Page 16 of Tangled Vows

Of course I wanted a word with him. From his gesturing and all that tension on his face, I realized he wanted the same. Yet, there was a problem. Clare was still fast asleep in Ivan’s bed. This wasn’t going to be a casual chat between us. If things got out of hand, we would wake her up, and we’d be forced to talk with her as well. I didn’t know about Ivan, but I wasn’t ready for that just yet.

After leaving the building, I headed over to the nearest beach. There’s something about the ocean that calms me whenever I’m torn. This was exactly one of those cases. I like Clare. My brother likes her, too, and she was thrilled to have us both last night.

But we’re no ordinary men. We’re responsible for some of the most lucrative enterprises in Miami. We run them for our Pakhan, and he makes sure to line our pockets with cash. There’s always going to be someone who’ll want our jobs. The envy in some men’s eyes can’t be hidden.

I get more than a few of those looks almost every time I walk into the Blue Dolphin. Those assholes think I’m just a rich man without any worries. They believe I have it easy because I make a lot of money. I’d like to see their faces whenever I have to tie up a loose end. They can’t imagine the things I have to do. They can’t begin to understand what it takes for someone to be in charge in my line of work.

The sun has already set over Miami when I reach a decision. I want another glimpse of Clare’s face. I wouldn’t say no to a kiss, but for the moment, all I can think of is seeing her again and checking in on her.

I ditch my Mercedes five blocks away from the safe house. I can’t have Armenians or their errand boys spotting it anywhere near where Clare is being kept. I keep my hands in my coat, my senses on high alert. I look around, searching for anything suspicious. Not seeing anyone in a car or a van pretending to read a newspaper in fading daylight, I’m a little relieved.

Turning the corner, I’m in the neighborhood of the safe house. It smells different; the gardens in the area are in bloom, red and yellow flowers adding a little color to the urban setting. I throw a few glances over my shoulder; I can never be too careful. A motorcycle roars up the street, but other than that, all is quiet.

At least, that’s what I think for about five seconds. The noise from the motorcycle fading in my ears, I hear another sound. It’s faint at first, but it’s clear enough for me to know that there’s something wrong down the street. More than fifty yards away and to the right, two men are flanking a woman, their backs to me. One of them raises an object in the air, so I get more curious. The light from a light pole reflecting off its surface, curiosity turns into tension. It’s a glass bottle.

I lengthen my strides. Whoever those sons of bitches are, they can’t bring any attention to this neighborhood. If cops show up here for any reason, they’ll start sniffing around. The safe house will be compromised, and soon, I’ll have to search for another one.

But it doesn’t take long for me to realize that this scenario is out of the question, because something more terrible is a lot more probable. As I draw near, the woman looks familiar. Her panicked gesturing and the tone of her voice just prove me right. It’s Clare, and she’s somehow pissed them off.

Their drowsy, hoarse voices also tell me they’ve been drinking. At ten yards away, I even get to see the type of shattered bottle one of them is holding. It’s Jack Daniel’s.

Clare’s scream tears through the silence.

I yank my Glock out of its holster. I twist it in my grasp and hold it by the barrel, the side of the guy’s face becoming clear. He’s got a graying beard and his eyes are narrowed, gaze fixed on Clare. I thrust the gun up and into his temple, knocking him off balance. He slams into the vehicle and bounces back. I don’t give him time to react.

Clutching my gun, I toss my hand up to his head and grab a fistful of his hair. I yank him back and jerk my arm back. The metal smashes into his forehead, and he groans in pain as Clare watches in shock.

“Fuck you!” his buddy cries, reaching out to grab my arm. I jerk away and twist my gun in my grasp. I step back and aim it at him, my chest rising and falling as his friend drops to the ground. I cock back the hammer and stare at him, holding the gun inches from his face.

“Clare, did this prick hurt you?” I ask without taking my eyes off him as he raises his hands in the air.

“Uh...”

“Did he?!” I yell, struggling to keep myself from ending him.

“No, no,” she says too fast. “He and his friend were just goofing around.”

“Really?” I wonder, cocking an eyebrow before throwing a swift glance down at the shattered whiskey bottle. “Goofing around? Is that why this asshole was about to stab you with that broken bottle?”

“Sorry, man,” the fallen guy groans, crawling away from my feet. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to have some fun with her, that’s all.”

“Fun...” I snarl, lifting my foot off the ground. I stomp my shoe on the back of his calf, pinning him down. “I should put a fucking bullet in your head. Right fucking now.”

“No! Please don’t!” Clare begs, the tears in her eyes forcing doubt in me as she glances over at the standing thug. “Go! Get out of here! Now!”

I press my lips together and lower my gaze to the other guy lying on the ground. “This one? He dies.”

“Oh God...” She whispers, taking a step closer to me. “Will you please listen to me?”

“Listen...” I growl, struggling to believe my ears. “He was about to gut you, and you’re going to let him get away with it?”

“He’s drunk!” she shouts, pointing down at him. “He’s drunk out of his goddamn mind! Come on...” she urges, her tone dropping to a soft whisper. “Will you do it for me?”

Damn it...

Nothing could convince me. No words would change my mind.

Except the last two.

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