Tula’s guys, Martin and Ricky, had greeted Vera with warm, hard-muscled, masculine-scented hugs. Then they hung around, listening to her and Tula exchange questions and reminisce for hours. They were good-looking men. Attentive. Devoted to her sister. But dangerous.
Everyone she encountered vibrated with ruthlessness and menace. A sense of danger hung in the air and lurked around every corner. But not like it was with La Rocha. The danger here wasn’t directed at her.
Luke’s friends protected their own, followed their own laws, and viciously destroyed anyone who threatened their loved ones. She felt it in every handshake, embrace, and flinty-eyed look.
For the first time in her life, she felt safe among criminals.
Tula monopolized her first week here, showing her around the fortress and introducing her to everyone they passed. Vera hobbled along on her crutches as Tula shared the brutal details of her time in prison. But when she spoke of Martin and Ricky, her eyes lit up, and her cheeks rose with a goofy smile.
Love.
Vera sympathized with that ailment.
Luke was giving her space to catch up with her sister. He was using that time to work on a strategy with Cole, who was leaving tomorrow to return to the States.
Tomas still hadn’t made contact.
So she stayed out of Luke’s way and formed a delightful friendship with Tiago’s wife, Kate. The pretty blonde only stayed here part-time. She was shadowing Picar, learning medicine, and working toward her degree. She wanted to be a doctor.
She didn’t have the experience to treat Vera’s wound, but she always accompanied Picar, absorbing his broken English while he examined Vera. Then she hung around after, chatting and sharing stories about her captivity with the Venezuelan crime lord, Tiago Badell.
Everyone here had a story, and Vera loved learning about their survival, their triumphs, and how they all interconnected.
There was so much she’d yet to learn about Luke.
She wanted to know all his quirks and complain about them. She wanted more Klondike and rap-song moments. She wanted to bicker with him over nothing and whack him with a pillow when he snored. Because that was what couples did, right? They drove each other crazy.
Crazy with Luke was going to be crazy amazing. She couldn’t wait.
She missed him.
“Do you love him?” Tula pushed her sunglasses to her forehead and squinted in the afternoon sunlight.
“Yeah. Terribly.” Swallowing a sip of beer, Vera stared out across the crystal-blue pool. “I’ve barely seen him all week.”
“He’s busy. But you’re sleeping in his bed, right?”
Every night, he tucked her against his chest, kissed her everywhere, touched her over her clothes until she was wet, and… “No sex.”
“Well, hello? You were shot. With a bullet.”
“In the leg. Not in my vagina.”
Tula burst into laughter. “Haven’t you figured out that these guys are different? They’re not like those selfish, abusive boys back home. They want us healed and healthy and begging for it before they beat us.”
They stared at each other, biting back smiles.
“Never thought you’d crave a fist around your throat, huh?” Tula gave into her grin. “Or a stinging-red ass, bite marks, bruised thighs…”
“Never in a million years.” She leaned back on the lounger and sighed. “It’s been a rough road for us, you know?”
“Don’t you feel like the hardest part is behind us?”
“Yeah. Even if it isn’t, the hard stuff feels a lot less hard with someone you love at your side.”
“Or two someones.”
“You’re such a whore.” She knocked the sunglasses off Tula’s head.
“A happy whore.” Tula chuckled.
“Who’s a whore?” Amber strolled up to their loungers.
“Your mama,” Tula said.
“Doubtful. She spent a lot of time clutching her pearls. Can I join you?”
Tula dragged over another lounge chair. Meanwhile, Vera couldn’t take her eyes off Van’s wife. The woman radiated head-to-toe beauty, from her shiny chestnut hair and rosebud lips to her flawless, hourglass figure on full display in a tiny black bikini. Good God, she was gorgeous. Beauty queen gorgeous.
It was hard to imagine her with a man like Van Quiso. Vera knew their story and couldn’t help but resent the man for everything he’d done to Luke and the others. She also knew they’d forgiven him.
He was among their kindred, which meant she would learn to accept and forgive him, too.
“I’m just going to put this out in the open.” She shifted on the lounger, adjusting her injured leg before meeting Amber’s eyes. “Your husband terrifies me.”
“Me, too.” Amber moved the coasters around on the small table beside her, arranging them in neat groups of four. “He’s meaner than piss.”
“With you?”
“Hmm. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“No, that’s—”
“Van!” Amber leaned to the side, shouting toward the open door of the veranda. “Come here!”
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Tula groaned. “You call one of them out here, and they’ll all show up.”
Sure enough, as Van ambled into the pool area, Joshua and Ricky trailed behind. They wore swim trunks and carried beers. Sunglasses and sexy hair. Shirtless and shredded with stacks of muscle. Where was a camera when she needed one? They belonged on a vigilante calendar. She would call it Freedom Fighters, the Weapons of War edition.
Van paused beside Amber, gazing down at her, and his smile stretched the scar that curved from his mouth to somewhere beneath his shades. As he leaned down to kiss her fully on the mouth, his hand swiped over the coasters she’d arranged on the table.
When he straightened, her eyes zoomed in on the mess he’d made.
Apparently, Amber’s OCD was a work-in-progress.
“Vera wanted to know,” Amber said, without looking away from the scattered coasters, “if you’re mean to me.”
“Nah.” He removed a toothpick from his pocket and set it between his teeth. “I’m a big sappy baby.”
Joshua laughed as he stepped into the pool. “He’s an asshole. With everyone.”
With an unapologetic shrug, Van rolled the toothpick to the corner of his smirk. “Anything else you want to know? Like if I’m mean when I suspend my wife from the trees out there?” He nodded at the rainforest. “When I whip her and welt her pretty skin? Or when I bring her to orgasm, and she screams so beautifully everyone in the estate can hear her?”
“No, I…really didn’t want to know that.” Vera squeezed thighs against the warmth that rushed between them.
During that brief and disturbingly hot exchange, Amber had discreetly started moving the coasters back into symmetrical groups.
Van tossed his toothpick next to her busy hand. Then he kicked the table, just enough to jostle her attempt at order.
“Excuse us.” He grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and walked straight into the pool, submerging them both as she screamed.
Vera shook her head. “Well, that was…”
“Typical Van.” Ricky took Amber’s chair, stretching out his legs and closing a hand around Tula’s knee. “You’ll get used to him.”