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Voices woke me the next morning. Everleigh was whisper-hissing at Santino. I wondered what he did to piss her off this time. He was usually the strong, quiet type. Women loved him because he was a gentleman. A rare thing in my world. Well, my old world. I was no longer part of it. Not since I blew up the compound.
“Call me an opportunist one more time and see what happens.”
Santino’s response was to raise an eyebrow. He was a skilled fighter and all muscle. She was a slip of a girl who’d blow over in a strong wind. But I’d still put my money on her in a fight. She was scrappy, and at the moment looked furious enough to hurt him.
Everleigh stomped off into the bathroom, and Santino chuckled. I started at the rare sound. In all this, I’d never stopped to make sure he was okay with what was happening.
I sat up with a pained groan. “While I appreciate you having my back, it might be best to back off or risk losing a nut.”
Santino’s mouth twitched. “Nah, she’s all bark. It’s good to see her fighting back. She was an empty shell back in Guyana.”
My mood turned somber at the mention of how we met Everleigh. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
Santino frowned. “You’re delusional if you think you can make me do anything I don’t want to.”
He had a point. But I also just blew up his life—the only life he’d ever known—and dragged him to a country he’d never been to. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want to now, right? You aren’t working for me anymore.”
He looked taken aback. “We’re brothers. Where you go, I go.”
I got up and held out my hand, overcome with gratitude. He clasped it in his, and I pulled him in for a hug. “You always have a place by my side. But I want you to know that you’re not beholden to me. Your life is your own now.”
He nodded, and we separated.
“Have you heard from Mariana?” She was the only other person from our old life who wasn’t either dead or incarcerated.
Santino raised a brow. When we dropped her in Georgetown with a phone and money, she was spitting mad. Not because we destroyed the place she’d called home for the past fifty years but because we wouldn’t take her with us.
She had family and friends in Georgetown. I knew she’d be fine. Didn’t mean she wasn’t cursing me out in the middle of the street for abandoning her.
Santino looked wistful. Mariana had been like our guardian angel while living at the compound. She not only made sure we had food and clothes that fit when we were younger, but she also read us bedtime stories and put Band-Aids on our scrapes when we were younger. “She’s going to make you work for it.”
I couldn’t bring her with us. We didn’t know if we’d make it. And if we didn’t, she’d have been stranded in an unfamiliar place with no way home. She’d understand eventually. I’d give her a while longer to cool off.
Everleigh came back out of the bathroom. Her hair was messy from sleep and hung in wild waves around her head. I wanted to grab it and wrap it around my hand, pulling her closer. I ached to touch her. It was a constant need, and I doubted it would ever go away.
She waggled her fingers at me. “Come on, I’ll help you take a shower.”
Not exactly the words I wanted to hear. But I needed help to get my clothes off, and the thought of her soft hands all over my body made me perk up.
Santino nodded at the door. “I’ll sort out breakfast.”
He left, and I followed Everleigh into the bathroom. Despite my aching ribs, I didn’t want to take any painkillers today. I needed a clear head when I saw Sofie again.
The small bathroom barely fit one person, let alone two. But Everleigh made it work, sliding in between me and the sink, still somehow closing the door.
She leaned around me, her breasts brushing my arm, making me stand to attention. Now this was more like how I’d hoped the morning would go.
The water turned on, and she straightened back up, her closeness messing with my head. She unbuttoned my shorts and then put her hands inside my waistband, pushing them down. Her head bumped the rapidly growing bulge, and she giggled.
“He missed you,” I joked, counting backward from one hundred to distract me from her touch. It wasn’t like I could do what I really wanted—push her up against the wall and fuck her until we were both breathless and spent.
Her touch was gentle, her movements unhurried, as if she was savoring this as much as I was.
“How do you want me to take your T-shirt off? I’m guessing you can’t raise your arms, right?”
There was blood on my shirt, and I wouldn’t be wearing it again. To avoid at least a little pain, I took the simplest way out and ripped it down the front in answer.
She slid it down my arms, brushing against me. An involuntary groan escaped me, and she smirked before placing small kisses on every inch of skin she brushed past.
