Page 182 of Protective Heroes

“How do you make it sound so easy, so right, while I feel like I am breaking inside? I saw the fear in my mother’s eyes every day and the heartache that crippled her.”

Dyson shook his head, frustration etched in the creases of his eyes. “That fear is not yours. It was your mother’s. Love never follows a rule book. You decide, just like I decided I wouldn’t be my father.” He rested his forehead against hers and let out a soft sigh. “Stop running from what you feel. I can’t promise easy, but it only hurts because you’re fighting the current.”

She worried her lower lip, running her fingers along his chest, unable to resist his nearness “So, when did you know?”

“I think you know the answer to that one, Shay.” He lowered his lips to the shell of her ear, “I whispered it to you six months ago as you lay awake in my arms.”

“Oh.” She blushed, recalling the night and her actions. “Then I ran out as soon as you fell asleep.”

He caught her chin and tilted her head up. “But there’s something you don’t realize. You wouldn’t have run if you didn’t feel the same way.”

She had no time to question that statement or the accompanying thought confirming his words.

He lowered his lips to hers. Warm, tender and so full of love, searing her with a soul-burning kiss. Her stomach quivered and she shoved aside all the pesky voices in her head screaming for a timeout.

He straightened slowly and brushed his lips over hers. “Resisting only makes it worse. You have to be strong enough to take what you want in this life, fucking grab on with both hands and never let go. Don’t let fear of the unknown take you away from a happiness that’s right in front of you. A happiness I want to give you. The decision is yours, but don’t think for a second I’ll stop trying to convince you that we are perfect for each other.”

Shay sighed and moved away. He was being so open and honest with her; how could she not do the same for him?

“There’s something else you need to know, Dyson. I invited Bautista to the wedding as my plus one because my business is going under and I have no way of keeping Abigail in school.” She brushed her freshly washed hair away from her face, trying to maintain a firm control over all the emotions wanting to bombard her all at once.

“He was the last hope I had of saving… well, everything.” She shrugged, beating back tears with nothing more than pure willpower.

Despite the glittering anger in his eyes suddenly tracking her every move, she pushed forward anyway.

“I have to head back to San Diego and figure out what I’m going to do with the flower shop before an us even has a chance. Then I have to deal with Abigail’s tuition and...” She dropped into a chair, letting her weight slide halfway down into the cushioned high back, gripping the sheet tighter around her chest. “Then there’s rent, bills, food. Do I really need to continue?”

Dyson pulled over a matching chair and carved out a place in her personal space, pushing her thighs wide with his knees. “Do you think an us can happen, Shay?” He gave tenacity a run for its money, she’d allow him that much.

“I’ve never had much luck with wishing, Dyson.”

He nodded and sat forward, placing a hand on her sheet-clad thigh. “How much do you know about Bautista?”

“I know he and my mother grew up close. Went to the same school, had their first puppy love at the age of eight, but drifted apart like friends do sometimes as they got older. During her more lucid moments, she’d talk to me about him from time to time, and more so when she was close to the end. She missed the tiempos antiguas, you know, the old days when things were easier.”

She looked down at her hands in her lap. “Then she would talk about my father like he was a mistake.”

The knot in her belly tightened a notch further and unsettled the tequila and food they’d shared earlier. “It always boiled down to him. She couldn’t find the strength for me or for Abigail because, according to her, my mother only had room for one in her heart.”

She shook her head, still unable to understand the reasoning of an alcoholic. “Can you imagine a mother saying that to her daughters?” Her shoulders shook and her chest clamped from the pressure of all the pain she held deep inside her.

Dyson rested his hand on her interlocked ones. “So why did you go to him for help? Why not your family or me?” She could hear the hurt in his words.

“Who, Dyson? Besides Abigail, Diego is the only family left and how could I ask him for twenty grand? With the wedding and everything, I can’t ask him for money. And why not Bautista? He’s been a family friend for years and I think you know he has enough money to have at least considered my offer.”

“Which was?”

“A partnership. And if he helped me go international, it had a lot of potential for both of us. Abigail helped me run the numbers. With his help we could be global within five years.”

“No doubt he would have helped you go international for sure, sweetheart. Right into his back yard and under his thumb.”

She cocked her head to the side in question. “What the hell does that mean?”

“One little detail your mother left out of her stories, or hell, maybe she didn’t know. Your Bautista is a businessman all right. One that leans on the power of murder and intimidation. He’s a drug lord wanted not only in the US, but also in Mexico.”

Shay stared, unable to believe what she’d just heard. She groaned inwardly. “How do you know this?”

“My team and I were charged with taking him and his organization down about a year ago. We made a big dent, but obviously not big enough.”

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