Chapter 38
F ive weeks later…
Genevieve
I blamed late-night craving on Kristy Kreme donuts.
Glazed.
Eclairs.
Frosted strawberry.
Hell, I’d take a jelly donut right about now and they weren’t my favorites.
I also blamed my husband who’d enticed me with the delicious treats, having four dozen boxes airlifted only two days before to finally replace the ones lost in the late morning melee.
Exhaling, I stared at the wall in front of me, my concentration shit as of late. Business was booming, including the various legitimate ones I’d insisted on. I had contracts in place, new clients and even the bad guys were coming around to my way of thinking.
While I was still putting the pieces together, running the new corporation aptly named Morales-Torres Enterprises, thank you very much, it seemed to take all my time.
And effort.
I was exhausted lately, barely able to keep my eyes open at night. Five grueling weeks had passed since the last chapter of a horrible novella had embroiled my life. But I was a strong girl. Look what I’d lived through.
Since then, the peace and quiet had been almost… boring.
Not that I should be bored with a man like Jago. He was still always on edge, treating me as if he left me alone for too long, I’d vanish.
Poof.
Was he suddenly having memory problems? Did he not remember I’d defended myself pretty damn well after three attacks and a wild adventure at sea? Or maybe it was four attacks. The entire two weeks had run together into one huge blur.
That only eating donuts solved.
I laughed and glared at the computer screen, noticing the time. Oops. I’d promised to attempt to make dinner tonight, which meant leaving early. Like a real person. Like we were a normal little family.
Right.
I’d likely burn the dish I had planned, but what the heck? It was better than going out to all those fabulous restaurants, right?
When I stood, Emiliano finally glanced over at me. He’d arrived with my driver to take me home.
“Ready to babysit me some more?” I asked, almost angrily.
He stood, looking entirely too uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing. He wasn’t a suit kind of man, but when the protocol called for it, he’d don one. Grunting, he made his way toward me. “I’m not babysitting you, Madame Torres. I’m keeping you safe. And keeping my nuts intact.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, then rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes. Jago threatened to feed them to you if you fucked up. Right?”
The big man looked away red-faced. He was embarrassed that my husband had snarled at him.
I almost laughed but pressed my hand against my mouth to keep from it.
“So, I thought you were going to bug Rodolpho for kicks and giggles this afternoon instead of hanging around my office like a boat anchor.”
“You do realize that man must be a serial killer. Right?”
I snorted when I laughed and bent over to snag my purse from my desk drawer.
Suddenly, a violent urge came over me and it had nothing to do with donuts.
Or maybe that’s the exact reason.
With my hand firmly cupping my mouth, I rushed toward my private bathroom, barely making it inside and on my knees before praying to the porcelain gods.
I’d eaten way too many donuts the night before and this morning. My infamous six to be exact.
I’d barely left any for Marco, and he’d complained.
Bella had snatched one from my hand and I’d almost tackled her to the floor.
I guess I should be thankful they were both thriving after the horrible ordeals we’d been through. Plural. Capitalized. The kinds that should forever haunt me.
The type only donuts could cure.
So there.
My blame of Krispy Kreme donuts was justified, including eating so many I’d gotten sick.
Moaning, I flushed the toilet and crawled toward the bathroom sink, finally managing to stand after two tries. My reflection startled me. I looked like shit.
What the hell? I was supposed to be basking in the glow of being a newlywed.
Well, okay, so maybe my groom was constantly busy cleaning up the mess we’d both made. But at least the women who’d been abducted and sold as slaves had made it back to their homes, and dozens of truly bad guys had been arrested.
While the Moroccan pig, Jamal Fassi had gone underground since he’d been stupid enough to steal the diamonds from a Saudi Arabian prince, the Turkish crime boss remained at large.
That was the reason for Jago’s very testy mood. If I knew him, he’d take care of that.
If not, I’d hunt the man down myself so we could have some peace and quiet.
I washed my mouth out and found a mint hiding in my purse as soon as I returned to my office.
“Are you okay?” Emiliano asked. Both his bushy eyebrows were lifted into sinful furry-looking creatures.
“Fine. Just the donuts.”
“Uh-huh.”
Why were the two little syllables highly exaggerated?
He remained completely oppressive as we walked through the admin pool. He wanted everyone to be afraid of him, but I could tell at least two of the women had their eyes on him.
I’d heard about it too during their now very short coffee breaks.
I grinned. Rules. If I had to follow them, so did everyone else.
He escorted me to the SUV, opening the door like a true gentleman. Once we were both settled inside, I sat back for a nice, quiet ride.
Until my stomach lurched.
I held back, breathing instead.
“Are you sure you’re not sick or something ?” Emiliano asked again, another exaggerated word used.
Oh, God. There was no way. None. Maybe?
Frowning, I lifted an eyebrow and sucked in my breath. “Hold up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to make a stop. A quick… stop.”
Jago
“Motherfucker!”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I kept the gun in the same position as the man slowly began to fall to the concrete floor. It had been a long time coming.
Too damn long.
But I’d found Hamza Bata hiding in one of his holes in the wall. Now he was dead, lying in a pool of blood.
Damn it. I didn’t feel nearly as much satisfaction as I thought I would.
“Good shot, boss,” Kruz told me.
Sniffing, I finally lowered my weapon. “It was decent.”
He chuckled. “What about his men?”
“Take them out to sea. They should become familiar with their surroundings.”
“And the body?”
“Leave it. His death will send a message.”
“What now?”
My thoughts drifted to the night ahead. “Now, home to the wife to celebrate our success.”
“Take her flowers.”
I laughed. Perhaps it had come to that, but I had to admit I was a content man.
There was no driver, only one SUV following me from the Turkish territory. At this point, our reputation as a powerful regime would prevent anyone from attacking us. Did I think Fassi would show his face again? Absolutely, but not for some time.
Maybe I’d be allowed to enjoy my life.
The drive was actually peaceful, the traffic lighter than usual, and I made it home in record time.
With her father’s estate currently under renovation, we’d taken up residence in my home. The thought of having teenagers in the house had initially horrified me, but I’d come to enjoy their company.
When Marco wasn’t sullen.
At least he was considering college.
When I passed the flower shop, I slowed. What the hell?
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up at the estate. Coming home had never felt so satisfying.
After parking and climbing out, I took my time walking to the door. Right now, I felt as if I finally had that time to enjoy.
At least until the next crisis occurred.
Once inside, I gathered a whiff of garlic and onions. And something that reminded me of… a dead body? Well, shit. What was she making for dinner?
“Don’t,” Marco said as he passed, heading toward his room.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try it. I’m just warning you.” He shook his head and burped. “We need to go out to dinner.”
Laughing, I took long strides into the kitchen, shocked at what I saw. Pots and dishes were everywhere, on every surface in the room. Steam was rising from a pot, something boiling over, yet my lovely bride was nowhere to be seen.
To try to keep the kitchen from catching on fire, I turned off both burners, glaring down at the goop inside the pot. It was red, almost like Italian spaghetti sauce burned around the edges.
When I heard a sound, I almost reached for my weapon until I realized it was a sob. A horrible racking sob coming from the other side of the island.
After placing the roses on likely the only clean spot on the counter, I moved slowly toward the sound, finding Genevieve sitting on her butt with her knees bent against her chest.
Her head in her hands.
Her hair was in a ponytail, yet strands were pulled out around her face and sweaty.
I crouched down next to her, leaning my back against the island in the same position.
“I can’t do it,” she said thirty seconds later.
“You can’t do what?”
“Cook!” She snapped her head in my direction. “I tried. I can’t cook a goddamn thing. I’m a failure.” She jerked up and so did I.
“Hey. I knew that, but you know what? You’re damn good at shooting weapons.
And knife throwing. Wow. You’re the best at that.
” I took her into my arms, cupping her chin as I forced her to look at me.
“And wrestling a two-hundred-pound man to the ground. Remember? You’re made to get into the MMA ring at my club. ”
She sniffled and nodded as if debating. “Yes, I am. You’re right. You need to take me there.”
Fat chance in hell. I’d be afraid she’d beat every contestant. Hmmm… Maybe not a bad thing.
“See? You’re brilliant and beautiful,” I told her.
“What else?”
“Donuts. You’re the master at eating donuts. I’m impressed.”
Genevieve groaned. “That’s the problem.”
“Why a problem?”
“The reason I’m in this condition in the first goddamn place. If you hadn’t taken me to that incredible store in Madrid, none of this would have happened.”
“What are we talking about here?” I brushed tears from her eyes. She looked so damn beautiful when she cried.
Which was entirely too rare.
She pulled away and shook her head. “And I blame you.”
“For what?”
“If you weren’t so damn good at making love, I wouldn’t have fallen hard for you and this wouldn’t have happened.”
“What is this?” My tone was much more demanding.
“This!” She pointed at her stomach.
“I don’t understand.”
“Do I need to explain the birds and bees to you?” She took my hand, placing it on her stomach.
“Um…” I thought about what she was saying and felt my eyes opening wide. “You’re…”
“Yep. I know it’s the last thing in the world you wanted, but…”
“Baby.” I cupped her face again. “That makes me so happy.” And it did. I’d never wanted a child, an heir to take my place. I’d never thought about becoming a father, but with her, I could envision a huge family.
“But you don’t love me. This is a contract. Remember?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“What?” She was almost shouting.
“I do love you. The contract is null and void. Your fault, remember? If either party should fall in love with the other, the contract can be terminated.”
She wrinkled her pretty little nose and hissed. “Damn you for reading the fine print.”
“Someone taught me to be a businessman. Someone I happen to admire and cherish. And need to ravage.”
When I pushed her toward the table, she pressed both hands against my chest.
“Ah, shit. Not good for the baby?”
“No, silly. There are dishes on the table.”
Snorting, I raked my arm across the table, sending dishes and utensils flying across the room. “Now there aren’t. Just remember, I will take anything I want.” After gingerly easing her onto the table, I placed both hands on either side of her.
This time when I captured her mouth, I felt a sense of true belonging.
Life was a crapshoot. Bloody. Violent.
And messy.
But every once in a while, it could be filled with something else.
Family.
Friends.
And love.
Who the fuck knew a man like me could find a badass woman to capture my heart?
The End