Read Online Unbreakable: Unrequited Part Two (Fallen Aces MC Book 2) by Max Henry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Max Henry
Tags: romantic suspense
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hero.”
What do I say? This man whom I’d love to watch bleed out before me opens up such an intimate side of him, and yet I can’t find it in me to feel any compassion toward the guy. I am, however, curious. “What changed?”
“The bad guys became real.”
“You’re one of them.”
He clears his throat and stands. “Yes, I am. As they say, if you can’t beat them, join them.”
Silence hangs thick, as does the next question. Asking him could spin this new side of his coin back over to angry and place me in harm’s way. But I need to know. “May I ask a personal question?”
He nods, apparently frustrated enough already to accept.
I swallow back the hesitancy and plunder straight in. “You said you loved your first wife before you shot her.” His face pales. “So why shoot her?”
Carlos runs a hand over the flattened hair at the back of his head as he answers, “I only wanted to scare her.”
“It was an accident?” I never would have picked that.
“I was high. I was angry and jealous. I thought she was going to leave me.”
“So you shot her?” I ask incredulously. I can’t hide the disbelief in my tone, the confusion. Hell of a way to put the frights up someone.
He sighs and paces to the far side of the entrance, his back to me for a while as he lets the silence hang between us. I pick up on every physical cue, every little nuance of his that he’s agitated. Good. For once, I have the man feeling uneasy, rather than the other way around.
“I wanted to hurt her bad enough she’d need me to care for her, that she’d need me to be her hero and save her from death. But she moved.” He hangs his head briefly. “She moved, I think to try and protect our son—so I wouldn’t know he was there.”
My disgust at the man eases a little. The monster has a heart after all—he’s just forgotten where he put it. “Your son saw?” I murmur.
He nods before spinning to face me with such speed that I lose my breath. “Enough chit-chat, precious.” His eyes are the color of the clouds before thunder. “Run on before I decide I need to remind myself why being the bad guy is so much better.”
EIGHT
King
Apprehension tickles my palms as I stare down at my full hands. My boots scuff on the concrete step. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I’ve been out of play for several days; I’ve got no idea how she’ll take me just turning up like this, what the consequence will be.
The lock rattles on the far side of the door, and I stop shuffling my feet. Hinges creak as she opens up slowly to reveal a huge smile on her otherwise sad face.
“King . . .”
“Hey, Shanaya.”
Twig’s old lady steps back from the door, one of their girls attached to her hip, and ushers me in. “When I heard you were hurt too—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I set the bags of groceries down on the floor and nod toward them. “Just a few things to help out.”
She clucks her tongue as she fights tears. “He always spoke so highly of you.” Her chest heaves as she drags in a breath. “And I always agreed with him. You’re a good man.”
If only she knew. I ignore the lump that forms in my throat and focus on the golden-haired girl at my side as I step into the living room.
“Hi, King,” she says, whisper-soft. Big eyes look up at me while I stroke her hair back.
“Hey, baby girl.”
“Have you seen my daddy today?”
I whip my gaze to Shanaya and plead silently for help. She offers me a sad smile and beckons to her daughter. “How about I set you girls up on my bed with a movie? You can pick one each.”
The children sprint down the hallway, squealing about which Disney movie they’re going to select and who gets to play theirs first.
Nervous minutes pass where I wander aimlessly around the small room waiting on Shanaya to return. I pick up on all the subtle reminders of Twig: a belt buckle left beside a new leather strap on the lamp table, photos of happier times in a frame by the door, and
What do I say? This man whom I’d love to watch bleed out before me opens up such an intimate side of him, and yet I can’t find it in me to feel any compassion toward the guy. I am, however, curious. “What changed?”
“The bad guys became real.”
“You’re one of them.”
He clears his throat and stands. “Yes, I am. As they say, if you can’t beat them, join them.”
Silence hangs thick, as does the next question. Asking him could spin this new side of his coin back over to angry and place me in harm’s way. But I need to know. “May I ask a personal question?”
He nods, apparently frustrated enough already to accept.
I swallow back the hesitancy and plunder straight in. “You said you loved your first wife before you shot her.” His face pales. “So why shoot her?”
Carlos runs a hand over the flattened hair at the back of his head as he answers, “I only wanted to scare her.”
“It was an accident?” I never would have picked that.
“I was high. I was angry and jealous. I thought she was going to leave me.”
“So you shot her?” I ask incredulously. I can’t hide the disbelief in my tone, the confusion. Hell of a way to put the frights up someone.
He sighs and paces to the far side of the entrance, his back to me for a while as he lets the silence hang between us. I pick up on every physical cue, every little nuance of his that he’s agitated. Good. For once, I have the man feeling uneasy, rather than the other way around.
“I wanted to hurt her bad enough she’d need me to care for her, that she’d need me to be her hero and save her from death. But she moved.” He hangs his head briefly. “She moved, I think to try and protect our son—so I wouldn’t know he was there.”
My disgust at the man eases a little. The monster has a heart after all—he’s just forgotten where he put it. “Your son saw?” I murmur.
He nods before spinning to face me with such speed that I lose my breath. “Enough chit-chat, precious.” His eyes are the color of the clouds before thunder. “Run on before I decide I need to remind myself why being the bad guy is so much better.”
EIGHT
King
Apprehension tickles my palms as I stare down at my full hands. My boots scuff on the concrete step. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I’ve been out of play for several days; I’ve got no idea how she’ll take me just turning up like this, what the consequence will be.
The lock rattles on the far side of the door, and I stop shuffling my feet. Hinges creak as she opens up slowly to reveal a huge smile on her otherwise sad face.
“King . . .”
“Hey, Shanaya.”
Twig’s old lady steps back from the door, one of their girls attached to her hip, and ushers me in. “When I heard you were hurt too—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I set the bags of groceries down on the floor and nod toward them. “Just a few things to help out.”
She clucks her tongue as she fights tears. “He always spoke so highly of you.” Her chest heaves as she drags in a breath. “And I always agreed with him. You’re a good man.”
If only she knew. I ignore the lump that forms in my throat and focus on the golden-haired girl at my side as I step into the living room.
“Hi, King,” she says, whisper-soft. Big eyes look up at me while I stroke her hair back.
“Hey, baby girl.”
“Have you seen my daddy today?”
I whip my gaze to Shanaya and plead silently for help. She offers me a sad smile and beckons to her daughter. “How about I set you girls up on my bed with a movie? You can pick one each.”
The children sprint down the hallway, squealing about which Disney movie they’re going to select and who gets to play theirs first.
Nervous minutes pass where I wander aimlessly around the small room waiting on Shanaya to return. I pick up on all the subtle reminders of Twig: a belt buckle left beside a new leather strap on the lamp table, photos of happier times in a frame by the door, and
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