Gift From The Bad Boy

“Can’t I do something else? Anything?”

“There is nothing else you can do.”

“But, Daddy, please.” The tears were thick now.

He stood up. “It’s almost time. Finish getting ready.”

Then he left.

Chapter Fourteen

Ben

I felt like a goddamn clown standing on the altar with this monkey suit on. Never in a million years did I imagine this would be one of the stops in my life. I figured at worst I’d have an outlaw’s wedding, where I took the broad to the tattoo shop and got my name inked on her skin. Not this officiated bullshit. For God’s sake, there was a priest here and everything. This would be as legitimate a thing as it could possibly be, valid in the eyes of the Lord and the benevolent state of New Mexico.

Slick and Jay sat in the front pew, with a few of the other brothers scattered throughout the remaining rows on the left side of the church. Most hadn’t come, which was just fine with me. I wanted to get this shit over and done with, so I could go back to figuring out just how the hell to get out of this mess without risking the lives of my men by tempting James to declare an all-out war.

The right side of the aisle was barren. Not a single person was here for Carmen. I wondered what kept them away, if there was even anyone to come in the first place. Was it shame? Or fear of James? Both options were equally likely.

I shifted back and forth. I couldn’t find a comfortable position to stand in. The shiny loafers on my feet were stiff, the starched shirt collar scraped at the back of my neck, and no matter where I put my hands, I felt ridiculous.

Finally, at long last, the organist started playing and the double doors at the far end of the room opened. All eyes shifted towards them to see Carmen standing there, arm in arm with her father.

My jaw dropped. Thoughts disappeared. For one long second, all I could do was gape. She was motherfucking gorgeous. The dress she was wearing was long and flowing, its hem sliding across the floor as she and James began their slow canter towards the front. From the wide skirt, it rose up into a corset that hugged her ribs and accentuated her waist. Her bare shoulders shone pale and flawless. I couldn’t make out her face behind the veil, but the blonde tresses of her hair were coiled into an intricate heap on the top of her head.

It looked like she was glowing. I rubbed a knuckle in my eyes. They had to be deceiving me. No, they weren’t. The light pouring in through the stained glass windows set high in the walls was lighting up her skin and the dress in rich reds and blues. Where it came through clear, it set off an ethereal radiance.

They paced up the aisle and, then, before I could properly process everything that was happening, they were there. James stared at me for a long moment as he released Carmen’s arm. She stepped gracefully up onto the altar and pivoted to face me.

That skin—it was so perfect. Just like Olaf’s kid. Just like I’d done in Dina’s apartment, I looked down at my own hands. What I saw disgusted me. Scars etched deep into my skin where I’d taken knife blades or smashed my knuckles into another man’s face until my own skin split. Tattoos, crude, dark. Oil stains that no amount of scrubbing could get rid of.

I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I was a filthy, dark bastard. I’d seen and done too much shit. Just being near me would spread it. I couldn’t do that. Not to her. I needed to keep my distance and find the nearest exit as soon as I was able.

I looked up at Carmen, but she refused to meet my gaze. She kept her eyes fixed at the floor between us. I couldn’t read her expression behind the veil. Her features were blurred, impossible to distinguish. What was she thinking? Hell, what was I thinking?

The priest began to speak, but I barely heard a word. When he told me to repeat after him, I did so numbly, through thick lips that fought against cooperating. I’d never felt so clumsy and hollow before. But at the same time, I’d never wanted a girl so badly. Those shoulders were screaming to be touched. To be claimed. Made mine.

No. I stamped a mental foot down. I wouldn’t entertain those thoughts for a goddamn second. I’d made my decision and I wasn’t the type of man who went back on a promise to himself. I wasn’t going to lay a finger on this girl. Icy, foreboding distance, that was what the situation called for.