Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) (27 page)

He pretends he doesn’t hear me and keeps talking. “I was up to no good while Moon was in college. Minor stuff—working for minor players and bringing drugs across the border. My old man was involved, also in a minor way. You could say it was a family business. Moon knew what we did. So did his father. Moon’s father tried to pay for me to attend college, but I was too proud to take a handout.”

Gomez fills his glass again but doesn’t bother with mine. This story bothers him, and he’s clearly as uncomfortable telling it as I am listening to it.

“Every year Moon’s dad went into Mexico and South America and surgically gave children new lives. His wife accompanied him as his surgical nurse. They were loving and giving people. The best. El Señor took photos of these children—before and after their procedures. You have no idea what hell these kids went through. Moon’s dad did amazing work and gave them a chance to live. He created miracles.”

Pride is in Gomez’s voice, and it hits me that I want him to be someone he’s not. I want the same thing for Moon. I don’t want either of them to be bad men.

“Moon’s father and mother were working with a medical team in an area run by one of the cartels. They paid bribes and thought they were safe. The cartel kidnapped Moon’s mother and held her for ransom. The sad fact is that Moon’s parents had little money to spare. They saved all year to make the trip into Mexico and were also paying Moon’s college tuition.” Gomez laughs gruffly. “If I’d taken Moon’s dad up on his offer to pay for my college, he would have found a way to do just that. Maybe he would have even taken that year off and not gone to Mexico. I’ll never know.”

He drinks the shot and I wonder if he’s as drunk as I am.

“Moon’s father tried explaining that he wasn’t some rich doctor who had the kind of money they demanded. That didn’t go over well. They sent his wife’s hand back with her simple gold wedding ring still on her ring finger.”

Fuck. I don’t want to know this. Moon’s ring, holy shit. I lift my feet onto the chair so I can burrow my head into my knees. An unbelievable ache fills my chest and I swear I can actually feel that ring slide across my cheek.

“Moon’s father lied and told them he had the cash. He went to the prearranged location with nothing but a death wish. He knew he couldn’t stop them from killing his wife. He decided to die with her.” Gomez breathes in deeply and continues. “They raped her in front of him and then hacked her into little pieces while she screamed, or at least screamed until she died. It didn’t stop them, and they continued cutting her until only a bloody, unrecognizable mess remained. They beheaded El Señor with a serrated knife while he screamed and drowned in his own blood. To make it worse, if that’s possible, they filmed the entire nightmare. They sent that video to the next person’s family they kidnapped so they would know what happens when you don’t pay.”

I look at Gomez. He’s staring at the same bookcase I was earlier. Tears slide over his cheeks and he doesn’t bother wiping them away. I have seen very few men cry in my life and never would I expect it from Gomez. His voice is scratchy as he continues, “Moon and I were already in Mexico searching for answers when the video surfaced. My mother died when I was young and I thought of Maria, Moon’s mother, as my own.” He stares in silence at the bookcase; the stream of tears now steady.

For me, putting a name to Moon’s mother somehow makes this horrifying story more real. It’s real for Gomez—as real as it gets.

“Moon and I swore vengeance on the men who killed his parents. I had a few connections.” His fingers grip tightly on the arm rests of his chair. “Finding the men in the cartel took months. We eventually caught three of them and took them to an old rundown garage where no one could hear them scream. One by one, we did exactly to them what they did to Moon’s mother. We used a broomstick and sodomized them until they bled. While they were still screaming, we cut them up piece by slow painful piece. We did it one at a time so the next would know exactly what was coming.”

Fuck, I’m going to be sick. Tears run down my face. I have a few chips remaining in my hand and I release them onto the table.

“It took us six months to find and kill them all. In the course of our vengeance, they killed my father, who was helping us by calling in favors from his contacts. We moved my sister out of Mexico so she would be safe. Because of us, she’s moved over and over. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive us, but she’s happy now with a husband who loves her and their children. I’ve never met my nieces and nephews. It’s too dangerous. Within a short amount of time, another fucking cartel took the place of the one we slaughtered. The cartels continued growing and they began infecting the U.S. Border States. These men are evil. They have no conscience.”

Gomez pours another shot for me and drinks his straight from the bottle. How many shots have I had? Four? Five? Who gives a fuck? I drink another.

“After Moon and I left Mexico, he joined me in running drugs. He refused to return to school. We were no longer boys with childhood dreams. We were killers, and we will never regret those deaths. The longer we stayed in the petty drug business, the more horror we witnessed. The cartel’s rules were something Moon and I wouldn’t stand by and allow on this side of the border. We decided to balance out the bad.”

I think, in my fuzzy brain, that he’s trying to tell me that they’re good and honorable in their own way. I must have said this aloud because he laughs.

“There is nothing fucking honorable about us. We do our best to keep guns out of terrorist hands, but we know we can’t stop it completely. Look what the U.S. government has done. Fast and Furious is a great example. When guns fall into the wrong hands, people pay with their lives on both sides of the border. Then there are the drugs. Moon has a big problem with drugs. He can’t stop it, so he feels his only choice is to control it. That doesn’t sit well with him. I’m not nearly as squeamish as Moon. I say fucking poison the drug supply and release the information to the media. If you die, you fucking die. More crimes happen, including murder, so addicts can have another fix. I have no sympathy. We’re lucky I’m not in charge.”

I try to speak. It starts as a jumbled mess. “Well, fuck,” I finally manage to get out. “You’re trying, ummm, to tell me you’re good guys?”

I don’t know how he’s doing it, but he doesn’t seem to have as much trouble putting his thoughts together as I am. Or at least I don’t think he does. “Go to sleep,
pequeña. We’ll solve the problems of the world tomorrow.”

My eyes are already closed, and I lean my body to the side and curl tighter into the softness of the chair.

The pictures in my mind are of blood and death and more blood. I need another drink.

Chapter Thirty

I’M LIFTED FROM THE
chair and I let out a small groan. “Go back to sleep. I’m carrying you to my room,” Moon says. My arms and legs are useless, so I do what he says.

When I finally wake up, light hits my eyes and I struggle to climb out of bed before I puke. I run into Moon’s bathroom and barely make it to the toilet. Chips and tequila are not a good combination when they come up. When I think everything is expelled from my stomach, I turn on the shower and strip off my bra and panties. Moon must have removed the rest of my clothes last night. My toothbrush is in the drawer beside Moon’s, and I thoroughly brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth.

I’m never drinking again. The water burns my scrapes, but I don’t care. I wash from head to toe, including my hair. I feel horrible and that doesn’t change as I stand under the water and let it pound down on me. I have no idea how long I remain like this, but I finally realize I’m delaying the inevitable. I leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Moon’s bathrobe is lying on the bed and I slip it on. He’s sitting in a chair across the room when I come out. He’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.

“I have coffee and juice over here. Ibuprofen too.” I don’t want him being nice to me, but I need a clear head, so I walk over to where the juice and coffee are. There’s water too. I grab it after sitting down in the chair across from Moon. I don’t look at him as I reach for the pills and swallow them along with the entire glass of water.

“Alex is in about the same shape as you. I’m glad I missed the party.” His voice is gravely and I wonder if he slept at all.

I can’t look at him or speak. I’m entirely too raw right now. My feelings are all over the place. I’m essentially here, in his home, against my will. He’s treating me with kid gloves. I remain silent and close my eyes hoping the pills take effect quickly.

“I’m sorry you saw what happened last night.”

A tear leaks through my closed eyes. “You’re not sorry you did it, though, are you?”

“No.” Just one word and it holds so much meaning.

For him, this is simple. Kill or be killed. When you live in that kind of world, those are the rules—a brutal crime-filled world that has taken over my life. I can’t help but think of Harry beating Penny to death. My tears run freely. Strong arms wrap around me and I’m lifted from the chair. Moon sits down and curls me into his lap. He smells so good. I cry against his shirt with his arms wrapped tightly around me. I inhale past my stuffy nose and breathe him in. His soap, his strength, his protection. I shouldn’t. I replay Gomez’s drunken confessions last night. I’m so confused.

“Are you forcing me to stay here?” I finally ask on a sniff.

He hesitates before answering. “It’s complicated.”

His response is something you would see on a Facebook relationship status, and I laugh.

“It doesn’t get more fucking complicated than this,” I say. I should just stop talking. “Gomez told me about your parents.”

“Hmm, Alex has a big mouth when he drinks.”

Yes, he does. “I don’t know how I feel about everything. I want to understand. I want you to be one of the good guys. I can’t pretend, though. I watched you kill a man. You didn’t hesitate. You shot him while he was tied to a chair and beat up so bad he probably couldn’t walk away if he tried. You shot him,” I repeat. I mumbled all of this against Moon’s soft shirt.

“I make no excuses for who I am, baby.”

No, he never has. It’s me who made the excuses. “I want to go home,” I tell him.

“I know you do, baby.”

We sit in silence as the pills finally start kicking in. I’m tired. Weary, actually. Weary of everything that’s happened this past week. Moon eventually places the glass of juice to my lips.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.”

I swallow the juice and it’s good. Fresh squeezed. He returns the glass to the table when I’m finished drinking. His arms tighten. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I don’t know why you’ve taken over my thoughts.” His stubbled jaw slides against my cheek. “After you hit your head in the garage, I sat near the bed where you lay and watched you. Watched you breathe in and out. Saw your breath hitch every now and then. Your expressions changed too. I checked the dilation of your eyes. I knew they were brown. I removed your pants and uncovered your long legs. I thought about them wrapped around my hips before you ever woke up.”

Moon’s finger runs across my lips. “I knew these were soft and I hadn’t even tasted them. I also knew, or at least thought I knew, how good you would taste. I was wrong. You’re honey and mint and pure sweetness. Your skin,” his finger moves to my throat, “is so incredibly soft. I wanted you before you ever opened your eyes. Once you did, I was lost. There’s no coming back from where you’ve taken me.”

My eyes closed while listening to his calm, deep voice. I open them. “Kiss me, Moon. Take all the bad memories away.”

He leans down and lifts me higher. “Memories never go away, baby.” His lips drop the last few inches.

He’s right. The kiss doesn’t remove the memories. I need his mouth, though. I need Moon as badly as I need my next breath. I slip my hands beneath his shirt and slide them up his warm, muscled abs. He partially lifts me so I’m sitting up. I slide my legs to either side of his hips. My knees are bent and tucked on either side of the chair. The kiss changes. It’s more than a kiss.

Moon unties the belt of the bathrobe and it falls open. I unbutton his jeans and quickly tear down the zipper. I find him through his boxer briefs. Silky, hard and hot. Moon reaches into his pocket and removes a condom package. I’m too turned on to be angry that he knew I would give in. I’m impatient as he slides it over himself. I lift up, position him, and sink down, impaling myself. Cock into waiting pussy.