Chapter 3
Emma
Whatever the conversation was between Angel and his father, it went badly. When the door of my room — holding cell, prison, whatever — opened, and Angel stepped inside, I couldn’t stop the gasp that rose in my throat.
His face was an absolute mess. There were splits in his cheek and lip, and his jaw appeared to be swelling. “What happened?”
Omar came through the door holding a first aid kit. He stepped around Angel and shoved it into my hands. “Your fiancé is going to need some patching up,” he said.
The world around me froze, and I blinked once. Twice. I’d heard what he said, but my mind refused to understand it. “My what?”
Angel turned blazing eyes to his brother. “Get out, asshole.”
Omar smiled although it wasn’t a pleasant one. “See? Ripped the Band-Aid off for you.”
“Omar.” Angel breathed the word like a threat, and the other man disappeared back out into the hallway once more.
We could hear his laughter through the door.
“Ese puta madre,” Angel snarled before he shifted his attention back to me, and I could see the gash on his cheek was bleeding.
“Can you do first aid?” he asked gruffly.
I looked at the kit in my hands. It was a nice one, and from the heft of it, fully stocked.
“Yeah,” I said and motioned for him to sit in the chair that I had been handcuffed to.
“Sit.” As he sat, Angel’s breathing shuddered, like the movement hurt him.
It had to be his ribs, but I would need to see to make sure nothing was truly wrong. “Can you take your shirt off?”
Angel’s eyes snapped up to mine. “Why?”
“I’m pretty sure your ribs are broken, but I want to check the bruising to make sure it’s not more serious.”
The shock on his face was only a little bit insulting. He glared at me like I had just revealed something important. “And what does a courier know about emergency medicine?” he asked.
“I spent years taking care of my mother while she died of cancer. While I wasn’t entirely successful in that endeavor, I can check your ribs,” I shot back. “Take it off.”
He was quiet, stoic, for a moment. Then: “Just help me with my cheek, all right?”
The last thing I wanted to do was start an argument, but he was obviously in pain. What would happen if he had a broken rib stabbing into one of his lungs, or internal bleeding or something? I touched his shoulder lightly. “I really think —”
He crushed my hand in his own, and I yelped. I could feel my bones rubbing together. “I don’t give a fuck what you think,” he snapped, voice low and dangerous. “You can cut this shit out right now. If I say I’m fine, then I’m fine, all right?”
A tremor ran through me. Even as he got angry, his face had gone flat and cold. It was the exact same expression that he’d worn when he’d shot that man at the bar. “I’m just trying to help you,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “You could be really hurt.”
“Don’t pretend that you give a shit.”
“Okay,” I relented, and he let go of me. “I won’t bother then.” I flexed my hand and tried to ignore the sharp ache. “Just the cheek.”
I set down the kit and got out what I would need to clean and bandage the wound. I did notice that there was a suture kit if I needed it, but I hoped the cut wasn’t that deep. I poured some of the antiseptic on a gauze pad and came back to Angel.
Despite being smaller than his brother, who dominated any room he walked into in terms of sheer size, Angel was not a small man. Even seated as he was, he seemed to fill the room, and I quickly realized that there wasn’t a comfortable way of keeping my distance and doing what I needed to.
Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped between his splayed knees and leaned forward.
His cologne, earthy and warm and way too good, enveloped me.
My skin broke out in gooseflesh. You’re just sick of the smell of blood.
I was still covered in the dried, flaking stuff.
There would never be enough hot water to get the feel of it off of my skin.
“This may sting,” I said in warning and touched the gauze pad to his face. Angel didn’t flinch, but his jaw did that tightening thing that it did. “You’re going to lose your teeth if you keep grinding them like that.”
His eyes flicked to mine and held, and liquid heat pooled in the center of my body.
His eyes were so dark that they were nearly black, and the fire in their depths…
I shivered. There was an ache between my thighs, and I tried not to squirm.
Why did he have to be so damn attractive?
Why, after everything, did I want to wrap myself around him like a coat?
Get your shit together, Emma.
The corner of Angel’s mouth curved upward, just the tiniest bit, like he knew exactly what was going on in my head. “Is it going to need stitches?” he asked, and there was a lilt to his voice.
I shook myself out of my stupor and looked at the cut. It wasn’t jagged, thankfully, and I didn’t think it was that deep. I stepped away from him and dug through the kit. It had liquid stitches. “I think we can get away with this,” I said, holding up the bottle.
Angel eyed the bottle for a moment, and then nodded. “Get on with it.”
You could say thank you. I was smart enough not to say it out loud even though a part of me wanted to. Fear — make that terror — was making it difficult to not blurt out everything that came to mind, and this was definitely the worst place to do that.
I used butterfly strips to bring the edges of his wound together and then sealed it with the liquid stitches. When they had dried, I cleaned it again and put a sterile bandage over the whole thing. “It’s going to scar,” I told him, “but you won’t get an infection.” Hopefully.
Angel met my eyes again. He seemed to be assessing me, and I realized just how close we were together.
I was practically sitting on his knee. I tried to step back, but his hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist. I winced as he gripped the battered skin.
Angel noticed, and he raised my wrist up for his inspection; his touch softened.
“We should get these cleaned up,” he said.
The sudden softness, always after a hard touch, made my head spin. The guy who was threatening to throw my body in the Everglades literally two hours ago was capable of this? “I’m fine,” I parroted his words back to him. “Don’t worry about me.”
I expected him to let me go of my wrist, but he didn’t. “You didn’t ask what my brother meant,” he said. “When he called me your fiancé.”
“That’s because I know what the word ‘fiancé’ means. I’m not a moron,” I said before I could stop myself.
Angel’s eyes were sharp. “You have a smart mouth, you know that?” His tone might have been teasing, but his expression was near-murderous.
I trembled in his grasp and tried not to show it.
He wasn’t hurting me; he was just keeping me in place.
I could do that. I inhaled slowly through my nose and let it out again.
His cologne seemed to coat my throat, and I couldn’t decide whether I liked it or not.
“I did ask what he meant,” I pointed out.
“You just got scary and threatened him before he answered me.” He considered that for a moment, and then he dropped his hand from my wrist. I took a step back, and put a little distance between us. “What did he mean?”
“I owe you a life debt,” Angel said. “You saved my life when you jumped on me at the bar.” The look on his face told me how happy he was about that. “That means that I owe you.”
“So let me go,” I said, “and we can consider it square.”
Angel shook his head. “I wasn’t lying about the Rojas family before,” he said. “You’re marked now. You leave the estate, and you’ll be dead within twenty-four hours.”
Shivers wracked through me, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “So, get me out of Florida,” I said. “Help me get started somewhere else, and you’ll never have to hear from me again.”
“My father —” The word seemed to stick in his throat. He swallowed hard and tried again. “My father wants me to marry you.”
I shook my head. “Not going to happen.”
“I told my father the same,” he said and motioned to his cheek. “He didn’t take my reaction well.” He leveled a frosty, speculating look at me. “Imagine what he would do to get you to comply.”
I swallowed against the growing lump in my throat.
Marriage was special. Marriage was forever. “My mother would roll over in her grave if I married a man who I didn’t love.”
His look was scathing. “A criminal is fine though,” he mocked.
I bit my tongue, there was no way I was touching that, but then because I couldn’t resist, I said, “You said it, not me.”
Angel laughed. The sound didn’t match him in the slightest. “My father’s logic makes sense: it would keep you protected, which is what I owe you, and spousal privilege would keep the family safe legally.” Because I witnessed about a dozen murders and an assassination attempt, I added for him.
“How does marrying you keep me safe? Wouldn’t that put a target on my back?”
“To kill the spouse of a prominent member of a family like mine would mean certain death. All of the Castillos would fall on the Rojas like a plague and wipe them all out. Luis Rojas isn’t a brilliant man, but he’s not stupid enough to invite that kind of war.”
“You say ‘family,’ and it doesn’t sound like you mean parents, kids, and grandparents. This is a cartel, isn’t it?”
“It’s my family,” Angel replied. “It’s the only family that I’ve ever known.”
“And you lead it?”
He shook his head. “I will when my father officially retires.” Or someone murders him, I thought.
“Marrying you would keep me safe from the Rojas family,” I said, forcing myself to say the words because it was the only way that I was going to understand. “What would it mean for you and me?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “What does a marriage normally mean for a man and a woman?” he asked rhetorically.
“But I don’t love you.”
There was that deeply unsettling laugh again.
He pushed himself out of the chair, and even as I put my hands up to push him back down — he shouldn’t be moving, Jesus — he walked me into the wall.
“You’re not that na?ve, are you, Emma?” he asked, leaning in.
His breath puffed along my skin, and I shivered.
“Love isn’t a factor here.” His lips brushed my ear, and as much as I wanted to push him away, the sensation made me gasp.
I couldn’t breathe, but I did what I could to gather every last shred of strength in my body to resist. I put my hand on his chest, careful of his bruises, and pushed…and he didn’t move an inch. My pulse skyrocketed. “Could you back up?”
“Say, please.” The words were a growl, and I gasped again when he nipped at my earlobe, wrapping it between his teeth and lips.
I didn’t want to. “Please.”
He chuckled, and the sound vibrated across my skin like a touch. I was getting wet, and I hated myself for it, and somehow, he knew it. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we can continue our conversation with me right here.” He shifted, mouthing at my throat.
I tried pushing him again. “Please, back up,” I said again, despising the whine in my tone.
Mercifully, he did, but the expression on his face, somewhere between want and hatred, was haunting. He was just as affected by…whatever this heat was between us as I was, that was plain to see, but he didn’t want to be, and an angry Angel Castillo was a truly terrifying thing.
His jaw clenched tight before it relaxed. “You will be my wife,” he said, as if it were final.
“I’ll be your prisoner.”
Angel shook his head. “Protected by me,” he countered. “Untouchable to everyone.” He leaned back in again, pressing even closer than before. His body was hard against mine. “Except me.”
Heat speared through me, and I sank my teeth into my lip to cut off a whimper. “Don’t I have any say?” I begged.
Angel drew back so that he wasn’t touching me anymore.
He stood up to his full height so that he was looking down on me, and I pushed myself as flat against the wall as I could, even as I told myself not to look so goddamn afraid.
He would win if I was afraid. “No,” he said.
“You don’t have a choice. You have two days to get used to it. ”