“If you ever call yourself that again, a spanking will be the least of the punishments coming your way.” His voice was hard, harder than I’d ever heard it. He pointed a finger at me. “You are no fucking whore—not like that. I hate the fucking idea of that asshole touching you, and if I could go over there right now and tear him in two, I would. I will get back here as soon as I can.” He stepped toward me, stalking me as i stepped away. I couldn’t handle his touch. If he touched me, he would make me melt. Make me believe things were going to work out for us, but I knew they wouldn’t.
My retreat ended when I bumped into the wall. He flashed me a wicked grin as he trapped me further by putting his hands on the wall on either side of me, and pushing his body against mine. I looked up at him, ready to tell him to move, to beg him to let me go, but his lips captured mine before I was able to get out one sound.
Everything in me softened. The tension disappeared, the fear, the anger, all washed away with his possessive kiss. His hands moved to cup my face, holding me where he wanted me, where I wanted to be. Under him, under his power, and his command. He didn’t yield, not one inch, until he was ready, and even then he continued to hold me close to him, our noses touching, our eyes locked without each other.
“I will get you out of there. I promise.” A vow, spoken low and with more determination than I had ever heard him use. “Sit tight. I will make him pay for everything, I swear it.”
I couldn’t do anything except blink, another tear slipping down my cheek. “I don’t want you
to get hurt,” I whispered.
“It’s gonna take a lot more than Jayson and some cartel assholes to keep me away from you.” He gave me another kiss, shorter but with as much power as the first. “Keep your phone on you at all times. I will text as soon as possible. If you need me, if you need anything you text me. I’ll get someone out here to help. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
He wiped the tears from my cheeks and released me. The cool air brushed against me without him pressed against me and I wanted to pull him back. I wanted to wrap myself around his waist and beg him to stay. To take me with him. Not to leave me behind. But I knew he couldn’t. He had to do this, had to take care of whatever he was being sent on. I could handle another week, I could do that for him. For us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MASON
Getting into Mexico couldn’t have been easier. They practically opened their arms to us at the border. Except for the dirty look they gave Tick. It was the tattoos on his head; I warned him about those. My tats were pretty easy to cover up with sleeves. We just looked like two American guys headed down to Mexico for a week’s vacation. The border patrol never even questioned the need for such a large van for just two guys.
Getting back through to go home would be different. We knew that and still hadn’t figured out how to get across the border without being stopped. I hoped Bernardo would have some ideas. Spending a decade or two in prison was not on my bucket list of things to do. Massy promised to kill Tick if anything happened to him on this trip.
“Shit.” Tick whistled as we turned down the last road toward Bernardo’s place. A fucking fortress was laid out before us. Two men stood outside a guard tower holding machine guns. Thankfully, Tick remembered enough Spanish from high school to tell him who we were and they let us through—after making a quick call to the house.
Several men stood at the front steps of the massive home watching us pull up the drive. Once I parked the van, two of them left the pack and headed to my door.
“Mason Day.” The man that opened my door did not look like any drug dealer or thug I’d ever seen. He sported a tailor made suit, with shoes that undoubtedly could pay my mom’s rent for a few months. His dark hair was slicked back, and not a single tooth was missing.
“That’s me.” I hopped out of the van and offered my hand. “That there is Tick.” I nodded toward Tick, who stood at the front of the van looking more uncomfortable than he had at the border.
“Tick?” the greeter asked, looking confused.
“Uh…yeah. It’s a nickname.” I shrugged. “When we were kids, he had a nervous tick in his cheek,” I explained, ignoring the daggers Tick’s glare shot at me. He hated when I explained the name to anyone, so probably more so that I was telling the cartel. “Long time ago.” I waved off the topic.
“The other men?”
“They should be here tomorrow. We spread out.” He seemed appeased by my explanation and guided us to the house.