But I couldn’t think of any reason why.
Beauty left for the night to get herself some rest. When the door was shut, I stared across at Tanner. He still wasn’t awake. But I needed him. I needed to touch him, to feel his warmth. Pulling off the comforter, I held my side as I lowered my feet to the floor. I was wearing a nightdress. Beauty must have brought it for me. I smiled. It was purple and silk. It reminded me of what I married Tanner in. Knowing Beauty, it would have been why she picked it.
Taking a deep breath, I moved, using the bed frame for support. I walked across the small space between me and Tanner. When I arrived at his side, I ran my hand through his hair. My chest ached as I looked down at Tanner’s wounds. I could have lost him . . . I could have lost the love of my life . . . my husband . . . my soul’s other half.
Careful of the IV, and ignoring the pain in my side, I crawled onto the bed and slipped under the sheets. Tanner’s torso was bare. He only wore track pants.
The minute I was beside him, my bruised heart instantly healed. I laid my arm over his waist and absorbed his warmth. Lowering my head to the pillow, I kissed his stubbled cheek. “I love you, mi amor,” I whispered and breathed in his smoky, leather smell.
Even the sterile ointment on his wounds couldn’t take away his addictive scent. I held his left hand and ran my thumb over the wedding ring. I smiled at the sight . . . then Tanner’s hand twitched. I stilled, waiting, breath held . . . waiting for more . . . Tanner’s fingers moved. I sat up, and stared at his face. Tanner’s eyebrows pulled down, his tongue traced his lips . . . finally, his eyes cracked open.
I couldn’t help it. A sob left my throat as he blinked, revealing to me the bright blue eyes I adored so much. They were dazed at first. The confusion he felt was obvious by his lost expression. I kissed his cheek, his nose, then his lips. “Tanner,” I whispered, happy tears trickling down my cheeks. It took Tanner only a moment to kiss me back. His hand came up to the back of my head. I heard him hitch a breath and realized the movement must have caused him pain.
I tried to pull back, but he kept me in place. “No . . .” he whispered against my lips. “Stay.”
My heart melted.
I kissed him softly, trying to pour everything I was feeling into the touch—love, gratitude, pride, and adoration. All of it, every emotion that had ever coursed through my soul in my years with him. In our fight to be together.
I tried to communicate it all.
I reared back and looked at his face. There was no confusion, anymore. “We’re . . . alive . . .” he rasped. My heart cracked when, with shining eyes, he smiled. “We’re alive . . .” He said the words with such relief, such awe—a whispered benediction from his lips.
“Yes,” I cried, laughing, letting caged joy break through. “We’re alive.” I kissed him again. I kissed him through fallen salty tears, labored breathing, and painful injuries. But it didn’t deter us. We were here. Saved.
Saved for the sake of the other.
Breaking away, I passed Tanner the water from the nightstand. I brought it to his lips, wincing at the movement.
“You’re hurt,” he said quietly. Then his eyes widened. “Diego . . . he shot you.” Tanner’s eyes dropped to my side. He tried to reach for me. But I stopped him by placing my hand on his chest.
“I’m fine.” I ran my hands near his wounds. “You were hurt worse.” I met his eyes. “You killed Diego.”
Tanner relaxed on the bed, and I could see the relief in his eyes. I settled back down on his chest. Tanner put his arm around my shoulders. I heard him hold his breath as he moved. I sank into his side.
The room was silent. I basked in the moment. The silence was the perfect soundtrack to match my thoughts. At peace. Happy . . . liberated.
In love.
“Baby . . .” Tanner murmured. I smiled as the gravel of his deep voice vibrated against my ear.
“Mmm?”
“There’s something I have to tell you.” His wary tone made me tense.
“Okay.”
I looked up to his face. Tanner’s eyes fell to meet mine. There was apprehension in his gaze. But there was sadness too. I braced myself for whatever it was. “Alfonso . . .” Tanner paused like he didn’t want to say whatever came next. “He wasn’t your father.”
My heart sank. “I know.” Tanner’s face wore a mask of shock. “I found out just before Diego killed him.” I swallowed back the sickness of what I’d discovered. “Tanner . . . they said I was trafficked. That my father got me in some kind of a trade?” My hands shook. “My mother—Quintana’s wife—found out . . . and he killed her.” I took a moment to keep my composure. “He killed her, Tanner.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I have no idea whose daughter I am. But I know my mother, whoever she is, didn’t want to give me up.” My stomach tightened, and I fought back the urge to cry for woman I didn’t know. “They ripped me from her, Tanner . . . I was stolen and given to my father.”
Tanner held me to his chest. He said, so quietly I almost missed it, “I know who she was.”
I froze. Every muscle in my body stilled. My breathing increased in pace, and I slowly lifted my head. Then a single word Tanner said hit a crescendo in my mind.
Was.
I know who she was.
I couldn’t speak. The swelling of my throat and the fear of hearing more kept me paralyzed at Tanner’s side. Tanner’s finger ran down my cheek. “She was from Texas.” My breath shook on an exhale. “Your father was too.” I hung on every word Tanner said. Every single word. “Sanchez, your father, was Mexican. Your mother . . .” I glanced down at my arm. At my skin. My skin that had always been a touch lighter than that of my friends . . . than that of my father.
I knew what Tanner was going to say before he did. “She was American. A white American.” I closed my eyes.
“I’m Mexican. I’m a proud Mexican.” All my life, I knew who I was. I was Mexican. I knew my heritage, cherished it . . . That heritage was now up in flames.
“You’re still Mexican, princess,” Tanner reassured. “Your father was Mexican. But you have American in you too.” Tanner leaned forward and kissed my lips. He hovered close, so I opened my eyes. “Baby . . . this seems crazy, and I’m still wrapping my fucking head around it myself, but . . .”
“What, mi amor. What?” I didn’t know if I could take anymore.
“Your mama . . .” He braced himself for whatever he was about to divulge. “She was Styx’s mama too.” The world stopped. Everything in the room seemed to freeze as those words filtered into my brain. Styx . . . Styx . . . ? I thought back to him and Mae being in my room. To Mae holding my hand and kissing my head. Telling me we needed to talk . . . Y’all are family . . .
Was. Was Styx’s mama . . .
“She’s dead?” I asked, hopelessly.
“Styx’s papa—the old prez—killed her. He fucking killed her in front of Styx. He was still a kid at the time.” Tears immediately filled my eyes as I tried to imagine such a thing.
Looking at Tanner, I said, “I have a brother . . .” I thought back to Styx’s face. To how he stared like he couldn’t believe I was real. Like he’d never seen me before . . . and now I understood.
“Has he just found out about me too?”
“Yeah.” Tanner shifted so he could pull me close. “You need to talk to him, baby. Soon. When you’re better. I know he has something to show you.” I nodded, because I couldn’t find words. Then Tanner hit me with another bombshell. “You have another brother too. Your biological father’s son.” I tried to breathe, to take it all in. “Chavez. The Prez of the Diablos. They helped us.”
“Chavez . . .” I whispered.
I was silent for so long that Tanner lifted my chin. “You okay, princess?”
“Yes.” And I meant it. I was . . . My head was full to the brim with all the new events and information. But I was lying beside Tanner. And we were alive. After all that we had been through, that was enough. I didn’t need anything else in my li
fe. “I am good, mi amor. I am more than good . . . I have you.”
Tanner smiled, and then raised my left hand to his lips and kissed my wedding ring. “My wife . . .” he murmured as his eyes began to close. Exhaustion was lulling him back to sleep.
“Mi esposo,” I whispered back. I laid my head back on Tanner’s chest and closed my eyes too. The world could wait. This was my wedding night. Our deserved night by each other’s side.
And even wounded and emotionally raw . . . it was a perfect kind of bliss.
*****
One week later . . .