Page 64 of Vaquero
When Julio turned his square shoulders to Meg, he looked so damned handsome. He’d changed into soft, worn jeans, probably his one and only spare pair. The collar of his gray Henley was unbuttoned, revealing the sparest glimpse of chest hairs. Black, crisp hairs Meg wanted to sift her fingers through, when and if, they ever had a chance to walk through the rigid valley between his pecs. Either his shirt was too tight, or his chest was just that magnificent. Julio didn’t have man-boobs. Everything about him was chiseled granite. Solid.
His gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t plan to fall in love,” he stated quietly. “The first time. With Bianca. My wife.”
Hope wheezed out of Meg’s heart like air out of a flat tire. She’d never actually asked Julio if he was married. Damn it. She should have.
“She’s deceased now,” he went on to say, his tone soft and low. “I’d applied and was accepted into BUD/S when everything started. I was three days into Hell Week. The San Diego police called my OIC to tell me Domingo Zapata had kidnapped Bianca and our baby son. Tomas had just turned one. I’d bought him one of those big, red, plastic trikes. His legs couldn’t reach the pedals yet, but you should’ve seen…” Abruptly, Julio stopped talking.
“Oh, honey,” Meg breathed, leaning toward him, her hands gripping his sturdy forearms like manacles. “Domingo is so much worse than his brother.”
“It took me years,” he told the floor, “but I finally found them. I got myfamiliaback.”
Every word out of his mouth was breaking her heart. “Years? Bianca and Tomas were Domingo’s prisoners for years? Oh, God. I am so, so sorry. How despicable. How awful.” More like unfathomable. Domingo was known for torturing women, men, children, even dogs and cats. He was a monster. A devil.
“Yes. it was. But then I found them. I brought them both back home. Just when I thought we were going to make it. That we’d all be okay. We were living in California again. Point Loma. In the newer, better house she had to have.” His shoulders lifted as if he’d accepted every whim and wish Bianca had demanded of him. As if it were no big deal.
Meg held her breath, sensing how this sad story would end. It’d be better if Julio had been married and cheating on the woman he loved, but losing hisfamiliato Domingo Zapata? Unimaginable.
Julio turned back to the child beside Meg. His hand flattened to the center of Dom’s back. It rested there while the little guy breathed, but Julio still wasn’t making eye contact.
“She wanted to go for a walk that day. Said the ocean always gave her hope. She asked me to go with her, but Tomas had cried all night, and he was sick. I couldn’t take him with me and I couldn’t leave him. I chose my son,” Julio murmured ever so softly. He seemed to only have eyes for the sleeping boy beneath his wide, manly palm.
Whatever emotion he was dealing with, Julio certainly kept it under control. But Meg couldn’t hold back her tears. This man had suffered the worst loss imaginable. He’d lost everything! He needed to relinquish that rigid sense of control and gnash his teeth and swear at God! He needed to cry. God would understand. Any father would.
“A Navy SEAL pulled her ashore, but she was already gone,” Julio whispered. “The minute she’d walked out our back door, she’d cut her forearms from wrist to elbow. Her blood was on the trail down to the beach. She’d already known what she meant to do when she asked me to go with her. She also knew that I’d stay with Tomas. She never meant to come back to us, Meg. Only to leave.”
The already tight muscles in Julio’s neck tensed as he forced a swallow, and Meg would’ve given anything if he’d only turn his face and look at her. But it was enough that he kept talking and saying her name. He needed her to know his sad story, and that was something.
“But Tomas was never the same,” Julio whispered, his voice so soft Meg could barely hear him. “He didn’t remember me. He never called me Daddy again. I realize now that my wife deserted him while they were in Domingo’s prison. For a long time, I chose to believe she did that thinking Tomas would be better off without her. But with my counselor’s help, I’ve come to understand the truth instead of what I wanted to see. I know now that Bianca deserted Tomas long before they were kidnapped. I suspect she might’ve unintentionally encouraged Zapata’s attention without knowing what kind of man he was. How dangerous. She’d always flirted with tough guys covered in tattoos and riding Harleys. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
That ‘unintentionally encouraged Zapata’s attention’comment was overly kind of Julio. He might not realize it, but he was still making excuses for his selfish wife. A mother who deserted her one and only child? Meg found that abhorrently despicable. Bianca wasn’t a mother. She was an entitled brat who hadn’t cared about the man who’d adored her or her son.
Julio drew in a slow, deep breath. “They must’ve met somewhere in San Diego. Maybe on Coronado or one of the piers, I don’t know. There are many tourist traps in Navy towns. So much temptation. I suspect that was how and when he discovered my Colombian heritage, too. Bianca must have told him everything about me. Years ago, my father came to Mexico from Colombia. He fell in love with my mom and…”
Julio’s shoulder lifted, a sure sign Meg recognized for what it was. Another secret. Another heartache behind his seemingly indifferent body language.
“Domingo worked for a drug cartel boss back then. Viktor Patrone. Patrone needed someone to infiltrate his competition, a Columbian cartel. That was why Zapata kidnapped my family, to force me to work for Patrone. I never understood how he found me until I finally sought counseling. I look Mexican, don’t I?”
“You are beautiful to me,” she told him honestly.So, so beautiful, I could cry just looking at you.Thank God he’d been smart enough to seek counseling. Meg’s entire body ached to hold this man. To comfort him somehow, some way. But his eyes were so dark and so, so sad. He still refused to look at her.
His shoulders lifted as if she’d only told him it was a sunny day, but his big, warm hand remained in the middle of Dom’s back. So much like a father’s hand. Tender, yet callused and hard. But soft as a lamb. Kind. Loving. Protective. Goosebumps shivered up Meg’s arms. Juliowould make the best father.
“But nothing I did mattered,” he murmured, his eyes once again on the floor. “Tomas died shortly after Bianca... left. They called it failure to thrive. He just stopped breathing one night. The thing is, I’ve been alone for years, but I’d like to get to know you better, Meg. That’s why I asked about Marta and Craig.There’s a deserted island off the coast of Costa Rica. If we can get away, I was hoping we could get better acquainted. But I’ll understand if you’d rather—”
“Oh, stop!” Meg launched herself into his arms. “Kiss me, damn it, Julio. Right now, before you break my heart!”Because you already have.
She couldn’t wait for an answer. He had to know how she felt. She’d certainly mugged him enough. Counting on those other impetuous kisses, she planted her mouth over his and swallowed his doubt. Growling, because she needed him to know how much she cared and that she’d been attracted to him since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, Meg took what she wanted from that kiss. And how she wanted him! He needed to know she was not Bianca! And Bianca was a fool if she’d played around with Domingo Zapata—a murderer!—instead of the hero waiting at home for her. In her bed! What kind of woman does that?!
Determined to block that terrible pain from forever freezing this warrior’s wonderful, but broken heart, Meg smoothed her fingers up over the bandage on his bicep on her way to the back of his strong, muscular, but very stubborn neck.
When at last, he canted his head, she opened her mouth wider for him, loving the sweet, slick taste of his tongue on hers as he took over the dance she’d started. Wanting him with every pounding beat of her heart, she devoured him, aching to banish the bottomless sadness that had held him in its grip for too long. To help him forget, if just for a few seconds.
Breathing hard now, she mapped the smooth ridges down his back, while her other hand slipped around his side to cup his hip. He’d taken possession of her head, his fingers firm on her jawline, his thumbs gently stroking her dripping wet cheeks. Yes, she was bawling like a baby, but he’d suffered so much. What woman couldn’t see that?
Bianca, that’s who. There was an old saying. One woman’s garbage was another woman’s treasure. Well, Meg knew a treasure when she saw one. And Julio was her heart’s most fervent desire.
He certainly knew how to kiss. With every stroke and slide of his tongue against hers, her back arched, as if it had a mind of its own. She’d never realized the sensations inside her mouth were mirrored so vividly at her core. As if his mouth was touching her—there. Loving her… Melting her...
Oh, hell.Why hold back any feelings? Any words? Julio needed to know. “Captain Dooley put me up in a private room,” she mumbled around Julio’s skilled tongue and lips. “Take me there.”Right. Damned. Now.
