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I needed to get the fuck out of this town before anyone knew what had happened. There was no way Morgan’s men weren’t going to come looking for him. The fact that he only had two with him was a shock in itself.
By the time I got back in, my phone was dead, the light nonexistent. I tied the door closed as best I could then felt for a pen and paper on the desk, taking it into the main room where I scribbled a note for LeBlanc.
They were bad men. It was self-defense. I’m sorry for everything.
I left it on the desk, shouldered my bag, and headed for the exit. There was no time to spare a glance at the place I was now forced to leave behind.
The walk back to the hotel had my nerves on high alert, every siren and noise causing me to jump, though I could barely see a damn thing. Wind stung the cut on my cheek. Every part of my body hurt.
When I got into the hotel room, I zeroed in on the bed. A few hours of sleep. That’s all I needed. Besides, no one would be driving in the storm.
I collapsed on the mattress, my thoughts turning briefly to Romero.
I’d thought him a monster for killing without mercy and accepting a life of danger, but I’d shot and killed not just one man without a second thought. I’d cut my father open like a merciless butcher.
The man that should have protected me. Raised me.
The man that should have saved me from my drug-addicted mother. Maybe she wouldn’t have struggled so much if he’d stuck around.
In reality, I fit into Romero’s lifestyle better than I wanted to admit. I killed and disposed of the bodies like they were common trash. So what did that make me?
Chapter Thirty-Six
JULIETTA
Almost as soon as my eyes closed, they jerked open. Visions of Morgan’s smiling face, then his blood spraying in gruesome arcs, faded with each blink. My heart hammered like a wild, thrashing animal and I placed my hand over it like that would slow its rhythm. Looking around in the dark, I strained to make out anything out of the ordinary.
The room was silent. A chill swept over my skin, and I shivered. Despite my head telling me it was the cold that woke me, I couldn’t help the way my body responded as though someone else resided in the room with me. I reached for the bedside lamp, stopping when a shadow at the foot of my bed stirred.
A split second later, I twisted for the knife under my pillow, flicking the blade out with a soft snick.
The heat and strength of a man’s grip around my wrist halted my attempt to throw the blade. It tumbled uselessly from my hand. I snarled, preparing to strike, when a familiar growl sounded.
All at once I flooded hot and cold.
“You better have more than that flimsy little blade on you if you hope to stop what I’m about to do to you, Julietta.”
Romero’s deep, rasping voice wrenched a choked sob from my lips. I barely had a moment to register that he was here—in my hotel room—before his mouth crashed down on mine. It wasn’t gentle, or sweet. He nipped at my bruised lip, his tongue tangling with mine, and one hand clasped my throat, making my heart sputter.
His kiss was a searing-hot claim with the promise for punishment. I’d run from him—successfully evaded him for weeks—and now the devil was here to take me back to his lair.
Only now I was no longer the angel I’d tried to be.
I’d killed. My own father, no less.
I felt the darkness swirling through my veins, and I wondered if Romero could taste it on my lips.
His hands slid down to my waist as he climbed onto the bed, tearing the blanket off me. The heat of him replaced it, pushing against me. He was so hot, I almost thought him feverish, but the violence radiating from him alone seemed to rocket the ambient temperature up. I panted for air while kissing him back just as hard, my nails digging into his back, softened only by the fabric covering it.
Holy fuck, I’d missed this man.
Breaking away, I whispered, “Why are you here?” still breathless from the combination of his heady, scorching kiss and the sight of him. “I thought you were in Louisiana.”
“That’s not how this is going to go, ángel. You’re going to take my cock like a good little girl. I’m fucking dying to smack your ass red, but I need to be inside you more.”
Well, that had my pussy throbbing.
My mouth opened, but I had no response. Instead, I kissed him again. Slower. It was sensual and seductive, sending a rumble of desire through his chest. I slid my hands under the fabric of his sweater, feeling his chiseled torso beneath my fingertips as I undressed him. He pulled up the tank top over my head in one smooth motion, my shoulder barking in pain that I wouldn’t let show.
