I was looking forward to getting dirty.
Very, very dirty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Javier
It was the next day when Berrellez finally dropped us off in Mazatlán. 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.
“We can always get a hotel room,” she said against my mouth, and from the way her breath hitched, I knew she was just as turned on as I was. I could still get her hot in seconds flat.
“Fuck that,” I said. I reached between her legs and under her skirt. I pushed her underwear aside and grinned at how wet she was. “My queen, we aren’t going anywhere.”
She moaned, her eyes fluttering. “But there are people on the beach. We’ll get arrested.”
“Is that so?” I asked, knowing I’d never be arrested in Mexico for anything.
“People will see.”
“Tourists will see,” I told her, licking her ear. “And let them see. Let them go back home and think that Mexico is a fun place.” I bit her neck hard, relishing the feeling of her skin between my teeth. She shivered, loving it.
“I don’t know,” she said breathlessly, her back arching. I thrust my fingers into her with one hand while unzipping my fly with the other. It was a losing battle on her behalf.
“Look,” I said, stifling a groan, “are you a Mexi-can or a Mexi-can’t?”
She laughed, throaty and hot. “Quoting movies now? You’re bad.”
“You love that I’m bad.”
She smiled serenely at me. “You know I do.” Then her mouth twisted into an “o” as I took my swollen dick out and eased it into her. She was so exquisitely tight, so silky, so perfect. It didn’t matter if we were fucking in public and in the broad daylight on the beaches of Mazatlán, or in the confines of my bed, she was everything I needed, everything I wanted.
“Take me home, my queen,” I whispered to her. Finally she relaxed, sitting back, and I plunged deep inside of her. We both cried out from the pleasure and pain. It was impossible not to.