49. Chapter 49
Rosalina
The sun warmed my skin as I shuffled down the driveway in Oliver’s over-large slides.
I followed the pack as they made their way toward the barn, rolling beat-up wheelbarrows decorated with legs dangling limply over the edges like sad, forgotten Christmas stockings.
The morning breeze ruffled my hair, keeping the scent of death away from my nose.
The house had been pleasantly free of that metallic copper tang when I’d woken up.
In its place was an overwhelming odor of bleach and pine, which was the unfortunate side effect of living with murderers, apparently.
Even if it were for a good cause.
Oliver glanced over his shoulder, checking that I was still behind them. I was. I was done running, even though logic told me I should. Every time I tried, things got worse. I was only ever really safe when I was with them. That had been made abundantly clear last night.
I guess I’d resigned myself to captivity. Not that I would admit it to anyone, but they were growing on me. Every part of me wanted to stay with them. Every part of me knew this was where I belonged. Even if I shouldn’t.
My heart gave an uncomfortable thud as I remembered Francisco wanted to see me in person today, but for now I’d do my best to put it out of my mind and enjoy the beautiful morning.
“Where are we going?” I hurried to catch up, trying not to trip over the borrowed shoes.
Oliver kept one step ahead, blocking my view of his cargo. “To feed the pigs.”
“The pigs? Seriously?” I snorted a laugh despite the grim reality. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”
He chuckled and kept right on walking. “Maybe, but if it works, it works, right? Why else would we keep a barn full of farm animals?”
He had a point.
Personally, I liked farm animals, but they could be a lot of work.
An older man with salt and pepper hair poking out of his well-worn baseball hat waved to us from beside the big, red rolling doors he’d pulled open, and the guys pushed the wheelbarrows inside. I slowed, crossing my arms over my chest to disguise my nerves.
The man tipped the brim of his cap in greeting. “Ma’am. I’m Jon, the groundskeeper. It’s nice to meet you in person.”
My eyes dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry about stealing your truck.” Shit, he was going to hate me. His kind face and warm smile had me wanting to make it up to him.
“Aw, hell. Don’t you worry yourself about that.
That old clunker hasn’t been off the property in ten years, at least. I’m surprised it made it all the way to town, if I’m bein honest. I’ve got an F-250 out at the cottage.
If you want to borrow that, you’ll have to come ask my wife for the keys, though.
” He gave me a wink. “I'd better go help those boys. Never know what they’ll get up to if left unsupervised.”
Well, huh. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that. “It was nice meeting you,” I called after him.
He gave a head bob and disappeared into the shadows to a chorus of squeals. I guess there really were pigs in there.
Cruz passed Jon on his way out of the barn, his black T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and his dark jeans hugging him in all the right places.
Despite his casual dress, his presence was larger than life, even in its stoic solemnity, and my stomach gave a little flutter, pinned under his obsidian gaze.
Cruz didn’t say anything, but he was watching me.
Like he was memorizing everything about me.
I wondered what was going on behind that look of his.
My eyes wandered across the broad planes of his face, lingering on his full lips.
I bet they tasted as good as he smelled.
Like exotic islands and spiced candy, or something.
Cruz’s mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. “You okay, hellcat?”
His rumbling voice did things to me. Nice things.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“You seem nervous.” He stopped in front of me and tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear.
I tipped my head back to look at him. “Shouldn’t I be? You just took three dismembered bodies into a barn to feed to your pet pigs.” For some reason, the idea of it didn’t bother me as much as I’d expected it to. I must be getting numb to the carnage.
He caught my chin with the crook of his finger, holding my gaze steady on his. “Would you rather we left them alive?”
I swallowed as the warmth of his touch ran straight from his skin down to my belly. “Not really.”
What they did was justified. It didn’t make them good men, but maybe bad men killing bad men for the right reason was a sum positive in the world.
“Good, because we couldn’t have let them live, anyway. Francisco won’t agree. That was his second in command, Marcel, and his pack.” Cruz dropped his hands to my shoulders. “You understand what that means, right?”
“Nico is Francisco’s heir. I’m sure he trusts Nico’s judgment.”
Would he, though? Those men weren’t just soldiers, they were part of Francisco’s inner circle. I tried to consider what my father would do and shivered.
Cruz tangled his hands in my hair. “A harsh punishment is coming at the very least, if not war. We need you out of the line of fire. Nico is going in to talk to Francisco. It’s the only chance we have to avoid more bloodshed. We won’t be able to protect you against him, but your father can.”
I wrapped my arms around Cruz’s waist and buried my face in his soft, black T-shirt. “What do you mean? My father can? Clearly not. If that were true, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”
His thick fingers threaded through my sun-warmed hair. “The island is a fortress. We were only able to infiltrate it on a lucky tip, and even then couldn’t get you out. This will work.”
“What if I want to stay?”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Then Francisco will force Nico to torture and kill you.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“That was always the plan. Francisco’s hate for your family rivals anything I’ve ever seen. Once Mariposa was murdered, any possibility of mercy was gone. But you changed everything.”
“We didn’t do that.” I was almost certain we hadn’t, anyway.
“Francisco killed my brother, most of my father’s pack, and left the rest of us for dead years ago.
If we were going to retaliate, it would have been then, but both sides suffered.
If anything, our hate should be worse. It doesn’t make any sense. ”
“Francisco’s motivations rarely make sense these days. He’s more ruthless and violent than I’ve ever seen him. Making rash decisions and flying off the handle at any minor slight. But who can blame him? His wife was tortured to death and left on his doorstep.”
“That’s what I mean. Why would he think my father did that after all this time?
I don’t even know how it would be possible.
If a dead body showed up inside the walls of our estate, I would assume it was someone we knew.
No one else would be able to get that close to the house.
It had to have been an inside job.” I nuzzled against Cruz’s chest, breathing him in, seeking comfort.
His scent warmed me more than the sun ever could.
I didn’t want to be away from him, or any of them, if I could just stop fighting against myself.
“Francisco said it was your father, and we had no reason to question it. All we have to go on is his word.” Cruz’s big hands smoothed down through my hair and under the hem of my borrowed red T-shirt to stroke up my back.
The instinct to purr pulled at my insides as I let out a contented sigh and leaned into his embrace.
“I still don’t believe it.”