Third Grave Dead Ahead
Page 37
“Fifty-five forty-seven Malaguena northeast.”
I stood deathly still and absorbed his words, his meaning. My heart stopped in my chest as an utter disbelief and an odd sense of betrayal washed over me. It wasn’t every day that an escaped convict recited my parents’ home address. Every nuance of Reyes’s demeanor confirmed the sincerity of his threat. He stared at me, waiting as the realization that he was giving me no choice but to cooperate sank in.
“And my reach,” he added with a knowing tilt of his head, “goes far beyond those prison walls.”
Visions of my dad emerged, of his warm smile. Even though he was trying to force me out of my own business, I would do anything for him, including aiding and abetting. Hot tears burned the backs of my eyes as I glared at Reyes. Our relationship had just dropped to a new low, one filled with contempt and distrust. How could I have felt so much for him?
I stood a long while, refusing to comment, letting the anger churning inside me take root, lead me, harden my heart. I had been a fool. No more. Never again.
“We understand each other, then?” he asked. He hadn’t moved a muscle. He just stood there and eyed me as if allowing me to soak in his words, to contemplate the consequences of any action I might take against him.
I eyed him right back. “You’re an ass**le.”
His smile held no humor. “Then we understand each other.”
The door opened and I stepped to the side without averting my gaze. If he wanted a war, a war he would have.
* * *
We were shown into a spacious kitchen with commercial appliances and the coolest toaster oven I’d ever seen as Bianca put the kids to bed. They’d apparently been waiting up to see their uncle Reyes. Poor kids. They had no idea how dysfunctional even their pretend family members were.
Amador closed all the blinds, then started peeling Reyes’s clothes off as Bianca hurried in with what medical supplies they had on hand. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander when the coveralls came off, then the prison uniform. He was completely na**d underneath and I tried to look away, but even injured, he resembled a Greek god. His perfect skin tight around the hills and valleys of his muscles. Bianca wrapped a towel around his lower half as Amador inspected the wound.
“I need a shower,” Reyes said as he downed three of whatever painkiller Amador handed him.
Amador shook his head. “I don’t know, bro. If this gets infected.”
“It’ll heal long before it has a chance. Just give me that peroxide,” he said, gesturing toward the table, “and I’ll be good.”
As he spoke, I stepped around for a better look, and my head spun at the sight. His entire left side looked shredded, deep gashes exposing muscle and bone. He couldn’t have weathered those injuries without at least one or two broken ribs, possibly more. Dark bruises were already spreading over his abdomen and up his chest. “Oh, my goodness,” I said, reaching for a chair.
“Charley!” Startled, Bianca scrambled to help me into one. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, fanning my face. “No.” I stood again and faced Reyes with a new fury. “Why are you doing this? Why risk your life?”
“Dutch,” he said in warning.
“No, this is crazy. Why would you do this? You’ll get nowhere.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You know what I mean.” I stepped closer, forcing my eyes to stay locked on his face. “They’ll find you. They always do.”
“Dutch,” he said, reaching out and taking hold of my chin, “I do actually have a plan.” He glanced back at Amador before I could say anything else. “Speaking of which, I’ll also need some duct tape and a pair of handcuffs.”
Amador grinned. Bianca sighed, a blissful expression softening her face.
9
What would MacGyver do?
—T-SHIRT
“Is this really necessary?” I asked, jiggling the handcuffs.
The animosity I felt at having my father threatened had waned ever so slightly in the wake of one constant reality. Reyes had threatened me before, more than once. Truly like a cornered animal, he lashed out until he got what he wanted, and yet he’d never hurt me, or anyone I care about, for that matter.
There had been police officers in the next room and he didn’t want to be taken back to prison, so he did what he always does, he went for the jugular, knowing how I would react, knowing I would do anything for my dad. Despite my rationalizing the situation, it was hard to get past the fact that an escaped murderer could recite my parents’ home address on cue.
“It’s either that,” Reyes said, gesturing toward the handcuffs with a nod, “or I tie you up and lock you in the basement. I’m good either way.” The most devilish grin I’d ever seen crept across his face. Damn his evil dad.
Bianca brought in more towels and a fresh change of clothes for Reyes and set them on the closed toilet seat. Which made sense, since we were now in a freaking bathroom and I was handcuffed to the towel rack. Handcuffed! This was too much.
She giggled, raised her brows in a gesture that was nowhere near subtle, then closed the door behind her. It was a conspiracy.
Though he had yet to turn on the water, Reyes dropped the towel and stepped into the shower. The bleeding had stopped. With his back to me—not that that fact helped my weak knees in the least—he poured the peroxide over the open wound. I heard it bubble and him hiss, but my eyes were glued to his lovely backside. Immaculate shoulders covered in the smooth lines and sharp angles of his tattoo tapered down to a slim waist and quite possibly the most beautiful ass I’d ever seen. His legs were next, solid and built for battle. Then my gaze wandered back up to his arms, like corded steel and—
I stood deathly still and absorbed his words, his meaning. My heart stopped in my chest as an utter disbelief and an odd sense of betrayal washed over me. It wasn’t every day that an escaped convict recited my parents’ home address. Every nuance of Reyes’s demeanor confirmed the sincerity of his threat. He stared at me, waiting as the realization that he was giving me no choice but to cooperate sank in.
“And my reach,” he added with a knowing tilt of his head, “goes far beyond those prison walls.”
Visions of my dad emerged, of his warm smile. Even though he was trying to force me out of my own business, I would do anything for him, including aiding and abetting. Hot tears burned the backs of my eyes as I glared at Reyes. Our relationship had just dropped to a new low, one filled with contempt and distrust. How could I have felt so much for him?
I stood a long while, refusing to comment, letting the anger churning inside me take root, lead me, harden my heart. I had been a fool. No more. Never again.
“We understand each other, then?” he asked. He hadn’t moved a muscle. He just stood there and eyed me as if allowing me to soak in his words, to contemplate the consequences of any action I might take against him.
I eyed him right back. “You’re an ass**le.”
His smile held no humor. “Then we understand each other.”
The door opened and I stepped to the side without averting my gaze. If he wanted a war, a war he would have.
* * *
We were shown into a spacious kitchen with commercial appliances and the coolest toaster oven I’d ever seen as Bianca put the kids to bed. They’d apparently been waiting up to see their uncle Reyes. Poor kids. They had no idea how dysfunctional even their pretend family members were.
Amador closed all the blinds, then started peeling Reyes’s clothes off as Bianca hurried in with what medical supplies they had on hand. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander when the coveralls came off, then the prison uniform. He was completely na**d underneath and I tried to look away, but even injured, he resembled a Greek god. His perfect skin tight around the hills and valleys of his muscles. Bianca wrapped a towel around his lower half as Amador inspected the wound.
“I need a shower,” Reyes said as he downed three of whatever painkiller Amador handed him.
Amador shook his head. “I don’t know, bro. If this gets infected.”
“It’ll heal long before it has a chance. Just give me that peroxide,” he said, gesturing toward the table, “and I’ll be good.”
As he spoke, I stepped around for a better look, and my head spun at the sight. His entire left side looked shredded, deep gashes exposing muscle and bone. He couldn’t have weathered those injuries without at least one or two broken ribs, possibly more. Dark bruises were already spreading over his abdomen and up his chest. “Oh, my goodness,” I said, reaching for a chair.
“Charley!” Startled, Bianca scrambled to help me into one. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, fanning my face. “No.” I stood again and faced Reyes with a new fury. “Why are you doing this? Why risk your life?”
“Dutch,” he said in warning.
“No, this is crazy. Why would you do this? You’ll get nowhere.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You know what I mean.” I stepped closer, forcing my eyes to stay locked on his face. “They’ll find you. They always do.”
“Dutch,” he said, reaching out and taking hold of my chin, “I do actually have a plan.” He glanced back at Amador before I could say anything else. “Speaking of which, I’ll also need some duct tape and a pair of handcuffs.”
Amador grinned. Bianca sighed, a blissful expression softening her face.
9
What would MacGyver do?
—T-SHIRT
“Is this really necessary?” I asked, jiggling the handcuffs.
The animosity I felt at having my father threatened had waned ever so slightly in the wake of one constant reality. Reyes had threatened me before, more than once. Truly like a cornered animal, he lashed out until he got what he wanted, and yet he’d never hurt me, or anyone I care about, for that matter.
There had been police officers in the next room and he didn’t want to be taken back to prison, so he did what he always does, he went for the jugular, knowing how I would react, knowing I would do anything for my dad. Despite my rationalizing the situation, it was hard to get past the fact that an escaped murderer could recite my parents’ home address on cue.
“It’s either that,” Reyes said, gesturing toward the handcuffs with a nod, “or I tie you up and lock you in the basement. I’m good either way.” The most devilish grin I’d ever seen crept across his face. Damn his evil dad.
Bianca brought in more towels and a fresh change of clothes for Reyes and set them on the closed toilet seat. Which made sense, since we were now in a freaking bathroom and I was handcuffed to the towel rack. Handcuffed! This was too much.
She giggled, raised her brows in a gesture that was nowhere near subtle, then closed the door behind her. It was a conspiracy.
Though he had yet to turn on the water, Reyes dropped the towel and stepped into the shower. The bleeding had stopped. With his back to me—not that that fact helped my weak knees in the least—he poured the peroxide over the open wound. I heard it bubble and him hiss, but my eyes were glued to his lovely backside. Immaculate shoulders covered in the smooth lines and sharp angles of his tattoo tapered down to a slim waist and quite possibly the most beautiful ass I’d ever seen. His legs were next, solid and built for battle. Then my gaze wandered back up to his arms, like corded steel and—
