Page 15 of Wounded Wing

The mystery man claps his copper-toned tattooed hand on Ricky’s shoulder, lightly pushing the teen over and making him scowl. Stunning obsidian eyes lit with playful energy meet mine, taking my breath away. His face is clean-shaven, adorned with twin dimples as he smiles making him appear not much older than myself. His jet-black hair is slicked back, giving him a contrasting bad-boy vibe along with the hundreds of dark, sensual-themed tattoos decorating his bare chest and arms. Around his neck sits a delicate, silver chain rosary with black beading, the crucifix more detailed than the ones I have come across.

Holy shit. He’s gorgeous.

Catching myself before I start drooling, I give the man a genuine smile while offering him my hand. His dark eyes flit to my hand, studying my gaudy wedding ring. A delicious heat wraps around my fingers as the gorgeous man lifts my hand to meet his soft lips.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,Mae. My name is Ángel Ladrón and thisragazzois my nephew.”

Ángel and Idepart from the front desk, leaving Ricky behind to work the long line gathering behind me. I learn that Ricky’s mother, Ángel’s sister, was the head of the Ladrón Cartel syndicate. He explained how she passed away unexpectedly,

“Cancer, fucking ugly way to go for a Reina, but she wasn’t going to take the easy way out. Ricky’s father lives in Italy. He’s not a bad guy, but he is absent more often than not. Ricky has two families he represents, so life at Everest Hill can be hard on him. The kid is tough. He says your boy is a good friend. Any friend of Ricky’s is a friend to the Ladrón family.”

Walking into the air-conditioned gym, I find an empty corner to place my belongings. Ángel leans himself against the poorly painted brick walls, observing the few members roaming about.

Pulling the dark shades from my face, the bright fluorescent lights cause me to hiss my displeasure.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” he shouts, making me cringe as I hear the assumption hidden in his tone.

Turning on my heel, I walk towards the dingy blue mats. My heart lurches out of sync, knowing that I haven’t addressed any of the trauma from that night. I raise my arms above my head and begin stretching my limbs, praying to whatever God is out there that I don’t have a panic attack.

Get your shit together, Mae.

Pushing off from the wall, he stalks in front of me, his expression far too furious for someone that I’ve only just met. “Who do I need to kill,lucecita?”

Swallowing the blockage in my throat, I squat deeply continuing my stretches. “No one, I’m fine. Thank you for the offer, though.”

His dark gaze travels over my well-covered body as if he can see through the barriers. Nodding sharply, he steps back, allowing me the space I desperately need. After warming up, my feet carry me over to the weapons’ room. My clammy hands reach for the foam-padded Kamagong sticks. Phantom pain forces me to breathe heavily, my lower back tense, preparing for a strike that never comes. Chatter around the gym sounds distant like I’m drowning in a pool while everyone around me is oblivious.

That’s it, cher. You’re so close to breaking for me.

.

.

.

My baby! You killed Danny.

Atticus’ voice paralyzes me, but Mrs. Fremont’s fuels my rage. Blinded by pain, paranoia, and the haunting guilt that I deserve every bad fucking thing that has ever happened to me, I kick my foot out at the bins holding the practice weapons. “FUCK! Fuck! Fuc—” My screams are cut short by warm hands gripping my sweaty face.

Ángel’s handsome face fields my vision, the gym now empty. “Forgive me, I didn’t want to hurt you. I had a feeling that compression wasn’t going to help,” he soothes, his thumbs gently caressing over the bruising under my eyes.

Holding my hand up, I stop his apologies. “It’s fine, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have come today.” Looking around the gym,I sigh. “Sometimes this happens, I freak out like that,” my hands waving in the general direction of the mess I made.

“I lost Liam’s dad before he even had a chance to know I was pregnant. It was a barn fire…I was there. After that I started getting these panic attacks.”

Dropping his hands from my heated face, his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Your husband isn’t Liam’s father? I don’t mean to pry,” he laughs lightly. “Okay, maybe I do mean to pry. Atticus Lennon is a well-known figurehead here inNew Orleans.”

With a trembling breath, I confess my truths to my newly appointed tattooed priest. “We fell into an agreement and married when Liam was only six months old. He’s all I know.”

Ángel nods his head in understanding, not a trace of disdain on his flawless face. However his hands flex at his sides, the sound of his knuckles popping filling the silence between us.

“Is he why you were wearing sunglasses in the building?” he asks, moving straight to the point.

My shoulders tense as I reconsider if he’s someone worth trusting. “Something like that–” Obnoxious beeping interrupts my sordid confession making Ángel’s jaw clench, sensing that our time to talk is over.

“For what it’s worth,lucecita, I’m glad you came here today. Despite the bad shit, you met a friend of your son and me, of course.” That mischievous light from earlier finds its way back to his eyes, masking the darkness that bled through.

After saying our farewells, Ángel walks me out from Ladrón’s, only for me to stop in my tracks when I see Atticus’ black-pearl car idling next to the curb. His haunting eyes pierce through me before landing on Ángel. Atticus’ smile grows unnaturally wide as Ángel brushes me to the side, forcing my feet to trip over themselves, as he swaggers his way over to the driver’s door.

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