He touched the tip of her nose playfully. “You’re fearless, aren’t you, baby?”
“Sometimes.” She held his wrist, looking at the scars on the top of his hand. “Not always.”
“What are you afraid of?”
She shrugged. “Of you getting killed. Losing you before we even get a chance to know each other.”
“I know you very well, Alesha.” He winked, trailing the backs of his fingers along the curve of her breast.
“That’s not what I mean.” She swatted him playfully.
It didn’t take much for her deep-seated fears to rise to the surface. “I’m afraid of you walking out on me.” Her mother had done the same, and the thought of it happening again made her feel anxious and alone.
“I’m usually good at that. Getting close with people is something I’ve always avoided, you know? When you learn from an early age that everyone wants to use you for something, you stop trusting. Stop caring.”
She swallowed hard.
“It’s different with you, Alesha. You opened my eyes, made me realize how good it feels for someone to give a shit about me.”
Alesha intertwined her fingers with his.
“What happened to your hands?”
She felt the wall he kept up growing stronger, but she didn’t want their relationship based on secrets or lies. “Old scars.”
“It shouldn’t take being drunk before you open up to me.”
“Where I come from, it’s not like here. It would give you nightmares.” He licked his lips, and once again, she wanted to erase the past from his memories. “After my mother sold us off, I lived through years of torture, being forced to do all kinds of shit.”
“Xavier…”
“It’s okay. I survived. I learned to shut it all out. To forget the pain,” he said. “I guess it all hardened me, and I lived for revenge. I’ve done a lot of evil shit in my life.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t have to defend me. I know what I’ve done. The problem now is getting people to believe I’ve changed. The men I work with don’t trust me, and no matter what you think you feel, you don’t trust me either.”
“I’m trying my best. I’m still here after everything that’s happened. I gave you my virginity.”
He smirked. “Yes, you did. A gift I didn’t deserve.”
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “We can’t change the past, Xavier, but we can make a better future. I’m starting from today.”
He tucked her into the crook of his arm as he rolled to his back, his fingers gently caressing behind her neck. Tomorrow he was going to risk his life again. How many days and nights would she have to worry about him coming home alive or not? Alesha’s faith in new beginnings may be strong, but a relationship with a hitman would put her to the test.
****
Xavier pulled his collar higher. There was a sharp chill in the air at this time of morning, especially by the water. He stared out beyond the stacked containers on the dock to the distant horizon. No matter how hard he tried to forget the past, it continued to haunt him. He didn’t regret the killing, the backstabbing, any of the violence … because they all had it coming. What he couldn’t move on from was the sister he left behind. Was she alive? Dead? Did Boss know more than he let on?
He’d always had that little weakness, a part of him that couldn’t stand to see a man abuse a woman. It all stemmed back to her—Graciella. They’d dragged her away, kicking and screaming. He watched his little sister until he could no longer see her. Then his own nightmares began. Since the day they were separated as children, he never knew what became of her. Part of him didn’t want to know because it would probably be too much for him to handle. But he had to find her, to apologize for not being able to save her. He was no longer a boy. Nothing on heaven or earth would stop him from saving her today … or from protecting Alesha.
A foghorn sounded in the distance, snapping him back to the present, and reminding him why he was there.
Xavier made his way to the meeting point. Bain and Killian were supposed to be his partners in this raid. The three of them would be able to take down a damn army. Although he hadn’t worked too much with Bain, Killian had been one of the men to train him. Boss had strict guidelines for anyone joining Killer of Kings.
Most of his life, he’d been El Diablo. He had no mercy as he climbed his way to the top of every criminal organization he ever joined. Things were different now. He had no desire to rule Killer of Kings. It started as an information exchange, but now he wanted to be trusted, to become a comrade to the other hitmen. But trust had to be earned. Maybe creating a new life would never be in the cards for him.
He found Killian around the corner of a container, leaning against the metal wall as he checked his clips.