Not anymore.
Dutch blows out a breath and rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid, okay? I–I just don’t want to lose you. My father isn’t going to just lie down and let me kill him. What if he kills you or one of the others? What if he captures Tessa, Rebecca, or Susannah and tortures them? What if he’s torturing The Duke right now? He’s already killed all those people, and–” she cuts off, sighs, and shrugs.
I turn her so she’s straddling me and force her to meet my eyes. “Have you forgotten who we are?” Her brows lower, but she stays silent. “Do you have so little faith in us? I have skinned men alive, hacked them into pieces, ripped their still-beating hearts from their chests. Yes, your father is powerful and an evil piece of shit. But he’s an old man,mi alma. Do you think I will allow him to touch me? If he came for me, do you believe he could best me?”
Her deep-brown eyes are wide as she watches me. I raise a brow, waiting for an answer. “No,” she whispers.
“No. And what about Ryan? Think he’ll just sit back and let any of us get taken? Or if we do, that he’ll just let us go without a fight?”
Dutch huffs. “Obviously not. But that’s what terrifies me. Vincenzo will come, there’s no denying it. If he gets a hold of me, then you’ll all come running, and he would love nothing more than to torture you in front of me as punishment. We’ll all be dead, and for what? I can withstand pain; I’ve been doing it my entire life. But I can’t stand yours, Cruz. I would fold, instantly, to save you from suffering. I can accept my own death, but I refuse to watch the life leave your eyes. I’m not strong enough.”
Her words wound me in more ways than one. Settling my hands on her hips, I hold her still. “And you think I could endure yours?” I ask harshly, eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting? That you sacrifice yourself to save us from harm? And then we, what? Just go on living our lives? Forget about you?” Anger races through my body and I clench my teeth.
“When will you understand? You are my life, Dutch. My heart and soul. I could no more let you go than fly to the moon. You are mine, forever, and I will not be parted from you again. Should you pass on to whatever afterlife awaits us, I’ll be right behind you so that we may be reborn together. I will come for you in however many lifetimes we have.”
Her arms come around my neck and she sobs into my shoulder. I gently run one hand up and down her back, while texting the group chat Jase set up for us with the others.
I think Dutch needs to kill more often. It would let her release these feelings she keeps locked inside. But this is okay too, I don’t mind holding her while she falls apart. As long as she lets me put her back together when she’s done.
I hold her long after she goes quiet, letting the peacefulness settle into her. I can feel her heart beating, mine answering her call. The second my revenge was complete, it stopped beating for anyone or anything but her. I can only hope she understands that now.
The apartment door crashes open, and Dutch startles in my arms. I glance over my shoulder, curling my lips into a smirk as Kian comes prancing in. Dutch lifts her head and gasps, then bursts into nervous laughter.
“Umm, Kian? What are you doing?”
Kian pops a hip and places a hand on the other, then bats his extremely long eyelashes at her. Sparkly purple eyeshadow is splashed liberally above his eyes, showcasing the two-inch-long false eyelashes. Bright red lipstick adorns his lips, and he has pink sponge curlers clipped into his hair. A turquoise and purple satin robe stretches tightly across his body, barely containing his straining muscles.
Madre de Dios, I hope he’s wearing underwear under that.
“I heard we’re having a slumber par-taaay!” he sings out in a high falsetto. Dutch and I both flinch, and I’m convinced none of the glasses in the kitchen just survived. Jase and Ryan come in behind him, weighed down with sleeping bags, pillows, and a few bags.
Dutch lifts herself from my lap then turns back and places a hand on my cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers, and I nod back at her.She heads toward the others, who are placing all their things on the dining table.
“What’s all this for?”
“We heard you needed cheering up, so we decided we’re having a party,” Kian says, bouncing on his toes. He looks her up and down, a frown marring his brow. “Nope, this won’t do,” he proclaims, gesturing to her jeans and tank top. He scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder, grabs one of the bags, and marches her off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I hear her screech, then heavy laughter, followed by a few thuds and bangs.
When they come out a few minutes later, Dutch looks like a mini version of Kian, except she’s wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my t-shirts. Fucker would have been in trouble if she’d come out wearing his. Curlers are spread haphazardly throughout her hair, and she’s sporting the same makeup as him.
Unable to resist, I come to my feet, my phone at the ready. They’re both good sports and give me several poses. I foresee blackmail plans in my future.
We order Mexican takeout for dinner, then start preparing the living room. Dutch is slightly miffed she has to sit out, but we’re making this for her. We steal the mattresses off both beds and lay them on the floor, covering them in soft blankets and every pillow we can find. Jase and Kian immediately jump into the middle of one of the sofas, tossing pillows at each other, and after a moment, Dutch joins in.
Ryan settles into one of the chairs, his head in his hand. I feel for him. If it was Dutch that was missing, I would be tearing the city apart, raining death on everyone that even breathed suspiciously. But I’m not a business owner with thousands of employees that look to me for their futures.
At least he isn’t spending the night alone. He may not have The Duke here with him, but his friends are by his side. I can contest how loneliness can eat away at your soul, especially at a time like this. If Dutch hadn’t come along and given me that little flame of hope, I’m not sure I’d still be alive after killing Dante.
She gave me something to fight for, something to live for. She breathed life back into me and provided the light I needed to see my way out of the dark. My lip curls up in a smile as I watch her pound Kian with a pillow. She needed this, to be surrounded by friends.
It’s been a difficult day for everyone. The killings, Zach’s head being delivered, worry over The Duke. It almost feels selfish to be laughing, to have fun when there are so many families out there suffering.
One thing I’ve learned since my ex-wife and daughter were killed, is to take joy when you can. When I first met Dutch, only months had passed since their deaths. The days we spent together felt like a betrayal to them, and the night we spent together? Although I didn’t regret it, the mountain-like heaviness of guilt settled firmly on my shoulders.
So I can understand the need for laughter. The need to forget, even just for a little while. Dutch gave me that once. A night so full of passion, of small touches and soul-destroying kisses … that for those precious few hours, I forgot. I let go of my anger, pain, and despair, and just lived. And holding on to those precious few hours is what got me through until I found her again.
I don’t know The Duke. I did not know Zach or his team. I empathize with the others for their loss, but I don’t feel what they do. But having felt it before, I know the need to spend just a few hours forgetting. Tomorrow, it will all come back. Tomorrow, they will remember. And the pain, guilt, and anger will return.
But tonight, we’ll feast on tacos, flautas, and nachos, raise glasses of tequila to those we have lost, put some music on and maybe dance a little.
