“You might be a rookie to this game, Luna,” he says, twisting his endearment from sweet to sour. “But some of us have been living this shit for a while.”
He lets go of me, caging me in with his words and his huge physique instead. Blue jeans. Black jacket. White T-shirt covered in red… With a start I realize he’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
“Joseph—”
“Don’t.” I catch the movement of him shaking his head in the glow from the bathroom light. “I’ve traveled too long and too far to fall for your stupid tricks again. Did you think I wouldn't find you, Luna? Who the fuck do you think I am?”
He’s mad. Really mad. What the hell did I expect?
“Where’s Vi?” I croak.
“Your partner in crime?” His Texan drawl is in full, disdainful flow. “She’s safe.”
“Tell me where she is!” I try to spring away from the wall and go careering into a hard barrier of muscle instead. My whole body ignites from the connection. The damp spark that I’d thought was gone forever catches like wildfire, stealing all the thoughts from my head.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Are you going to tell me what went down in that bar in Santa Perdito, or am I going to have to fuck a confession out of you?”
My breath catches again. He knows what I’ve done.
“You don't fuck broken,” I counter, almost sounding disappointed as I take another stumbling step across that invisible line. He’s so close I could turn my head and kiss him if I wanted to. My nipples are pushing against the fabric of my T-shirt. The constriction of my panties is unbearable.
“You’re not so broken now though, Anna, are you?” he says, tempting me with his declaration. Daring me to believe it. “I notice you’re not flinching away from me anymore. Tell me, who has a bigger monopoly on sin, the bad guy or the bad girl?”
I go very still.
“Hazard a guess, sweetheart,” he prompts. “Fucking humor me, for old time’s sake.”
My mouth remains a tight line. My eyes finally adjust to see his gray-blues glinting at me like chips of ice.
“I’ll give you a clue,” he murmurs, filling my silence for me, moving in so close I can smell the brand of his whiskey breath. “I’m damn near close to losing myself in one.”
“Why the bad girl?” I whisper. My pussy is throbbing so hard I have to squeeze the tops of my thighs together to stem the ache. I’m so confused. I’d resigned myself to never feeling this gush of wetness between my legs again. To never wanting a man’s hands on me again, and yet here he is, laying siege to my ruins.
“Because a bad girl owns every fucking crime she commits, and I’m guessing you’ve taken that ownership to a whole new level tonight. Did you kill them yourself, or did the Colombian help?”
“I did it.” There’s no point in lying to a man like him.
“How did it make you feel?”
“I felt.” A single tear streaks down my cheek. “I felt, Joseph. I felt it all.” The same way you’re making me feel now.
“Don’t stop there.” He swipes my tears away with a rough finger. “Tell me everything. Every last detail... Did the compulsion keep building up inside of you like the greatest fuck of your life? Did the climax take your breath away? Spare me nothing.”
“I can’t!”
But I want to.
“Bullshit!”
“Please stop!” I beg him again.
“Never. I told you that before. I will never stop until you’re mine. Until you admit that you’re mine. You’re melting, Luna… And you started it. You started ‘making your own right’ by firing that fucking gun, not me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” But I forget my confusion as he brings his lips to within a hair’s breadth of mine.
“You’re not whole yet,” he confesses, blasting me with even more whiskey breath as he tilts his head, inviting me to claim him for myself. “You’re a—”.
“Crescent moon,” I finish, gently placing my hand on his chest, wishing it was even lighter in here so I could see if his chilly gray-blues are melting too.
He recoils. It’s barely a flicker of a movement, but it’s there. It’s the first time I’ve reached out and touched him voluntarily.
“I-I remembered what they did to me, Joseph,” I stutter. “The men… The Russians, six months ago. They were Russian, weren’t they?” Thick accents. Thick curses. How could I have forgotten that detail?
His pulls away a fraction more and nods, his stubble catching on my wet hair.
“I remembered how empty they made me feel. How I let that emptiness transpose and take over.”
“Go on.” He pushes his knee between my thighs, opening me up wide for him. I have to fight the urge to drop my hips and grind myself into his jeans to relieve some of the pressure.
“I replaced that emptiness with something else tonight. Call it payback… Whatever.”
“Are you scared?”
“Don’t you mean, “was I scared”?”
“Answer me,” he growls.
“Yes, I’m scared,” I whisper. Of what the Fernandez cartel would do to me if they found us? No. Of you, my shadow? So much. Too much.
“Good. It’ll keep you sharp. What else do you remember?”
It's like he’s angling for something deeper. Willing me to find some buried nugget of treasure.
“Their faces. The pain. It comes to me in fragments. Like a montage.” There’s a pause. “Am I a killer like you now?”
“You are nothing like me.” He dips his head again, his lips tracing a line from my cheek to my jaw, smudging his whiskey breath into my skin. “And I thank a non-existent god for that.”
I allow him access to my neck, a small whimper escaping my lips when I feel his stubble grazing me in a different place. The more he touches me, the more I feel it. The more I want to feel it.
“You’re not ready for me, Luna. Close, but not yet. I won’t be gentle. I can’t be gentle. Like I said before, I need you whole to take what I have to give.” My whimper turns into a moan. “That’s not to say we can't have a taste now, however...” He takes my hand and guides it down my body.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask him, my muscles stiff and reluctant.
“Taking you south of the border, sweetheart. How long has it been since you slipped your fingers inside that beautiful pussy of yours? She’s not so broken anymore, either.”
My brain stops functioning as he drops his knee to brush my fingers lightly against my slit.
“Come for me, Anna,” he urges. “Lose control right in front of me. Tip your head back and moan my fucking name to this dark room. I know you’re desperate to.”
“No.” Feigning disgust, I try and snatch my hand away, but he won't let me go.
“I can make you feel good. I can keep you safe, but I cannot heal you. I can chase you halfway around the fucking world, but I cannot put your pieces back together again for you.” He guides my fingers to the waistband of my panties. There, they seem to take on a route of their own.