35. Thirty-Five

I"m laid over soft cushions. My first instinct is to reach for my aching neck. Someone stops me, brushing their warm fingers over mine. "Don"t, baby, your neck is very bruised. It may hurt more if you touch it."

I stare up into those same beautiful eyes that always leave me breathless. "Is it over?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet, but it will be soon. I should get you out of here. Santiago"s father is on his way with lots of his men. I"m going to wait here with your father. We will make sure he"s taken care of. He won"t see it coming."

I smile, shaking my head. The ache in my neck is dull and it hurts to swallow. "You"re stupid to think I"m going anywhere without you."

"You"re already badly hurt. You need to see a doctor. He may have crushed your windpipe."

I laugh. "I wouldn"t be able to talk if he did. It"s just a little bruising. I"ll be fine. You saved me again."

He chuckles. "Actually, your father saved you this time."

My eyes widen, searching for my father. "Where is he?"

He glances behind him and then back at me. "He went to make a few phone calls. He said a few men owe him favors. Look, I want to ask you something. It"s about the guy who gave you the blue gun."

I nod, smiling. "So, he was a friend of yours." It"s not a question but a statement.

He sighs. "Not exactly. I"m not sure who he was, and neither does Angel nor your father. The gun he gave you...well, it belonged to my father. Miguel gave it to him as a gift right before the fire. That gun was buried with him."

I gasp. Not entirely sure what he"s saying. The guy was clearly alive when I saw him, but Marcus was dead. Maybe it was a friend of his, but then why would he have that gun?

"I"ve never seen the guy before in my life. He had a suit on like everyone else and a scar under his left eye. His eyes were a piercing green and his hair was dark blond."

"I hadn"t seen my father since I was ten. If I saw him today, I wouldn"t recognize him. That was nearly fifteen years ago."

"Are you saying your father may be alive?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I"m not sure what I"m saying. Nothing is ever what it seems lately."

I sit up on the couch and he tries to stop me. I place my hand to his shoulder. "I"m fine, I promise."

He slides his thumb over my cheek. "You"re staying, then?"

"Wild horses couldn"t keep me away." I smile. Gun shots come from the back yard. Gabriel"s eyes dart toward the door. "Looks like it"s time for us to finish cleaning up after your mother."

I straighten up my body on the couch. "Where is my mother?"

"She"s gone and so is Santiago"s mother."

Two men swing open the front door and I reach for my gun. He slides his hand over mine, stopping me. "Relax, princesa. They are friends."

One of the guys gets closer. "So, this is the guy who"s caused all the trouble?"

Gabriel laughs. "We don"t exactly have time for proper introductions, but yes. Carlos, this is my Mateo. Mateo, this is my older brother, Carlos."

Now that he mentions it, I can see the family resemblance. The guy behind Gabriel shouts, "Sounds like those gunshots are getting closer. We better move."

"You should go upstairs and lay down."

I shake my head. "No. Where you go, I go."

The stranger laughs. "Boss man, he"s just as stubborn as you are. Looks like someone has met their match."

When Gabriel offers me his hand, I take it and his fingers are warm and large around mine. We run out the back, loading our guns. Gabriel aims his gun at the first guy he sees and shoots without asking questions. Someone runs toward me with a knife and I put a bullet in his chest, soaking his white button down in his own blood. More men emerge from inside the house. It becomes a never-ending cycle and it is very apparent we are outnumbered, until there are finally more of us than them. My father"s main guard takes out the last one. We are standing in the middle of the yard, never letting our eyes leave the back patio door.

Santiago"s father walks through the threshold, waving his gun in the air. "Where is my son?"

I smile. "Probably dead by now. And I think it"s your turn."

His face flushes red with anger and he lifts the gun in my direction. "He should have ended you a long time ago, you stupid…"

The moment he walks closer, a bomb goes off cutting off his words and sending pieces of the older mob boss"s body flying all over the back patio.

"That oughta shut him up." My father laughs from beside me holding a remote control in his right hand. More chuckling comes from beside me.

"Thank God. That man talked too damn much." Gabriel pulls my body to his. "This was some wedding. Too bad there was no photographer to capture all the memories for you to look back on."

I huff. "There are plenty of reminders all over the house."

"I never did like this house anyway." My father sets his gun back in the holster. "I guess we better get this mess cleaned up before we have more trouble than we need. I"m going to go make a few calls to ensure we don"t. You two should get out of here."

He points to us before heading back in the house, stepping over the leftover pieces of my father-in-law the same way a person would be walking over a puddle of mud. His men follow after him.

Carlos sighs heavily, reminding me we aren't out here alone. "As much as I hate to eat and run, I think it's safe to say the party is over, and I have officially overstayed my welcome."

He walks toward the untouched white cake that doesn"t have a single bullet or drop of blood in it. It appears the exact same way it did when the baker brought it over. He scoops up a piece in his hand and shoves it in his mouth on his way out the back gate.

Gabriel laughs. "I guess somebody should get to enjoy that cake."

I swipe a drop of blood from my brow and only Gabriel and I are left standing in the middle of broken flowers and shredded ribbon with an altar full of bullets that no one will ever be exchanging vows under again. We glance around us and erupt into a heap of laughter.

Gabriel stares down at my white tux covered in blood and he chuckles again. "I hope you didn"t have your heart set on a white wedding."

I shake my head. "White weddings are overrated."

I crash my mouth to his, tasting metal on his lips. His fingers tug at my hair and I press my body against his, stepping over several lifeless guards lying on the floor. His hand slips into the front of my pants and I buck my hips forward seeking more friction. His kisses become desperate as he lifts my body off the ground, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

His movements are slow as he walks toward the altar, setting me over the floorboards. My body spreads out against the blood covered wood and he yanks down my pants, flipping me over to my stomach. I settle myself on my knees and spit falls in between my ass cheeks. His fingers slip inside and move in and out a few times. The burn from the rough intrusion has my dick straining harder against the deck.

A whine escapes my lips when they slip out of me. They weren"t inside me for long. We don"t have time to go slow and take our time, and I don"t want to. I need him now–wanting it rough and ferocious. He lines his cock up with my pucker and my walls squeeze around his hardness as he pushes it inside. He fucks into me, rubbing his blood covered hands up and down my naked back. I"m digging my nails into the boards, arching back while his thrusts increase. His hand shoves my face down into the wood while he slams his hips forward. I couldn"t think of a better way to end my wedding day.