Fractured Vows, page 7
“Gallo. She won’t come down to see you.” Diego frowns as the sirens become louder. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Returned a present. Buyer’s remorse and all. I didn’t like the packaging.” I scratch my temple with my gun. “It leaked.”
His eyes widen. “You motherfucker—”
“Enjoy your cell,” I call softly, shaking off the few drops of Tommy’s blood that cling to my fingers.
“Rafe, I swear to fucking God…” Willow barrels from the house, a nice shiny serrated knife in her hand, and swipes at me. With intent to kill. The blade swishes through the air where my throat was a moment before.
Now I know who killed Tommy.
Nice to have confirmation. My wife is no stranger to death but I seem to have unleashed a remorseless little killer when I taught her how to carve the life from a man before my father’s death.
Catching her wrist, I use her momentum to keep spinning her around until my front presses to her back. Breath whooshes from her as I clap a hand over her mouth in the appreciation of enduring silence, twisting her wrist, and carrying her into the shadows in three steps.
Like we were never there at all.
“Your neighbors must hate you,” I murmur in her ear, flicking my tongue out to taste her. “Fuck, you’re delicious when you’re murderous.”
“Fuck … you,” she spits, but it only hits the sandstone wall I smash the side of her face into, flattening both our bodies together as the knife clatters to the ground.
Her pert little bottom grinds into my cock that hardens on command, her warmth a blanket that binds us together as I inhale her scent, nuzzling in her neck as she shudders against me. As much as I want her, my rage takes center stage.
“I looked after you. I fucking loved you, and you ran from me, Willow. Why, please?” I lick her neck and suck on the tender skin, marking her gently, though I crave to sink my teeth into the little hellion and rip her apart.
She’d live whatever life she wanted, unless she told me she was fucking someone else. Then I might kill everyone in sight.
“I needed air.” She gasps around my hand, biting down on my middle finger hard enough to draw blood.
I swear softly, closing my hand around her throat instead and squeezing. Willow stills. “Remember how this one goes, sweetheart?” I rasp in her ear. “Let’s see what else you remember.” I grip the side of her dress, gathering the material in my fingers as it slides up her thighs.
Willow pants, her palms pressed to the sandstone, and shakes her head. “No.”
Like her a second before, I froze. “No?”
“Not like this, Rafe. Please.”
The plaintive little note in her voice, the warble at the end destroys me. My heart threatens to explode out of my chest, the pressure growing as I release her and step back.
“If that’s what you want,” I say neutrally. My brain screams to drag her home, lay her out on my bed, and remind her who we are together. But that’s not what she wants, and I won’t force her anymore.
“It’s what I want,” she says softly, her back turned to me. Her hair hangs over her face, concealing her eyes but leaving the back of her neck exposed.
I step forward and press a tender kiss to the hollow of her shoulder, grazing my palms along her bare arms. “When you want to come home, our door is open. It will never be locked to you, Willow. Never. I promise.”
A wretched sob breaks free from her as Diego skitters into sight at the end of the dark alleyway between the two buildings.
“Go,” she whispers, waving him down when he aims his reassembled gun. “Go, Rafe.” She turns to me, her eyes swimming with tears that cascade over her cheeks in dirty streaks. “Don’t come back.”
I swallow hard, kneeling to pick up her knife and hand it back to her without standing. “Remember,” I say softly.
The pain in her face is too much to bear.
Diego lets me go, swearing under his breath in Italian. By the time I hit the back alley, Dom is on his way to collect me, but I ignore the car that pulls up beside me.
I need a long fucking walk to take the edge off leaving my wife alone in a house with men who do not love her or respect her the way I and mine do. A long walk to plan what the fuck comes next, because I have no idea. Willow holds all the cards. Once I thought I might enjoy the power exchange but this hollowness inside me is unbearable.
And so I walk, letting icy shards of wind pierce my chest and peel my heart from its cavity, exposing all the pain and grief that runs through me fresh and raw.
A walk where my face is as wet as hers.
Chapter Ten
Run, Run, as Far as You Can
Willow
“Willow, why don’t you just go back? You’re miserable,” Diego points out . We have been stuck in this fucking hotel for over a week, constantly in each other’s space. “He is a total dick but he cares for you.”
I snort and glare at him, not deigning to answer his ridiculous question. Yes, my heart is broken. Yes, I want to run back to Rafe and forget that any of this ever happened. But I won’t. I have a plan to prove my worth and get the Hernandez name back into good standing and nothing will stand in my way.
Not even my husband.
Grabbing my cell phone I scroll through my contacts until I reach the one I am looking for. Hitting “call,” I press it to the side of my face as I listen to it ring.
“Cousin!” Alejandra, my cousin on my mother’s side, yells in greeting. “How are you, chica?”
For the first time in days, a genuine smile crosses my face. I have always had a special bond with her even though we don’t get to spend nearly as much time together as we would like.
“I’m good. You?”
My question is met with silence and I know there is something she isn’t telling me.
“We’ll talk about that later,” I say. “What are you doing?”
“Not much.” I can hear the pain in her voice. “Father has some people coming to see him later and I have to be present.”
“That’s good. Finally putting that finance degree to work.”
“Not really. I’m there to refill drinks and look pretty.”
Anger surges through me. Being a woman means that even if we are smart and capable we are often overlooked in this life. “Would you like to change that?” I ask.
There’s a beat of silence before Alejandra defeatedly replies, “This is the life we were born into. As women, we will never be more than pretty faces and baby factories.”
She sounds so dejected I wish I could wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Not necessarily.”
“Willow, you’re not making any sense.”
“Things here are different…” I think carefully on my next words but decide to lay it all out. “Sebastian is dead, by my hand. I run the Hernandez family now.”
“What?” I rip the phone away from my face at the volume from hers. “When the hell did this happen, and how did I not know?”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come down here and have a look at what I’m doing? I could use an accountant.”
“Are you serious?” she asks breathlessly.
“Yes. You could be free to make your own way,” I say, hoping she hears the earnestness in my tone. Yes, I need help. But I also know what it’s like to be trapped in a house by your own family.
A small sob escapes down the line. “I would love to join you.”
“I’ll send the plane.”
I end the conversation quickly. We will see each other soon and then we can talk about everything. For now I need to get all my other ducks in a row.
“Have you spoken to the police commissioner?” I ask Diego without looking up from the screen of my phone.
“Yes. He wasn’t interested but I convinced him.”
“Do I want to know how?” My brow is arched when I finally face him.
Diego only smiles. The bastard is way too attractive for his own good. Dark tanned skin, gray eyes, dark hair, and a set of dimples that would drive any heterosexual woman nuts.
“Fine. What’s next?”
“Willow,” he says my name and waits until I give him my full attention. His gray gaze cuts into me, searching my soul and dragging my deepest, darkest secrets into the light. “If you do this, there is no going back.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I can or cannot do. I need you to have my back.”
“This is part of me doing that.” He rolls his eyes.
I should shoot him. Nothing serious, perhaps a bullet to the knee. Just to remind him of who is really in charge here. The man grates on my fucking nerves.
A knock at the hotel room door draws us out of the argument. Who the hell could that be? Diego unfolds his long, athletic frame from the deep-burgundy chair before making his way across the plush carpet to open the door. He stares at the person on the other end, not moving an inch, his entire body rigid.
I don’t have time for any distractions today. I have to get my plans in order before moving on to this next step. What I have planned is dangerous and the slightest deviation or mistake could end in more deaths than I am comfortable with.
Standing, I make my way over to him but before I get there, Regina slips beneath his arm and barrels her way toward me, Devon Hennie following closely behind.
Fuck.
She is crying hysterically and Devon is as white as a sheet. It takes me a moment to extract myself from her iron grip—who knew someone so small could be so strong—before I lead them both to the ugly suede sofa in the seating area. All the while, Diego follows us with his eyes, his hand on his gun.
“Relax, they’re not a threat,” I say softly. Turning my attention to them I ask the question that is on both our minds. “What are you doing here, Regina?”
“I didn’t know who else to turn to!” she cries out. “Rafe found out about the baby and he is on the warpath.”
“Shit,” Diego and I say in unison.
“I need your help,” she pleads with tear-stained cheeks. “We need to get out of the country.”
“Why not ask Konnor?” Diego asks, watching Devon carefully.
“He doesn’t…” Devon starts but I cut him off with a raised hand.
“He does. I told him.”
“You had no fucking right!” Devon jumps up and rushes me, his face turning a mottled red in his burst of anger.
He doesn’t get far before Diego has him pinned to the ground. I lower myself onto my haunches and stare at his enraged face. Grabbing his chin I tilt his head until his gaze is fully focused on me.
“I did. Regina is my family, whether I like it or not. I knew both Rafe and Konnor well enough to know how each of them would react. I chose the lesser explosive man to tell first. Now, you can act like a fucking grownup or you can tuck tail and go back to your damn brother, I don’t care. But Regina stays with me until I can figure this out. Are we clear?”
Devon glares for a moment, weighing his options before nodding. I wonder if he remembers all the ass kickings I gave him as a child.
Standing, I face a shell-shocked Regina. “You can’t leave the country. There is a war brewing and if you get caught up in it you’ll be used as leverage,” I say calmly after taking my seat.
Diego releases Devon to stand behind my chair, ever vigilant.
“I’m not part of that,” Regina says softly.
A harsh laugh escapes me. “Believe whatever you want, Regina. You’re carrying a baby that can unite the Cyprus and Irish families. They would be unstoppable, and anyone with half a brain cell would try to kill you as soon as possible.”
“And you?” Devon asks, anger coating his words.
I tilt my head, studying the boy who is playing at being a man. Konnor and his mother have both sheltered him too much. He is too soft for this life even though he likes to pretend otherwise.
“I’m not on anyone’s side but my own,” I say honestly.
Regina pales as if I slapped her, the enormity of her fuckup finally settling into place.
“What happened to you?” she whispers. “This is not the Willow I know.”
“You don’t know me. None of you ever did. But this is the person I was sculpted into by the men in my life. My father, my uncle, Rafe, and even Armand fucking Gallo. They have all had a hand in transforming me into who I am today,” I hiss. “Grow the fuck up, Regina. This is who we are.”
Diego hands me a tumbler filled with clear fluid. Iced Grey Goose vodka.
“The fucking cops are finally gone,” Diego murmurs in my ear. “We need to head back. I have the upper hand in your protection when we are there.”
I slam the drink back without a blink before continuing like he hasn’t said a word. “Have you seen a physician?”
When both shake their heads, I pull up the one number I didn’t want to call and make sure we will be met back at the Hernandez house now that the cops have dissipated. I was hoping to have more things set in place so I didn’t have to go this route. But my husband fucked me over when he bombarded me a week ago and invited the police into my home.
Fucking Rafe.
“Time to head home, little sheep. Come along.” I beckon them with a crook’d finger as I stand.
****
The drive home is arduous and strained. Everyone in the vehicle knows this isn’t a friendly visit. Devon and Regina came to me for help and I will help them. But I won’t do it out of the goodness of my own heart or in the way they want me to. I currently hold the upper hand over Rafe and Konnor, and I need to make sure it plays out my way.
Diego drives as I glare at the lovebirds in the back seat.
“I have Devon with me,” I say, once Konnor answers his phone.
“Hello, Willow,” he drawls in that damn Irish lilt. “Yes, I am well. It’s nice to hear from you.”
“Cut the shit,” I say, staring at his younger brother. “He showed up with Regina asking me to help them leave the country.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I hear his chair scrape across the tiles in the background.
“You need to retrieve your lost puppy. I can’t care for both.”
Konnor laughs loudly while Regina starts crying once more. “And where would I find my misplaced property?”
“I’m heading home.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Devon glares at me after I end the call. “How could you do this? We used to be friends. Regina says you’re a good person.”
“I am.”
“Then how do you explain what you just did? Rafe and Konnor will never allow me to see her again!”
“Konnor loves you and wants to keep you alive. Let me deal with Rafe,” I reply. “Seeing the two of you together, in my house, will be enough to have him shooting first and asking questions later.”
After a long moment of silence, Devon speaks, “I love her, Willow. I know everyone is going to think we’re just young and stupid, making mistakes along the way. But that’s not true.”
“What is the truth?” I ask.
Devon stares at Regina the way Rafe looks at me in private. “She is everything. She is all I have ever wanted since I was fifteen years old. I’m going to marry her one day, and then we will leave this life, this bloodshed and bullshit, in the rearview mirror.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We pull up outside of my family residence but I wait until Diego rounds the car to open my door. I learned that much from Rafe. Hearing a vehicle approach I turn to see Konnor and Seamus approach in his car. Finally, everything is falling into place. Once I hand off Devon and make sure Regina and the baby are both healthy, I will call Rafe and try to talk to him.
But as they say, we make plans and God laughs.
Konnor and Seamus are still inside their vehicle when the gunfire erupts.
Chapter Eleven
In Whom We Trust
Rafe
I sit across from the young man with Willow’s eyes and say nothing. Because, as it turns out, neither does he. But the kid sees everything. Just because he’s silent doesn’t mean he is stupid.
Roman Hernandez is nonverbal from trauma, just like Willow promised me when I doubted her honesty. I sweep a hand across my head, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
“Why didn’t I just fucking trust her?” Not just that time—any of the chances I had to back my wife, to prevent the abyss that cleaves Rhode Island, and my heart, in two.
“Because you are a hardheaded man, stubborn, with an ego the size of your giant empire. It’s a surprise you can fit inside the house.” My healer, Thalia, insisted on being present while I spoke, in the barest terms—our conversation was like none other I ever had—but the consequence of that was wearing her ire and disdain aimed my way.
“Thalia,” Dom warns from his customary position in the back corner of my office. The huge, tall man loiters in the shadows, seeing as much, I guessed, as the child across from me.
Is he a child, though? Roman lost his parents four years ago, and he endured similar tortures to Willow under their uncle’s hand. He would have been a man before others could figure out how to fend for themselves. No, I do the boy a disservice in not giving him credit for a sharp mind.
“It’s all right.” I wave Dom down as he stares hard at Thalia, who does her best to ignore him, standing straight for her fine-boned, small stature, and glares at me. “I understand Thalia’s reasons. She’s always welcome to voice them.”
The girl in question snorts—another whose childhood was ripped away when she was trafficked. Thalia spent months in my house communicating with Dom nonverbally, and he never gave up on her. Just like I won’t give up on Willow’s little brother.
But how pissed she will be with me for bringing him within my walls. Not that I have any intentions of hurting or scaring the boy. Man. Whatever. He’s the bridge to my wife. If I can earn his loyalty and respect, just maybe I will have a twisted olive branch to extend that she might accept.
