Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1) (12 page)

Before he leaves, he needs to soak up every bit of her. Enjoy
the sunlight streaming through the windows, making her skin glow even more if
that’s possible, her dark lashes contrasting with the pinkness of her cheeks.
Not that he needs to memorize her face. It’s always in his mind whenever he
closes his eye. Never out of his thoughts when he’s awake.

He fights against the desire to cancel his trip, to stay home
and bury himself inside her softness again. But, the need to destroy Juan
overrides his temptation. Now that Juan’s back in the States, his time is up.
The stupid attempt to overtake one of Nick’s smaller territories was annoying
enough. Scaring her at the coffee house finalizes his death sentence. Anger
rolls through him at her gasp from that idiot trying to touch her. No. Any
leniency for him ended with her fear.

She sighs and twitches from his body tensing.
Damn
. He needs to calm down and not let
her wake up to his fury. He presses his cheek against hers, and she stills. Her
soft breathing returns, reminding him she trusts him, feels safe with him.
He’ll never do anything to let her think otherwise.

About an hour later, her eyes flutter open, and she smiles at
his kiss on her shoulder. “Good afternoon, sweetness.”

A few seconds pass before she realizes the meaning of his words
and tries to sit up, the sheet falling to her waist. “Afternoon? You’ve missed
your flight!”

He laughs and pulls her back to face him, using every ounce of
willpower to ignore her pink nipples hardening from the sudden exposure to cool
air. “It’s my plane. They can’t leave without me.”

Her sweet giggle fills the room as she shakes her head. “Well,
now you’re just showing off.”

“I have to prove I’m not the deadbeat Carrie thinks I am.” He
runs his finger down her temple to her chin, her huge smile making it almost
impossible to think of anything but rolling her onto her back again. “I’ll be
home on Saturday. Do you still want to go to the gala with me?”

“Yes, it’s important to me too.” She pulls the sheet over her
shoulder before snuggling against him. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I’m going
to miss you.”

God damn! She fucking
owns me when she says shit like that.
He
lifts up to continue what she started, but her hand pressing against his cheek
stops him. She bites her lip before looking away. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m
just scared…”

His heart pounds against his rib cage. Guilt threads through her
voice unaware it’s him who should apologize. For having such a dangerous life
he must protect her from, forcing him to hide who he really is. “I’ve always
been honest with you. There are just some things I can’t talk about.” He lifts
her chin so their eyes meet, and she can see the truth in his. “I love you, and
when I get back, I’m going to make it up to you for being gone.”

She smiles, her gaze proclaiming her love even if her words
don’t. “I like that, but maybe you can give me a little preview before you
leave.”

Her giggle tickles his ear as he trails his hand down her curves
before grasping her hip and pulling her against him.

* * * *

She opens her front door, excited about finally seeing Nick. His
calls and texts, romantic and mysterious, with hints of a surprise for her, were
not enough to keep her from longing for tonight. To stifle her craving for his
sexy smile, his gentle touch,
his
chiseled chest
concealed under his tuxedo.

Her smile fades at Jacks standing on her porch, her stomach
dropping at his disheveled appearance. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead
as watery trails run down his temples to his sideburns, highlighting his ashen
skin. Bent at the waist, his left hand remains inside his unbuttoned jacket.
“Oh, Jacks. Are you okay?”

He nods and swallows hard, as if speaking taxes his energy.
“Nick’s plane was delayed, so he’s going to meet you at the gala. Are you ready
to go?”

“I’m sorry, but you look like you feel awful. Why don’t you go
home? You need to take care of yourself.” She pats his arm, the trembling
visible through his coat. He must have fever. “I really don’t mind driving
myself.”

“Please, Shae. Just get in the car.”

A whisper of fear flitters in her stomach at the hardness of his
tone. She turns back to him, his weak smile softening the insistence of his
request, his eyes locking with hers pleading for her to agree. “Okay, Jacks.
I’ll let you drive me.”

Stepping into the limo, she scans his pale face. Instead
of sick, he seems almost afraid. After he pushes the door shut, the locks
immediately click.

“Good evening, Miss Armstrong.”

The whisper turns into a roar. Juan
Rosalez
sits across from her, a smirk curling on his lips. Her view out the side window
is even worse as Jacks drops to his knees, his hand covered in blood.

Shae's hand
presses against the glass, the cold surface unable to cool the fear blazing
through her body. Jacks remains motionless, a crimson puddle staining the
pavement around him, as the limo drives away. She swallows hard before turning
back to the man who sits across from her, yet her voice still wobbles. “What
did you do to him?”

Juan shakes his head and
tsks
in
disapproval, as if Jacks himself is to blame for the injuries inflicted upon
him. “He wasn’t very agreeable to arranging this meeting for me. I gave him a
little demonstration of what would happen to you if he didn’t cooperate.” A
smirk curls on his lips, taking satisfaction in his cruel cleverness. “Funny
thing—after our discussion, he changed his mind rather quickly.”

His unconcerned demeanor is a disturbing
contrast to the brutality he imposes, no different than if he was chatting
about the weather or what to eat for dinner. Fear as heavy as an elephant
weighs on her chest, making it almost impossible to catch her breath. “We can’t
leave him like that. Please let me call an ambulance for him.”

“He’s a tough guy. He’ll be fine.”

Ignoring the irritation tingeing his
voice, she digs in her clutch for her phone. Protecting her leaves Jacks
injured and abandoned. She must help him, even if Juan refuses. Just as her
fingers brush the case, he yanks the purse out of her shaking hands, slamming
it down on the seat next to him. “You’re as stubborn as your boyfriend, aren’t
you?”

Nick
.

The roaring in her head dampens every
other sound in the car except her gasp of breath trying to recover the oxygen
evaporating from her lungs. In the midst of the turmoil, her racing mind
stills, all of her hesitation and doubt about him and his life fade away in
fear for his safety. A single thought fills her consciousness, her only
certainty about him confirmed.

She loves him. Being incapable of telling
him doesn’t make it any less true. She loves Nick, and he has to be okay.
“Where is he? Did you hurt him too?”

“No.” His eyebrows lift as he tilts his
head. “But I will, if you won’t help me.”

Her hands relax from clutching her dress.
She can get through this knowing he’s safe, do anything she has to do, say
whatever needs to be said, to get away from Juan and back to Nick.

His expression hardens, a snarl darkening
his face. “His little business trip this week destroyed a lot of my hard work.
Now, I’ve put a new plan in place, and that’s where you come in. I need you to
convince him to work with me.”

A few weeks ago, her life was already
surreal, singing on stage in front of twenty thousand cheering fans. Now, she
negotiates with a mad man for Nick’s life, her only bargaining chip an alliance
he refuses to create. She can’t think about that now. Playing along saves both
of them. Using all of her acting skills, she nods and wills her voice to sound
confident. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

Juan shakes his head. “Now, Miss
Armstrong, I appreciate your eagerness to agree. However, you’ll forgive me if
I doubt your sincerity. You don’t seem to fully realize the commitment you’re
making.” He points to her, the smirk back in position. “If you fail, you’ll be
the one to pay the price. Are you willing to make that sacrifice? Trade your
life for his?”

He leans back, draping his arm across the
seat back, tapping his fingers against the smooth leather. The buzzing of her
cell interrupts their conversation. Winking at her, he lifts the clasp of her bag
and pulls out the phone. He rubs his knuckle across the screen and smiles at
her. “Isn’t that sweet? Nick’s looking for you.”

Her brave façade cracks at hearing his
name again, uncertain if he knows she’s trapped with his enemy, unaware how
much she needs him to find her.

The passenger in the front seat looks
back at Juan. “We’re almost there, boss.”

He talks to his gunman, but locks eyes
with her. She presses back against the seat, trying to escape from his gaze
burning into her, pinning her with his threats. “He’ll be waiting outside the
hotel for his lovely friend. You’ll only get one shot, so don’t fuck it up.”

The man nods and reaches toward the
floor. A shudder rocks her body at the rifle he raises up, his fingers
mesmerizing her as they adjust the mechanisms to take aim. For a perfect shot
at Nick. She licks her lips, trying to force her mouth to work. “I’ll do it. I
promise. I’ll make him agree.”

He ignores her pledge, his smile growing
bigger. “Might as well hit big Max too. Wipe that fucking smug ass expression
off his face. Then, we’ll find Carter and maybe even that senile old
housekeeper of his. What’s her name again?” He taps his fingertip against his
temple, feigning uncertainty. “Marta, is it?”

Sparks burst in front of her eyes,
distorting her vision. The man she loves and the people closest to him are all
in danger. She takes a deep breath, fighting to keep from being pulled under.
Beads of sweat roll down her back. She has to make this stop. “Juan, please—”

Her phone continues to chirp, Nick
insistent on reaching her. All of her hopes of him rescuing her brushed aside,
replaced by desperation for him to be anywhere but the gala.

“It would be much easier to join forces,
but that’s only possible with your help. I can either kill him, or you can
persuade him a partnership would be in his best interest.” He spreads his hands
out in front of him. “It’s up to you.”

The driver slows and the gunman lowers
his window a few inches before lifting the gun into place. His finger pulses on
the trigger, waiting for the opportune moment to take his shot.

She holds back the scream welling in her
chest. “Don’t! I swear I’ll do it!”

Juan shrugs his shoulders, unconvinced.
She leans forward, falling on her knees, shaking his forearms. Her voice
strangled in fear, she can only whisper, “Please stop him. I’ll help you. I
mean it.”

The smirk returns. Juan raises his hand
and snaps his finger, causing the bodyguard to lower the rifle. “Good choice.
Nick's a very lucky man.”

Her head droops forward as she takes a
deep, shaky breath. Nick’s safe. All that matters is that the threat is over.
With wobbly legs, she starts to sit back on the seat. Juan grabs her shoulders,
making her wince at the pain of his fingers crushing her bones. “See how
persuasive you can be? You better be that convincing to Nick, because next
time, I won’t call it off.”

He shoves her backward before tipping his
head, as if he’s gracious enough not to hurt her any more than he already has.
Sliding her phone into her purse, he hands it back to her. They drive under the
canopy of a skyscraper hotel, iridescent blue lights glowing across the facade.
Photographers and fans line the entranceway.

Juan
smoothes
the sleeves of his jacket, wrinkled from her begging grip. “Ready?”

Her mouth too dry to speak, she nods and
rubs her hands down her bare arms, trying to ease the burn from his fingertips
pinching her skin.

“I’ll escort you out. Make sure you smile
pretty for the cameras.”

The driver opens the door and Juan climbs
out, offering his hand to her with a chivalrous flourish. She swallows down the
lump in her throat and accepts his assistance. Flashbulbs light up the driveway
like the Fourth of July as she steps out of the limo. She tries to slide her
hand out of his, but he tightens his grip, his fingernails digging into her
skin.

People and voices blur together.
Over here! Shae! Who are you
wearing? Who are you with? Shae!
But
she seeks only one face in the crowd. An involuntary sob escapes as their eyes
meet. Nick’s body radiates with anger, his jaw clenched so tight his cheek
twitches.

Juan’s hot breath on her skin turns her
stomach as he whispers in her ear, “Don’t make a scene. Your public is
watching.”

She nods her head.

Suddenly, Nick’s arm wraps around her
waist, pulling her out of Juan’s grasp. He slides her behind him, and Max’s
hand presses against her back. “You son of a bitch.” Nick tips his head towards
Juan, his voice unrecognizable in its fury. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Finally safe between them, the adrenaline
keeping her going fades, and her knees buckle. Max’s hold around her tightens
as she leans against his chest, and he helps her into the lobby. Two autograph
seekers follow them inside.