My hands gripped the counter on either side of me, the drink sitting in front of me.
She slowly came closer to me, approaching me with hesitation.
I didn’t know why I was being such a dick to her. I was still high on adrenaline, a little drunk from all the booze, and just pissed off about the whole thing. I was angry at myself for not figuring it out on my own, and I was pissed off that Vox was too powerful for me to kill. I punished him in a humiliating way, and if he stepped out of line again, I could kill him—with no resistance.
She moved a little closer, her eyes on my face.
I wouldn’t look at her.
Then she spoke, her voice a whisper, and she tore down all my walls. “Babe…”
I closed my eyes when I heard that nickname, the possessive title that made me feel like the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world. I released the air I’d been holding in my lungs and lifted my gaze to meet hers.
She moved closer, her hands moving to my arms, so she could feel me, squeeze me through my clothes to make sure I wasn’t hurt. Her hands glided to my chest then stroked down, making sure everything was exactly as she remembered. The concern in her gaze was undeniable, so sincere that she looked even more beautiful than ever before. She was relieved, but there was still pain in her eyes, like her worst fears were still fresh in her mind.
My problem with Vox was finished, so there was no reason to think about it anymore. I walked in the door and had the most exceptional woman waiting for me, worrying about me. What other man could say something like that? “Baby, I’m okay.”
When she knew my anger was gone, she stepped closer, her arms wrapping around my neck. Her forehead nestled into my neck and she hugged me, held me close, her fingers pressing into my warm skin so she could feel my pulse. She rested her face in my chest, breathing deep and steady like she’d just found the peace she’d been looking for.
My arms circled her waist, and I rested my chin on her forehead, enjoying our silent companionship, the deep affection that wrapped around us both. My hand cupped the back of her head, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing my eyes as I felt this tiny woman in my arms. Peace descended over my soul, a silence I’d never encountered before. She drove me crazy, turned me into a man I didn’t recognize, but she also gave me this…whatever it was. My arms tightened around her, and I pulled her closer, my arm squeezing her harder because I never wanted to let her go.
Never.
The truck pulled up to the entrance.
Steel unbuckled his safety belt.
I grabbed his arm and steadied him. “I’m going alone this time.”
He stilled, his eyes narrowing. “You’re gonna carry all that cash by yourself?”
I dropped my hand and looked out the front windshield. “I’ll call if I need you.” I opened the sliding door and hopped out. When I reached the sidewalk, I turned around to look at the adjacent roof, to see if the snipers were still there—even though I knew Damien wouldn’t pull that shit again.
It’d been over a month since the last time I was there. I’d dreaded it every moment of every day, but now I had to face it. With my gun in the back of my jeans, I entered the warehouse, taking the stairs until I descended to the bottom floor.
His cooks were making the meth in the rear, while his other workers bagged and prepared to ship everything. They looked at me, watched me, but they didn’t do a damn thing about it.
I entered Damien’s office, finding more than just two bags of money.
Now there were twenty.
Damien was behind his desk, the bruise on his head absent because it had healed. One hand rested on the desk, and he tapped his fingers against the surface, as if he was bored waiting for me to show up and make good on my word.
I looked at the bags, kicked a few to make sure they were full.
Damien’s hostility had increased since our last visit, and that was obvious without him speaking a single word. His look was more than enough.
I dropped into the chair facing his desk.
He sighed quietly, frustrated I didn’t just take the money and leave, frustrated that he would have to hear me speak. He couldn’t contain his rage, his green eyes like poisonous venom that he wanted to launch at me.
My knees were wide apart, and I propped one elbow on the armrest, my closed fist resting against the side of my face. I stared at him, feeling his rage rise in the room like smoke to the ceiling.
He finally addressed me. “Aren’t your men going to check the bags?”
“Yes. But we’re going to talk first.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “You won, Heath. Just take your shit and go.”
My feelings for Catalina made me look at him differently, especially since he had the exact same eyes she did. I remembered the soft way he spoke to her, the way he offered to take care of her even though she wasn’t his responsibility. All my hatred for him died in that moment…and the only person I hated was myself. “This is the last time I’m collecting payment from you.”
He took a deep breath, like he assumed that was some kind of threat. “You’re going to kill me. You expect me to beg for my life?”
“No. I just don’t want to do business with someone like you.”
He was still, not breathing.
“Vox has been punished—in the most humiliating way possible.” I still preferred to kill him, but that opportunity may come later.
“And now it’s my turn,” he said with a
