Page 53 of Taking His Heart

CJ’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. His chest heaves and his jaw is clenched tight. He’s pissed off. I’ve seen him pissed off before, but never like this. This is a different level of anger.

I’m racking my mind trying to find something to say to help him. But I’m coming up empty. He’s my husband. I should know the right words to help ease his stress. I’ve been a wife for less than a week and I suck at it. This isn’t about me, though. I need to get my shit together and do better.

The car slows as it turns down a street and into the Lopez driveway. The gates open, and at least a dozen men stand on both sides with rifles.

“Is your uncle here?” I ask CJ.

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth.

When he stops the car, he shuts the engine off and climbs out, slamming the door behind him. I hear him spit out a string of curses before he makes his way over to the passenger side and opens my door. Silently, he reaches in and unclips my belt and then he’s lifting me out of my seat.

Once my feet are on the ground, his palms cup each side of my face. “I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. “Why are you sorry?”

“That shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t be in situations like that.”

“That wasn’t your fault, CJ.”

“I’m your husband, Dani. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe. Not have you nearly blown up while driving to fucking dinner with our parents.”

I don’t know what to say. So I choose not to say anything. I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. CJ deepens the kiss instantly, his tongue pushing into my mouth and twirling around.

After a minute, I pull away. “It wasn’t your fault and you can’t control the world, CJ. Bad shit happens. And in our families, it tends to happen a lot.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know. And you did protect me. Just like you always do. You got us out of there.”

He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“What about the others?”

“The others?”

“The men who were in those cars? Someone has to help them, CJ. We can’t just leave them.”

“My dad would have tracked them down by now and sent more men. They’re not your concern, Dani.”

“They got hurt—wait, probably killed—because of me. It’s my concern.”

“What the fuck makes you think that happened because of you?”

“You got shot because of me, CJ. Someone is after me, because of who my dad is. But they’re after me, and everyone but me seems to be getting hurt because of it.”

“Those men know the job they signed up for, Dani. They know the dangers and implications of this world. Nothing that happens to anyone is your fault.”

It is, but I know there’s no point arguing that with him. CJ takes my hand and leads me up the stairs of the house.

“I should have known what to say,” I mutter to myself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What do you mean?”

“When you’re angry, stressed, I should know what to say to help ease the burden. I’m your wife. I’m supposed to be able to help. And I froze. I didn’t know what to say or what to do.”