Читать книгу Trusting the Bodyguard - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 11

RUBEN ORTIZ DRUMMED his long fingers lightly against the top of his desk, silently fuming as he listened to the reports of his men.

“Manny’s in bad shape,” Raul said, his dark features inscrutable. “The bitch cut him good.”

Ruben continued to drum, thinking of Marissa and all the things he wanted to do to her. Things that weren’t nice and caused parts to rip and tear. “What does the doctor say?” he asked, his voice calm, hiding the rage inside. “Is he going to live?”

“Only if he gets to the hospital. He needs surgery,” Raul answered.

“Tell Dr. Elias to do what he can to make him comfortable. Get him whatever he needs,” Ruben said, stilling his fingers to clasp his hands together in front of him as he leaned forward. “No hospital.”

“He’ll die.”

Ruben stared Raul down. “No hospital,” he repeated, the light touch of sorrow for his cousin’s fate hidden from his voice. His empire was built on the blood of others. He was no stranger to death. Or procedure. “Hospital staff are required to report suspicious wounds to the police. Manuel would never disgrace the family by bringing down la jura over this. He has honor and honor lives on even after we die.”

Raul slowly nodded, his black eyes narrowing. “You going to make her pay for this insult?”

At that a cruel smile spread from the corners of his mouth as he answered, “In ways you can’t even imagine. Find her. Bring her to me alive.”

“What of the kid?” Raul asked.

Ruben thought of the child that was of his blood by that faithless whore Mercedes and contemplated how easy it would be to break Marissa using the girl as leverage. His mood lifted. “Bring her, as well. Oh, and, Raul, be careful with the child. She’s mine, after all.”

WITH JENNA ASLEEP for her afternoon nap, Marissa took the opportunity to get some fresh air. Archer had spent the rest of the morning away from her, cloistered in his study with the door closed, either on the phone or on the computer. A part of her couldn’t help but feel like a leper forced into closed quarters with a man who would do anything to avoid contact with her. She tried not to blame him, he hadn’t asked for any of this, but her feelings were tender just the same.

She stared out at the mountain vista, watching as the late-afternoon sun made its slow trek toward the west, and wished she could appreciate the beauty of the view instead of wondering if someone was hiding within the trees, waiting for the right moment to slit her throat.

She didn’t think Ruben would find her here but he had resources that she didn’t want to fathom and it was possible that there was little that Ruben couldn’t get if he put his mind to it.

And he wanted her. He hadn’t been subtle in his pursuit once Mercedes ceased to amuse or satisfy him. Marissa shuddered, feeling the sickening slide of his hands on her. A wave of nausea hit her, and she had to force the bile down.

“What’s wrong?” Archer asked from behind. She turned to face him and she automatically shook her head in denial. A denial he didn’t buy. “You’re pale and shaking,” he observed, coming closer.

“It’s nothing,” she lied, her teeth starting to chatter.

He eyed her with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

“I am not. I just caught a chill is all,” she said, trying to move past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her close. The heat from his body seared the skin from her limbs, so that she felt suddenly alive and desperate for more. She wanted to sink into that warmth and pretend she hadn’t cut him loose all those years ago and right now they were just enjoying a night in their cabin without danger lurking around each corner. “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

“I wish I knew,” he answered, the honesty in his voice cutting her to ribbons. He drew her closer, his face nearing hers, and she felt his breath on her cheek. He smelled of cedar and leather, secret dreams and heartache. She parted her lips, desperately hoping he would kiss her, yet knowing somehow that he would not. He caressed the side of her face and her eyelids closed for a heartbeat, eager for his touch, his comfort, and then he let her go. She opened her eyes and tried her best to hide her disappointment but she’d never been a very good actress so the effort was probably moot. Still it hurt to know that he had such restraint when she was close to begging. She put distance between them. He didn’t try to apologize. “Come back in. It might not be safe out in the open,” he said, and then returned inside.

ARCHER GRABBED TWO BEERS and when Marissa came in, he handed one to her.

“I don’t drink beer,” she said, declining.

“Figured you might need a little liquid courage before we begin,” he said with a shrug.

She stared. “Before we begin what?”

“Before we begin where we left off.”

Her cheeks heated and he knew she was thinking of the moment they shared only seconds ago but he shook his head. “I have to know details, Marissa. You’re hiding something and I want to know. No more pussyfooting around. I mean it. You spill the beans or it’s over.”

She grabbed the neck of the beer bottle. “I guess I’ll need that after all,” she said.

“Figured you’d change your mind.”

She twisted off the top like a pro and took a short swig. He followed, eyeing her above the bottle, noting the shake in her hands hadn’t completely subsided but she was trying like hell to make it stop. She grimaced at the taste but didn’t complain. “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.

“Start at the part where you found Mercedes. What happened after that?”

Her eyes watered and she glanced down, and then she chuckled sadly. “You know it’s like my tears are on autopilot. Anytime I think of Mercedes…the waterworks start. I miss her so much.”

“Of course you do,” Archer said gruffly, looking away so his chest would stop feeling as if an elephant had just used it for an ottoman. “No one expects you to be a rock. But I need to know everything. I think it’s safe to say we’re not dealing with a bunch of small-town thugs. I’ve got a guy doing background on this Ruben character but the Oaktown Boyz are no stranger to FBI investigations. You’re in some serious shit, Rissa.”

“I know that,” she said, but she didn’t look as frightened as she did a minute ago. Instead, her brows were pulling into a scowl. “I asked you to keep this information to yourself. Who are you telling my business to?”

He held her stare. “Someone I trust,” he said, leaving it at that. If she wanted his help she had to let him do things his way. But he figured if he were in her shoes, he’d be touchy, too. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your safety,” he said quietly. His admission calmed the storm brewing in those dark eyes and she jerked a short nod.

“If you trust him…I guess I’ll trust you.”

Her statement caused an ache in his chest that was hard to ignore but he did a fair imitation at least on the surface.

“So how did you—the woman who craves stability and security above all else—” he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but he wasn’t sure he succeeded for she winced subtly at his comment “—get yourself into this kind of mess?”

She straightened and pushed stray strands of hair from eyes as dark as midnight, and a small sigh escaped. “If you think I don’t wonder that myself every moment since Mercedes died, you’re mistaken. I’d do anything to go back to my life.”

“What happened after you found Mercedes?” he asked again, hating the jealous spurt that spilled over onto his thoughts at her admission. Her work meant everything to her. The fact that she was no different from him should’ve comforted him in some way but it didn’t. It just made him feel rejected all over again.

“I called 911.”

“Okay and then what?”

“Well, I had to give a statement to the police,” she answered, but the information well trickled to a drip and she was holding on to something she didn’t want to share. “And then I went to get Jenna,” she finished, averting her eyes.

“And like I said before, I doubt he just handed her over. Plus, you’re sporting a nice bruise from someone’s fist. Let’s start with the easy stuff. Who hit you?”

Her hand went automatically to her lip and her mouth tightened.

“Was it Ruben?” Archer prompted, anger rising again at the thought of Marissa being manhandled by anyone. He forced the red-hot emotion down and focused as if she were just another victim in another case that he was assigned. “Who hit you?” he repeated, this time more forcefully.

“Not Ruben,” she answered.

“Then who?”

“His name was Manny…Ruben’s cousin.”

Archer stilled. “Was?”

Marissa swallowed hard, the telling gesture sending spikes of dread straight to his gut. He had a feeling things were about to go from bad to worse in her world and by proxy his. “What do you mean? Was?”

She looked at him, her eyes misting but she didn’t elaborate.

He stared, not quite able to believe what his brain was telling him. “Marissa…did you kill him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered in a small voice, her fingers nervously fiddling with the beer label on the bottle. She met his gaze, imploring him to believe her, save her, hell probably anything aside from hauling her into the authorities, and he wanted to curse. “It was self-defense,” she started, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I swear it. He’d attacked me and there was a struggle…”

Archer had a hard time imagining how Marissa, who stood at a petite five feet four inches tall had managed to overpower a man who was likely taller and stronger unless she’d been prepared for a fight when she walked in there. “Did you shoot him?”

She gave him a wounded look. “You know I hate guns.”

“Okay…so what’d you use?”

Marissa hesitated, clearly wishing she could refuse an answer but she knew he wouldn’t quit, so she finally relented. “A knife.”

“Something small that you could easily conceal,” he surmised and she nodded. “So you knew when you walked into that place that it might come down to someone getting hurt.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t have a plan per se, I just wanted the knife for protection. And as it happened I ended up having to use it,” she added defensively.

He sighed. “Okay, so you killed this Manny guy…”

She blinked hard. “I don’t know…he was bleeding pretty badly…but maybe he lived. Ruben keeps a doctor on staff at the compound for his own personal uses.”

“Where’d you stick him?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she whispered. “I really didn’t. But I was scared and…”

“Where, Marissa?”

She glanced down at the warm beer in her hand. “In the stomach.”

“He’s dead.”

Her head shot up, her expression crumpling.

“Unless the doctor Ruben keeps around has a surgical suite at his disposal…the guy likely bled out.”

Marissa put her beer down and dropped her head into her hands. Her shoulders shook as she silently wept. He looked away, not able to watch her pain without feeling it himself. But he was unable to stop from reaching out to her. He tried to ease her pain. “Don’t waste your tears on that scum,” he said. “I’m not saying what you did was okay but some people deserve what they get.”

What he didn’t mention was that he was privately glad to hear that the man who’d punched Marissa had taken a knife to the gut. Bleeding out from the stomach was a nasty way to die.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” she protested, tears strangling her voice. “I just wanted to get out of there and when he hit me all I could think was ‘If I die what will happen to Jenna?’ She’s already lost so much. I couldn’t take the thought that she might lose everyone who would ever love her. Now that Mercedes is gone, I’m all she has.”

Knowing what he knew of Marissa, he sensed she was telling the truth, even if she was still skipping out on all the details.

“What was this Manny character doing with the baby?” he asked.

“He was the guard assigned to the nursery,” Marissa said, wiping at her eyes and trying to put herself back on track. “He knew I was her aunt so he let me enter. But something must’ve tipped him off that I wasn’t planning to just visit because he came back in to check and that’s when he saw me trying to climb out the window with Jenna and her diaper bag.”

“You were going to climb out a window with a baby?”

“The nursery was on the ground floor. It wasn’t like I was trying to jump from a great height. Anyway, he yanked me back inside and Jenna fell to the floor. She started screaming but before I could try to comfort her, he punched me in the face and I was seeing stars for a minute.” Marissa winced at the memory. “And then he kicked me in the ribs. Manny was always a sick bastard. He liked to inflict pain and he hated Mercedes, so when I heard he was guarding the nursery I knew I’d run out of time. I was afraid Manny might hurt Jenna because of who her mother was. But I never expected him to check on me and that was my mistake.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because…” Her cheeks started to pink and she refused to meet his gaze. That in itself made him worry. Something she’d done was more shameful to her than stabbing a guy in the gut. She squeezed her eyes shut as she answered haltingly, “Because Manny knew I’d—I’d come there at, ah, Ruben’s request.”

“Hold on. Why would you do that if you thought Ruben killed your sister?”

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she cried, “Because I knew he wanted me and if I pretended to play along…then he would let his guard down long enough for me to get out of town with Jenna.”

She’d slept with him. That’s what she wasn’t saying. What she was dancing around, too ashamed to admit. She’d slept with Ruben to save her niece. He swore under his breath. He stood and walked a short distance before Marissa’s voice at his back made him stop.

“Don’t you dare judge me,” she said, her voice hot but wounded, as well. “I did what I had to do to save her life. You don’t know what kind of people Ruben deals with. She was a novelty to him. He wanted her because she was his blood, not because he loved her. He pressured Mercedes to get an abortion and when she refused, he beat her in the hopes that she would lose the baby. You can’t tell me that’s the kind of man who would make a good father!”

“So the first option you go with is to whore yourself to a man you despise?” he said, turning slowly, anger and pain creating a toxic mixture. He was rewarded with a sharp crack across his jaw. The slap echoed in the room, the only sound between them. He deserved it but he was too angry to acknowledge it. “Feel better?” he asked, his voice tight.

Her nostrils flared ever so slightly as she said, eyes boring into him, “My sister is dead. I’m on the run from a drug lord. And the one man I thought I could count on is looking at me like I’m trash. How do you think I feel?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because he didn’t have one for her. She pushed past him and ran up the stairs.