Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 61

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“You should know that I have your parents,” he whispered into the top of my head. “They’re safe with my sister in Puerto Vallarta.”

Even though Javier had never told me he loved me, I still had never known such love. I couldn’t thank him enough, couldn’t get over how absolutely selfless he had been, and all for me.

We sat like that together, me gathering strength in his arms, until a few DEA agents burst onto the balcony with their guns blazing. One of them I didn’t even know was a woman until she took off her helmet and shook out her hair. She stared down at Salvador’s body in dismay.

“Honestly, it was self-defense,” Javier protested at her disapproving glare before she could say anything.

“But I bet you still enjoyed every moment of it,” she said.

He smiled. “Of course I did.”

And I did too.

I could tell Javier was nervous though, about what the DEA might do with him since Salvador was dead and he’d broken the one condition. But by the time the medics arrived by helicopter and had treated his head wound and splintered up my broken fingers and applied antibiotic creams to my body, we were told we’d be free to go anyway.

“He may not be alive,” the woman, whom I learned was Lillian Berrellez, said, “but at least we were able to dismantle the Sinaloa Cartel. That’s not too shabby.”

No, it certainly wasn’t. Even though there was a cartel that was ready to take its place: Javier’s.

The DEA knew that, too. But for now, we were shaking hands and agreeing to walk away from each other.

I knew Berrellez would be back though. And if I was still by Javier’s side at that time, I’d be making sure she didn’t get far.

In this business, you didn’t build empires by being good. And though I’d never truly be able to forget the person I was and could never fully eradicate my morals, I was looking forward to being bad.

I was looking forward to getting dirty.

Very, very dirty.

Javier

It was the next day when Berrellez finally dropped us off in Mazatlan. Luisa and I were tired, wounded, and sore, but we were together and the DEA was letting us go free. For now, at least. But that was enough for us. We had each other and we were going home, back to my compound where I would surely scare the shit out of Esteban with my untimely return from the dead.

But even though that was the plan, that wasn’t the only plan I’d made. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what the next step was. I felt as if I were being pulled by different hands, and though I knew which one felt right, I no longer knew what was right. Perhaps I had never known the difference. Perhaps there was no right or wrong anymore, not in this life.

Once Berrellez left, I took Luisa by her good hand and led her out onto the beach. Like usual on the coast, it was a blindingly beautiful day, the heat stunted by the cool Pacific. We weaved our way through thatched umbrellas, fat tourists on towels, and vendors hawking their cheap shit, until I found a more secluded place away from the hustle and bustle of bloated indulgence.

We sat down in the warm sand and I made a mental promise to myself to try and escape to the beach more often. It was nice to leave the controlled comforts of home and step into the chaos. I really had been making too many of my men do the work when I should have been doing it myself. Even though it was risky, it was a lot more fun to get my hands dirty.

“I was thinking that this weekend we could make the trip down to Puerto Vallarta,” I told her. “To see Alana and your parents.”

She beamed at me, her cheeks looking so cute I wanted to fucking bite them. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

“I even have a special present for you there,” I said.

“Ooooh,” she cooed, clapping excitedly. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” Boy, was it ever. There weren’t many men who’d deliver your lecherous ex-boss’s head to you. Then again, there weren’t many men like me.

While she sipped a Corona that I bought from a ten-year-old kid with a cooler, I pulled out two passports from my inner pocket and threw them down on the sand.

She eyed them with curiosity. “Where did you get Canadian passports?”

“They’re ours,” I told her.

She planted her beer in the sand and picked up the nearest passport, flipping it open. There was a picture of a woman that looked almost like her, just a few years older and with different hair, both things that could be easily faked. “Christine Estevez?” she said, reading it. “Who is this?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? It’s legit though. I didn’t have a photo of you so I had to obtain an actual passport through one of my channels.” I flipped open the other passport and pointed at my unsmiling picture, not so different from the actual mug shot I had upon my arrest in the States. “Mine, however, is completely forged. You can’t buy anything better though. It will pass all the tests again and again, so as long as you can remember who you are. I have birth certificates and driver’s licenses, too.”

“Javier Garcia,” she read off of mine. “I think I like Javier Bernal better.”

“Of course,” I said, straightening my collar. “He is the best.”

She bit her lip, thinking. “So why do we have these? Are we going to Canada? I think I have an uncle there, maybe we could go visit him.”

“Darling,” I said to her, pulling her to me. I ran my thumb over her lips then ran it over mine, tasting the beer. “We can go anywhere you want to go. And for as long as you want. We don’t ever have to return.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

I took in a deep breath, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I’d rehearsed this a few times in my head already. For something this serious, this life-changing, I couldn’t chance saying the wrong thing. “I risked everything to get you, Luisa. There’s no way I can risk losing you again. You say the word, and we can run. Tell me to do it and I’ll do it. I’ll give all of this up. We can be free out there, out of danger. We can leave all of this behind.”

“We can’t run away, Javier,” she said slowly.

“Yes, we can. We can do anything we want to do.”

She smiled patiently and gently kissed my lips. “No, my love, we can’t,” she said, cupping my face in her hands. “You can never run away from yourself, you’ll just go in a circle. There is no escape from this life because this is your life and you are what you are. And there is nothing wrong with that.”

Her words sunk into me like the sweetest blade. Even so. “I can’t lose you,” I told her, feeling the truth in my bones.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll gladly live this life with you. I feel that it’s what I was meant to do. To be your queen and rule by your side.”

I rubbed my lips together, trying not to smile at her beautiful phrase. “It’s an ugly life.”

She shrugged. “I know. And it’s all I’ve ever known. But at least now I’ll have enough power to mask the ugliness.”

I grinned. My heart could have burst. “You’ll have all the power. You’ll have everything.”

“And yet all I want is you.”

“You have me, my black heart and my dirty soul.”

I grabbed her and kissed her forcefully, unable to hold anything back. She’d never tasted better. The smell of sun on her skin, the cool ocean spray, the idea of her ruling by my side, with all her good and all her bad—all of it made my heart spin and my dick throb mercilessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more.” I groaned into her mouth, falling back into the sand and bringing her down with me. I pulled her on top of me, gripping her legs so she was straddling my waist. My tongue eagerly plunged into her mouth again and again, stirring the flames that I wasn’t able to hold back. I’d dreamt about this for days and days.

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