THIRTEEN
Evan
I hadn't lived a sheltered life. I had seen so many things. And not all of those things had been pretty. I had seen malnourished babies dying of starvation. I had seen bodies dead in the road from civil and gang wars. I had seen child prostitutes and grown women brutalized by the very male relatives who were supposed to protect them from such horrors.
The world could be a beautiful place.
But it could also be inhumanely ugly.
And, unfortunately, the recipient of most of that ugliness was women.
I had never been unaware of that fact.
But I had personally been sheltered from having those ugly fingers touch me before. I had always been protected by my fath... Alejandro's reputation, by his hovering presence.
It had never occurred to me before that I could be in danger because of him.
I barely had a chance to actually think anything through.
First, I was knocked cold within a minute of the man showing up at my door.
Second, when I woke up in an unfamiliar room, in pain, confused, towered over by a man I knew wanted to make me hurt worse than he already had, I was too worried about trying to de-escalate the situation to think about how Alejandro's sins were coming to haunt me.
I don't think it ever really clicked until he had me on my back, until my face was nothing but throbbing pain from his fists, that it finally clicked what he was doing.
He was going to rape me because my father raped people he loved.
And that was a whole new level of twisted I had never even considered before.
Who raped to avenge a rape victim?
Twisted people.
People that my fath... that Alejandro had twisted to be that way through his actions and the repercussions of them.
There was maybe even a moment of character weakness where I wondered if maybe I deserved it, maybe it was only right.
But then his hands moved to pull my pants and panties down and... I shut that shit right down and tried to hit, kick, scream, anything.
Then there was Luce, looking like some dark, avenging angel, gun raised, knife catching the moonlight in the other.
As I sat outside with the gun clutched so hard that I had marks in my hand for several long minutes after I let it go, I could hear almost everything inside.
I could hear the hisses of pain.
I could hear the begging, the crying, the calls to God.
And mixed with that, I could hear Luce's calm, almost eerily controlled voice through it all.
But then he came out, he got me home, he got the evidence off me, he got me medicine, and he got me in bed.
He was a true dichotomy if I ever saw one.
He was capable of such coldness, but such warmth at the same time.
When I woke up to find him curled up with me, his hair still wet from another shower, the sun starting to peek through the windows, there was a strong, almost overwhelming warm, swelling sensation in my chest.
I had only felt touches of it before in my life, just vague, pathetic facsimiles of what I was feeling right then with Luce.
But I had felt it enough to know exactly what it was.
I was falling in love with him.
Was it crazy?
Absolutely.
Was he someone I should have chosen?
No, of course not.
But that was the thing, wasn't it?
Love wasn't always a choice.
Sometimes it came to you slowly over time, getting to know someone for months and years before that sensation blossomed across your chest because, quite frankly, you knew them too well not to love them.
But sometimes the choice was out of your hands.
Sometimes it happened in a moment.
Sometimes the universe chose for you.
That's not to say you don't have a choice. There is always a choice. To stay. To walk away. To make the decision that was smart, not just the one that felt good.
You couldn't pick the feelings, but you could choose what to do about them.
The problem was, I didn't know what to do.
The smart decision was, of course, to stop it before it got out of hand. He was a wild card. He was a vigilante by profession. He didn't make connections with, well, anyone but me. He hadn't opened up to me about his past. Perhaps he never would.
That being said, this was a man who hadn't held a grudge about me kidnapping him and holding him hostage. He had given me the truth about my parentage thanks to his obsessive brand of need-to-knowing. He had accompanied me with barely a pause. To Texas. To Brazil. He had sweated in misery with me. He had made my body come alive with his touch.
He had killed for me.
Maybe his past didn't matter.
Maybe all that mattered was the way I felt more myself around him, how I felt safe with him, how I felt free to be someone other than who Alejandro Cruz had made me to be.
"See this?" Luce asked, making me shock back. I had thought he had drifted back off to sleep.
His hand was holding mine, eyes watching intently. "See what?"
"This," he said, chipping my nail polish back more than it already was.
"What am I looking at?"
"Your new nail growth is clear; no Mees' lines. Whatever had the arsenic in it, you've been away from it for a bit."
"Well, I'm glad I'm not dying," I admitted with a small laugh.
I had almost forgotten about the arsenic. So much else had been going on.
"Me too, doll, but that is still a mystery that needs solving when we get back home."
That was true.
But that was a problem for another day.
If the lines weren't growing in, I was relatively safe. I needed to do a heavy metal cleansing as soon as possible, but plenty of people survived arsenic poisoning in their lives with little to no negative effects.
I would be okay.
"You need to get some sleep," I said, feeling his fingers curl between mine and squeeze.
"I'll be fine."
"You'll make yourself sick."
"Worried about me," he said, his hand turning mine so his knuckles could graze my cheek. "Can't say I hate that," he added. "How you holding up?"
"I've been better," I admitted because it was honest. "But I could have been a lot worse."
"No, you couldn't have," he said with so much conviction that I actually believed him, like he had some kind of superpower that would have stopped the attempted rape and murder no matter what.
"Thanks to you."
"Don't thank me," he said, voice a little hollow. "It shouldn't have happened in the first place."
"Right, because you totally should have known that my father had enemies here that might want to hurt me. That was totally your job."
"You got this," he said, releasing my hand to touch my face, "on my watch. That's unacceptable."
"It's over," I said, trying to diffuse the situation, noticing the way his jaw was tightening. "And after we see Gabriela today, we can head out, okay? Get away from this. Get back to our lives."
"If you want to stay and spend some time..."
I was shaking my head before he even finished. "I don't really want to be here a minute longer than necessary. I can, I don't know, I can have her come visit me, right? That's what people do. They take turns visiting."
"Maybe now that she has a reason, doll, she would consider moving back to the states. That was always her plan, obviously."
Was that possible?
Maybe.
I definitely felt a connection with the woman, and I had only known her a few hours. She had been looking for me for decades. If it meant she could make up for lost time, maybe she would consider coming back and starting over again.
"I could get her papers," Luce said, seeming to sense where my mind was going. It was a bad time for immigrants to try to get into the US. "If she wants to come, and she can't get in through the legal channels, I know a forger who has been doing shit like this for longer than I have been alive. Hell, longer than your mother has been alive. If that's the route you want to take, Ev, all you have to do is say the word."
See?
Good.
True, his colors would never be white; it was all gray and black for him, but that didn't mean there wasn't goodness underneath the shields he wore.
In fact, even his job, as brutal, as awful as it may have seemed, had at its core the right idea - saving those who couldn't save themselves from predators they didn't even know existed.
If there was anything I learned from this whole ordeal, it was that you never knew who was hiding evil. It could be your next-door neighbor. It could be the father of one of the kids your daughter is friend with. It could be your own father.
You never really knew.
Hell, at least Luce wore his darkness, didn't try to hide it or pretend it wasn't there.
"Where are you?" Luce asked, making me snap out of my thoughts again.
"Nowhere important," I said, feeling a bit guilty because it was a lie, but it was a small one. "How long is it going to take us to get to town?"
"Twenty if we take our time," he said, rolling onto his back to check his phone for the time. "We still have an hour and a half before we need to head out."
"Gives me time to check flight schedules," I agreed, rolling so that I was half on Luce's chest. "Among other things."
So maybe it wasn't exactly 'normal' to want to hook up just hours after you were kidnapped, beaten, and almost raped. But with my head still doing a steady, uncomfortable pounding, my lip sore anytime I tried to speak, and scratches on my thighs that burned slightly when anything brushed against them, I just wanted to feel something good. I didn't want my only memory of being with Luce to be slightly marred by what happened almost directly after.
And maybe, since realizing I was falling, I just plain wanted him.
It was that simple.
"Other things, huh?" he asked, carelessly tossing his phone toward the other bed, still mussed from our rolling around in it, and moved his hand down my back to rest at the lowest spot of my back, his pinkie and ring fingers grazing the swell of my ass. "Have anything in particular in mind?" he asked, eyes already getting heavy-lidded.
"Oh, I can think of a few things," I offered, sliding my thigh up and over him, feeling his cock pressing into my flesh. "What?" I asked when his eyes went a little... sad?
His hand raised, touching just outside my lips. "Can't kiss you."
I winced slightly, disappointed too.
But I wasn't going to let that ruin the moment.
"Oh, but I have so many other areas that can be kissed," I said, smile going wicked.
"Mmm," he growled, hands moving to my hips, pulling me until my legs were straddling him, forcing me to press my hands down beside his body so I could lift up and look at him. "Like where?"
"Hmm," I said, leaning my head to the side, and balancing on one arm so I could trace a finger down my neck. "Like here."
"Well, that does look like a good spot," he agreed, leaning in to run his lips, tongue, teeth over the sensitive skin, moving up with me as I pressed back to a seated position to give him better access. "Anywhere else you have in mind?"
I took a deep, shaky breath, pulling back, then slowly lifting up my shirt, discarding it to the floor. "Here, maybe?" I asked, running a finger between my breasts.
"Definitely there," he agreed, ducking his head, his soft hair brushing over my painfully hardened nipples as his tongue traced between my breasts.
His head shifted, his wet tongue tracing my hardened peak with soft, excruciating caresses, making the heavy, almost oppressive weight of desire settle down low in my belly. He moved across my chest to torture my other nipple before resting his face between my breasts, angling his head up. "Anywhere else you can think of?"
"Well, there is one more place," I agreed, feeling his hand slide behind my back to support me as I moved to lay flat, lifting up my hips. "I just need to get these shorts off to show you exactly where."
"I think I can help you with that," he agreed, sliding my legs from around his back and reaching for my hips to grab the material. "Legs up, doll."
My legs lifted straight as he slid the material up then off my ankles, running his fingers down the backs of my calves, knees, thighs. Then they slid between, almost at the highest point, pressing, and spreading them wide onto the mattress.
"So," he said, sounding a mix of clinical and amused, but his eyes were molten, "where was it you needed kissing?" he asked, smirk devilish.
"Well, I seem to need you here," I said, hand sliding down my belly, watching as his eyes followed the motion aptly, before pressing my fingers over the triangle of my sex.
"Here?" he asked, brushing my hand away, using his fingers to spread my lips even further. "On your sweet fucking pussy?" He looked up for affirmation, though he damn well knew what I wanted. "Well, twist my arm, why don't ya'?" he asked, dropping down and, before I could even draw a breath, his mouth was on me.
He didn't tease.
He didn't drive me up slowly.
He feasted.
He sucked my clit.
He thrust his tongue inside me.
He moved back up to work my clit with his tongue as two fingers thrust inside, turned, and raked over my G-spot.
Just when I thought the orgasm was never going to come, he pressed hard into my G-spot as he sucked in my clit.
And I freaking... shattered.
He worked me through it, dragging it out, then slowly released as my clit became over-sensitive, moving across to bite into the soft flesh of my inner thigh, up my belly, under my breasts.
It didn't matter that I had just come, it didn't matter that it should have been enough to stem the desire. As soon as he rose up and looked down at me, eyes scorching, smile wicked, the urge to have him inside me was almost painful.
I moved up, pushing him backward until he was flat on the bed again, going almost frantically for the waistband of his pants, working them and his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock.
"Hold on, Ev," he said, sounding both husky and amused as I went to straddle him. He half-rolled away to the side of the bed, digging in his bag, and coming back with a condom. "Okay," he said a second later after protecting us. "Have your way with me," he demanded with a smirk as he held his cock at the base to allow me to move to lower myself down on him.
There was no pretending to go slow, to make it last, to, essentially, make love.
I was too needy, too far gone with the need for him inside me.
I dropped my hips, taking him deep on a loud moan, my head thrown back as I tried to pull air back into my lungs.
"Fuck," he growled back, hands sinking painfully into my hips. "Ride me, Ev," he demanded as I took a second to try to pull it together.
And, yeah, screw trying to pull it together.
I'd much rather fall apart.
With him.
"Great fucking view," he groaned as I started riding him, my breasts bobbing with the wild, frantic motion of my body.
One of his hands stayed at my hip, anchoring me to him, making sure my movements didn't get too haphazard. The other moved inward and down, pressing into my clit. It stayed motionless, but as my body rocked, it rubbed with perfect pressure, making my pussy tighten around his cock, making me get closer.
"Already?" he asked, looking pleased.
And it was right about then that the first deep, hard pulsation of my orgasm started where our bodies were connected. "Fuck yeah, already," he growled, thrusting upward into me as the orgasm came crashing through my system, making me half-collapse forward onto him, crying out his name as I did. "Nope, not done with you," he said as I tried to lay flat and nuzzle in, enjoying the tingly aftermath of my orgasm.
With that, he rolled, so I rolled, landing on my back, losing all contact with him as he jumped off the edge of the bed. Reaching up, he snagged my ankles, and dragged me to the foot of the bed, slamming back inside me before I could even gasp.
That was when Luce let go of his carefully-held control.
I don't know if it was the worry for me the night before, or the violence following it, or the hours (I imagined) of dealing with the aftermath... or what, but he was wild, borderline savage. He fucked me with every bit of primal instinct in him.
And I loved every brutal, deep, hard stroke.
I loved the loud, rumbling sound of enjoyment in his chest.
I loved the way that no matter how lost he was in his own need for release, he still reached between us, he found my clit, and he made sure I got mine another time before he found his own release, cursing out my name as he came deep inside me.
It was a long minute before he pulled out of me, disappearing into the bathroom for a second, then coming back out, pulling off his shirt I never got around to discarding.
"Too rough?" he asked, coming up to the side of the bed where I was just a pile of useless bones and flesh.
"Nuh-uh," I said, shaking my head. "It was perfect."
"Scoot," he demanded, smiling softly down at me.
"Can't. Can't move," I said with a small smile.
He chuckled at that, the sound turning my belly liquid.
But before the feeling could settle, he was reaching down, yanking the blanket underneath me, and sending me rolling with a laugh.
"Oh no you don't," he said, grabbing me as I almost rolled off the bed, pulling my back against his chest, cocking his legs up under mine. "Are you sure?"
"Sure?" I asked, too caught up in how good it felt to have a man like Luce spooning me to remember what we had even been talking about.
"That that wasn't too much. I don't usually..."
"Hey," I cut him off, wrapping my arm around the arm he had across my chest, and giving it a squeeze. "If I'm not into something, Luce, I will tell you I'm not into it. You don't need to, like, hold back with me because you're afraid of freaking me out."
"Anyone tell you recently that you're pretty fucking amazing?"
"Nope."
"Fucking sin," he said, giving me a squeeze as he leaned in to plant a kiss to my neck. "Where you going?" he asked, making a grab for me as I made a grab for my cell.
"I just need to check the flights."
"In a rush to get out of here?" he asked, voice oddly guarded.
Not understanding that reaction, I turned with my cell to face him. "I don't want to be in this country any longer than necessary after last... after everything. I don't want to run into any of my fath... any of Alejandro's old enemies. The safest place is back in the US where, as far as I can tell, he didn't really do much business. You would know better than me, I guess."
"He was careful in the US," he agreed, tone still guarded for reasons I couldn't fathom. "It's harder to bribe people to look the other way while you poison men and rape women." I felt the wince, but didn't know it was so visible until Luce's face fell, until he sighed. "Fuck. Sorry. I don't mean to be a dick."
"Then why are you being a dick?" I asked, not one to mince words.
"What's the plan, Ev?" he asked oddly.
"The plan? For today?"
"For when we board a plane, land in Jersey, and drive back to Navesink Bank? What then?"
"Oh my God," I said, unable to stop the smile that pulled at my lips. "Are we doing this?" I asked, too amused to find myself in this situation to remember to be delicate.
"This?"
"This... the talk. The relationship talk? Is that what this is?"
Luce rolled onto his back, scrubbing his hands down his face. "No. Yes. Fuck, I don't know, Evan. I don't like not fucking knowing things. This has been great, but is this it? Did you want an adventure and a taboo fuck from some guy who kills people for a living and has a past he won't even tell you about?"
"Luce..."
"Tell me," he said, turning his head on the pillow to look at me, seeming to hold me frozen with those deep eyes, and the seriousness in them that I didn't quite understand. "Are you going to go back to Navesink Bank and start your life over, doing your best to forget about me?"
"I'd never forget about you," I said honestly. It wasn't even a remote possibility. "It doesn't matter what does or doesn't happen, there's no way I could forget you. Or this," I said, waving a hand around.
"I'm not saying it's gonna happen today or tomorrow or a week from now, but I'm saying..."
"What? You're saying what? Because right now, you're saying a whole lot of nothing, Luce," I said, moving to sit up, forgetting all about my nudity in my annoyance.
He angled his head up to look at me, the slightest twitching of his lips showing a sign of amusement that didn't meet his eyes.
"I guess I'm saying I'm no fucking good for you." He paused, but there was a heaviness in the air around us that told me it wasn't my place to speak yet. "And that you would be smart to get back to the States... and forget all about that time you went slumming it with some scar-covered killer in Brazil."
Oh, the good old-fashioned 'it's for your own good' argument. Usually, it was a dickhead's way of 'letting you down easy.'
I just didn't think that was true of Luce.
I genuinely believed he felt I was better off without him, that he thought so lowly of himself.
I had a feeling, too, that the phrase 'scar-covered killer' was key. Not so much the killer part, because that was always clear from the beginning.
I think it was about his scars.
I think it was about his past.
I think whatever he had been through had made him feel unworthy.
And that was ridiculous.
But he would never believe that I meant that because he knew I didn't know his past.
The problem was, I promised I would never ask.
I took a deep, steadying breath, holding it, then exhaling.
My hand dropped the phone, and reached out to touch the center of the ugly word on his chest.
"I won't ever ask," I repeated. "And it doesn't matter."
"You don't know that."
But I did.
And when he opened his mouth to tell me, it didn't prove me wrong.
It was horrible.
It was sickening.
But it didn't matter.
Whether he would believe that or not.