerked her head around, footsteps drew closer and she tensed. His scent hit her first. Her heartbeat tripled.
Then he came into view. “Cruz.”
Those green eyes flicked over her. Hard. Cold.
Dahlia shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “What-what are you doing here?” She grimaced at the heavy tremble in her voice.
Had he come back for her?
Open disdain brought his dead eyes alive. His lips curled into a smirk. “Surely you didn’t think it would be this easy?” He dropped into the seat opposite her and pulled the duffel bag onto his lap.
She ignored the stabbing pain in her chest and bit her bottom lip. “Why are here?”
Tu rning on the laptop, he didn’t bother looking at her. “I’m nowhere done with you, Ms. Pierce.” His fingers flew over the keyboards. ‘Tell me about your mother.” His gaze met hers then, revenge a bright gleam in the green depths. “Is she still a teacher over there in Jacksonville?”
Those words. Soft and steady, almost innocent. But she knew him now, knew his tones and that mention of her mother was a threat. A promise to cut her down the way she did him. Destroy her family like she did his.
She brought a hand to her throat, barely taking note of the pulse there fluttering a mile a minute. “Yes, my mother is still there. But you already know that.”
He grinned, a slow moving of the muscle around his lips that never made it to his eyes. “I know a great many things.”
Anger pushed its way through her. “Do what you want with me.” She jumped to her feet, arms spread wide. “You have me here, do what you want, but please.” Her voice wobbled. “Please, my family…they know nothing about this. It’s not fair to bring them in, to make them pay for my
mistakes.”
An eyebrow shot up. “Fair? Really? You had no qualms in making my sister pay for your mistakes.”
Those words took the fight out of her. She dropped back into her seat, defeated. He was right, of course. She hadn’t given a thought to anyone but herself. Never once did she consider the repercussions of her actions.
“I’m so sorry.” She leaned toward him and choked out the words. “I’m so sorry. I-I deserve whatever you have planned but please…” She laid a trembling hand on his arm. “Don’t hurt my family.”
He didn’t say anything, just shifted away from her touch.
“Cruz, please. Say you’ll leave my family alone.” Begging was now second nature to her, shame long gone. She’d get on her knees, beg until her throat turned raw if she thought she’d be able to reach past that wall of ice Cruz had erected to keep her out.
He finally closed down the laptop and met her gaze. Not really any progress, the hatred and disgust still burned bright. “You know, I have to say I really regret not fucking you over the way Austin hired me to. You’d be in jail right now.”
That verbal blow nearly put her under, but she managed to lift her chin and launch her own volley. “Yes, but then you wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching me suffer up close and personal. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know me well.”
“I love you.” Oh, God. Horror froze her insides. Had she spoken out loud? Was she so stupid to confess…
Cruz’s face shuttered. She felt his retreat even though he remained seated.
“Is that so? You love me?” The words left him slowly, carefully, like it pained him.
“I-I…” She tried a hasty backtrack, but he pounced upright, grabbing her by the throat. A scream gurgled and died under his hold.
“You love me, Dahlia?” His eyes burned into hers as he squeezed. “Say it again.”
She held her body still, hands limp at her side, but tears ran down her cheeks. “Please,” she whimpered. “Cruz, I love you. Please.”
He laughed, the harsh, scary sound grating on her spine. Fear clutched her insides, unlike any she felt up to that point. She snapped her eyes shut, unable to control the trembling of her limbs.
“When did you decide you loved me, Dahlia? Before or after you lied to me about my sister’s death or your mar riage to Har rington?”
She pursed her lips.
“Open those fucking eyes and look at me.” He squeezed her harder and she gasped, eyelids flying open. The bloodlust on his face, in his eyes, took her breath away.
“You’re a liar, Dahlia. I believe nothing you say. Nothing.”
“Please.” She grabbed the arm at her throat. “It’s true. I love you, Cruz.” He had to know how she felt, had to see it in her eyes. Why couldn’t he see it?
“Your kind of love I don’t need.” His hot breath, flavored with whiskey, batted at her face and neck. “You spread your legs so easily for me while keeping your secrets. Holding back things you knew I needed to know. Did you think all it would take was a quick slide up inside that tight pussy to make me forgive you?”
More tears fell. Is that was she did? Slept with him in hopes he’d come to care and eventually forgive when he learned of her transgressions? She couldn’t have. Dahlia shook her head.
“No. I wanted you.”
He abruptly dropped his hand and moved back. “Lucky me then.” Rough coughs tore from her throat. Dahlia doubled over, hands wrapped around her middle as tears burned her eyes and clouded her vision. Now she knew for certain he didn’t love her.
just kill her outright. “Tell me.”
She shifted her gaze to where he’d sprawled back in his seat, ankles crossed, a finger tapping at his chin as he eyed her.
“Did Har rington ever find out you were pregnant with his child?”
Dahlia must’ve blacked out from the shock. Everything around her turned black. It hurt to breathe, to think. She hadn’t thought about that part of her life, her loss, for so long. She’d pushed the entire heart wrenching event way to the back of her mind and slammed the door shut, but the man intent on destroying her had just yanked it open.
Sounds echoed in her ears. Whimpers. Raw. Anguished. Hers.
“Open your eyes, Dahlia.”
His words flowed smooth and deceptively warm. Dahlia squeezed her eyes tighter and covered her mouth with a trembling hand, a futile effort to stifle her wounded cries.
“Did you tell Har rington you killed his child? Is that why he hated you so much?” His impatient fingers peeled away the hand she held over her mouth. “Come now, no time for hysterics.” He sounded like he was placating a pouting toddler. “It’s time to step into those big girl panties, Dahlia. Come clean about the child you didn’t want.”
She snapped her eyes open. “Motherfucker!” She swung at him, but his razor-sharp reflexes prevented her feeble blows from landing on his face and shoulders. “Don’t fucking tell me what I did and didn’t want,” she screamed. “That was my child. Mine!”
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow calmly, holding her wrists with one hand as she struggled for breath, her chest heaving. “I don’t see that child around here, so what did you do?”
from falling. “My child died before he had a chance to live, because the bastard who took advantage of me when I was drunk in Vegas used me as his personal punching bag.”
The burning in her chest got bigger and wider, spreading through her body. She’d never taken the time to mourn her child properly. Thinking about what she’d lost, what Austin did to her would’ve sent her over the edge so she’d locked the painful stuff away.
“No, he didn’t know I was pregnant.” Cruz released her abruptly. She sat back and stared out the window of the plane. “I doubt he would’ve cared. I never planned on telling him. He wasn’t father material and I don’t even know why I thought he was boyfriend or dating material, but my choices have always been shitty.” She twisted her lips.
“I went to ask for a divorce. That night.” She spoke in monotone, memories in her head playing out before her eyes. Trying to keep as detached as possible, she continued, “The plan was to go somewhere far way. Hide out and live with my child, because I was keeping my child.” Her voice broke. “I loved that tiny spark inside me the instant, the second, I realized he was there.”
“So what happened?”
She shrugged. “I got there as he and his men were dragging your sister to the roof. I followed and taped it with my phone. It was my blackmail, you see. There was no way he could touch me now that I had him on tape committing murder.”
She turned slowly, swallowing before she found the courage to look at Cruz where he sat opposite her. To meet his eyes.
“My faith was misplaced.” Then and now. “All he did was beat me up and steal the recording.”
Reluctant understanding dawned in his eyes. “That’s when you lost the baby.”
“I realize you wanted to pin yet another death to my long list of sins, but I’m afraid this time I’ll have to disappoint.”
He didn’t flinch, not that she expected him to. She had no more expectations, only an aching hollow in her chest.
“Why did he then turn around and store the recording in your bank vault?”
“You think I know how the bastard’s mind worked?” She flung the words at him. “I don’t know and don’t care to. He’s dead and I’m free of him.”
“But I’m here.” His lips curved in a sardonic grin. “You’ll never be free of me.”
She sighed, weary down to her bones. “Do your worst, I’m not going to fight or beg or plead any more. I’ve asked for your forgiveness, your understanding, but I see you’re all about the revenge.” Dropping her head on the back of her seat, she tipped her face up. “You want your pound of flesh? Take it.”
He made a sound, a snort or a laugh. “I don’t need your permission, but thanks.”
Dahlia met his eyes. “We both lost that day, Cruz.” Why couldn’t he see that? “Austin took away your sister and I own my part in that.” His jaw tightened but she ignored it. “But he took away my child too. We both had our hearts ripped out. I want to try to fix it, but you won’t let me.”
Disbelief flared in his eyes and darkened his cheeks. “You want me to trust you, is that it?” He leaned forward, face set in harsh lines. “You want me to forget all the lies and your betrayals and trust you?” He didn’t scoff but he may as well have.
“No. I don’t want you to forget.” She took a chance, an opening, and cupped his jaw. He tensed but she reveled in the warmth of his skin and the sting of the short hairs on his jaw line. “I want you to give yourself permission to do what you want.”
“Which is what?” He tried for aloof but she caught the spark in those deep forest greens.
****
Cruz didn’t look at Dahlia the rest of their quick flight back to Miami. He kept his head down chatting with Ricki via the laptop, but he couldn’t get Dahlia’s words out of his head.
Give myself permission to love her. He scoffed silently as he unbuckled
his seatbelt. The wheels of the plane screeched as they taxied down the deserted airstrip partially hidden by tall brush.
Loving Dahlia meant heaping another pile of betrayal on top of the many he’d racked up by not being there for Ciske. I won’t do it.
And how could he possibly love her? All they’d done was have sex while she walked around with her secrets.
I won’t do it.
The plane stopped moving and she shot to her feet. She still wore the dress and heels he had Ricki get her, but even with her hair a mess and makeup smudged, she was a beauty. Eyes wide and vulnerable, lips plump and parted.
He fisted his hands and stood as well. His memory threatened to take him back to the first time he’d seen that look on her face, in the bank. A lifetime and a half ago. Now as then, she called to him...her body and her eyes, and he wanted like he wanted then too, to touch her. Wipe the pain away.
But I won’t.
He zipped up his laptop case, stretched and followed Dahlia as she hot- footed it to the exit. Bet she thought he’d leave her alone now.
A tight smile curved his mouth. This new plan of his put them in constant contact, stuck to each other like fucking glue, and he shouldn’t be anticipating it the way he did. His mouth shouldn’t be watering, but he looked forward to her anger.
She deplaned ahead of him, heels clicking on the ground outside. He ducked his head and followed suit. The sky was still dark, they’d beat the sun’s rising, but the August air was muggy. He knew the instant she saw the
black SUV waiting, she froze in her tracks with a muted gasp.
Coming up behind her, he whispered in her ear. “I told you, you’re not getting rid of me.”
A shiver ran from her to him then she swung around to face him. There. The blaze of fire in her eyes. He stifled the smile of satisfaction threatening to curve at the sight. He much preferred the fire and anger to the quiet martyrdom and pained vulnerability she car ried around like a cloak.
“What the fuck is this?”
“What do you think it is?” He winked. “It’s our ride.”
“But…” her mouth opened and closed. “Where are you going?”
He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. Her pupils dilated, his cock jerked. “I’m coming home with you, babe. We’ll be living together for the foreseeable future.”
She slapped him. Hard. His face stung.