Accidental Protector: A Marriage Mistake Romance Read online

  A second later, an explosion so loud I scream rips through everything.

  It's apocalyptic. The truck jostles from the impact, the force, and the rear-view mirror reflects a ball of fire so massive and bright, it's like daylight, even though it's well past midnight.

  Adrenaline still flowing, keeping my heart racing and my foot on the gas, I drive. Just race along the road until a sudden knock on the back window has me glancing over my shoulder.

  It’s Noah. Intact. Alive.

  He holds up one hand.

  That's my cue. I slam on the brakes.

  He’s on the ground before the truck’s at a complete stop and pulls open the door.

  “Are you okay?” we both ask at the same time, arms entangling as we try to get them around each other.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “How are you?”

  “Amazed.” He kisses me. “By my opera-singing bounty hunter.”

  I kiss him, swiftly, before saying, “It’s not over until the fat lady sings.” I gesture toward the truck's rear.

  “Yeah. This should be the easy part,” he growls. “Jump over, darlin'. I’ll drive. That explosion will have the cops here in no time.”

  I scramble over the console. “What about Lucient?”

  “He’s not going anywhere, believe me. We're taking him out somewhere nice and private to have our talk, just like he wanted.”

  I never thought I’d ever be okay with holding a man hostage, but I’d never experienced pure evil before tonight.

  It’s out there in this world and Lucient is proof. I don’t voice my hope that he’s dead, but maybe I do.

  Then again, Noah needs him alive for some reason.

  Hercules climbs in and we take off. I notice the blood on his cheek, the long jagged line. I reach into the glove box for a napkin and help him, insisting he let me.

  “Lucky, it's fine. I've had a whole lot worse. Must've caught a piece of shrapnel or that fucker's switchblade before I got it out of his paw.”

  My heart knots up in my chest, contemplating all the ways I could have lost him tonight. “Quit fighting. You're hurt and I'm helping.”

  When he reaches the highway, his bleeding stops. I’m surprised we merge onto it, a major route with a prisoner in the back. Then again, I don’t know where else we’d go.

  Wondering, I ask, “What's next? Are you turning him in?”

  “Eventually. Right now, we get answers.”

  Whatever that means. Still, the way his jaw sets, plus the dark excitement in his eyes tells me this isn't the time for more questions.

  I glance at the traffic nervously. God, we're taking our chances.

  If a semi drives by, they could easily spot a body tied up or handcuffed in the bed of the pickup. “Should we think about a back route, maybe?”

  “We will.” He nods at the flashing red lights racing towards us on the other side of the median, and then at the lights in the sky. A helicopter in the distance, scouring the countryside. “Sometimes, it’s smarter to hide in plain sight. We've got the darkness on our side, darlin'. Headlights on a back road would be investigated right now. Here on the highway, they're nothing special.”

  I nod. “Lesson learned.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Lucky.”

  I roll my hand so our palms touch, his huge, rough hand eclipsing mine. “We make a good team, Hercules.”

  He grins, nodding. Then focuses on the highway. “One more request.”

  “You name it.”

  “Let me handle the rest of this. Alone. Please, Mindy. I need this.”

  I want to be pissed, to tell him we’re in this together, all the way...but relationships, every kind, are full of give and take.

  Whatever's about to happen, it's deeply personal. Besides, I know enough about love to know it’s always when one person takes all the time, leaving the other to give all constantly, that things go sour. Another thing New Mindy understands, freed from selfish pricks like Charlie.

  “All right,” I say. “Remember I’m here. You know that, Noah. I’ll have your back if you need me.”

  22

  Man to Man (Noah)

  This is it.

  The moment I’ve waited months for, and thanks to Lucky, she’s not only safe, I’ll finally get justice for Jess.

  We’re miles away from everything. In the middle of true nowhere. Haven’t seen another car since we pulled off the highway.

  I step on the brakes, let the truck roll to a stop. Lucient’s conscious again. He’s been kicking and squirming for the last half hour, scuffing his feet against the metal.

  I’d have enjoyed seeing him come to, hands tied behind his back and ankles bound.

  Fully prepared to tell Lucky to stay put, wait inside the truck, I turn her way.

  “I’ll know when you need me. Go.” She reads my mind, that beautiful woman.

  I smile, suddenly seeing the rest of our lives laid out real neat and easy.

  Flashing one last wink, I squeeze her hand. “Won't be long. I bet Lucient was thinking he’d drugged the wrong woman when you let loose with that AR.”

  “I don’t give a crap what he thinks. As long as you don’t think I’m the wrong woman.”

  “Never, darlin'. You were made for me.” I’m delaying the inevitable.

  A part of me doesn’t want her to see what’s about to happen.

  Making men talk can be brutal. Savage. Unfair.

  The sooner this shit is done, the better.

  “Wait for me.” Those are my last words.

  I throw open the door and shut it behind me, entering a different world. It's one where I’ve been before. Where I have no heart. Just a merciless need to pull everything out of Cesare Lucient, and how much pain that takes is entirely on him.

  Lucient looks at me as soon as I'm close, hot rage in his eyes. “You simpering, reckless, traitor-roach...you’re dead, Bernard. Dead.”

  I walk to the tailgate and pull it down, sighing. “Mighty big words for a man who's tied up and flat on his busted face in the back of a pick-up. Still soaked in gas, too.” I crawl in, then grab his bound ankles and start dragging him out. “All in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  He's exhausted, despite his snapping turtle quips. He's easy to overpower.

  I roll him over the end of the tailgate, not caring if he breaks anything or not. After a hard bounce on the ground, he flops onto his back like a fish.

  “You bastard! Didn't you hear me the first time? You'll die for this. A marked man for life. You and your whore.”

  Grinning, I kneel, gun in hand. “Yeah, I am a bastard, I suppose. Best word for what's coming next.”

  The whites of his eyes grow bigger. His Adam’s apple bobs. “You kill me and there will be a bounty on your head. Forever. My family –”

  I chuckle, loving how his words wilt mid-sentence. “No, Cesare, your family won't do shit. There's a lot about you I don't know, but I do know they weren't too happy when you came to the States, working outside their jurisdiction, and started raising all kinds of hell. You're not worth anybody's trouble. You'll be forgotten before your body’s even cold. That’s how it works in mobs, cartels. Always some asshole beneath you, ready to take one more step up the ladder. A year from now, no one will even remember your name.”

  He’s trembling. Shaking his head. “No. No.”

  “Yes.” I'm snarling when I come so close our eyes are only an inch apart. “Fuck yes.”

  His eyes are glistening. Tears forming. His dark soul cracks before my eyes.

  For a second, I get a flash of this warped kid from a rich family, who had to find his pride and his money in the darkness. But he's gorged himself on too much suffering to deserve mercy.

  Now's the time. “What happened to her, Lucient?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  Damn. Cracking or not, he isn't broken.

  I pull the slide back on my gun, cock a shell in the chamber.
“Wrong fucking answer.”

  A sneer crosses his face as he growls, “Shoot me then, Bernard, because I'm telling you the truth! I know where you’ve been, what you’ve done, how many people you’ve killed in the line of duty. I’ll see you again in hell. Neither of us will ever know what happened to your backstabbing whore of a cousin. That's half the reason I wanted you, so I could find her again, and shut her up for good.”

  Liar!

  This fucking prick knows how to push my buttons. I know how to push a few, too.

  “That's a real shame. Hell's so abstract. There are things worse than death and fire up here, Cesare. Far worse.” I stand, plant my boot on his bent elbow. “Start talking. Tell me what you know about Jess, or I’ll start right here, and work my way up, breaking every bone in your body. Then leave you out here paralyzed to die. Alone with the ants and birds.”

  “I don’t...I don't fucking know where she is, you freak!” he shouts. “You’re the one who drove her away. Afraid she might get hurt. You put ideas in her head, taught her to slip right through my fingers.”

  A shiver gnaws my spine. What the hell is he talking about?

  “Don't you understand? It was never her I wanted. Not in the end,” he says. “I needed Jess to get to you. If I ever wanted to move up the ranks, I needed more than men with anger and fists and basic aim. I needed a soldier highly motivated to fight for my operation.”

  I say nothing, doing the many confused calculations in my mind, trying to decide if there's any truth in this worm's words.

  “We can still make a deal, Bernard. It's not too late, even after all this. I’ll give you a bigger cut.”

  I shake my head, not believing him, even as my gut tells me he could be telling the truth. Fuck.

  Increasing the pressure on his arm, I spit my next sentence. “I don’t want a cut of anything you have, demon.”

  “But it’s easy, clean work. Shipments, shipments of goods are disappearing before they make it to the border into the US. I need someone to find out where they’re going, who’s taking them. There’s money in it for you. Lots and lots of money. Once the merchandise is recovered –”

  I cut him off with more pain, ramming my foot into his body.

  That’s the lowest shit, what he's offering. One smuggler stealing from the next.

  It also happens all the time. “I'm not finding any fucking smugglers for you, Cesare, but I still want to know about Jess. Cough it up, and you just might live. Where'd you find her car?”

  “In the police impound lot where it was towed, idiot!” He sneers. “What do you think? Had to hire someone to steal it, get it out of there. I knew you wouldn’t accept just the picture. But I thought it might be enough to get you thinking. Let you know that I have people everywhere.”

  “Thugs,” I say.

  “Loyalists. Men who do whatever I ask.”

  I stomp on his arm till he hisses in agony.

  “What part of it’s over don’t you understand? You don't have shit here. Not anymore.” I ease up my foot. “When did you have Jess' car stolen?”

  “Months ago,” he groans. “What the fuck does it matter? I don’t know where she is. I don't care. I was only using her to get to you. Don’t act like you didn’t know it! Like you didn’t hide her away yourself, probably, covering every last trace so you could get to me and do this. Who hired you, Bernard? How much are you getting paid to turn me in?”

  Lunacy.

  Fuck, he really doesn’t know.

  Time to change subjects. “Bullshit. Why the drugging in the casino that night?”

  “Drugging? What drugs?” He shakes his head. “Harkness? He wasn’t drugged, he was drunk. Are you blind, too?”

  Fuck again. I don’t know why, but I believe this asshole. Nothing is making sense, and that's what tells me he isn't lying.

  Sure, he’s still a piece of shit. A drug dealer. Trafficker. Murderer.

  I take a moment, contemplate that, and then decide to give the bastard one final shot.

  If he can just give me some straight answers that'll give me a starting point to look for Jess...

  Pulling the lighter out of my pocket, I lean down and tear the chest pocket off his gray jacket. I flick the lighter, hold it to the scrap in my hand, let him see how fast the gas-soaked material catches flame.

  “No, Bernard. God, no!”

  I blow on the flame, make it grow.

  “No! Ask me. Anything! I’ll tell you. I don’t know where your cousin is.” He’s crying in earnest. Shaking. Sobbing. “I-I swear, please, the fire...”

  I toss the square of material safely past him, watch it land on the ground and catch a few bits of dried brush on fire. “Who do you work for? I know you're not the independent king shit you pretend to be.”

  “Martinez. Hugo Martinez.”

  I reach down and give his sleeve a hard yank, right on the shoulder seam. The material screeches as the threads rip apart all the way to his elbow.

  “Wrong answer,” I say. “Reyes DeLeon works for Martinez. Covers the Arizona border all the way through Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming. Martinez knows to stay the fuck out of Nevada. Too much chaos, too many gangs and bikers. Brutal competition.”

  Here comes the lighter again.

  “No, wait!” He tries scooting away, but the small brush fire is on that side, so he stops. I stop just short of igniting him. “Not anymore. Whoever's stealing shipments, they got DeLeon. He disappeared a few months ago. That’s when I was promoted. Saw my opportunity. Had to keep growing, and needed skills to do it, like yours.”

  I stare right through him.

  Lucient's chin quivers. “Any way I could. Martinez mentioned you once. Knew you could find a lizard in the desert. I dug into your family. Found out about your cousin. Wasn't hard to bait her, such a hungry girl, chasing the only thing that really matters.”

  He smiles, flashing a gold tooth I've never noticed before. “Jessica was an easy way to you, and it would've happened months ago, but she disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Barely a week after I had her chained up and on her knees.”

  This vicious puke. I close my eyes, picturing the hideous things he might've done to her, however long she was in his clutches.

  I have one eye on the small brush fire that’s still growing, filling the air with smoke. Sickening shame I'll have to put it out before it really starts to spread. “Who else knows about Jess? That you were using her to get to me?”

  “Tony and Luis.”

  His minions. I can tell by the tension in his voice he means the assholes who went out with the blast at the gas station. “Who else? Dig deeper. Fast.”

  His nervous glance strays between me and the fire growing closer to his side, speeding up. “No one. I swear! No one else knew who she was.”

  I hear the truck door open, look up, see Lucky holding the blanket we’d laid on while watching fireworks. She stops near the side of the truck, waiting for my sign.

  “What’s your real name? Cesare Lucient sounds like a fucking wrestler.”

  “Santigo. Santigo Garcia.”

  I nod. It's familiar. “So, they moved you from the Central American border to the North?”

  “I moved myself,” he snaps proudly. It fades just as fast. His eyes are on the flames growing closer, licking at the brush, mere inches from his other side. “Yes, whatever!”

  I stand, step over his head, and then take the blanket from Lucky. It’s damp.

  Smart thinking. She must've poured a bottle of water on it. I'm impressed.

  I flip the blanket open and toss it over the fire to smother it out. I stomp on the blanket to make sure the flames are all extinguished. Then I step away from this shitshow for a breath of fresh air.

  “Where’s Jess?” Lucky asks.

  I shake my head. “He doesn’t know.”

  Confusion fills her eyes. “Huh? He doesn’t...”

  She sees my face and goes quiet. I can't fucking hide it.

  Disgust fills me. I’ve put h
er through hell, risked her life, all for nothing.

  I look at Lucient, still writhing on the ground. Well, almost nothing.

  Eyes locked on mine, she steps forward. “We’ll find her, Noah. We’ll find her, wherever she is.”

  It's bull, but she's trying to make me feel better, so I just grab her. Hold her so tight it hurts.

  In a twisted way, she's right. Whatever happened to Jess, at least I'm not alone anymore.

  I'm still holding her thirty seconds later when the entire sky rips open.

  An artificial rumble. Close. Much too close.

  Before I can react, a helicopter spotlight shines down on us, intense and blinding.

  Me. Lucient. Lucky.

  We're fucked.

  The swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the blades drowns all other sounds and the wind whips dust and sand into the air as the helicopter sinks lower to the ground. I grab Lucky, pull her head into my chest and cover her, taking the brunt of the wind and sand pelting us.

  I hold her tighter as the ground rumbles beneath us while the skids punch the dirt. The propellers continue swooshing even after the engine cuts.

  The whole area stays lit by the spotlight, and I wait till the wind dies down before I lift my head.

  We're so completely screwed.

  Men dressed in dark tactical gear and carrying assault rifles climb out, Federal patches on their clothes I can't quite make out. The first four wait for a fifth one to press forward, a bigger man, then they follow as he starts walking closer.

  My mind is racing. It's probably the government, but fuck, there's also a chance Martinez’s cartel has more of an air force than some small countries. They're also not above camouflaging themselves as law enforcement.

  Then the big man walking through the others speaks. “It’s good to see you, Bernard!”

  I recognize the voice before he's close enough to see his features. “Perez? What the fuck?”

  His laugh is as brash as ever. “The one and only.”

  The tension leaves my body like a balloon popped by a pin. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for that piece of shit you have tied up on the ground,” Perez says, stopping next to me. “You know how big a hero I'm gonna be when I drag this snake home? I owe you a round, buddy.”