Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Alex
T wo days later, I stood on the tarmac of a private airstrip in Tahoe, squinting against the harsh sunlight. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, a far cry from the arid heat of New Mexico we'd left behind. Layla paced beside the jet, her stilettos clicking a staccato rhythm on the asphalt.
"You know, if you keep that up, you're going to wear a trench in the runway," I drawled, lighting a cigarette.
Layla shot me a withering glare, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Fuck off, Alex."
I grinned, taking a long drag. "Now, now, is that any way for a queen to speak? I'm wounded, truly."
She flipped me off, resuming her pacing. I watched her, drinking in the sight of her long legs and the way her ass looked in those tight black jeans. The last two days had been a whirlwind of activity, arranging Raul's funeral, consolidating our power base, dealing with the fallout from Carlos's disappearance . Through it all, Layla had been a force of nature, cold and ruthless and utterly fucking magnificent.
But now, as we stood on the precipice of reuniting her with the mother, I could see the cracks in her armor. Her fingers twisted nervously at the hem of her jacket, her eyes darting between the empty sky and the tree-line surrounding the airstrip.
I took another drag of my cigarette, savoring the burn in my lungs. "You know, if you're having second thoughts, we could always turn around. Head back to New Mexico, maybe stop for some green chile cheeseburgers on the way. I hear there's a great little dive bar just outside of Albuquerque that serves them with a side of meth and regret."
Layla's lips twitched despite herself. "You're an asshole."
"I won’t deny that." I shrugged with a wink.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. The motion sent a waft of her scent my way—jasmine and soap, a combination that never failed to make my cock twitch. "What if she hates me, Alex? What if she takes one look at what I've become and decides she wants nothing to do with me?"
I stubbed out my cigarette, closing the distance between us in two long strides. Gently, I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Listen to me, Lala. That woman has spent the last twenty years mourning you. Trust me, she's not going to give a fuck about anything except having you back in her life."
Layla leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When she opened them again, I saw a vulnerability there that made my chest ache.
"You can't know that," she whispered.
I smirked, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. "I know everything, remember? It's part of my mystique."
She snorted, pulling away from me. "Your mystique? Is that what we're calling your inflated ego these days?"
"Ouch, gorgeous."
The roar of an approaching engine cut off whatever retort Layla had been about to make. We turned to see a pickup truck rumbling down the dirt road that led to the airstrip. Dust billowed behind it, obscuring the driver from view.
Layla tensed beside me, her hand instinctively moving to the gun holstered at her hip. I placed a steadying hand on her lower back, feeling the coiled tension in her muscles.
"Easy," I murmured. "Let's see who our welcoming committee is before we start shooting, yeah?"
The truck skidded to a stop a few yards away, and a familiar figure emerged from the driver's side. Gage Warren, looking like he'd aged a decade since I'd last seen him. His hair was longer, pulled back in a messy bun, and a scruffy beard covered his jaw.
I glanced at her, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on her gun. Her eyes blazed with a fury that could melt steel, fixed on Gage like lasers homing in on their target. For a moment, I genuinely wondered if she would gun him down right here on this godforsaken airstrip.
"Well, well," I drawled, breaking the tension. "If it isn't our favorite turncoat. Looking a bit rough there, Warren. Suburban life not agreeing with you?"
Gage's lips twitched in a ghost of his old smirk. "Fuck you, Cortez."
Layla remained silent beside me, her body thrumming with violence. I could practically feel the heat of her rage radiating off her in waves. It was intoxicating.
"You know," I mused, lighting another cigarette, "I seem to recall a certain promise you made, baby girl. Something about hunting down our dear Gage here and making him suffer for his betrayal?"
I watched with wry amusement as Layla stalked towards Gage, her movements predatory and fluid. The poor bastard visibly flinched as she approached, no doubt remembering her rather colorful threats. I had to admire his balls, or perhaps his stupidity, for showing up here at all.
"Hold on now," I drawled, sauntering after her. "Let's not spill blood on this lovely runway. Think of the cleanup costs."
Layla's eyes flashed dangerously as she whirled to face me. "Don't test me, Alex. I'm in no mood for your bullshit right now."
I held up my hands in mock surrender, unable to keep the smirk off my face. "Wouldn't dream of it, my queen. Just offering a friendly reminder about the virtue of patience. After all," I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear, "revenge is a dish best served cold. And I do so love watching you work when you take your time."
A shiver ran through her at my words, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. Even in the midst of all this tension, I could still get under her skin.
Sarge lumbered over, his massive frame casting a shadow over us all. "As entertaining as this little reunion is, we've got places to be. So unless you plan on shooting this pendejo right here and now, let's get a move on."
We all piled into Gage's truck like some dysfunctional clown car routine. The suspension groaned in protest as Sarge's bulk settled into the passenger seat. I ended up wedged in the back between Layla and River, which under different circumstances might have been the start of a very interesting evening.
As we bounced along the winding mountain roads, I couldn't help but appreciate the absurdity of our little group. The tension alone was enough to power a small city. To my left, Layla sat rigid, her thigh pressed against mine, radiating fury. On my right, River loomed like the grim reaper himself, his single eye fixed on the back of Gage's head where he held his gun steadily aimed.
I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped backseat. My movement caused Layla to press even closer against me, the heat of her body searing through my clothes. I caught a whiff of her perfume, and my dick twitched.
"Well," I drawled, breaking the tense silence, "this is cozy. Anyone up for a rousing game of I Spy? I'll start. I spy with my little eye something... deadly and pointed at Gage’s cerebral cortex."
Gage's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting mine with a mixture of exasperation and grudging amusement. "Still a smartass, I see."
I smirked, leaning back as much as the cramped space would allow. "Someone has to lighten the mood in this rolling powder keg of ours."
My eyes drifted to River's hand, steadily gripping the gun pressed against Gage's headrest. The barrel gleamed dully in the fading afternoon light filtering through the dusty windows. I had to admire River's focus, he hadn't so much as blinked since we'd piled in.
"You know," I mused, unable to help myself, "this whole silent, brooding enforcer thing you've got going on is incredibly sexy, River. The unwavering dedication, the rippling muscles, the single-minded intensity... it's enough to make a guy feel all tingly inside."
River's eye flicked to me briefly, a mix of exasperation and amusement in his gaze. "Shut up, Alex," he rumbled, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Layla snorted beside me. "Is there anyone you won't flirt with?"
I turned to her, drinking in the sight of her profile bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Even scowling and covered in road dust, she was breathtaking. "Jealous, my queen? You know you're the only one for me.”
Layla rolled her eyes, but I caught the faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Keep it in your pants, Cortez. We've got more important things to focus on."
"Like not shooting our tour guide before we reach our destination?"
Gage's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Look, I know you all have plenty of reasons to want me dead. But right now let’s just make sure you fuckers actually killed all of Carlos’s lackeys, and that Claudia is safe. So how about we table the death threats until after the family reunion?"
Layla tensed beside me at the mention of her mother's name. I could practically feel the conflicting emotions radiating off her in waves—hope, fear, anger, longing. Without thinking, I reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. To my surprise, she didn't pull away.
"How much further?" Sarge growled from the front seat, his bulk making the truck groan in protest with every bump in the road.
Gage glanced at him warily. "About 20 minutes, give or take. The safe house is pretty isolated."
The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. I kept my hand entwined with Layla's, my thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. Her grip tightened as we turned onto a narrow dirt road, winding deeper into the forest.
Finally, a small cabin came into view, nestled among towering redwoods. The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows across the weathered wood and stone siding. It looked peaceful, almost idyllic.
Gage killed the engine, the sudden silence deafening. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, his voice tight with tension.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then Layla's hand slipped from mine as she reached for the door handle. We piled out of the truck, stretching cramped muscles and eyeing the cabin warily. River kept his gun trained on Gage as the ex-agent led us up the porch steps.
The door swung open, revealing a lithe figure silhouetted against the warm glow from inside. As my eyes adjusted, I took in the newcomer Blonde hair, blue eyes and a bad attitude. Sarah, I presumed. Gage's current partner-in-crime and fellow cop.
Her gaze swept over our motley crew, eyes narrowing as they landed on Layla. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as the two women sized each other up. I had to admire Sarah's balls—or perhaps her stupidity—for the way she deliberately placed herself between Layla and the door, a clear challenge in her stance.
"Well, well," Sarah drawled, her voice dripping with distaste. "If it isn't the prodigal daughter, come to claim her long-lost mommy. How sweet."
This was going to be fun.
"Careful there, Barbie," I warned. "Your claws are showing. And while I'm all for a good catfight, maybe we should take this little reunion inside before the bears get curious?"
Sarah's eyes snapped to me, a mixture of irritation and grudging interest in her gaze, but before she could say a word, Layla beat her to it. “Are you going to block the door all day or do I have to physically remove you?”
Sarah bristled, her hand twitching towards the gun at her hip. "Big talk from a daddy's girl playing at being a gangster. Tell me, how many people did you have to fuck to get where you are?"
Layla moved so fast I barely saw it happen. One second Sarah was sneering at us from the doorway, the next she was pinned against the cabin wall with Layla's forearm pressed against her throat.
"Listen carefully, you sanctimonious bitch," Layla snarled, her face inches from Sarah's. "The only reason you're still breathing is because you helped keep my mother safe. But if you ever speak to me like that again, I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to you. Are we clear?"
Sarah's eyes were wide with fear, but to her credit, she managed a defiant glare. "Crystal," she choked out.
Layla held her there for a moment longer before releasing her grip. Sarah slumped against the wall, gasping for air.
"Now," Layla said, her voice deceptively calm. "Where is my mother?"
Before Sarah could answer, a soft voice came from inside the cabin. "Layla? Is that you?"
We all turned to see an older woman standing in the doorway, her hand pressed to her mouth in shock. The resemblance to Layla was unmistakable—the same high cheekbones, the same full lips. But where Layla's hazel eyes held a hardness born of years of violence, Claudia's brown ones were innocent and confused.
Layla froze, her eyes locked on the woman in the doorway. For a moment, she looked almost vulnerable, like the lost little girl she must have been all those years ago. Then her walls slammed back into place, her expression carefully neutral as she straightened her shoulders.
"Hi, mom," Layla said, her voice steady despite the tremor I saw in her hands.
Claudia took a hesitant step forward, her eyes drinking in every detail of her daughter's face. "Oh my God," she breathed. "It's really you. My baby girl..."
She reached out, her fingers trembling as they hovered inches from Layla's cheek. Layla flinched almost imperceptibly, but held her ground.
"You’re so beautiful," Claudia whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I thought you were dead for so many years.”
Her voice broke on a sob as she finally closed the distance between them, pulling Layla into a fierce embrace. Layla stood rigid in her mother's arms, her own hands clenched at her sides. I could see the conflict there—the urge to melt into her mother's embrace battling against two decades of pain and mistrust.
Layla stood rigid for several long moments, until slowly, hesitantly, her arms came up to return the hug. A choked sob escaped Claudia as she clutched her daughter tighter, burying her face in her hair. "My baby," she whispered. "My beautiful girl. I've missed you so much."
I felt like an intruder witnessing such a raw, intimate moment. Glancing around, I saw similar discomfort on the faces of our companions. Even Sarah looked vaguely uncomfortable, though that may have been due to the forming bruises on her throat.
After what felt like an eternity, Layla gently extracted herself from her mother's arms. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but her voice was steady as she said, "We should go inside. It's not safe out here."
Claudia nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "Of course, of course. Please, all of you come in."
Claudia led us into a cozy living room, gesturing for us to sit. Layla remained standing, her eyes darting around the space as if searching for potential threats. Old habits die hard, I suppose.
"Can I get anyone something to drink?" Claudia asked, her voice trembling slightly. “We have coffee, tea, water..."
"We're fine," Layla cut her off, not unkindly. "Thank you."
An awkward silence fell over the room. Claudia fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, her eyes never leaving Layla's face. For her part, Layla seemed to be struggling to find words.
I cleared my throat, unable to bear the tension any longer. "So, Mrs. Ro?u, how are you enjoying your little woodland getaway? Scenic views, fresh air, constant fear of assassination—all the makings of a lovely vacation."
Claudia blinked at me, clearly thrown. "I... it's been... overwhelming," she managed.
Layla shot me a glare, but I caught the hint of gratitude in her eyes. "Mom," she said, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "I'm not sure how much Gage told you..." Her voice just barely stuttered on his name, but she recovered fast.
"They said you were involved with some dangerous people," Claudia replied hesitantly. “Layla, you’re so lucky to even be alive.”
"Lucky? No, Mom. Luck had nothing to do with it. I survived because I had to become the most dangerous person in the room."
Claudia paled slightly. "What exactly do you mean?"
The truth would likely shatter whatever idealized image Claudia had managed to hold onto of her long-lost daughter. But lies and half-truths would only breed more pain down the line.
"Maybe we should give them some privacy," Gage suggested, moving towards the door that probably led to a kitchen.
Layla's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto him with laser focus. "You stay right where you are," she growled. "You don't get to play the concerned friend, not after what you did."
Gage flinched, but held his ground. "I know you hate me. You have every right to. But right now, this isn't about us. It's about you and your mother."
"He's right," I chimed in, earning a betrayed look from Layla. I shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, baby girl, but the traitor's got a point. You two have a lot to talk about, and an audience isn't going to make it any easier."
With a reluctant nod from Layla, we began filing out of the living room. I couldn't resist pausing at the doorway, turning back to catch one last glimpse of mother and daughter. The tension between them was palpable, like static electricity crackling in the air. Part of me ached to stay, to be there for Layla as she faced this monumental moment. But I knew this was something she had to do alone.
"Try not to burn the place down while we're gone," I said, unable to help myself. "It’s such a pretty little cabin.” I winked, hoping to convey everything I couldn't say out loud. Be strong. I'm here if you need me. Say the word and the cops are dead.
As I sauntered into the kitchen, I found myself in the midst of what had to be the world's most awkward gathering. Gage leaned against the counter, his posture deceptively casual even as his eyes darted warily between River and Sarge. Sarah busied herself making coffee, her movements sharp and agitated. River loomed in the corner like a silent sentinel, his eye never leaving Gage.
"Well," I drawled, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island. "This is cozy. Anyone up for a rousing game of 'Never Have I Ever'? I'll start—never have I ever betrayed the woman I loved and nearly got her killed." I shot a pointed look at Gage, who visibly flinched.
"Real mature, asshole," Sarah snapped, slamming a mug down on the counter hard enough to make us all jump.
I smirked wickedly. "Aw, did I strike a nerve there, Blondie? Don't worry, I'm sure Gage has plenty of room in his bed for you now that the one he really wants would rather fuck a feral raccoon."
Sarah's hand twitched towards her gun, but Gage placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Alex, enough. We're all on the same side here."
I barked out a laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "Are we? Last I checked, you were the reason Layla almost ended up dead or in federal custody. Some friend you turned out to be."
Gage's jaw clenched, guilt and anger warring in his eyes. "You don't know the whole story," he ground out.
"Oh, enlighten me then," I purred, leaning forward with exaggerated interest. "I'm all ears for your sob story about how you were just following orders, how you never meant to hurt her. I'm sure it'll be riveting. Did you know she was beaten for letting you live?" Gage’s eyes widened in what I could only describe as horror. Sick satisfaction filled me. “You really forgot the rules that quickly?”
The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch. I could practically feel River coiling to strike behind me, ready to put a bullet in Gage's skull at the slightest provocation. Part of me wanted to egg them on, to watch the bloodshed unfold. But a larger part knew that Layla needed us all in one piece, at least for now.
I stalked out the back door of the kitchen, inhaling deeply as the crisp mountain air filled my lungs. The sun was setting behind the towering redwoods, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and utterly wasted on our motley crew of killers and traitors.
Lighting a cigarette, I leaned against the porch railing, letting my mind wander. What was happening in that living room right now? Was Layla finally getting the answers she'd been denied for so long? Or was she about to have her heart broken all over again?
I took a long drag, watching the smoke curl lazily into the twilight. Part of me ached to be in there with her, to offer whatever meager comfort I could. But I knew this was something she had to face alone.
The door creaked open behind me, and I tensed instinctively before forcing myself to relax. River.
"Come to join the brooding?" I drawled, not bothering to turn around. "Fair warning, I charge by the hour for quality brooding time. But for you, I might offer a discount."
River grunted, coming to stand beside me at the railing. We stood in silence for a long moment, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the forest in shades of gold and crimson.
"You worried about her?" River asked, his deep voice barely above a whisper.
I took another drag of my cigarette, buying time before answering. “Nah. Our girl's tough as nails. A little family reunion won't break her." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
River's eye fixed on me, seeing right through my bullshit. "It's okay to care, you know. Doesn't make you weak."
I barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. When's the last time you showed an emotion that wasn't 'murderous' or 'slightly less murderous'?" River raised an eyebrow, and I sighed, flicking ash from my cigarette and watching the embers dance away on the evening breeze.
"You want to know what caring gets you? It gets you a front-row seat to watching the woman you love tear herself apart for something that isn’t her fault. It gets you the constant, gnawing fear that she'll never be able to love you back." I turned to face River, letting him see me bare. "Caring gets you standing on a fucking porch in the middle of nowhere, chain-smoking and wondering if the best thing you can do for her is to walk away and never look back."
River's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I'd see the day Alex Cortez admitted to being in love. Should I alert the media? Maybe get you a 'Congrats on Having Human Feelings' cake?"
I blinked, replaying my own words in my head. Fuck. He was right. I'd said it out loud, hadn't I? The realization hit me like a sucker punch to the balls, leaving me breathless and slightly nauseous.
"Christ," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "When the hell did that happen?"
River chuckled. "You really asking me? I'm not exactly the resident expert on matters of the heart."
I snorted. "Fair point. Your idea of romance is probably a smoldering stare and a bullet between the eyes."
"Hey now," River drawled as he took the cigarette from me and took a long drag. "I'll have you know I'm a goddamn Casanova. I always aim for the heart."