chapter thirteen
SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
SNAKE
Saban twists, turning into the pillow, whimpering this time not in pleasure like she did hours ago at the el Diablo clubhouse.
This sound is the pitiful one she emits when she’s having her night terrors.
Nothing, I’ve done has help her alleviate them in the years since I rescued her from that puto trying to rape her.
The loss of her parents that night in the jungle is something that has haunted her all her life. No amount of therapy has helped us find relief.
“Fuck,” I swear, watching her over the CCTV as she abruptly sits up, looking around with her face a mask of terror.
“This is no good,” she says to herself, rubbing her hands over her face, looking at her damp fingers in dismay. Adjusting her bonnet, she gets up and goes into the tiny bathroom. I count the minutes waiting for her to come out.
Regretting that I hadn’t put a camera in the bathroom, wanting to afford her some semblance of privacy.
“What is she doing?” I ask no one but myself as I will her to come out of the bathroom.
After another ten minutes, I contemplate asking Aponi to go check on her until I check the time. It’s well past one A.M and I’m sure my house manager is asleep.
Maybe Saban fell asleep in there, though where she would find the room I wouldn’t know. The bathroom only houses a small shower, sink and toilet.
The worry turns into abject fear when she still doesn’t emerge in the next ten minutes. What if she smuggled something out of the club?
It’s not like she didn’t have time and opportunity while the twins were getting her ready and informing her of the Reckoning. She’s already shown she’s willing to starve herself. What else will she get into?
Neither did she want any aftercare once we got here either. I offered to sit with her in the living room for a while to decompress. “I just want to shower and go to bed.” She said tonelessly, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Fine.” I managed, letting her go ahead of me inside the elevator and down the corridor to her room.
She didn’t even look back when she entered, just proceeded toward the small shower without a backwards glance.
Spurred by the memory, I’m already halfway down the stairs not even bothering to pull on a shirt. Barefoot and in my boxers, I stride through the living room to the hidden elevator.
The concrete on the subterranean level is cold against the soles of my feet as I make my way down the corridor to her room. The sound of my feet is loud as it echoes behind me in a quick staccato in my haste to get to her.
I curse the seconds it takes me to enter the access code into the keypad and press my face close enough to allow my retina to be scanned.
There is a tumble of locks, a click and hiss signaling the door disengaging.
Stepping into the room, I notice the rumpled bed as I’m moving past it into the bathroom.
“Saban?” No answer and none when I call her name again.
Pushing the door open, I peek my head in. She’s not on the toilet. Pushing the door open further, I scan the small room.
That’s when I see her huddled form in the shower’s corner. Sobbing.
The ragged, soul-rending cry tears at my soul. Stepping inside, I say nothing more. Walking over to her, I get down on my haunches. “Hey, nina bella.” I say immediately going back to the endearment I used in those early days.
She only tucks her head deeper into her arms, making herself smaller.
Gathering the ball, she’s turned herself into I don’t try to disengage her locked arms. Pulling her tightly to my chest, I pivot in the small space, managing to grasp the door handle and pull it open.
Instead of putting her back into the bed, I walk by it, going to the secured door.
This time it takes me less time to enter the code and scan my retina.
The door opens with a snick. Stepping out, I breathe a sigh of relief, realizing then how claustrophobic that space must have felt for Saban if I felt this way when I was trying to reach her, fearing she’d somehow hurt herself.
We’re halfway to the elevator when her arms circle my neck. Adjusting her, I feel the hot burn of tears against my flesh, already cognizant of how wet my chest is from her crying.
“I got you. You won’t be going back there.” I promise as we enter the elevator.
The ride up the main level of the house is silent as well, nor do I relinquish my small burden as I stride with her in my arms through my house and up the stairs.
I keep her in my arms the entire time, even when I pull back the covers and climb into the bed with her. I hold her close, letting her cry and giving her the comfort she needs and craves.
“You were so brave and strong up there tonight. My beautiful brave girl, you faced The Reckoning, and you were majestic. It was the only way.” I whisper, holding her close.
Nodding her understanding, impossibly she curls closer to me, tucking herself close to my heart. Something squeezes tight in the place I long thought hallowed out by trauma and tragedy.
For some inexplicable reason, I hold on to that foreign feeling — only for tonight.
Tomorrow I can be Snake again, the cold motherfucker most men fear.
In the last hours of this night, I allow myself to be Hadrián, the man who allows himself this one thing, the comfort of easing some of the hurt of the girl who saved me as much as I saved her.
“Coffee?” Leaning back against the counter, I watch as Saban takes a seat at the quartz island splitting the kitchen.
“Sure and thanks.” She cast her gaze around the room, taking in the dark countertop, sink and pewter hardware. Dragging my gaze away from her in one of my t-shirts that reaches past her knees, I get busy prepping the coffee in the Moka pot.
The aroma of Colombian coffee fills the space.
“I meant for last night.” Blushing, she waves a hand in the air. “I know the alternative —”
“There wasn’t going to be another anything else. I wouldn’t have allowed it.” I vow, without equivocation.
“Well, anyway, thanks.” Her face screws up in a way that lets me know she doesn’t want to fucking thank a fucking trafficker for shit.
Conflicted, she busies herself taking in the room, making the light hit her tattoos, beginning at her neck that the ol’ head Rafael did for her, trailing down her collar, before disappearing beneath her clothes.
Dragging my gaze away before she can see the sheer hunger I have for just another glimpse of her skin, I finish making the coffee and fix her a plate of Conecuh sausage, eggs, grits and buttermilk biscuits.
“Wow,” she says after saying her blessing then digging into her food.
“Got to make sure you eat.” Pressing my lips in a hard line, I don’t hesitate to remind her of the stunt that had me missing meetings in Birmingham to come back here to deal with her.
“Well, it was for a good reason.” She shrugs in a flippant way.
“Listen —” ready to dead this shit once and for all.
“Primo,” Aponi says, stepping into the kitchen.
I don’t miss the hot blush rising beneath Saban’s dark skin nor the way she twists her body away from Aponi in what I can only assume is her hope she doesn’t notice her wearing my t-shirt. I could remind her that Aponi is the same person who gave her the plan-B and changes her sheets, but I don’t.
“Yeah?” Unperturbed, I ask the woman, who’s just shy of the door.
“Mr. Cruz is here.” It’s always odd when I hear Angel referred to by his professional name rather than his road name, but in our business it’s important not to cross-pollinate our enterprises.
Outside of the MC we run a billion-dollar business, and that goes as far as the staff outside of the MC, though most of our employees are el Diablo around these parts.
“Show him in.” I tell Aponi.
“Stay.” I say to Saban when she moves to leave. Angel will see her anyway heading back up the stairs.
Something shifts on her face, but she does as I command, taking a sip of her coffee.
I can’t help the smile breaking free as I watch her enjoy her food.
I remember some ladies at the local church giving us cooking classes after they found out there were a lot of orphans who came over after losing their parents.
My mix of Colombian and soul food cuisine was an instant hit with my ward once I took the lessons.
“Morning.” My gaze strayed from her lips, covering the mug to the behemoth filling the doorway.
“Morning.” We respond in unison.
“Breakfast?” I ask as my way of inquiring why he’s here after he made his family his mission.
“Nah, I came over to give Saban this.” He hands over a manila envelope, planting it in front of Saban.
“Mama-Pete and Easy got wind of The Reckoning — I told them I trusted you to handle it.” He looks from one to the other of us for confirmation, though I’m sure Rocco gave him all the details.
“I did.” My words sound hard, but if he notice he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he looks Saban over until he seems satisfied.
“That’s the deed to the Love property in the city center if you want it.
For as long as you want it. It reverts to the Loves when you no longer are occupying the space, and you can never sell it, nor any of your heirs inherit it, but it’s yours as long as you live.
Ezekiel-Jane feels like she owes you at least that.
” When he finishes with the sucker punch his little curvy cherub served to my solar plexus, he pauses for a moment.
Saban’s head is bowed, staring at the unopened manila envelope.
Then I see a splash hit its surface.
Angel lurches back in alarm.
“Merci, tell her, Merci beaucoup.” Saban says brokenly before snatching the paper and running out of the kitchen.
Watching until her retreating form disappears, I swing around to my best friend. “The fuck, man?” I swear, rage making me fist my hands until my knuckles crack.
“Easy is worried.” His answer to interfering with my life.
“Saban’s been worried about Easy and Judah, and I trusted you to handle your shit. You owe me the same fucking respect, hermano.” I force out through clenched teeth. I’ve never felt this close to coming to blows with the man I consider a brother before in my life.
“How long were you planning on keeping her here without telling her the truth of things? One thing I know about that girl is that if she knew the truth, there is no way she’d keep herself that far from you.
She wouldn’t even look at me.” Angel shakes his head at me.
“Stubborn, prideful motherfucker. Tell her the truth or cut her loose if you’re not going to forgive her.
The punishment is done.” He says with cold finality, fully in el presidente mode, “The rest of this mess between you has to be worked out on equal terms.”
“I’ll deal with what’s mine the same way you dealt with yours.” Seething, I snatch up the plate and mug Saban left, not wanting to admit I was minutes from doing exactly that when he decided to step his ass into my house and fuck it up.
“Just make sure you don’t lose her in the process.
We already went months without them, and we got through it together, breathing vengeance on all we felt who caused us grief.
Keep in mind their hearts were pure, they were afraid and felt they had no choice.
It’s time to move forward.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he eyes me with concern
“That’s easy for you to say when your girl gave you a son and you have another on the way.” I smirk when I see his eyes spark with joy. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, but I want that for you too, friend.” Somberness fills his tone. “But somehow I don’t think you feel you deserve it.”
“I don’t.” I say with finality turning away from the sadness in his gaze.