The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom to shower.” I peeked over my shoulder. He alternated between flexing and curling his hands into tight balls. Obviously, our relationship had run its course—at least in his mind. He made me all these promises, and now he couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go back to your room and do whatever you were doing.”

“No. Wait. I’ll stay. Let me help you.”

“Not if you’re going look at me like you’re going to be sick.” I didn’t turn around. I kept walking. I didn’t want to see the pity or disgust flashing across his face like a neon sign.

His arms circled my waist and he dragged me against his chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

My body battled with my mind. My body wanted to sink into his embrace and beg him to never let go. My mind wanted to fight him, scream at him, and curse him to hell.

“The look on your face says it all, but I don’t get it. Even Noah was more compassionate than you, and I’ll probably never see him again. You, on the other hand, can’t run away from me fast enough. You made me all these promises. Promises you have no intention of keeping. Are you going to ship me back to Evan again? Is that what this is about?”

He spun me around so fast, I felt like I had vertigo. “All this is my fault. I should’ve let you go. I should’ve stayed far away from your engagement party. Look at what I’ve done to you.”

“Are you talking about this?” I held up my arm, waving the still pink and puckered letter A above my head.

He swallowed and nodded.

“Well, I don’t give a shit about it. Just like everything that happened over the last few days, it will fade. It can be fixed. Everything can be fixed. I only care about us and our future.” I’d spent every moment of the last five days reliving our moments together and dreaming of being with him again and he was pushing me away…again.

“You’re right,” he murmured, guiding me into the bathroom by my shoulders. “We’ll take this one day at a time.”

He turned on the bath and poured some bath salts into the water. Without meeting my eyes, he pulled my t-shirt over my head and slipped my panties down my legs swiftly and without a comment. Goosebumps kissed my greedy skin, and I swayed on my feet. My soul wept for his touch. His kindness. His love.

The second the bath filled, he tipped his head toward the tub. “Get in and relax.”

For an uneasy second, I stared at his face, willing him to see me…really see me. I wanted him to tell me he still loved me. I wanted him to promise me we’d have a family and grow old together. Words circled the tip of my tongue like marbles, but nothing came out. I didn’t know where to start.

He sighed heavily and combed his hands through his inky hair. My gaze fixated on the slight tremor. It was the only indication he still cared. Any sane girl would have run away a long time ago. But here I was, exposing myself to more heartache, praying he wouldn’t push me away again.

“Just leave it alone for tonight,” he whispered. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Just get in and let me take care of you. I need to take care of you.”

My shoulder muscles crawled up my neck. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to talk to him. Every passing second another emotional door slid shut between us. By tomorrow, I’d need a battering ram to get through to him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Please,” he whispered, briefly shuttering his eyes. “Don’t fight me on this.”

A weighty exhalation whistled through my lips, releasing hundreds of unsaid words. He was right. I was tired. I ached. My arm still throbbed.

Wordlessly, I slipped into the bathtub. A moan tumbled from my lips without my permission, and my eyes fluttered closed like butterfly wings. Steaming hot water lapped around my neck. God, this felt amazing. I could sit here for hours.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I rolled my head from side to side without opening my eyes. “No. Noah brought me a plate of food before I fell asleep.”

His feet shuffled on the tiles. “Good. A doctor will be here tomorrow to take a look at your injuries.” He cleared his throat. “And to do an ultrasound.”

My eyes cracked open, and I raised my injured arm out of the water. “My arm and hand are hurt, but other than that, I think I’ll be okay. The ultrasound can wait until we get home.”

“It’s already scheduled and I’m concerned about you. Both of you.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “When are we flying home?”

For strangled beats, he stared blankly at the wall, the expression on his face tough to interpret.

“Ignacio’s jet will take you home the day after tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to leave.” My eyes slid closed again. “Are you glad we’re done with this place?”

He kissed my forehead. “Dunk your head under the water,” he said, not answering my question. “Let me wash your hair.”

The bumps of my spine tapped against the acrylic tub as I plunged into the warm water. When I surfaced, Ryker squirted shampoo into his hand and massaged it into my scalp. Thirty seconds later, all my confusion melted away. I didn’t want to worry about tomorrow or next month. I wanted to enjoy this moment with him.

Cupping his hands together, he dribbled water over my head again and again until my hair was free of suds.

“Thanks,” I said.

“My pleasure. It’s the least I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. This was my fault.”

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, silently trailing down my face. “I forgive you.”

He stared icily at the floor, looking stricken. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

I traced the line of his jaw, and he inhaled sharply. The sides of his face hollowed, and his chiseled cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. His thick eyelashes sheltered his gray eyes. The symmetrical arch of his top lip begged to be kissed.

“Get in here with me,” I pleaded, unwilling to accept his need for distance any longer.

The corners of his lips curled upward, but he didn’t say anything. He dipped his bruised and battered hands into the water and curled them around the curved lip of the tub. “I don’t want to rush anything. We have time.”

Craving him, I chewed on my lower lip, and then I tugged on the collar of his shirt. “No. I need to be close to you right now.”

I needed to feel connected to him.

I needed to know the Alvarez Cartel hadn’t destroyed us.

I needed to feel his hands on me and wipe Enrique’s touch from my mind.

I wanted to be wanted.

I wanted to be normal.

Is that so bad?

Staring at me almost reverently with heavy eyelids, he rubbed his hands together. I wanted him so much that I stopped breathing for a suspended second. I was in agony. He groaned softly, gripping the edge of the tub. “Hattie, I don’t think—”

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