AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Painting the streets with blood.
I’m going to miss you, Muñeca.
***
23
I NEVER THOUGHT leaving him would be this hard, but it is, and I can’t fight back the tears that spring to my eyes. I can’t help but hold him a little tighter while around us the world carries on without pause; the people walking through this large terminal are either looking for food and drink, or a wall plug to charge their electronics. Because no matter what airport or country you’re in, it’s always the same, except this one time when it feels as though my chest is caving in.
I’m going to miss him. I’m going to need him to come back.
This stubborn, beautiful man that’s swept me off my feet and I’ve been unwilling to fight off as he took possession of my being. I love him. Completely and without pause, my heart belongs to Javier Lucas.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Muñeca.” His arms tighten around me and his lips press to the crown of my head. “Trust me, you’ll be back to kicking me out—begging me to leave Chicago again within a week.”
“Or I kick your ass.” It’s mumbled against his shirt, but the deep rumble of his laugh lets me know he heard. “Promise.”
Javi pulls back just enough to tip my chin up with two fingers, his soft eyes staring deep into mine. “I love you, Mariah Asher. I love and need you and can’t breathe right when you’re not near. Nothing can stop me…not even God himself, from coming back to you. Trust me.”
“I do.” My reply is without hesitation, and it earns me one of those cocky smirks that I adore. “Find them, Javier.”
“We already—”
He stops talking when I shake my head and pull him down low enough that I can reach the shell of his ear. “You’re not understanding me.” I take a moment then to just breathe him in, soothe my soul with his touch, before exhaling against his skin. “Baby…” Javi’s fingers tighten their hold; they dig into the bruises from last night and I whimper, the sound just as needy as I am, but now is not the time. When I leave, go back to Chicago, I need him to focus on my request. To carry it out before coming back to me. “Baby, I need you to find them and kill each slowly. I need you to make them suffer, dismember them limb by limb until there’s nothing left but the horror-filled expression on their faces before taking their last breath. And when it’s done, and the country knows to never cross a Lucas again…come home.”
He releases a shuddering breath, but I don’t stay to hear his confirmation. Instead, I extricate myself from his hold and walk toward the boarding area and wait to be called. It doesn’t take long, and just when I cross the entrance to the tunnel, I look back and immediately find his eyes.
Javier’s been watching. He’s giving me a look full of promise.
But more than that is the subtle nod. It’s his agreement to my terms.
A week has come and gone without news from Colombia.
No local coverage of violence abroad. No Spanish-speaking networks discussing political unrest of affluent families with ties to criminal activities.
Not a damn thing, and I was losing my mind with worry.
This is also why I didn’t notice the large bouquet of black roses sitting just outside my door after work. Again, there wasn’t a note or a card from the shop making the delivery, but it’s now clear to see this isn’t a mistake.
Someone wants my attention, and the first person that crosses my mind is Mildred.
She slept with Lane and possibly my father. She’s still roaming around according to Malcolm, and while I’m sure in part it has to do with her twin still being alive, my gut tells me there’s more.
That I’m that more.
Pulling out my phone, I dial Malcolm, but it goes straight to voicemail. Crap, he’s still probably in the meeting with the Jameson family. The customary bland and impersonal message comes through the line followed by a beep to respond.
“Call me when you get this. I just got another delivery.” He’ll know what I’m talking about and I hang up, looking down at the screen again with this uncontrollable urge to call Javier. My finger swipes down the contact list, hovering just above the call button beside his name. “Screw it.”
It rings after a few seconds. And rings three more times.
No answer. Nothing.
All I receive is a generic instruction to call back because his inbox is full.
“Guess not, then.” With the bottom of my foot, I nudge the arrangement inside and leave it on the floor beside the entrance. I’m sure Malcolm will send someone later to pick it up, and I’d rather not get my fingerprints on it. “Hopefully he’ll call later.”
Without pause, I toe off my slingbacks and leave them there as well, walking barefoot toward my room. My phone is still in my hand and my attention is garbage, which explains why after changing and heating some leftover spaghetti, I pick up the video call without checking the caller ID first.
