“Really?”
He was still a child there, needing approval, needing to be reassured that he hadn’t been forgotten. He was still a Mauricio. Even if he hadn’t been living as one for the last few years, he had been hunted down because he was. Cole wasn’t stupid. He knew his return would cause resistance from some of his relatives who had enjoyed their power.
I dipped my head in a nod. “They’ll fall in line, Cole. There are too many who respect the old way.”
“And you support me.”
“That won’t matter. I’m out.”
His mouth formed a mocking grin. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I am.”
“For your woman?”
“I’m in business with the Bartels.”
“And with us, right? That was the deal. You continue to make both families rich so your woman can live with no retaliation.”
“Yes.”
“And if anyone violates that deal?”
They already had. They’d gone after Cole, and one family couldn’t move against the other. But Cole had technically been living outside of the family. They would argue that, saying they hadn’t broken the agreement because he’d been in isolation. It was a game now between the two families, each watching the other to see who would make the next move.
I motioned to the middle of the room. “We can discuss this later. Let’s keep fighting.”
“So you can keep kicking my ass?” Cole tossed his water to the ground, along with his towel, and came forward. Rolling his shoulders back, he raised his hands in a fighting stance.
I held back a smile. When would he learn I didn’t fight like that? But instead of saying so, I batted his hands down, swept a leg around his waist and lifted myself in the air. Flipping backward, I used the leverage of my leg around him to pull him over me and threw him against a far wall. I went with him. We were out of the light. He would need to sense my attack.
He didn’t.
With one swift punch, I knocked him out.
You’re gone next week too?
My phone buzzed as I got the text from Theresa. I’d been in New York for one week and had remained inside Cole’s home the whole time. Carter spent every morning and every evening in the gym with Cole. If he was out late, for whatever reason, that just meant the hour of training got pushed back until he returned. I figured out they were training the second day when Cole appeared with a black eye and swollen jaw. Carter sometimes returned with a swollen lip and a few bruises on his jawline, but that was it.
He would spend the rest of the day out while Cole remained behind. I never asked what was going on, but I overheard Cole asking him one night in the kitchen, “Salba still refuses?”
Carter’s voice was quiet, but sneaking closer, I heard him say, “—matter. We move forward as planned. You’ll be initiated Sunday.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Will you remain here?”
Carter’s voice was muffled so I couldn’t hear his reply, and Cole didn’t respond.
Feeling guilty about spying, I snuck back to the room. I had just gotten under the covers when Carter came in. He stopped, shook his head, and closed the door behind him.
“What?” I asked.
“Did you get the answer you wanted?”
“What are you talking about?”
A faint smirk teased at the corners of his mouth, but he sighed and tossed a file onto the bed. With one motion, he pulled his shirt over his head, and my mouth dropped. His face had remained relatively clean after the sparring sessions, but not his chest. Carter had avoided showering with me or undressing in my presence all week, I now realized. His chest was full of cuts and bruises. There were welts over his ribs, too.
“Oh my god.” Scooting toward him to the edge of the bed, I stopped right before touching one of the cuts. “Carter.”
He looked down, surveying his chest. “They’re mostly superficial wounds.” He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “No need to worry about me.”
As he went into the bathroom, I followed him. He turned on the shower, and I perched on the counter.
“Is that why you’ve not undressed around me this week?” I asked over the water. He’d slid into bed late at night, after an hour in the gym with Cole and showering. He kept the lights off so as not to wake me, and he was gone when I woke. When he returned to shower and change, I was working in the office. My eyes roamed over his body, and I ached for him, but not in the usual way. Some of those cuts looked nasty.
He stepped inside, but left the door open and angled his head so he could still see me. His eyes found mine. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
I tucked my hands under my legs. “Did you get them checked out, to make sure you haven’t broken anything? None of those cuts are infected, right?” I eyed one in particular. A red circle had formed around it.
“I’m fine.” His eyes slid down my body, lingering where my shirt fell low, revealing some cleavage. “I’m definitely okay enough for you to join me.”
I smiled, but stayed where I was. “Maybe later.” With him on the bed, me on top, I knew he wouldn’t be hurting…too much.
His eyes darkened, but he ducked underneath the water, wetting his hair. I waited until he finished showering, and when he was done, I waited some more while he dried himself before going back into the bedroom. As he went to the closet, I spied the folder he’d thrown onto the bed earlier. I picked it up and asked, “What’s this—” as I began to flip through it. My words died as I saw the first picture.