The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (5 page)

“I’ve done some things that may catch up with me.” He leans toward me as his voice lowers. “If they do . . . It doesn’t matter. I want out. I need to disappear.”

Now, I have leverage, but he wants my help to disappear with the boy I had come to consider my son. The fucking irony. He’ll get my help, but I’ll never let him escape.

We wrap up our conversation and he tells me to see myself out before disappearing into his office.

When I reach for the door, I hear her voice, “Don’t do this.”

My eyes come to rest on her left shoulder marked with a new tattoo; a colorful hot air balloon. I read the letters scrolled down the side;
always watch the sunset.
The room is suddenly stifling and I can’t catch a full breath. She was wearing a light sweater at dinner. Did she remove it on purpose so I would see the tattoo?

The memory of our ride in the balloon taunts me. She didn’t have the tattoo when she left me. What does it mean? And why does it make me angry? Her eyes go wide as I step into her space and grip her left arm. I yank her close, snarling. “What the hell is this?”

She rips her arm away and flees. I watch her climb the spiral staircase until she disappears. Why would a woman who hustled me permanently mark her body with one of our most intimate moments? She either wasn’t hustling me or she’s far more twisted than I ever realized.

The fear that flashed in her eyes before she left lingers in my thoughts as I drive to the airport. I want to find hope in the tattoo, but I can’t get past the pain that has haunted me since she left.

There is no hope.

She made her choice and I’ve made mine.

T
ug saw the tattoo I got to remind me of what truly being loved feels like. Getting the tattoo was the last time I defied Eduardo, but it was worth the two days locked away from Javier and a beating I’ll never forget.

I took a risk trying to warn Tug about Eduardo. He’s too trusting. He believes Eduardo needs him for reasons I’m unaware of, but I know Eduardo plans to destroy him and his career, possibly even kill him. I have to find a way to make Tug understand that he has to abandon his plan. My only hope is Marco. I’m not sure he can be trusted, but I have to try.

When Eduardo is fast asleep, I tiptoe quietly through the mansion headed toward the servants’ quarters to Marco’s room. Maneuvering through the guards on watch in the foyer proves difficult and a squeaky floorboard nearly gives me away. I freeze outside Marco’s door when I hear footsteps around the corner. There’s no escaping whoever is about to discover me.

“Maria,” Marco whispers as he rounds the corner. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” He grips my arm and shoves me into his room. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I need your help.” I sound like I’m begging, which I’m about to.

“No!” His head shakes frantically. “I can’t.”

“Please.” The desperation of my plea echoes in my ears.

“No. What do you think Eduardo will do if we get caught? Think about Javier.”

“He’ll kill him, Marco. Please.” I stare up pleadingly into his eyes. “You and Tug were practically friends. I just need your help to get a message to him. That’s all.”

“You need to get back to your room.” He pushes me from his room into the hall. “Go through the kitchen and forget we had this conversation.”

“Please,” I say one last time.

He rubs his eyes before looking at me. “All right, I’ll think about it.”

I bite down a smile. “Thank you.”

He closes his door and I walk quietly through the hall. I tiptoe through the kitchen, careful not to make a sound, but as I approach the door on the other side, the light flips on.

Eduardo’s dark and haunted eyes meet mine. His jaw ticks with anger as he marches toward me. “What are you doing in here?”

I back up away from him until I hit the cold marble island. Our chests meet as his stubble scratches my cheek. He asks what I was doing again and I swallow my fear. “I needed a drink of water.”

His eyes narrow as he pinches my chin. “Sneaking around in the dark for a drink of water?”

The disturbing tone of his voice makes me shiver. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

His nails dig into the skin of my thighs as he lifts me onto the countertop. He splits my legs with his body while shoving my nightgown up to my waist. A second later he tears my underwear from my body.

My heart rate gains speed as my insides rattle with fear. I close my eyes and visualize Tug in front of me. His lips graze my ear as I feel his cock nudge my opening. I chant Tug’s name in my mind, hoping if I say it enough times, I’ll wake from this nightmare in the arms of the man who owns my heart. But it’s Eduardo’s voice in my ear, reminding me that I’m very much living in reality.

“I saw you on the cameras trying to warn your lover,” he says, kissing behind my ear. “Mr. Hunter never loved you. He told me you were merely a pleasant lay, and he pretended to care about you to save face after people learned of your sleazy profession.”

I fight impending tears, refusing to believe the malicious words of a man I detest. With a powerful surge of his hips, he enters me. He pulls the back of my hair, exposing my neck and holds firm. His teeth graze a line before sinking into my skin until the pain brings a flow of tears. “I own you, Maria. You and Javier are mine.”

“Yes,” I say imagining it’s Tug declaring his possession.

“No one else will ever have you. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I cry out. In my mind I shout,
yes, Tug
repeatedly, until I bring myself to believe it’s him making love to me. Soon, I crumble and succumb to a mind-numbing climax. The satisfied smile curling Eduardo’s lips as my eyes open, steals the minuscule moment of happiness I allowed myself.

I hate this man with every fiber of my being. One way or another, I will find a way to make him suffer.

I
spend the night in a hotel and fly home Saturday morning. While sitting in the plane on the tarmac, I receive a text from Peyton with a photo of the office in my house. Laughter falls from my lips as I stare at the photo. It looks like someone threw up bubble gum on the walls. Like fucking Barbie’s moving in.

P: I told you it was a beautiful shade of pink. So cheerful, don’t you think?

My laughter continues as I reply.

T: That had better be painted over before I return home.

P: Boo! You’re no fun.

T: I’d be happy to show you how much fun I can be.

P: Always sexual with you, Mr. Hunter.

T: It is you with the dirty mind, Ms. Miles. I was thinking dinner or dancing.

P: Liar.

T: Perhaps. Now get to work.

P: Yes, sir. I’ll be finished on Monday.

I consider texting her back just to continue the playful banter that brings out the once lighthearted side of me. Peyton’s like a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark existence. I don’t text her back because I get the impression she isn’t a woman I can fuck and walk away from easily. Knowing that concerns me. She might be sweet now, but all women eventually show their true nature, and I won’t be manipulated again. Ever.

I drive to my brother’s to spend the weekend with my family, rather than alone in a hotel, or worse, with a nameless woman who fails to numb my pain. Before I have the chance to collect myself, Brady opens the door, waiting for me. The look on his face as I approach him tells me Tori told him about our conversation.

“Did you see her?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Did you get answers?”

“Not the ones I wanted.”

I hug my brother who pats me on the back, apologizing. “Sorry. I wish I could help.”

“It’s all good,” I say, pulling away from him before I feel like more of a helpless bitch. I don’t want any more of my family’s pity or fucking misguided sympathy. “The loft isn’t finished. Can I crash here this weekend?”

“Of course, little brother. You’re always welcomed here.”

We go inside and I take Little A from Tori. He smiles up at me with pure unconditional love, expecting zilch in return. I can’t help but wonder when that changes? When we start expecting things for our affections? Knowingly or not, all adults do want something in exchange for love.

“I’m glad you made it back,” Tori says, hugging me. “You didn’t answer my text.”

“My service has been spotty,” I lie. Not answering her text was intentional as when I texted her I was leaving and not to worry, she wanted me to call her first. I couldn’t allow her to talk me out of going.

I
spend the weekend babysitting the boys with Mrs. Preston so Tori and Brady can escape the house for some time alone. Mrs. Preston is surprisingly delightful to be around and she helps keep my mind off my troubles. Mostly because she keeps me busy, baking or going for walks with the boys. By the end of the weekend, I’m certain Mrs. Preston was babysitting my pathetic ass as well.

Drew falls asleep next to me Sunday night in the guest bed. I consider carrying him to his room, but I like the peaceful feeling of having my nephew next to me. My phone rings, and when I notice it’s Peyton, I get out of bed and leave the room so I don’t wake Drew before I answer.

“Hey, it’s Peyton.”

“Hold on a second,” I tell her and walk downstairs so as not to wake anyone else in the house. The particularly warm night air rushes across my face as I step outside onto the back deck. “I hope this means my loft is almost finished?”

“Oh, a girl can’t just call to talk?”

“Not a girl with a deadline,” I respond rudely. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed. However, if you’d like to keep me company in said bed that could be arranged.”