Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

“He’s trying to leave the bed,” Alejandro said—the fucking snitch.

A dark, red rivulet ran down my forearm. I didn’t even feel it. I wanted Natalia in my arms as soon as possible. “Leave us,” I told Alejandro. “Stabilize everyone within these walls who can fight. We’re going after Max.”

“With all due respect, sir—”

“You’re too polite, Alejandro. The answer is no,” Natalia said. Her voice faltered but not with doubt—her vocal cords sounded strained. Her posture lengthened as any sign of distress left her. “You’re not stepping foot outside this bedroom until you’re fully healed.”

I slow-blinked at her. “You’re telling me no?”

“She just did, and she’s right.” Alejandro lifted his chin, no doubt smug that he had back-up. “We’re not ready. We’d only be leaving ourselves open to another attack here and putting more men at risk. Max knows that—so does Belmonte-Ruiz.”

All at once, exhaustion hit—along with the urge to promise Natalia I’d never leave her side again as long as she wanted me there. “Call a meeting,” I said. Still woozy from whatever medication had been administered, I could admit I wasn’t in the best state of mind to make decisions. But I would be soon. “We’ll finish this discussion then.”

Alejandro exited the room, leaving me with my shame. My partner was in trouble because of me, and I was doing nothing. And yet, Natalia was here. She was safe.

“Come here,” I said, and softened my command with, “mi amor.”

“How do you feel?” she asked as she approached slowly. “What can I get you?”

The warble in her voice resounded in my chest. I couldn’t go to her. I was still hooked up to more than one machine, and even if I hadn’t been, my body didn’t move nearly as fast as I needed it to. My weakness was on display.

“Just you.” Everything smarted when I reached for her. “Please. Come.”

“Lie back, and I will.”

Willing to concede to anything in that moment for her touch, I rested against the mound of pillows behind me. “You’re losing your voice.”

She ignored me and opened the drawer of my nightstand to take out a cloth. “Let me just call the nurse Doctor Sosa arranged for us—”

I stopped her. “Please, Natalia. You are my medicine. Only you can heal me.”

Her lip curled as her eyes went foggy. I couldn’t tell if she was smiling, grimacing, or trying not to burst into tears. She sat on the edge of the bed, scooting closer until the heat of her body warmed me. The contempt, resentment, and anger that sometimes marred her face when she looked at me had vanished. So I hadn’t imagined the intimacy of our last phone call, then. The girl who’d once pointed a gun in my face seemed relieved to see me alive.

“Here.” She held out a glass of water from the nightstand. “Drink this.”

Damn it, Natalia. She was just trying to take care of me, but I needed answers more than fluids or nurses. I gulped down the water as quickly as I could while she disappeared into the bathroom.

When she returned, I gave her back the glass, and she pressed the now dampened cloth to my inner arm where the IV had ripped. The wound was the equivalent of a scratch, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop her.

“I’m sorry I was asleep when you woke up,” she said, wiping the area clean.

I’d seen glimpses of her over me, her hand in mine as I’d drifted in and out of consciousness, her normally violet eyes gray.

My freshly stitched wounds protested as I lifted my arm to touch her cheek, but it was worth the pain when she turned her face into my palm. “I know you’ve been here,” I said. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

“One of the valet attendants attacked you. How much do you remember?”

“I don’t mean me.” I took the cloth from her, discarding it on the floor. It hurt like fuck to lift my arm, but I took her chin and turned her head to examine the nasty looking cuts on her forehead and cheek. She had her own stitches. When I spotted a long, scary gash running from under her chin down her neck, my free hand curled into a fist. “Who did this to you? What happened here?”

“Tasha shot him, by the way.” She ran her thumb over the red mark on my arm. “The Belmonte-Ruiz member who attacked you. She came on the helicopter, and she’s here now.”

Tasha. So that’s why I was still alive. “She’s at the house?” I asked.

Natalia nodded solemnly and added, “She . . . she saved your life.”

“That’s the least of my concerns.” Tasha was a good friend, and I owed her, but I didn’t care to think of that now. “You were screaming on the phone, Natalia.”

“I was scared,” she rasped. “For you, and for myself.”