Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
It’s been two days since I had that phone call with Emmanuel, when I heard the gunshots in the background. I haven’t spoken to him since. Not really. There have been a few brief text messages but that’s it.
I’m on my way to Rachel’s house. She has a couple of days off from the hospital, and I know I’m going to be crashing soon. I don’t feel comfortable sleeping in my own house. I need to know someone is there. Someone who won’t let anyone else in. Someone I trust, like Rachel.
Tapping the button on my steering wheel to activate the car’s voice command, I say, “Call Cabrón,” quickly glancing in my rearview mirror. Paz is following me in a dark, nondescript car. It would blend in perfectly if I didn’t already know it was him.
He doesn’t say much, and whenever he does, he’s polite and respectful. But knowing he’s right outside my house makes me too damn nervous to sleep there.
The phone rings two times before the call connects. “Mi alma, driving and talking on the phone is not safe,” Emmanuel chastises me.
“Neither is talking to a cartel boss, but here we are.” I smirk. “Besides, it’s the twenty-first century. Phones are hands-free.”
“Suspected cartel boss, mi alma. Those are merely rumors.”
Shit, am I not supposed to say it out loud? It’s the very first thing he told me. I didn’t think anything of it.
“Well, obviously, you’re not. I imagine that kind of thing would require someone with a lot of smarts,” I joke.
“Exactly. Where are you going?”
“Rachel’s house. I just wanted to let you know that I’m probably going to crash out soon. You won’t be able to reach me for a bit.”
“You’re driving while you’re on the verge of falling asleep? What the fuck, Evie! Pull the fucking car over now,” he yells into the phone, adding something else in Spanish that I have no chance of understanding.
“I’m fine. I’m almost there.”
“Paz can drive you.”
“I’m not comfortable falling asleep around him,” I admit. “If he drives me, there’s a strong chance I’ll fall asleep in the car.”
“Has he done something to you? Said something?” Emmanuel’s tone changes almost immediately.
“No, it’s not him. It’s just… I don’t like people being in the room with me or having access to the room while I’m asleep.”
“Why?” Emmanuel asks.
“I just don’t. What have you been up to? I was starting to think you were finally losing interest in me when I hadn’t heard from you much.” I pull the car into Rachel’s driveway, pick up my phone, and switch the call to video. Emmanuel’s face fills my screen. “Guess I’m not that lucky.”
“I’m not ever going to lose interest in you, mi alma,” he says. “You look fucking gorgeous. I thought you were going to your friend’s.”
“I am. I just got here,” I tell him.
“You know, if you tell me what happened, I can hunt your demons and erase them,” he says.
“Some demons can’t be killed, E,” I whisper. Emmanuel lowers his phone and something catches my eye. A bandage. “What the hell happened to your shoulder? And why are you naked?”
“I’m not naked. I have pants on, and I’m at the gym.” Emmanuel pans the camera to show me.
“What happened to your shoulder?” I repeat.
“Remember that game you told me to try out a while ago? Well, I gave it a go. Turns out, it’s not as fun as you made it sound.” He smirks.
He got shot? When? By who? What the hell! Why didn’t he say something sooner? I told him to try playing chicken with bullets. I was joking. I didn’t actually want him to get shot.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m a lot better now that I know you care enough to ask,” he says.
“Pfft, I don’t care. I just want to know if I’m going to need a black dress for your funeral. I got a new line in, you know. I could pick something out tomorrow… or whenever I wake up.” I grin. We both know I’m full of shit. I do care. I just can’t admit it out loud.
“I told my artist about you,” Emmanuel hums, clearly changing the subject.
“Yeah? Did you get me an appointment?”
“Turns out he’s fond of his hands, so no. But he did do this.” Emmanuel holds up his wrist, and my name stares back at me in cursive writing.
“How many girls named Evie do you know?” I ask him.
“Just you,” he says.
“What the actual fuck, E? Why would you put my name on your skin. That shit is forever, idiot. Fucking hell, seriously, what were you thinking?” I yell.
I climb out of the car and start pacing up and down the length of Rachel’s front yard. Paz slides out of his own vehicle and stands a few feet away from me.
“I can’t believe you would do that. I knew you were insane but this! This is stupid on a whole new level!” I yell before pausing in my steps. “Show me again.”
Without a word, Emmanuel holds his wrist up to the camera. “I am well aware of what things last forever. Are you?”
I turn to Paz and flash him my phone screen. “I told you he needed you there. Look what the idiot went and did! You can’t erase that.”
“Looks good, jefe,” Paz says.
“I know,” Emmanuel replies. “Evie, my body, my choice, right?”
“It’s not always a choice,” I whisper. “I have to go.” I cut the call, walk inside, and immediately plop onto Rachel’s sofa.
“You okay?” she asks. “Trouble in paradise?”
I tell Rachel all about Emmanuel and his weird infatuation with me, the onetime thing we did in the hospital, and all the messages and phone calls. She listens without judging and promises not to worry Charlotte with any of it.
“The man is seriously deranged, Rach. He got my name tattooed on his wrist,” I huff out.
“Oh yeah, he sounds like a real looney.” She laughs.
“It’s not funny!” I groan.
“You have a rich, hot—did I mention hot—guy so into you that he tattooed your name on his hot body. How horrible your life must be!” she mocks.
“You missed the part about him being a cartel boss,” I remind her.
“Meh, our jobs do not define us as people,” she says, and I roll my eyes.
“Sounds like something a doctor would say.”
It shouldn’t bother me. He’s right. It’s not my body. But the fact he put my name on him is a big fucking deal. This infuriating infatuation he has with me isn’t going anywhere. I agreed to give him a week of getting to know each other. And here we are, three weeks later…
“What am I doing? I’m playing with the kind of fire I know is going to burn me.” I sigh.
“Well, it’s a good thing I happen to know how to treat burn injuries,” Rachel tells me. “You deserve this, Evie. Don’t let your past take away something good from your future just because you’re scared.”
My brows furrow. “I’m not scared of E,” I tell her. Because as stupid as it is, I’m really not.
“No, you’re scared of letting yourself be happy, of letting someone in. Because you think if you do, they’re going to run and then you’ll end up alone and hurt again.”
“You know, for once, I wish I had dumb friends.” I shake my head.
She’s not wrong, though. I’m afraid of him learning the truth.
Because I know it’s only a matter of when with Emmanuel.
The guy is like a dog with a bone. He’s not going to stop until he knows everything that happened to me, and when he does, he’s not going to see me as some beautiful trophy he wants to own.
He’s going to see that beneath all that flawless skin, there’s layer after layer of ugly scars.
“You just don’t like that I’m right,” Rachel says.
“I know,” I groan. “Okay, enough of this boring boy talk. Let’s watch a cheesy Hallmark movie. I’m about to crash, and I want you to make sure that if I do, no one gets into the bedroom while I’m sleeping.”
“Deal, but let’s watch it in the guest room. You’re not sleeping on the sofa.” Rachel stands and then pulls me to my feet with her.
After changing into my favorite sleep tee and washing my face, I get comfy on the bed in her guest room and turn on some Christmas movie.
“I love you, Rach,” I say over a yawn.
“Love you too, Evie,” she replies, squeezing my hand. “Go to sleep. I won’t let anyone in.”
“Thank you.” I close my eyes and, for the first time in days, sleep overcomes me.
When I wake up, I’m alone. I roll over and glance around the room. I’m at Rachel’s house. I have no idea how long I’ve been here. Reaching over to the bedside table, I swipe up my phone.
My eyes widen when I see the date. Two days. I’ve been asleep for two days! There’re a few messages from Charlotte and one from Rachel letting me know she had to go to work, but that she made sure no one was going into my room. She set up a nanny cam and was monitoring it remotely for me.
I smile and send her a message back.
Me:
Thank you. Just woke up. I’m going to shower and head home.
Rachel:
There’s a package waiting for you outside the bedroom door.
My brows furrow. A package? She probably left breakfast, expecting I’d wake up soon.
At the thought of food, my stomach growls and I drag myself out of bed. It’s always strange to lose so much time sleeping.
I open the bedroom door and freeze. Not exactly the meal I was expecting but not one I’ll be turning away either.
Sitting with his back against the wall, opposite the door, is Emmanuel.
He looks up at me. But before he can stand, I pounce.
My legs straddle his waist and my arms wrap around his neck.
Then my lips fuse onto his. My tongue pushes into his mouth. Greedily. Not that he complains.
After a few seconds, I pull back. “Sorry.”
I smile, suddenly self-conscious that I just threw myself at him, with morning breath too. Gross. I know that I look like crap. My hair isn’t even brushed. Oh god, what he must be thinking!
Emmanuel’s fingers curl around a strand that slides into my face. “You are fucking beautiful. And, mi alma, you don’t ever have to apologize for jumping on me.” He smirks.
“What are you doing here?”
“I arrived last night. Paz said your friend threatened to stab him with a syringe filled with enough morphine to take out a horse when he asked to check on you.” Emmanuel raises a single brow.
“I’m not sure about these dangerous people you’re surrounding yourself with.
” The backs of his fingers brush over my cheek. Light, tender, almost reverently.
I lean into his touch. “No, what are you doing on the floor in the hallway?”
“The only way your friend would let me stay in her house is if I gave her my word that I wouldn’t cross the threshold into that room,” he explains.
“Yeah, Rachel can be scary.” I smile.
“The fact I’m sitting here wasn’t her doing, Evie,” Emmanuel says, his eyes connecting with mine.
“What was?”
“You. I want you to know that you can trust me. I want you to know that I wouldn’t do anything I knew made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Apart from kidnapping.” I smile.
“That was a necessary course of action. It’s behind us.” Emmanuel leans in and presses his lips to mine. “You still owe me a week.”
“We’ve been talking for three weeks. That deal has long since passed.”
“No, you owe me a week of living with me, of getting to know each other in person.” His hands move down to my hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh there.
I’m dressed in only an old Taylor Swift shirt and a pair of panties.
Charlotte isn’t a fan, but I am unapologetically in love with the woman’s music.
“I can’t just leave. I have a shop to run.” I sigh. “And bills to pay and… plants that need watering.”
“I can have someone water your plants and handle any bills you have to deal with. As for the shop, tell Amy you’ll pay her double to manage it for a week while you’re gone. I’m sure she won’t complain,” he counters.
“Ah, I can’t afford to pay her double, and you are not handling my bills. And… well, I actually don’t have anything to say about the plants. Let me come back to you on that one.”
“Evie.” Emmanuel looks at me. “Just let go, say yes, and let us have this week.” As he says this, he forces my hips to grind down on his cock—his hard cock. “Getting to know each other in person is not the same as over the phone.”
No, it’s definitely not. Pleasure radiates through my core.
“Okay,” I say before I can find another reason to talk myself out of this insane idea. “But where are we going? Mexico?”