Savage Secrets (Titan #6) (25 page)

Right now, he had the same feeling. Lungs aching. Breaths on hold. Mind all stuttering and coughing and trying to decipher what his next move should be. He didn’t have one. Knowing he loved Caterina was one thing. It didn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense, but little did in his life.

Hearing her say it was another thing. Then, watching her say it as though it was something to walk away from, well, that was some bullshit. It took some balls to throw around the L-word. She had dropped it like a warning.
I love you. Stay away
. Like she wasn’t sure where his head was. And that bit about not being sure what to do? Was that about him? About El Mateperros? About her next move in… life?

Rocco clawed his way to normal respirations. “I’ve never run from anything. Not gonna start with you.”

Caterina pushed his chest and tried to get up. “
Oh Dios
. I’m not knocked up. No need to stake a claim or defend your—”

“Not uh. No way. You’re not getting the last word in here.”

On her feet, she swayed back and forth and needed to get her pretty ass back into bed. “So romantic.”

His hands readied to catch her when she toppled, one near each hip, hovering. “Back in bed.”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Then don’t say anything else.”

“What, like
I love you
?”

She smirked at him, and her mouth opened, then her eyes swung to the hallway at the sound of the front door. Roman entered. “
Hola
.”

Rocco took a step back as she settled against the edge of the bed.

Roman’s eyes bounced between her and Rocco. “Boss Man’s blowing my phone up trying to get an update.”

Caterina bit her lip. “He knows?”

Rocco’s phone had been ringing, but he had ignored everyone but Cat. “I’ll hit him back.”

“Roc, man, when you get a second.” He tilted his head toward the door.

“Is it about El Mateperros?” Caterina asked.

“Not exactly—”

The sound of two more-than-familiar voices came in the front door of the doctor’s residence. Heavy boots creaked on an old wood floor. The acoustics of the hallway amplified their presence, as if anyone in Titan needed amplification.

Rocco looked at Roman, then the dark hallway. “Are you kidding me?”

“What are you talking about, dude? You called in the troops. Winters and Cash were semi-nearby and got here fast as they could. Boss Man’s wrapping something up, and Delta’s flying in too.”

Delta. That was good. That meant Boss Man was ready to bring it, and Roman was right. Where was his head? Every Titan resource was needed. But he really wanted to finish this I-love-you-but-you-can’t convo with Cat.

Cash and Winters stood in the hall. No doubt, they were ready to get a move on. El Mateperros didn’t know he had tried to attack someone within Titan, but after the show Rocco put on in the hotel room, the bastard had to realize he was dealing with something more than a mysterious arms dealer.

Caterina craned her neck. “What is going on?”

Roman nodded.

Yeah, she wasn’t going to take this well. “Like Roman said, I called in the troops.”

If looks could maim, she’d have had him strung up and bleeding out. “Why?”

“The husband and wife gig was up, and we know more about El Mateperros than has ever been known.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We? Titan?”

“We, well, yeah.”

“And me. Where do I fit into this? Because if you called in the troops, it doesn’t sound good for me and what I want.” Seething mad might not have been an adequate description of the vibes coming off her. “Bring them in here. I need to meet them.”

Uh…
What to say? How to play this…
He nodded to Roman who walked out and returned. Cash and Winters walked into the room, nodding their hellos, and he wasn’t in the mood to formalize the introductions.

Roman was, though. “That’s my boy, Cash. I spot, he shoots. One shot, one kill type action.”

Caterina nodded, not saying a word, which had to be bad. Experience said that if she was pissed, she was throwing down Spanish. If she was silent, then the woman was probably plotting his death.

Roman continued. “And that’s Winters. Jack of all trades. Thinks he’s a hardass. Comes in handy though.”

More silence.

“Enough already. Out.” Rocco had nothing to say to any of them. Except for Cat. “Now.”

Cash nodded. Winters shook his head. Roman walked out with the guys.

Rocco grimaced. “Sorry about them.”

They had left the room, but it didn’t take away the tension.

She glared at him with thin, bruised lips. “You mean sorry for trying to take away my chance to kill El Mateperros?”

He took a step forward. “Cat, no. Look—”

“Stop saying my name, and make it happen so that I end this.
Me
.” She slapped the mattress. “Not Titan.”

“We’ll work something out.”

“No. Not good enough. Promise me.
Promise me
. Titan can play a part, but I will get my revenge.”

Her pleading shattered his heart. The sharp edges made him bleed from the inside out. “Get some sleep. You’re worked up. I’m beyond exhausted. We’ll work something out.
I promise
.”

Her skin was bruised, and her bloodshot eyes didn’t believe a word he was saying. She knew how to read people, knew when the truth was presented. No matter his training, no matter how good he could make his promise look, they both knew he was lying. And there was no way in hell he was letting her anywhere near the man who had raped her. Hell. No.

She scooted back onto the bed, flipped the pillow, and pulled a blanket around her. Snuggling back down into the bed, a little too quiet for his liking, she finally closed her eyes. “Fine.”

He walked over and kissed her forehead. “It’ll all be okay.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

With her eyes sealed shut, Caterina listened and waited, plotting her escape. Rocco stood watch. He didn’t move. His breaths barely registered, but he was still there. First he wanted to talk love. Then he brought in Titan. Even if his motives were all warm-and-fuzzy, he was wrong.

What did she know about this place? It was the swanky private residence of some high-priced doctor Titan worked with. One of the many members in Jared Westin’s worldwide network. Most likely one of the best doctors in this hemisphere. But that kind of doctor didn’t have security to keep people in, only to keep robbers and the like out.

Titan’s muscled-up meeting was happening down a short hall. A huge, curtained window with a slip of the outdoors showing told her they were on the first floor. It was one of those big windows, with panes large enough to crawl through…

Her clothes were a problem. She was in pajamas of some sort, nothing she could walk around in outside, and her shoes weren’t sitting anywhere she had seen. One limb at a time, she made her body relax and slowed her breathing. Soft breaths, one after the other. All a ruse. Rocco had to be convinced she was asleep so he would join the Titan meeting-in-progress. It took forever. And if she didn’t want out as badly as she did, she would have focused more on how sweet the guy was.

El Mateperros was her problem. No one else’s.

Finally, Rocco stepped close, checked on her, and retreated out the door and down the hall. She counted backward from one hundred. Still worried he might pop back in, she slowly sat up, ready to play possum the second she heard footfalls coming back her way.

She heard silence in the hall and male grumblings in another room. She lifted her legs over the side of the bed and pushed up. The floor creaked, and she froze, ignoring the aching soreness that rocketed from her core. Caterina stood with arms out, knees bent like some teenager trying to sneak out at night. Hearing no change from the men, she searched the room.

Nothing under the bed. Nothing in the adjacent bathroom. But, oh—she looked lucky to be alive. Mascara circled her swollen eyes. Hair a rat’s nest. She tried to smooth it down, but there wasn’t a point, and she had to get out. Fast.

Another look around and she saw a plastic bag. Holding her breath with each step, she crept over and cringed when the bag crinkled as she opened it. Success. Rocco’s oversized sweats and shoes. They were dark, and her blood stained them, but they’d work. No weapons, but that was probably asking too much.

She slunk over to the window and inspected the lock and alarm. Yes, meant to keep people out and not concerned with keeping anyone inside. With quick look around the room, she found her supplies. Tape. A long metal medical… stick. She could make that work. Listening once more, Caterina used the metal stick as a fulcrum, wedging it between the sensor and the frame and—

Clatter
. The metal stick shot across the room, but the sensor released its hold on the window without pinging the alarm system. Tearing a scrap of tape in her teeth, she smoothed it in place, keeping the sensors together. Quickly, she shucked off her pajamas and pulled on what passed for regular clothes.

A noise in the hallway. A few footsteps and a laugh. She threw open the window, bracing for the alarm. Nothing. Good. Then she sat on the ledge, threw her legs over the window sill with a tremendous amount of pain and effort, and jumped. Her body was weak. The landing jarred her. Head swimming and legs, torso, and crotch hurting, she took a second to adjust to her surroundings then took off.

***

In the back seat of the chauffeured Mercedes, Yassine sipped his latte and watched the brownstone, thinking over yesterday. There hadn't been a need to stay in the hotel room and watch his men get beaten into a bloody pulp. After slipping out and making way to his car, he’d witnessed quite the show. Daniel Locke, wife in arms, running down the street. The painful look on his face was seared into Yassine’s memory, and over the course of the last day, the wife had become sort of a hobby that bordered on a compulsion. Knowing where she was, that his particular want, icy cold and unmoving, had been fulfilled left him wanting more.

So today he sat near the private home of what he had learned was a doctor, unsure what to do with this itch for a round two. He waited and waited. Interesting, everything that he saw while planning out his round two fantasy. It was enough to justify wasting time instead of planning his upcoming attack. People came in and out of the doctor’s house. The Lockes’ bodyguard. That made sense. Then additional men. All as large and deadly looking as the bodyguard and Daniel Locke. That did not.

Yassine took another slow sip of his drink and let the scalding liquid burn his throat. Always a thing with extremes for him. Hot. Cold. Life. Death.

The drape in a window moved. What—

Was that… the wife? Crawling out the window? He put his coffee in the cup holder and rolled down his window, as if the tinted glass somehow distorted his view. Free of discolored obstruction, the view was still the same. Fascinating.

Her hair was matted, a complete mess and not far different than when he’d left her lying on the bed. Oversized clothes swallowed her. How had the wife reacted in her husband’s arms? Yassine’s erection swelled. What had the husband said? Done? He never wanted someone more than once. But watching her sneak out, disrespecting her husband, and the hurt he’d inflicted upon her evident in her face… He wanted her again, wanted to find out whether she’d live or die in a second go-around. Now that was power.

A day’s worth of dreaming about how he’d steal her back was no more. She’d presented herself for the taking. Again. Just like at his country home when she’d visited on her husband’s arm. Lust fired in his veins as she wobbled on her feet, searching for which way to go. She was weak, half-way to how he liked a woman. Unmoving and barely conscious.

Everything had been working out well for him lately. His regular arms dealer was back online and working with him again. His plans to take down Big Ben and step from behind the curtain of anonymity were on schedule. And he’d found a possible way to expand his plans and claim more prestige for the ACG. A possible expansion to America.

***

This was a mistake. Caterina had a sixth sense when it came to being watched. With each unsteady step, the hot gaze of an attacker loomed close. It wasn’t Rocco. Or Roman. Not that they’d attack, but both would certainly, carefully, drag her butt back to bed. The anxious tickle of dread screaming up and down her spine left only one option. El Mateperros. He wasn’t done with her. Well, good. She swallowed away the automatic nauseated-angry reaction at his name. She wasn’t done with him yet either.

But she
was
unsteady, She was also weak, injured, and in the worst condition she’d ever been in. She hadn’t come up with an attack plan. Her mind was too fuzzy to form really any plan, and her psyche had been too desperate just to escape. The only thing she had come up with was to get to her London studio, change clothes, and arm herself. Hell, that plan hadn’t even been planned. It only came to her when she realized how close the doctor’s house was to the flat.

But it didn’t help that her nemesis had sighted her and was tracking her, closing in. Readying for the kill. Or another assault. Probably both.