He hooked his finger around her finger and pulled her down. She braced herself on his knee. "I'll hurt you."
"Impossible. Hearts broken," he mumbled, pulling her more until she had no choice but to sit in his lap. "Hold on to me,
mi vida
."
"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," she said.
He tugged her closer. "Never."
She carefully slid her arms around his chest and laid her head on his uninjured shoulder. His body trembled or maybe it was hers, she couldn't tell. She only knew that she felt more complete than she had since finding out Garcia shot him.
His hand moved up into her hair at the back of her head. He fisted the strands, holding her the best he could with one arm. The gentle tug comforted her and her body melted against him. All the reassurances that he was alive and well, in her arms, settled her mind.
Afraid to ask what was wrong in case it was more than almost dying, she closed her eyes and inhaled. The familiar mix of leather and smoke filled her nostrils. Her stomach quivered and she held him a little tighter. He'd broken down and smoked.
"Damn, I missed you," he whispered against her hair.
She kissed his neck in reply. "Your shoulder?"
"It'll heal. Bullet went clear through." He sighed heavily. "Medication is kicking my ass right now or I'd take you on the couch and show you how much I need you."
She rose, taking his hand, and stood in front of him. "Let me get you into bed. You can sleep here tonight."
He allowed her to pull him to his feet and yawned. "Missed sleeping with you too."
"You have me tonight," she said.
She made no promises for the future. He was in no condition to listen to her unload everything she'd decided tonight. He could barely keep his eyes open. She'd never seen him this way.
Always strong and relentless, he'd go days working with the club, riding hundreds of miles in one stretch, and still have the energy to devote attention to her. This new vulnerability in him made her want to take care of him.
She sat him down on the edge of the bed and kneeled on the floor. She unlaced his black boots, weakening her resolve to push him back to his family when she saw he was barefooted. He hadn't even taken the time to put socks on before coming to her.
"Sorry,
mi vida
," he muttered.
She lifted her gaze. He sat, shoulders slumped, eyes closed, but still conscious of being with her. She set his boots to the side and stood. He mumbled something else, but she couldn't understand what he was saying.
"Sh. Just sleep." She helped him lay back on the bed, pulling the pillow under his head and loosening his belt.
She covered him up with the quilt folded on a nearby chair and smoothed his hair back from his face. Even half-dead to the world, he called to her.
The wrinkles around his eyes remained, and she smiled in memory of laughing in bed late one night as she'd tried to smooth the worry out of his skin. He'd laughed at her failed attempt. The lines were permanent, and part of him.
She loved everything about him, but especially his eyes. Dark and intent, they flared when his emotions ran deep. Warmed and softened when making love. Spoke to her when words were unnecessary.
Dropping her hand to her side, she turned away from the bed. His hand wrapped around her wrist. "Don't leave me."
She moved closer, bent over, and kissed his lips. "I'm going to shut off the lights in the other room. I'll be back."
"Fuck the lights," he whispered. "Come to bed."
Her chest warmed. Impatient like always, he'd be fine once he healed.
"Okay," she whispered back.
She crawled into bed beside him. He pulled her tight against him with his good arm. She laid her leg over his, resting her head in the crook of his arm on his chest. Dressed in yoga pants and a tank, she was comfortable enough to sleep. However, she knew she wouldn't get any rest. Tomorrow, she'd have to talk with him and send him back to the club alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Crystal carried a hot mug of coffee into the living room. She passed the cup to Raul, and sat on the couch beside him. She wasn't drinking her morning caffeine, because she feared her stomach would bring the liquid back up.
She couldn't put off explaining why she had to let him go any longer. From his attitude this morning, he had no idea she'd made decisions without him. He expected her to go back to the club with him today.
"Do you need me to send one of the guys over for your pain medication?" she asked, selfishly stalling for more time with him.
He shook his head, drank, and said, "No. I'll be okay until later. Last night's sleep helped the most. I haven't rested well since I started the job for Garcia."
Understandable, because she knew how important the case was too him, and her safety. She rubbed her hands along her thighs. "I haven't thanked you for protecting me from the Mafia. I don't know what—"
"It's over,
mi vida
." He leaned forward and set his cup on the coffee table, and then took her hand. "His wanting you was personal. That's the end. Nobody is going to hurt you more. I'll always be with you."
She nodded. "I know."
He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "Something else is on your mind though."
She moistened her lips. "Yeah."
"Tell me," he said.
She glanced at him before lowering her gaze to their linked hands. "After everything that has happened, I've been thinking about my own life and the direction I'm headed. I've decided to go back home to Nevada. I'm ready for everyone to learn that I'm not in fact dead like my parents have led the world to believe."
"Okay." He squeezed her hand. "We'll leave as soon as I'm able to ride."
She shook her head. "I need to do this alone."
"What are you saying?" He frowned. "I'll be ready in a couple of weeks, maybe sooner. Nevada is an easy ride from here. It'll give us time to get away, be together after all the shit we've been through lately."
She slipped her hand from his grasp and stood. "I know we talked about making our relationship permanent, but—"
"Making? It's damn well permanent now."
She swallowed hard. "Your case is over. You need to go back to your job, your family."
"Are you shitting me?" He stood. "I've turned in my resignation. I'm out."
"It's not safe for you to stay with the club," she said.
"They have no clue I was a Fed. We can continue being part of the club. Everyone associated with the Mafia or Bronstowns, who were there that day, are dead or in prison. Most of all, everyone at the scene watched me be handcuffed and taken away. As far as they're concerned, they shipped me out of state. We have guys in the pen who'll protect me. Our connection with the Mafia is over. The guys can continue stripping cars or whatever they want to do. I'll get a real job. Hell, I don't even need to work to support us. We can live off what the government puts in my bank account every month." He stopped and inhaled a lungful of air. "What happened to the woman who promised me we'd make this work?"
She gazed at the ceiling helplessly. How could she make him understand without killing everything they had together? Was it even possible to send him away, thinking she'd be okay as long as he was happy?
Desperate to have him understand she was doing this for him, to give him back the life he deserved, to give him peace, she'd end up miserable for the rest of her life.
"Your parents are aging, baby. You need to go back and spend the time you have with them. You have a family who loves you, who miss you every day, and need answers. You left them without closure. They need to know you're happy and safe." She approached him. "Your family deserves to know the Raul I've come to love."
He grinned and cupped her cheek. "
Mi vida
, you're turning this into a fucking sob story. My dad retired out of the FBI. I followed his footsteps into the bureau. Though I regret being unable to tell them where I was going and what I'd be doing, I guarantee they know exactly what I'm doing and were prepared for the day I'd up and disappear on a case. To them, no news is good news. They know I'm okay. If I wasn't, someone in the department is required to let them know."
"Okay, but—"
"Crystal." He lowered his head and laid his forehead against hers. "I 'preciate what you're doing, but you're staying with me. I sent you away before, and regretted it. I almost killed any chance of getting you back. I'm not going to do that again."
"Raul…" She sagged against him. "You must go."
"Not letting you go, ever." He pulled back and grinned. "What's more important than you to me?"
Her heartbeat thrummed at twice the normal rate. Tears came to her eyes, and she stroked his cheek with her hand, loving him more than she had a right to. "Go home to your wife. I love you, but marriage is sacred. You need to return to your family and be the good man I know you to be to your wife…not me."
Raul rocked back on his heels at her announcement, looked at her out of the corner of his eyes as if he couldn't believe she'd tell him to leave, and then swayed away from her and walked to the front window with his back to her. She wrapped her arms around her middle. An ache low in the pit of her stomach squeezed her insides, reminding her of all that she was losing by pushing him away.
She'd never be the same. Her throat closed, trapping her breath. Life would go on, but she'd laugh less, smile dimmer, and never find the comfort she craved in his arms again.
"You have to see how it's impossible for us to be together," she whispered. "You belong to someone else, and I'd never be able to live with myself if I came between you and…and your wife. I love you too much to tie you here or—"
A low grunt came from Raul. She tilted her head. His shoulders shock and he groaned in pain. She blinked, sending the tears she'd held back down her cheeks. She was destroying everything they created together.
"Raul, please understand," she said on a sob. "Please."
He bent over at the waist, and then she heard more noise coming from him. She took a step toward him when he turned, threw back his head, and filled the room with his laughter.
She straightened her shoulders and dropped her hand from her chest. It was official. She'd made him insane.
His eyes danced with amusement and he gasped for breath in between long jags of laughter. Confused over what he found so funny, she waited for him to explain himself. Thirty seconds later, she'd had enough.
"This isn't funny," she said.
He nodded and stifled his laughter. "You're giving me back to my wife?"
"Yeah." She crossed her arms.
"My wife?"
She closed her eyes a beat and opened them again. "Yes," she bit off.
He stalked across the room and planted his feet in front of her. "When the hell did I get married?"
"I-I don't know. Before you joined the Lagsturns." She lifted her chin. "I heard Garcia the day you got shot. He knew about your real identity and I put everything together. You left behind a wife."
He shook his head. "Right."
"Listen." She braced his face, making him acknowledge the truth. "I get that you were lonely. You'd been with the Lagsturns a long time before you met me. You were out of your element, thinking you'd be on the case for many more years, and you grew weak."
He jerked back out of her grasp. "Weak? Son of a bitch. You seriously believe this shit?"
"Stop denying it," she said.
He tilted his head to the side, stretching his muscles, left, right, and then grew serious. "I'm not married. Never have been. There's no wife in my past. Hell, I didn't even leave a girlfriend behind, because I was busy training myself to step into the biker world. This whole conversation comes down to you grabbing on to what Garcia stated when he was trying to get me to slip up against what you know. Have I ever given you any inclination I was holding back from having you in my life?"
"But—"
He lunged, capturing her lips, shutting off her excuse, her denial. She froze, then she snapped to attention and the moment he opened her mouth and their tongues touched, she clung to him, taking his kiss, needing him more than the truth.
The heady scent of Raul filled her senses. She closed her eyes, wanting to push out the outside world and capture the invisible bond that kept them linked. No matter if they were apart, this connection remained between them, always present, always pushing them back to being together. He consumed her thoughts, her feelings, and desires.
He slipped his hand under her shirt and sprawled his rough fingers over her bare back. The first easy breath of the last week swept through her body. She was alive, and Raul was right here with her.
He eased away from her mouth with little kisses. She panted. "Raul, we have so much ahead of us. I don't know what to do to fix everything."
"Don't worry about us. That's my job." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Trust me."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Three weeks later, Raul walked downstairs into the lobby of the club. Crystal set down the prospect's cut she promised to sew the new patch on and watched him stalk across the room. Something was off. He seemed at ease, lighter, and determined.
Then she spotted what he held in his hand.
"No way." She jumped off the bar stool, reaching for the keys to his motorcycle.
He raised his hand high in the air out of her reach, and snagged her around the waist with his other arm. Then he kissed her full on the lips to the cheers of Big Joe and Nichols. "We're going riding."
She shook her head. "It's too early. You're supposed to go to the doctor next week to make sure you're all healed before you ride."
"Don't need no doctor to tell me I'm okay to ride,
mi vida
." He pulled her tight against him and lifted her off her feet as he strode to the door with her in his embrace. "Best medicine in the world is you, the wind on my face, and my Harley between my legs. There's nothing more a man needs."
She couldn't argue with him there. Change a Harley for Raul between her legs, and she'd swear she discovered the miracle drug to cure everything that ailed her.