Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (34 page)

I think, no, I knew, it would completely break me.

Shaking, I put the coffee cup down and stared into it. “No.”

There I’d said it.

But I didn’t feel better.

“At least let me drive you,” he pushed, his voice gentle.

I nodded, not trusting myself not to take it back, take it all back and launch myself into his arms — I was so starved for affection from him that it was hard to keep myself from crying into my morning cup of coffee.

He’d become my friend.

And something more.

I felt him.

I didn’t want to feel him.

It would be so much easier if he was just another human body in that giant gourmet kitchen.

But I felt him.

And I had no explanation why, other than, when I was near him, it was never close enough.

“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. “You can drive.”

SERGIO HAD TOO
many cars.

Way too many cars.

It was like going to a dealership and going
hmm which shiny vehicle with a max of fifteen hundred miles on its odometer do I want to use?

I picked a shiny red Tesla — a car I’d heard about but never ridden in and tried not to look too impressed when he started the engine.

My hands gripped the leather seat as Sergio hit the accelerator as hard as he could sending us sailing down the mile long driveway at breakneck speed.

“Um, Sergio.” I grabbed the handle to the door, my hand getting sweatier by the minute.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look at me.

“Kinda fast.”

“You need fast.”

What the heck did that mean?

He peeled out onto the main road. It was the strangest thing, knowing how fast we were going — and accelerating, but not hearing any of the road noise.

Were all electric cars like that? Or just ones that cost more than most people’s houses?

Faster, we were going faster, but I couldn’t tell by the sound. I felt it, though, like we were soaring without straining to get to that place.

Like I could do anything.

Slowly, I released my grip on the handle and the seat as Sergio kept breaking all speed laws. “How fast do you want to go?”

It seemed like a loaded question. Like there was meaning behind it, although I couldn’t figure out what. I glanced over and noticed we were hitting over one hundred and twenty.

“How fast can we go?”

He grinned, shifted, and I watched in amazement as we topped out at one sixty.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I burst out laughing. “This is insane! Slow down!”

Sergio joined in my laughter. “Now you want me to slow down? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I think I left it back there with that squirrel you took out.”

With a low chuckle, he slowed the car down to around fifty and drove us the rest of the way into the city.

I was still smiling when we parked at the grocery store.

“I want you to have it.”

“Have what?” I frowned looking around the car in confusion. What
“it”
was he referring to?

“The car.” He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the console. “Technically, all of the cars are yours since we’re married, but this car, I want this car to be yours and only yours. I got it right before I came to New York. The only other time I’ve driven it that fast was right after she died.” His voice cracked. “I took a corner way too fast. I should have rolled, but I didn’t. I was so angry. So frustrated that life wouldn’t just take me. So I drove as fast as I could, I got the car up to one-sixty and just drove, thinking if I just get fast enough, maybe my heart will stop. Maybe I’ll hit a tree, maybe…” He shrugged. “This car at one point, felt like a means to an end. Nobody cares if a man like me gets into a car wreck as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone else. It would be an easy out. For everyone.”

My heart broke for him. “What made you change your mind?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of paper. “I always kept it close to my heart, in my inside pocket, but when I was driving, for some reason it was on the dash, I wouldn’t be so careless to leave it there. To this day I have no idea how it got there.”

“What is it?”

“Read for yourself.” He handed it over to me and pointed at the grocery store. “I think I’ll go inside.”

“But—”

His door shut, blanketing me in silence as I glanced down at the piece of paper.

99 Things to do on my honeymoon!

1. Go to Tokyo.

2. See the London Eye.

3. Learn how to cook!

4. Pet a giraffe—feed one too.

5. Learn Origami.

6. Twirl in the rain—as many times as I can.

7. Get kissed in the rain by a handsome man (doesn’t have to be Sergio!)

8. Jump out of a plane

9. Bake a cake and jump out of it.

10. Get a really kick ass tan.

11. See the Swiss Alps.

12. Pet a dolphin.

13. Sing karaoke.

14. Have lots and lots of sex.

15. Go to a Broadway show and sing along even if it sounds horrible.

16. Sing at the top of your lungs — badly.

17. Make a baby.

Tears splashed the page as I kept reading. Some of the tasks were crossed off but most of them were still waiting to be accomplished. A few had been underlined like maybe she thought they were more important or she wanted to do them next. Or… perhaps that meant Sergio had done them or was getting ready to do them? There were only ninety-nine different things she had wanted to do, sex was listed more often than necessary

It might have been titled honeymoon list.

But it was a bucket list. Anyone with two eyes could see that.

My heart hurt — for this girl — for the one that Sergio loved, for the time they didn’t have, hadn’t had. But most of all, I was thankful, because this small scrap of paper had saved his life.

Probably more than once.

She’d saved his life — even without being here to do it.

Maybe it was my turn to pull the weight.

Not that I was going to make it easy on him, but it did help me understand just a little bit more — why he did what he did.

And why it was necessary that I help him stop the cycle of madness and live.

I left the note in the car and made my way into the grocery store. I finally found Sergio in the baking aisle looking about as confused as I’d ever seen him.

“They’re chocolate chips,” I said from behind him. “Not ammo.”

“But there’s a billion different flavors, and this one says soy free, this one says dairy free, and it just…” His frown deepened. “…stupidly occurred to me that I know nothing about you, do I?”

My stupid heart melted a bit. “Well.” I reached for the dark chocolate chips and slammed them against his chest with a small smile. “Now you do.”

He grabbed the bag and looked at it. “Dark Chocolate?”

“I like the way the bitter taste makes your mouth water. No matter how many times you eat dark chocolate, your mouth
always
waters.”

His eyes hooded. “Does it, now?”

Oh, crap. He was looking at me. I take it back. He shouldn’t say hi, he shouldn’t even be near me, because he was dangerous when he was nice, and I was defenseless.

“Promise me something,” I blurted.

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Don’t run.”

A pained expression flickered across his face. “I won’t.”

“Swear to me.”

With swift movements he pulled something metallic from his pocket and made a quick slice across one of his fingers, then grabbed my hand, the one not holding chocolate and pricked my pinky. My breath caught when he pressed his bloodied finger against mine. His grip tightened as he pulled me against him. “I promise. I won’t run.”

“Blood oath, huh?” I whispered. “Aren’t those serious? Like deathly serious in the mafia?”

“This means…” His eyes searched mine. “…that if I run a second time, you have permission to kill me or send someone to do it for you.”

“Maybe that’s what you want,” I countered. “You know, part of your plan.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” His breath fanned my face as he leaned forward, his lips grazing my ear. “You’re stuck with me. Till death do we part. And it won’t be because I’m stupid enough to turn my back on you a third time.”

I exhaled in relief, but he didn’t release my hand.

Instead he took a step back, lifted my finger to his lips and sucked the blood from the tip, his eyes locked on mine.

Paralyzed, I dumbly watched him — and most definitely felt him as his tongue swirled across my wound, his lips closing over a part of my body I’d never given a second thought to — until now.

When he was done, I was breathing so heavy that it was embarrassing.

“You completely and utterly undo me,” he admitted. “It’s not a comforting feeling, knowing I have spent this much time with you without ever even finding out your favorite color, and one look from you sends me into a fit of rage, lust, anger, passion — it’s unsettling and even more horrible admitting it out loud — admitting the truth, that when I touch you — I will always want more.”

He sighed and linked our hands tightly together.

“So.” He grabbed two more bags of chocolate chips. “What are we baking?”

I finally found my voice as I shook my head out of a stupor. “Well, I’m baking cookies. You’re just the driver.”

“Ouch, not even sharing with the help.”

“I may give you a crumb.”

“Tease.”

I smiled, unable to help it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that.”

“Probably because guys never got close enough to you to say it.” His shoulders straightened. “What else do we need?”

“You aren’t going to let go of my hand are you?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re going to keep pestering me until I feed you?”

“I’m a guy. Next to sex, food will always be a close second.”

We rounded a corner. “So if I just give you sex, I can eat all the cookies?”

Sergio stumbled into a lady passing us with her shopping cart and cursed while she scurried out of harm’s way. “Don’t tempt me. I know exactly what I’d rather eat and it isn’t a damn chocolate chip.”

His grip tightened and didn’t loosen until we were back in the parking lot.

A lover, that kills himself, most gallant, for love. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Sergio

I LET HER
drive.

She was horrible.

As in, one of the worst drivers I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting; even worse than Bee, and that was saying something. She’d already taken out three mailboxes since being married to Phoenix, may they rest in peace.

It takes some scary shit to scare that man.

Every time she asked to drive, he would go horribly pale, like it might be the last question he answered.

“So.” The car jolted to a stop as Val put it in park. “Thanks for letting me drive!”

Poor car.

“Yeah,” I managed to croak out as I opened my door and touched the ground with both feet. Solid ground. Thank God. “Anytime.”

Val burst out laughing. “You’re such a liar!”

“Hmm?” I turned to face her, my face carefully void of emotion. “What do you mean?” I casually leaned my arms across the top of the car and folded my hands.

“I’m the worst driver ever.”

I fought to keep my laughter in. “What makes you say that?”

“You made the sign of the cross over your chest, and had you had rosary beads, you would have been clutching them and mumbling prayers.”

“No,” I lied more. “No, it wasn’t that bad.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you don’t mind getting back in.”

“Cookies,” I blurted. “We have butter in the back seat and we don’t want it to melt.”

“Huh, butter does that? In a temperature controlled environment.”

“Yup.” I nodded and moved my hands to show her. “All over the seat, impossible to get out, like bacon grease, so…”

“I think I’ve finally found someone who’s a worse liar than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being a bad liar. Oddly it feels offensive.”