Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(60)

When she lifted her eyes to his now, it took everything she had to stop her hot tears from spilling over her lower lids. Despite the warm, humid air inside the hut, she was cold. Cold through and through. Down to her bones. Down to her soul.

“I didn’t reject you that day,” she whispered, shivering. “I swear I didn’t. I sent you away because I had to call my father, call the dean, call whoever would listen to me and whoever might have the power to persuade you not to join the Army.”

His brows pulled together, his frown smoothing away his dimple. “So that’s why they both tried to talk me down? I always wondered why either of them would take an interest in me.”

“But nothing would dissuade you.” She shook her head. “You were so stubborn. So determined.”

“I was hungry for retribution,” he admitted. “I wanted to make those cowardly hijos de putas who killed my sister—and all the other evil men in the world—pay for what they’d done.”

“And have you?” she asked, searching his face, not allowing herself to focus on the fact that she herself fell into the category of one of those cowardly hijos de putas. “Did the battles in Fallujah or Lashkagar or Sangin or all the missions you’ve been on with the Black Knights quench your thirst for vengeance?”

He tilted his head. It was strange that, at a time like this, she should notice the crystalline drop of water that hung from the lobe of his left ear. It slowly coalesced and fell to the mat and she found herself watching its journey. Then her gaze was riveted to his face when, with narrowed eyes, he asked, “How do you know about those battles? Those missions?”

And shit on stick. She’d just outed herself. “I—” She had to stop and take a deep breath. There were those smells again, the rain on his skin, the gun black. “I made my father promise to keep tabs on you. I made him promise to tell me when something important happened in your life.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, simply continued to watch her with searching intensity. Then he jerked his chin in a nod. “Well that explains the look on your face back in the jungle when I asked how you knew about the Black Knights,” he said, his stern expression sliding into one of contemplation. “But why? Why would you do that?”

“Because losing Rosa”—even after all these years it was still difficult to say the woman’s name—“nearly killed me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, too. I had to make sure you were alive. I had to know that you hadn’t died out there on the battlefield. I had to know. It was the only way I could stay sane.”

“But I never knew”—he shook his head—“I meant anything more to you than a fleeting acquaintance. I suspected you loved Rosa.” Good Lord, more than he’d ever know. “But I didn’t think you—”

“I adored you,” she told him. She had no pride left. No shame. “I adored everything about you. The very ground you walked on. Which is why I had to make sure I hadn’t lost you, too.”

And just as it’d done all those years ago in that hotel room, his throat seemed to stick over a swallow. He was no longer lounging back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. Now he was sitting forward, his black eyes drilling into her as surely as that pesky woodpecker continued to drill holes into her favorite sycamore tree back in DC. She almost winced under the sharp force of his gaze.

“And now?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She knew what he was after. And considering all the years of lying, she felt it only right, only fair, that she give him this one irrefutable truth. “Oh, Carlos. I still adore you.”





Chapter Sixteen


Had Steady ever felt such unfettered joy? Had he ever known such unmitigated bliss? It was like he’d taken a hand grenade of happiness to the chest, his heart blown wide open. And, sí, for a moment there, and despite what he’d told himself standing out in the rain, he’d allowed old hurts, old insecurities to seep in. But Abby…wonderful, delightful, beautiful Abby had obliterated all his self-doubt with four little words.

I still adore you…

His instincts took over before he formed another thought. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his lap, cradling her against him, holding her as close as he’d always dreamed. Overwhelmed with the desire to get closer still. As close as a man and woman could possibly be… “Abby,” he whispered her name, peppering her face with kisses. He drank the tears from her skin, reveling in their salty sweetness on his tongue. “Oh, Abby, I’ve always adored you, too, cari?o. From the first day I met you, you’re all I could think about. Dios, how I wanted you. It drove me mad.”

He wasn’t aware she’d been squirming, struggling in his embrace, until she suddenly stilled, going stiff as the scalpels back in his duffel bag. He lifted his head to look down at her, not surprised to find her eyes wide. But the fragile, volatile expression on her face gave him pause. “What is it, ne?a?”

“Y-you wanted me? All those years ago, you w-w…” She didn’t go on, simply shook her head in disbelief. He smiled down at her, loving the way her wet hair curled around her face. Loving the faint pink color of her makeup-free lips. Loving how her long lashes turned from dark brown near her lids to blond up at the tips. Loving her.

“Of course I did,” he told her, bending to kiss her nose. “You were like this delightful, spritely, incandescent thing capable of lighting up the whole world. I was a moth to your flame, Abby. Surely you knew that.”