Chapter 29
Emma
After the fourth time I slipped from the mud caking my shoes, Angel swept me into his arms, bridal-style. “You’re going to get even more filthy,” I protested. “I can walk. Put me down!”
Angel shook his head. “I don’t think so, mi esposa,” he said, and God did I miss him calling me that. I shivered and burrowed myself closer to his body despite what I said. “Are you cold?” he asked.
It wasn't a true cold, and we both knew it. More likely, I was going into shock. “I smell disgusting,” I said, and I didn’t like how far away my voice sounded.
He leaned in and breathed me in. “You smell wonderful...I’ve never seen you look more beautiful,” Angel said, and the lie made me laugh.
The laugh quickly shifted into sobs, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and held tightly to him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said to me softly. “I’ve got you.”
Angel set me down on the gravel road where both of the cars were parked. “What are we going to do about his car?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “The license plate won’t lead them back to the Rojas family; the car will be searched and then impounded.”
“Sounds like you know from experience,” I said.
“I do,” Angel said. “This wouldn’t be the first body that Omar and I have dumped in an area like this.”
I knew that — he’d told me as much when we first met — but it was hard to reconcile the cold-blooded killer I knew him to be with the man holding my hand so sweetly. “Does it bother you?” I asked.
“We’ve talked about that before,” he reminded me. “What was my answer then?”
I thought back to the conversation that we had on our honeymoon. “That you didn’t enjoy killing, but you’d do it for your family,” I said.
Angel nodded. “He took you, and he was going to kill you. He signed his own execution order as far as I was concerned.” He cupped my cheek, careful not to press on the stinging cut across it.
“I did a shit job at protecting you recently,” he admitted, “but that’s behind us.
You and our baby are my first priority from here on out. ”
I leaned into his touch, overwhelmed. “I know how important your family is to you, Angel,” I said.
“You are my family, Emma. Nothing is more important than you.”
I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed him, but I knew that he wasn’t lying. He genuinely meant what he was saying, but until it was put into practice, I didn’t know if I could trust it.
“Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “you dropped something, by the way.” He pulled out the St. Christopher’s medal and held it up.
Almost panicked, I touched my neck. “I didn’t even realize that it had come off,” I said and reached for it. “I’m so sorry —”
Angel pulled the medal back, just out of my reach. “Why should you be sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to take it off,” I said. “I promised that I wouldn’t.”
His face softened into utter fondness. It didn’t look right on my stoic husband’s face. “Even when you were mad at me, you didn’t take it off.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I don’t think I actively thought about it,” I admitted, “but it never occurred to me to take it off. I've been wearing it every day since you gave it to me.”
“Emma, I —”
“It’s done!” Omar called, tramping after us. “Get in the car, so we can get out of here. Why are you standing around talking?”
Angel ducked his head, hissing obscenities at his brother, but considering the man had just dumped a body into the swamp, he was probably right about getting out of here.
Angel opened the back door for me, and then crawled in after me, making me move across the seat.
I glanced at the mud I was leaving behind.
I will take the hottest shower that I can stand as soon as we get back, I promised myself.
Omar got behind the wheel. “Can’t believe you’re making me act like your damn chauffeur,” he complained.
Angel kicked the seat. “Shut up. You’ll understand when you fall in love.” Love? I jerked, turning to look at Angel, who took my face in his hands. “Are you hurt?” he asked, turning my face this way and that to get a better look at the scratches.
I pushed up my sleeves to show him where I had been caught by the branches and brambles. There were long scratches and scuffs across my skin. “It stings,” I told him.
He looked them over for a moment, and I half-expected him to tell me that I would be fine, comfort me but in that brusque way of his that I had grown accustomed to.
Instead, he bent and brushed his lips against each and every wound, making sure not to hurt me.
I didn’t know that he was capable of such care.
My chest ached. Was it possible to love a man like him?
Was it possible to give my heart to someone whose moral compass was more than a little askew?
If I did, what would that even say about me?
I wouldn’t be able to claim that I was a good person anymore, even if all I ever did was tolerate what Angel got up to.
Good people didn’t treat drug trafficking and murder so casually.
It should matter to me what kind of person Angel was; I shouldn’t be able to look at him at his absolute worst and still want him in my arms. Right? “Am I —” I swallowed hard. “Are you going to put me back in that room?” I asked.
Angel shook his head. “I won’t lock you up again,” he promised. “I need you in our bedroom, beside me in our bed; it’s been lonely.”
“That was a little bit your own fault,” I pointed out gently.
Instead of grinding his molars or snapping at me or any number of things Angel would have done before, he grinned at me. “Didn’t make sleeping alone less lonely,” he said. “I had gotten used to your snores.”
“I do not snore!”
He laughed. “You do,” he said, “but it’s cute.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I can’t let you go, mi esposa,” he said, the mirth dropping from his voice. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman before, and I’m a selfish man. You can’t leave me.”
It was a promise and a threat all rolled into one, but that perfectly described Angel in all walks of life.
Why would him loving someone be any different?
“I won’t leave you,” I said. The thought of being away from him ever again made my stomach turn inside out.
If I had my way, he would never be outside of my line of vision ever again.
“I don’t like what you do,” I added because it had to be said.
“I don’t think I’ll ever approve of it, and I don’t like how it makes me feel about myself because despite all of that —” My throat tightened around the words.
Angel cupped my face. “What?” he prodded.
“I love you too,” I said. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his, soft and chaste, for the first time since our wedding day.
Angel groaned and moved in to kiss me again.
His tongue brushed my bottom lip before it dipped inside, tangling with mine.
My hands found their way into his hair, and I held on as he kissed me and kissed me until my head was swimming.
“Hey!” Omar called from the front seat. “You better not have sex back there! I’m not prepared to see that.”
Angel wrenched away from me with a laugh. “Way to ruin the moment, cabrón.”
I smacked his chest. “Be nice to your brother,” I said.
His eyes landed back on mine. “Anything you want, mi esposa.”
I leaned into him, kissing him again. Now that I allowed myself, I couldn’t get enough of the feel of his mouth on mine. “I want a shower,” I said, and Angel laughed…until we made the final turn before reaching the compound.
His eyes went stormy and dark. “We have to deal with Gustavo first,” he said.
“With your father? Why?” But then realization set in: he had been the one to bring that man into the house. I knew there had to be someone on the inside helping — how else could he shut down all of the security cameras? — but I never imagined that Angel’s father would be behind it. “Are you sure?”
Angel nodded. “He knew about your pregnancy,” he said. “He wanted you gone.”
That didn’t make any sense. The man was all about me giving Angel a baby; it was the reason that he forced Angel to marry me. “I don’t understand,” I said. “I knew he wasn’t thrilled by me, but did I offend him that much?”
Angel took my hand and squeezed. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “I don’t think Gustavo wants anyone to be happy but himself.” It was jarring to hear Angel use his father’s given name, like the man was already dead to him.
“Angel, think this through, okay? Don’t do anything rash.”
“I’m perfectly calm, mi esposa,” he said, which was the least reassuring thing he could have said. A calm Angel was, usually, a deadly one.
I squeezed my fingers around his, bringing his gaze back to me. “Don’t do anything dangerous, okay? I couldn’t stand it if I lost you.”
He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it, leaving a dirty smudge across his chin that I reached up to wipe away but only managed to make worse. “He can’t get away with what he did to you,” he said.
“And I’m not saying that he should…but you need to be safe.”
“He’s a sick old man, mi esposa,” he reassured me. “Omar and I could have taken him down years ago, but we didn’t out of respect.”
“And that’s pretty much gone,” Omar chimed in from the front seat.
“Agreed,” Angel said.
That part of myself that I didn’t like —the one that could overlook Angel’s ruthlessness —reared her ugly head.
His father won’t ever get to hurt us again, she said.
Good riddance. I didn’t want anyone’s death on my head…
but I couldn’t say that I would be sad if the man ended up in the swamp next to his lackey.