Chapter 19 #2
“Shh, Daddy. Let me enjoy all of this. I can’t think.”
We start slowly as she rocks her hips before rising and falling. I keep my hold on her light but guiding her motions. When her urgency increases, I know I won’t last much longer. I thrust upward as she grinds her clit against my pubic bone.
“Please may I come, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby girl. I’m close too.”
I tilt my head back as my cum surges from my cock.
I pulse over and over as though I have an endless stream of cum.
The primal need to breed her, so she can’t leave me just about knocks me sideways.
Pregnancy is the one thing I’ve avoided like the plague.
I’ve practically double bagged it even when I know my partner’s on birth control.
Previously, the thought of kids was such a repellant that my dick wanted to hide inside me.
With Vita—the idea fills my chest to bursting.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
No!
Yes!
Maybe?
No!
Just not yet.
I feel lightheaded from my whirling thoughts and from my labored breathing. I close my eyes as I attempt to compose myself. Vita still has her head resting against my shoulder, so I take my time to come back down to Earth.
When she finally leans back, and I can see her expression once again, there’s wonder that turns mischievous as she speaks.
“Jandro, that was a kind of orgasm I’ve never had before. It came from so deep within me. Instead of a kinda tingly sensation, it was like a deep warmth. You rarely hear about the A-spot and cervical orgasms. They should definitely be talked about far more. I highly recommend.”
We sit connected until my body no longer cooperates. Even after I withdraw, we sit with Vita curled around me. She smatters kisses along my neck as I trail my thumbnail along her spine while my other hand cups her ass.
“Chica, we’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Huh?”
Her kisses slowed about ten minutes ago, and I think she was nearly asleep.
I nudge her until she sits up and looks around.
I reach for her clothes and help her dress.
She’s lethargic until she fully comes around and realizes we’re nearly at my cousin’s house.
We’ll see her friend in a few minutes. She rushes to finish as I straighten my shirt and tuck it in.
We’re about to get off the Union Turnpike—I purposely asked the driver to keep us away from Jackson Heights and take the less predictable route—when a barrage of pings hits both sides of the vehicle. Like in the hotel room, I push Vita to the floor and cover her body with mine.
“Jandro?”
“I don’t know what’s happening. Hold on.”
I move to sit up, but she reaches behind me and fists my shirt, pushing me down.
“The car’s completely bulletproof. Let me see.”
It was instinct that had me shielding her, but I don’t fear getting shot if I look out the windows.
I ease away from her until I can see more clearly.
There are SUVs on both sides of us. Our windows are tinted to a hair’s breadth from illegal.
I know whoever’s beside us can’t see me.
I look out the rear window as another SUV speeds toward us.
I slam my finger onto the button to lower the privacy glass.
“Ellos van a embestirnos.” They’re going to ram us.
“Lo se patrón.” I know, boss.
“Who?”
I glance down at Vita before reaching for the compartment beneath the bench seat. I press, and a drawer springs open. I pull the gun out that I placed there on the way to my tío’s house. Vita reaches for hers, which we stored beside mine.
“I don’t know yet. We’re safe in here but stay down. I won’t take any chances.”
I look out the rear window again, and the vehicle’s within a few feet of us.
I pull Vita onto the seat, and we both rush to get our seatbelts back on.
We sense when the impact’s coming, so we bend over and cover our heads.
A force harder than you would expect plows into the back of us.
My driver speeds up, but it’s not enough before the SUV slams into us again.
This time it’s hard enough to make the ass end of our car swerve.
“Watch your elbow.”
I warn Vita as I lower the center armrest then pull a latch that allows me to reach into the trunk. Through it, I ease a rifle. It’s not easy to maneuver it to keep it pointing toward the ceiling and away from Vita until I can point it between my feet.
I know it’s loaded and ready to go, but gun safety’s been drilled into me since the first time I saw a firearm. I was four and got away from my mom, who was trying to convince me to take a nap. I wandered into my dad’s study, hoping he’d take me to the park. He was cleaning one of his handguns.
After his initial shock that I made it into his study wore off, he carried me to the sofa, keeping our distance from his desk where the gun lay.
I got a stern lesson about entering rooms uninvited, then he explained how dangerous guns are.
I heard the same warning until I left for college—two years after I went on my first mission.
“Watch out!”
Vita’s warning comes a moment before the SUV on her side swerves to strike our passenger side front quarter panel. A moment later, there’s a corresponding impact on my side. I hurry to grab a second rifle and pass it to her.
“Aren’t they worried someone’s going to call the police?”
“No. Someone paid for a traffic break. Look.”
I point out the back window, and she strains to see.
In the distance, there’s a faint view of a police car weaving across lanes to keep vehicles from passing it.
It’s allowing us to move without any traffic congestion.
There aren’t too many people with the power and influence to do that.
It makes me wonder if this is a government agency rather than a private citizen who’s paid hitmen.
“Patrón, they got the driver’s side tire.”
Unlike our SUVs that are veritable tanks, the town cars and limos have their limitations. The SUVs have special tires that will continue to roll even if they’ve been punctured. The town cars only have regular commercial tires. We’re forced to stop.
I grasp Vita’s hand and give it a squeeze before she and I both lower our windows enough to get the muzzle of our rifles out. Neither of us opens an indiscriminate spray of bullets, but we are shooting wide, hoping to take out our attackers as well as their vehicles much like they did ours.
However, our attempts cease when the three of us watch in horror as a man with a gasoline can comes and pours it along the cracks in the hood. While the car might be bulletproof, it’s not fireproof. A moment later, he drops a lighter onto the car, and the hood ignites.
“Vita, come out after me on my side.”
“The hell I am. I’m not using you as a shield. We have people on either side of us. You take care of yours, and I’ll take care of mine.”
Arguing with her is futile. Smoke’s already filling the car.
We have no choice but to get out or be cremated.
We tuck our handguns into our waists at our lower backs and ready our rifles.
Ronaldo, our driver, already has a rifle propped in the front seat.
It’s standard protocol for all our drivers ever since someone attacked Tía Elle and Madeline.
We each open our door a sliver, continuing to fire before stumbling out of the vehicle. Despite the men’s bodies I see littered on my side and the ones I’m certain are on Vita’s, we’re still overpowered. All three vehicles were filled to the brim, each seating seven. It’s nearly two dozen to three.
“Vita!”
I bellow her name after I hear fist hitting skin. I can’t tell who struck who.
“I’m all right, Jandro, but somebody didn’t like having his huevos shoved up his ass.”
I take a fist to the sternum as two men grab my arms and pin them against me.
I rage, headbutting the guy who punched me, doing my best to elbow the guys at my side.
I rock to my left, driving my shoulder into the fucker.
I rock back toward my right, and I know the man braces himself for me to use my shoulder against him.
Instead, I stomp on his foot and grind my heel into his toes.
I struggle with all my strength, wanting to get to Vita.
“Vita, talk to me. Are you okay?”
Before she can respond, the sound of a gun being discharged fills the air.
From the corner of my eye, I see Ronaldo drop to the ground, a bullet between his eyes.
I have to live through this if for no other reason than to do the honorable thing and be the one to inform his parents of what happened and attend his funeral to pay my respects.
“Ah!” It’s a male voice in pain.
“You shouldn’t have put your hand so close to my face. I thought it was an invitation.”
I hear Vita make the exaggerated sound of gnawing on something.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite you again. You’re a bit bland for my taste.”
She says it with such a benign tone that if I didn’t know her, I would wonder about her psychopathy. I laugh and spit straight in the eye of the shitbag in front of me. Vita’s not the only one who can rely on children’s tactics when you’re fighting for your life.
I take an uppercut that snaps my head back. Luckily, I’m tall enough that my head doesn’t hit the vehicle. Otherwise, the force from both sides would’ve knocked me out. I settle down enough that both men eased their hold on me without realizing it.
I seize the opportunity to thrash, throwing my fist sideways as best I can until my left hand breaks free and I can reach back for my handgun.
I get off a round to the head of the man in front of me.
But three more men rush forward, one with an iron pipe.
A moment before everything goes dark, I hear Vita call out to me.
Then there’s the sound of her surely dropping to the ground.
My head’s pounding as I come around.
I’ve had more concussions than anyone should.
I’ve also been drugged before. I can tell from the way my arms and legs feel.
It’s as though they’re no longer attached to me except by a few sinews.
My head pounds like one of the fucking O’Rourkes is dancing a jig inside it.
It makes me wonder how long I’ve been out and just how far they took us.
I open my eyes a sliver and look around until I spot Vita to my right.
I observe her and can tell when she wakes, even though she keeps her eyes closed.
It’s the most subtle shift in her breathing for a moment.
Then she becomes aware enough to return her breathing to a slow, even pattern like it was while she was unconscious.
I continue to watch her until her eyes slide open just a fraction.
It’s enough for our gazes to meet, but not enough to convey our thoughts.
“Chiquita?” I say the word more as an exhalation than anything else.
“Daddy.” It’s garbled, almost like a grunt.
We’re both careful in case the room is bugged. I’m fairly certain it is.
Where the hell are we?