Sweet Collateral

No amount of time can ever make this okay. She was my last hope in a hopeless place, and she betrayed me. And it’s this pain, this blinding level of rage and hatred that made me hide for so long. Because it hurts: soul deep, to the bone, hurt.

The only blood relative I have left, and she turned on me.

47

Anna

I wander through the house, feeling the eyes of his men on me. As soon as I walk into the kitchen, the guys gathered there stop talking. Rafael glances up from his spot at the table, his gaze flicking over my body. One simple act has changed everything. He feels more vital, more engrained on my soul than he ever did before. Still, the silence reigns throughout the kitchen until he clears his throat.

“Avecita.” He beckons me forward. I walk over to him, if nothing else, just to escape everyone else. Taking my hand, he pulls me into his lap and kisses my temple. Heat touches my face, eliciting a low chuckle from Rafe.

Maria places a cup of coffee in front of me, a watery smile on her face.

“We’re so glad you’re back.” She places a hand on my head, like a grandmother would a small child, and then retreats. I glance sheepishly around the table, catching the eyes of Samuel and then Carlos. Do they know? Do they think I’m some crazy girl who tried to kill herself?

I look for the one missing face in the room and whip around to face Rafael. “Lucas?” For a second I’m right back in that eucalyptus grove with his blood pouring uncontrollably through my fingers, watching him die, completely unable to do anything about it.

“He’s recovering.”

I release a tense breath. “Good. That’s…that’s really good.”

“Anna,” Carlos clears his throat. “Thank you. For calling me. You saved him.”

“He was shot because of me.”

Rafael’s hand grips the back of my neck in an iron hold. His breath whispers over my neck before he speaks in my ear. “The Russians shot my men and took you. I’d love to hear how that’s your fault, little warrior.”

“He was your bodyguard. It’s his job,” Carlos says dismissively.

Rafael’s fingers tighten on my neck as if daring me to argue, but I will never see Lucas as my bodyguard because he was my only friend back when I was still nothing more than a whore to anyone. “Is he here?”

Rafael checks his watch. “He should be in the gym now.”

I nod and push to my feet. He lets me go without a fight. “Make sure you eat,” he says as I walk toward the door. Was he always so demanding?

I make my way to the gym, expecting to find Lucas working out. What I find has my stomach balling into a tight knot and bile rising in the back of my throat. There are two white railings set up in the middle of the gym at waist height, and Lucas is holding onto them, slowly taking one step at a time as a woman watches on, giving him encouragement. Discarded to the side is a wheelchair. Lingering in the doorway, I press my hand to my chest, trying to relieve the lump in my throat.

When he catches sight of me, his young face breaks into a wide grin. Still smiling.

“Anna!”

I walk further into the room, forcing a smile on my face for him. “Hey.”

He hobbles to the end of the railing and throws one arm around my neck in a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Rafael wouldn’t let anyone see you.”

“I uh, wasn’t exactly good company.”

He stares at the ground, nodding awkwardly.

“Lucas, I’m so sorry you got shot.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m your bodyguard.” Why do they all say that like it makes it okay?

“You’re my friend.”

He smiles wide. “That too.”

“How are you?” It seems a stupid question when he can barely walk.

“The bullet lodged in my spine. No permanent damage, but it’s like learning to move all over again. It’s harder than it looks.”

“It looks plenty hard enough.” He smirks, and the woman brings the wheelchair around for him to sit in. He slowly lowers himself and glances up at me.

“Do you have to do more rehab?”

“Nope. I’m done for the day.”

“Well then, let’s go and do something.” I missed him, and I hate that he went through all this without a friend.

“I’m all yours.”

I grab the handles of his chair and push him through the house. “What do you want to do?”

“We could go outside?”

The thought instantly makes my blood run cold. Nothing truly feels safe anymore.

“How about a movie?”

“Fine. But I’m not watching The Notebook.”

“What’s The Notebook?”

He groans. “Ah, see, now I feel like you’re missing out on some girl rite of passage or something.”

We round the corner, my navigating skills with the wheelchair leaving a lot to be desired. “I’m sure I’ll live.”