Read Online Buried (Hiding From Love #3) by Selena Laurence - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Selena Laurence
Ads: Link
thought joining an organization that would almost certainly end up getting you killed or put in prison would be better than getting sent back to Mexico to live with your mom?"
I'm unable to respond. I am clearly fucked at this point. My jaw opens and closes, but no words come out.
"I mean, I can't believe that your mom would have thought it was better for you to be in prison than poor in Mexico. Right?"
I scratch my head and look down at my ankle with its big, plastic cuff. I hate this fucking cuff. It's almost harder having freedom right outside the door but not really within reach.
"Look, it was a long time ago and what's done is done. All I can do now is work with what I've got. Which ain't a hell of a lot, and that's why you can't be in the middle of it."
"Too late, vato . I am in the middle of it, and after a kiss like that, there's no way you're going to chase me off now." She stalks back to me, placing her hands on my chest, her palms pressing heat into my skin even through my T-shirt. "See, you gave yourself away with that kiss. No man kisses a woman like that unless he really feels something for her."
"I've never denied that I feel something for you," I whisper.
"Then you can't deny me . You can't tell me to lock my feelings away and pretend this isn't something important."
"Please don't do this, Beth. You know I can't resist you forever."
She nods, a devilish smile playing around her lips. "Exactly," she murmurs as she reaches up and initiates another steaming-hot kiss. When she pulls back, I'm dizzy with the closeness of her. My hands are on her arms, and I can't stop myself from running my fingers up and down her silky skin.
She looks down at my left arm. "Is it her?" she asks softly.
My eyes follow hers. The picture inked into my skin was copied from a newspaper, and it looks like a photograph, the details fine grained and multi-dimensional.
"Yeah," I say, my voice rough. "Amanda Johnson. This was her first-grade photo that they took in school the year she died."
I see Beth's eyes mist up. "Why? Why did you get this?" she asks, her voice trembling.
"So I'd never forget. So I'd always remember the price that's been paid for me to have a life, no matter what kind of a life that might be."
"You didn't kill her," she states factually, laying her head against my chest as my arms move to her back and rub gently.
"Does it even matter if I did or not? I'm as guilty as anyone. Anyone who was in the RH is equally guilty. The entire way of life is guilty. That poor kid was doomed the moment she was born into a gang family. You can't know what that's like, Beth. The gangbanger life is encoded into DNA or something. You're born to it and it'll find you one way or another. She never stood a chance. Just like I didn’t."
She looks at me closely. "No. You're not going to waste yourself like you intend. I know you're keeping something from me—from all of us. I know it's what will save you, so I'll find out what it is eventually. Until then, I'm going to keep coming to see you. I'm not going to leave you here alone. I'm coming back soon with my sister and her boyfriend. Then, when you get your cuff off, I'll be here and we'll figure out together how to keep the RH from taking you back. We lost you once, Juan. I lost you once. I won't let it happen again."
She gives me a sweet, chaste kiss on the cheek then walks next door, leaving me with an aching dick and a tangled mind.
Later that night, I open the envelope Father Jorge gave me. It's already getting worn from the hundred times I've looked at the contents. I pull out the newspaper clipping from the San Antonio Express. The photo is too small to see the man's face very well. He is wearing Aviators and a business suit as he walks through the airport, his well-toned physique clearly evident under the expensive fabric. His hair has only a small amount of gray at the temples, and like everything else about him, it's styled perfectly. He looks like a CEO or a
I'm unable to respond. I am clearly fucked at this point. My jaw opens and closes, but no words come out.
"I mean, I can't believe that your mom would have thought it was better for you to be in prison than poor in Mexico. Right?"
I scratch my head and look down at my ankle with its big, plastic cuff. I hate this fucking cuff. It's almost harder having freedom right outside the door but not really within reach.
"Look, it was a long time ago and what's done is done. All I can do now is work with what I've got. Which ain't a hell of a lot, and that's why you can't be in the middle of it."
"Too late, vato . I am in the middle of it, and after a kiss like that, there's no way you're going to chase me off now." She stalks back to me, placing her hands on my chest, her palms pressing heat into my skin even through my T-shirt. "See, you gave yourself away with that kiss. No man kisses a woman like that unless he really feels something for her."
"I've never denied that I feel something for you," I whisper.
"Then you can't deny me . You can't tell me to lock my feelings away and pretend this isn't something important."
"Please don't do this, Beth. You know I can't resist you forever."
She nods, a devilish smile playing around her lips. "Exactly," she murmurs as she reaches up and initiates another steaming-hot kiss. When she pulls back, I'm dizzy with the closeness of her. My hands are on her arms, and I can't stop myself from running my fingers up and down her silky skin.
She looks down at my left arm. "Is it her?" she asks softly.
My eyes follow hers. The picture inked into my skin was copied from a newspaper, and it looks like a photograph, the details fine grained and multi-dimensional.
"Yeah," I say, my voice rough. "Amanda Johnson. This was her first-grade photo that they took in school the year she died."
I see Beth's eyes mist up. "Why? Why did you get this?" she asks, her voice trembling.
"So I'd never forget. So I'd always remember the price that's been paid for me to have a life, no matter what kind of a life that might be."
"You didn't kill her," she states factually, laying her head against my chest as my arms move to her back and rub gently.
"Does it even matter if I did or not? I'm as guilty as anyone. Anyone who was in the RH is equally guilty. The entire way of life is guilty. That poor kid was doomed the moment she was born into a gang family. You can't know what that's like, Beth. The gangbanger life is encoded into DNA or something. You're born to it and it'll find you one way or another. She never stood a chance. Just like I didn’t."
She looks at me closely. "No. You're not going to waste yourself like you intend. I know you're keeping something from me—from all of us. I know it's what will save you, so I'll find out what it is eventually. Until then, I'm going to keep coming to see you. I'm not going to leave you here alone. I'm coming back soon with my sister and her boyfriend. Then, when you get your cuff off, I'll be here and we'll figure out together how to keep the RH from taking you back. We lost you once, Juan. I lost you once. I won't let it happen again."
She gives me a sweet, chaste kiss on the cheek then walks next door, leaving me with an aching dick and a tangled mind.
Later that night, I open the envelope Father Jorge gave me. It's already getting worn from the hundred times I've looked at the contents. I pull out the newspaper clipping from the San Antonio Express. The photo is too small to see the man's face very well. He is wearing Aviators and a business suit as he walks through the airport, his well-toned physique clearly evident under the expensive fabric. His hair has only a small amount of gray at the temples, and like everything else about him, it's styled perfectly. He looks like a CEO or a
Similar Books
