Wild Hearts (Novella) (6 page)

What are you gonna do with your life? Whatcha got in you, boy, sand or rock?

Rock, sir!

Then gimme another mile. With a smile
.

The sun was sinking low in the sky when Sax turned around and ran back to the plantation. It was only as he staggered down the driveway that he realized he’d completely forgotten about his date with Mary Lou. And her question.

But he knew the answer. He had a lot of answers now.

Julian Cuevas still dreamed of combat. Nearly every night he was on some mission or another. Not nightmares, though he occasionally had those. More of those than he cared to admit. In this dream, tangos were sneaking into their barracks and cuffing him. He could feel the cool metal snap around his wrist, followed by the click of another cuff around something else.

The metal around his wrist was real. He lurched up and found his older brother, Omar, and his cousin Luis standing in the dim light of his old bedroom.

“
Ea diablo!
” Julian shouted, jerking the cuff that linked him to the iron headboard. “What the fuck?”

They regarded him warily, hands up in surrender. “We have orders,” Luis said. Omar said, “We need you, JuJu. You went off and did the patriotic thing, but now you belong here with us. Come on, you have to admit you’ve been enjoying being back in the fold.”

“I’ve enjoyed seeing my family, yes. But—”

“The fine wines, the best clothing, the classiest restaurants. You missed that, no?”

“Not enough to become a criminal.”

The lure of the good life. It had corrupted his family for generations, even before they came here from Puerto Rico. Running scams on tourists had grown into the Florida drug trade, and when that got too risky, they’d turned to money laundering and stock market scams. The mansions, the Ferraris, and all the women who migrated to the men who owned such things were a temptation when Julian was seventeen. Just being a member of the Cuevas family held an appeal to those looking in. Those who didn’t mind the source of the money, that is.

Julian had participated in some of their schemes, drawn in before he knew better. When he saw himself sliding into “the good life,” as they called it, he’d escaped in a way they could not begrudge—joining the military.

Omar looked affronted. “Not criminal. Entrepreneurial. Rebels. It’s part of our
history, our destiny.
Your
destiny, brother. You were born to it, and you’re good at it. Remember the car accidents when we were kids? We could cry on command, clutching our heads and acting so well that we should have gotten Oscars. Besides, we don’t hurt anyone. It’s not like we’re robbing old ladies of their pensions. Look what the government did to you. You can get them back, guilt not included.”

“What kind of life will you have now, with a questionable release from military service on your record?” Luis asked. “Especially if an employer figures out you were part of the Rogue Six?”

Julian had to quell the Latin temper that boiled under the surface; the SEALs had hammered self-control into him. “Who, exactly, gave the order to restrain me?”

Omar backed up toward the door. “Mama. You know how she can be when she wants something.” He shrugged. “We tried everything else.”

“Guilt. Obligation. Threats.” They’d even used the kids, all crying—on command, beautifully, he might add—pleading with Uncle JuJu to stay. “And now you think you’re going to, what, keep me cuffed to the bed indefinitely?”

The two were almost at the door, about to trip over the bag that was packed and ready for his departure that morning. “No. We’ve got one last resort.”

“You do realize that I’ll have to kill you when I get out.”

Omar’s laugh was tinged with a bit of uncertainty. “You wouldn’t kill your own family.”

“I would have said that my own family wouldn’t restrain me, but sometimes we’re wrong, aren’t we?”

The moment they ducked out the door, a woman entered. Susana, in tight red pants and a low-cut black shirt, her long dark hair spilling down into her cleavage. All perfectly arranged, no doubt.

She closed the door behind her and approached the bed. “Mm, you look good there. We could have some fun.”

“I’m too pissed to have fun.” Did his family really think he’d cave to Susana? That she would keep him here? Apparently.

She sank to the edge of the bed beside him, the sexy smile gone. “You didn’t call me when you got back to town. A whole week and not one call or text.” She nodded
toward his bag. “And you were going to leave without seeing me. That hurts, Julian. We were each other’s first loves.”

“And we were sixteen.” Maybe he had loved her. He could remember that rush of emotion, the passion and hormones and possessiveness. They couldn’t get enough of each other. “But we changed, grew up. You got into drugs.”

She rubbed her nose, probably involuntarily. “A little coke, no big deal.”

“You knew how I felt about it.”

“I don’t know why. Your brothers and cousins were doing it. Omar and I did a line together more than once.”

“Jeez, you think that makes it all right? I saw what drugs did to some of my family. What it did to you. Are you still using?”

She shifted her gaze away, just for a second. “Not a lot. I’ll quit if you stay. I promise.”

“You have to quit for yourself, not someone else. It’ll never work. Besides, I heard you were seeing Joaquin Escondido. I’m sure he keeps you supplied. Why would you come sniffing around me? I’m not giving you any of that shit.”

Her eyes glistened with tears. “Joaquin is … well, he’s not you, baby.” She clutched at his free hand. “You never yelled at me or disrespected me.”

“Does he hit you?” The thought of it tightened Julian’s gut.

“Only once. I told him if he did it again, I’d call the police. You never lifted your hand, even when you were angry with me.”

Which had been only because he’d caught her with a vial of cocaine in her purse. “Susana, you make your choices in life. You chose to do drugs, and you chose to be with Joaquin. And you can choose to leave both of them behind. But I’m not staying in this toxic environment to save you, because no one can save you but yourself.” Lord knew he’d tried. “And you can’t save yourself when you like where you are.”

She’d been furious when he told her he was joining the Navy. She didn’t care about his need to fight for freedom or his need to escape his destiny. He had created his own destiny and, for the first time in his life, felt pride and purpose. How he’d held on to those through the grueling training and dangerous missions. The men he’d served with and under had fostered a respect he’d never felt for anyone in his family. Now he’d lost
that pride and sense of purpose. Maybe after a month of riding with Rath, he’d find it again. But he wouldn’t find it here with his crazy family. Or this broken woman.

“You can save me, JuJu,” she said, leaning close and kissing him. “We can go back to being the way we were before I messed up.”

He wasn’t the same boy he was thirteen years ago. In fact, he didn’t know who he was anymore, didn’t know where he fit in the world. Though they’d never talked about it, he knew his SEAL brothers felt the same. Being wrenched from their place, their mission, and, in effect, their family had thrown them all off balance. He still looked for danger every time he went into a busy place. Still searched faces for the furtive gleam of a suicide bomber. He wasn’t sure that would ever leave him. What he needed was to get on the road with Rath and find out who the hell he was now.

He kissed Susana back, because she was going to play a part in that objective. She didn’t know it, but she was on his side now. He ran his free hand along her back, down over her soft, round ass. She moaned softly, whispering his name. It didn’t move him the way it once did. He used to spring a hard-on from that whisper alone.

“Do you have a condom on you?” he asked between her fervent kisses.

“No, but we don’t need one. I want to feel you, just you.”

Yeah, probably hoping she’d get pregnant. “I’m not ready for fatherhood yet. Go get one from my brother.”

She leaned back, her tears completely gone. “Don’t you have one?”

“I didn’t come home to get laid. Go, get one. And hurry. Tell him to get the key to the cuff, too. I can’t love you properly if I’ve got one hand tied up.” Omar wouldn’t give it to her, but her request would buy a little more time. “You’ll have to use that magic of yours to persuade him. You’re very persuasive, baby. I know you can do it. And I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll be right back.” She dashed out.

Julian used his teeth to extract a pin from his watch; he used his mouth to maneuver it into the cuff’s lock mechanism. Three tries and the cuff sprang open. He launched off the bed and locked the door, grabbed his bag, and ran to the balcony. A drop from the second floor was nothing. After surveying the area, he sent his bag down first to land in one of the planting beds. A bunch of flowers made the sacrifice for his freedom.
He followed, landing in a crouch with hardly a sound. The bag hadn’t been so quiet, but Julian didn’t take a second to see if anyone had heard. He hoisted the bag and crept close to the foliage.

Damn, it felt good to be back in stealth mode, his pulse pounding at his throat. Somebody laughed in the near distance, and he went the other way toward the garage where his new bike waited. From the moment he’d arrived in Orlando, he’d been secretly shopping for a used Fatboy. He hardly had time to admire the beauty he’d picked up the day before. He’d purposely waited until yesterday before getting it. As proud as he was of the machine, he’d slipped out and, as quietly as possible, tucked it to the side of the multi-car garage that was so filled with vehicles that no one would notice the covered bike. Which meant no one would mess with it. And seeing how desperate his family was to keep him there, he knew he’d made a good decision.

Once the cover and his bag were stowed, he backed out, started it, and hightailed it on toward Nashville, where he and Rath were going to meet. He’d owned a non-Harley motorcycle in high school. Rath had spent many an hour regaling him with the attributes of Harleys and all his opinions on why they were the best. Julian had been convinced, and the two had spent one of their furloughs awhile back looking for a good used bike. His cousin had ended up buying it from him last year.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and smiled. Oh yeah, they were going to be having fits that he’d escaped. No, they would put it like this: “You left without even saying
goodbye
?” His mother would deny having any part of the scheme, blaming Omar and Luis. Or his father. Julian would keep in touch via Skype or Facebook. Other than that, he was staying clear of Orlando.

He arrived in Nashville around dinnertime, meeting Rath in the parking lot of a seafood restaurant. Rath hardly greeted him before assessing his bike, circling it with a smile. “Chromed accessories. A lot of upgrades.” His smile turned into a cynical smirk. “I bet you didn’t install one of those accessories, did you?”

“Yeah, I know, ‘a man’s got to work on his own bike if he’s going to get to know her.’ ” Julian had tried and failed to imitate Rath’s Tennessee accent. “But I had no place to work on her, and I didn’t want the family to know I even had the bike. And what, you going to give me a hard time because I didn’t buy a piece of shit and restore it like you
did?” He’d seen plenty of pictures of Betsy, from her rusty inception to her shining red-white-and-blue glory, displayed with the kind of pride a father shows over his offspring.

“It invests you.”

“Most of the accessories came with it. But I’ll put my own touches on it when we get to Rod’s shop.”

One of their stops was visiting a guy from their platoon who’d been injured on a raid and retired.

Rath knelt and ran his fingers down the angle of the tank. “SS baloney cut mufflers. Ghost flames metallic paint job. Coordinated grips and covers.” He gave an approving nod and stood. “Nice ride. And more importantly, it’s a Harley.”

Rath had said he wouldn’t ride with Julian if he bought some foreign bike. He’d pronounced it “furr-en,” his redneck twang more evident when he was on a rant. Julian wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not.

“How’d your homecoming go?” Julian asked, tucking his helmet beneath his arm.

“Shitty. But no surprise there. You?”

They headed toward the restaurant’s entrance. “They cuffed me to the bed this morning and sent my ex in to seduce me into staying.”

Rath turned to him with a skeptical expression. “You serious?”

“As hell. I sent her out for a condom and gave them all the slip.”

Rath threw his head back and let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“Yeah, I was laughing my ass off.” Julian gave him a droll look. “As I picked the cuff lock, jumped off the balcony, and did an exfil from my own family’s property.”

Rath just shook his head, still grinning. “Makes me glad my family doesn’t want me around that bad.” His smile faded. “I spent the week working on all the maintenance projects everyone’s too lazy to take care of. Oh, they had all kinds of excuses. Too hot. Too high up. Too hard.” He made a jerk-off motion, dismissing them with a shake of his head.

Julian could laugh when it wasn’t his family, especially imagining Rath’s response. The man suffered no fools. “And then you got them all done in a week.”

“Damn straight. The smartest guy in the family is my younger brother, Carlton, and he’s probably got an IQ in the fifties. Smart common-sense-wise, anyway. When I
get settled somewhere, I’m going to get him out of there.”

The restaurant was kitschy, with crab traps, fake fish, and other seafood-related items hanging all over the walls. The large room was packed, conversation and laughter pushing in from all sides. Julian scanned the tables, the faces. He felt better once he’d seen no fanatical gleam, no one trying not to be noticed.

“Give us a table by the wall,” Rath said to the hostess. He smiled as an afterthought. “Please.”

It was hard to fit back into the social conventions of the civvy world. Julian had been about to say the same thing, though his mama had pounded in the need for
please
and
thank you
as soon as he’d returned.