Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

But at the same time, it would feel unbelievably good to finally get revenge for what Ellie did. Petty thoughts, horribly petty, but Javier is okay with that. He’s more than okay with that.

If revenge is a dish best served cold, then this will be the fucking feast of the century.

No matter what happens at this point, Javier will win.

It will be fucking glorious.

Javier’s phone rings and he punches the talk button like a striking snake.

“Parada,” Javier says, bringing the phone to his ear.

“I think they’re leaving,” Parada says from somewhere in San Francisco.

“For here?”

“I don’t know. It was brought up like they had discussed it before, elsewhere, so I don’t know the details.”

Javier sighs, closing his eyes, controlling the rising flames in his chest. “Well tell me what details you do fucking know.”

“The girl, Violet, is being followed. She was attacked.”

Javier raises his glass to his lips and pauses. “By who?”

“I don’t know. Not by one of ours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve talked to our men. One had been stationed outside her house. He never saw her leave but she must have at some point. The attack happened on her way back from a nightclub.”

“Fucking amateurs.” Javier’s fingers curl around the glass so hard he thinks he could just shatter it. “That’s who I have working for me, nothing but idiots.”

“She escaped. Fought him off. She doesn’t know who he was either and they brought up that she was followed a few weeks ago by some, I don’t know, albino guy? Some white guy. Really white.”

“The fuck? How white can these Americans get?”

Parada continues. “She went straight to Vicente after this happened. Didn’t go to the police, didn’t go home.”

Javier manages a cold smile. “So she really does trust him.”

He clears his throat. “Yes and no. He told her a bit of the truth.”

“And that is?”

“That his father runs a drug cartel.”

“Oh fucking hell.” He rests his head on the desk.

Vicente, Vicente you stupid, stupid boy.

“Don’t worry,” Parada says. “It only helped. The honesty. She doesn’t care about the cartel, or that he lied, or that he is Vicente Bernal. It means nothing to her. And now they both trust each other. I think they might leave within three weeks.”

“Did they say that?”

“She said she wanted to get through a few weeks of school, finish the semester.”

“And we don’t know where they would be going?”

“I’ll find out soon enough. She mentioned Vegas and he laughed. So as it stands, I don’t think she knows they’re going to Mexico.”

Javier rubs at the line between his eyes. It’s impossible to smooth out. “And they might not go at all. I obviously can’t predict Vicente as well as I thought I could. For once, he’s taking his sweet fucking time.”

“That’s because of all the sweet fucking,” Parada jokes.

Javier grows scarily silent for a moment, then says with utmost sincerity, “You know that’s my flesh and blood you’re referring to.”

“Si, patron.”

“Right. Well it doesn’t matter. Wherever they go, we will follow. If he wants to fall in love while getting his dick sucked, it will only make his own life harder, not mine.”

“I’ll report back tomorrow,” Parada says before hanging up.

Javier sighs and leans back in his chair, downing the remainder of tequila in his glass.

He starts planning what he’s going to do with pretty little Violet McQueen.

It won’t be easy, especially if Vicente has no plans to bring her to him in the end.

But it will be worth it.

It always is.





Chapter Twenty





Violet




Two weeks.

I just have to make it two more weeks before I can even think about leaving with Vicente.

After the attack, it’s all I can think about.

Despite what Vicente told me about him.

His terrible truth.

That he’s the son of an infamous drug lord.

He’s still the only person I feel safe with.

Maybe because even though I saw his guns and I know his secrets, I know that he has the means to protect me so much more than anyone else has. Not only that, but he has the means to teach me how to protect myself. I got lucky in my fighting. Next time, I want to put a bullet in the man’s head.

The only thing that scares me is how good that might feel.

I had to tell my parents that the bruise on my face was because I got too drunk and hit my head on the side of the table. I made it into a funny story, roping Ginny into it without her knowledge.

I know they don’t believe me, though.

Even worse, I know they think it’s Vicente.

Despite how much concealer I piled on the bruise, you should have seen my father’s face when he saw it the next morning. I swear he was going to start tearing the house apart. It was the same wild, nearly demonic look that Vicente had when I showed up at his hotel. I guess I should feel relieved that two of the most important men in my life feel that protective over me but relief is hard to come by these days.

I worry that I should have come clean with my parents. But they would have made me go to the police. And now that I know that Vicente has ties to a drug cartel, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to put him in any danger and there are a lot of cops and law enforcement out there that are just dying for this sort of thing. Any excuse to deport someone, regardless of what citizen they are.

I also know that if I had told my parents that I was attacked, they would never ever let me out of their sight again. Which would make leaving here a lot harder.

And they probably wouldn’t let me see Vicente again.

Which, I know, is what this is eventually leading up to.

Every night that I come home from spending time with him, the questions come out. Both my mom and dad have started up some kind of patrol and I can never seem to get inside and to my room without being given the third degree.

Never mind the fact that I’m twenty and there is absolutely nothing they can do to stop me.

Two weeks. I’ve made it through one. I have two more to go.

They’re going to be rough.