Broken Hero Read online

  “Wow,” Isla says, leaning back against the couch. “He sounds – amazing.”

  “He was the single greatest man I’ve ever known. I respect and admire the hell out of my dad.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  I shrug. “A little while now.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I give her a tight smile. “Circle of life, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Anyway, I know the bunker is a bit over the top, but I’d rather be overprepared, than not prepared.”

  Her smile is soft. “Yeah, I got that feeling about you.”

  There are a thousand things I want to know about her, but I can’t ask simply because she’s not going to remember. It’s frustrating – though, probably not as frustrating as being the one who can’t remember. But it leads to an impasse in our conversation. I’ve never been much for small talk and not being able to ask the deep, probing questions I want to ask leaves me feeling a little flat-footed – so, I try to improvise.

  “So, if it’s not too intrusive to ask, what are you going to do about the baby?”

  Her eyes widen slightly, and a shadow of fear crosses her face, but she fights it off. “I’m going to have it,” she says. “I mean, I would never consider not having it.”

  I nod. That’s about the answer I would have expected from her. Isla seems like a stand-up woman and somebody who isn’t afraid to make the tough decisions.

  “The only thing that’s really bothering me is not knowing who the father is,” she says. “I mean, wondering if he’s out there worried about me. If he’s wondering what happened to me since I assume I just disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

  After talking to Walt – who said he’d spoken to a couple of the people closest to her in the wake of it all – I know the answers to those questions, and I debate the wisdom of telling her. Will it ease her mind and heart? Or will it make her feel more guilt? Guilt she shouldn’t be carrying in the first place since none of what happened is her fault.

  I think about it hard for a long moment, then opt for honesty. Maybe it will do her some good and help put her conscience at ease. And maybe, just maybe, if we’re really lucky, it will help jar some of her other memories loose.

  “From what I’ve gathered, the father of your child is dead, Isla,” I say softly. “He was murdered the night they came for you. I’m so sorry.”

  She puts her hand over her mouth. “Oh, God,” she says. “Did I –”

  “No. Absolutely not,” I say. “What happened is not your fault. Not in any way, shape, or form. You need to get that out of your head right now because it’s just not true.”

  “What was his name?” she asks.

  “Tommy Larson.”

  I can see her desperately searching her mind for the name. She pulls on the ends of her hair, the frustration over not being able to come up with anything, etched upon her face.

  “For whatever it’s worth, according to Walt’s source, you weren’t in love with him, and in fact, you were breaking up with him,” I say. “I know all of this has to come as a shock to you, but –”

  “It might be a shock if I could actually remember anything,” she says, a wry note in her voice. “But, listening to what you said rings true in my mind. And the overwhelming feeling I have is – nothingness. I’m not even crying, Baker.”

  I shrug. “Well, you probably would be if you could recall –”

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. Well, perhaps, but only because in this mess up in my head, now that I know his name, I get the sense that he was a decent person,” she says. “But, there’s no real feeling behind it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She screws up her face as if trying to come up with an apt metaphor. “Kind of like, when you showed me your library,” she says. “The minute I saw it, I knew in my bones that I was a reader. That books are a passion for me. That sense really filled me up with happiness and emotion I haven’t felt since the accident. But, when you mention Tommy, that same swell of emotion just isn’t there. It’s just a spot in my heart that’s as blank as my mind. Does that even make sense?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  She smiles suddenly as if a thought has just occurred to her. “Marshal Parr’s source – is it a woman? And is her name Sophia, by chance?

  I cock my head and look at her. “You remember her?”

  “Kind of. She’s fuzzy still, but that name really stands out to me,” she chirps, her voice colored with excitement. “I want to say we were friends. Good friends.”

  Her face lights up with an energy I haven’t seen from her before. It transforms everything about her, somehow managing to make her even more beautiful, more ethereal than ever before – which is a feat in and of itself, and something I didn’t think possible.

  “Her name and her face just – came to me,” she explains.

  “That’s great, Isla,” I say. “It looks like that block in your head is finally starting to crumble. Soon enough, all of your memories are going to come flooding back in. Just wait and see.”

  She shoots to her feet and bounds over to me, throwing herself down in my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. She squeezes me tight, giggling like a teenage girl, and it’s entirely adorable. I give her a gentle squeeze in return and laugh along with her.

  Isla pulls back, the smile on her face wide, but then the energy between us starts to shift. It’s suddenly heavier and filled with a strange tension that wasn’t there before. A sense of expectation hangs in the air, saturating it, and wraps us both up in it.

  Her green eyes sparkle and dance with a mischievous light and Isla throws herself forward again, pressing her mouth to mine. Her kiss takes me by surprise, though not an unwelcome one. Her lips part, allowing my tongue to slip into her mouth, where it swirls and mixes with hers. Our kiss grows in intensity and passion, small moans passing our lips as our tongues dance erotically with one another.

  Isla shifts herself, so she’s straddling my lap completely. She gasps as she finds the warm, wet center of her pressed against my thick, hard cock. She presses her mouth to me harder as she begins to grind herself against me. I slide my hands down her back and cup her ass, squeezing it tight and enjoying every contour of it through her black yoga pants.

  Sliding my hands back up, I raise her shirt. She lifts her arms, helping me take it off of her. I fling it to the side, then immediately unsnap her bra, letting it tumble to the floor. Leaning forward, I cup her breasts, taking one in my left hand and knead it gently. I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently on it, which makes her body tense, as a low groan passes her lips.

  Isla grabs at my t-shirt and tugs on it. I slip it up over my head and toss it in the general direction I threw hers. She runs her fingertips across my skin; her gazed fixed on my body. Leaning down, she runs the tip of her tongue around my nipple, then makes me gasp as she bites on it.

  My body is awash in pleasure and sensations, as Isla keeps grinding herself against my hard cock. I know this is wrong. Every fiber in my being is telling me to stop – that this is inappropriate given the fact that I’m her protector. But then, I’m not a Marshal anymore either, so the right and wrong, the appropriateness, or lack of it, is no longer my concern.

  Isla’s awakened something inside of me – something powerful and profound – and I intend to explore it with her.

  I gently push her to her feet. She looks at me with a disappointed glint in her eye, likely thinking I’m putting a stop to it. Yeah, far from it. I grip the waist of her yoga pants and pull them down to her knees. She gasps and then moans as I lean forward and plunge my tongue into her hot, molten core. I lick and suck on her clit, run the tip of my tongue across her wet, swollen lips, and then part those velvety folds as I drive my tongue inside of her.

  “Baker…. God yes, Baker…” she moans.

  As I lick and suck on her, I run my fingers up her thigh, and suddenly start to finger her
as I take her clit into my mouth. Isla’s body stiffens, and she gasps, her staccato breathing filling the air in the room. I drive my fingers deep inside of her at the same time I nip her clit with my teeth. She throws her head back and screams my name.

  Isla grips my hair, pulling me closer into her and starts to grind her pussy against my mouth, her moans and cries getting more frequent. I can tell she’s building up to a powerful climax, which only encourages me to lick, suck, and plunge my fingers in her even harder than before.

  Isla is crying out, her voice echoing around the bunker as I continue to pleasure her with my mouth. Her body stiffens, and I drive my tongue deep into her one last time before she lets out a strangled gasp. She cries out and starts to tremble, all of that tightness in her body suddenly fleeing as she melts against me. Her breathing ragged, her voice hoarse, Isla comes hard for me.

  “God, Baker,” she manages to croak. “That was amazing.”

  I don’t say a word to her; I simply stand her up, then stand myself. I fish my wallet out of my pocket and find a condom inside. Truthfully, I don’t know how long it’s been in there – I can’t seem to recall the last time I got laid. But at least I have one.

  Isla starts to push her pants down the rest of the way, seemingly intent on getting down onto her knees. I grab her arm and hold her up. She looks at me questioningly, but I tear open the condom wrapper in response. I hand it to her and unbuckle my pants. Isla looks down as I pull down my boxers and gasps. I see the light of hunger burning bright in her face, which only makes my cock grow impossibly stiff.

  She reaches out and grips my cock tightly, giving me a few quick pumps with her hand. As much as I’d like to feel my dick in her mouth – and I really would – I just need to be inside of her. Need to feel her body against mine. Need to feel myself buried to the hilt in her warmth and wetness.

  She slowly and seductively unrolls the condom, slipping it down the length of my stiff prick and draws a soft moan from me. With the task done, Isla fixes her gaze on me as she starts to squeeze and fondle my balls, setting off an explosion of sensation inside of me.

  Grabbing her by the shoulders roughly, I turn her around and bend her over the arm of the chair. Stepping up behind her, I give her ass a firm smack, which draws a yelp of surprise from her. I grip Isla’s long red locks and pull her head back at the same moment I drive my stiff cock into her. She cries out – a sound of absolute pleasure mixed with a slight sting of pain. I start to pump my hips, thrusting myself deep inside of her.

  “God, Isla, you feel so fucking good,” I moan.

  “Not nearly as good as you feel,” she whispers.

  I pick up my pace, sliding my cock into her with a little more speed and a little more authority. I tighten my grip on her hair as I fuck her, and Isla is going crazy, pressing herself back against me, taking me even deeper into her welcoming depths.

  I give her ass another hard slap, earning another yelp, then a smile from her as she looks have over her shoulder at me. There is a light of pure mischievousness and lust burning bright in her eyes. Her full, plump lips are parted, and she slides the tip of her tongue seductively around her lips.

  “Fuck me, Baker,” she gasps. “Fuck me with everything you’ve got.”

  Clenching my jaw and growling, I start to jackhammer my cock into her hot, dripping wet opening again and again. Isla cries out, calling my name as she remains bent over, taking my cock. The sound of our bodies colliding, that soft, meaty slap of skin on skin contact echoes around the bunker, melding with our cries of pleasure.

  I grip her ass with my other hand, pressing my fingers into the soft flesh of it as I look down, watching the way my cock slides in and out of her. My body is alight with fiery sensations, an electric humming coursing through my veins as we fuck.

  When I woke up this morning, the last thing I saw happening was Isla and I fucking like horny teenagers in the bunker, but here we are. Her eyes glitter as she looks at me, an expression of absolute desire etched upon her face. I pump my cock into her, picking up my force and rhythm as I feel the pressure building up low within me. My balls are growing tight, and I know I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer.

  “Come for me,” Isla says, her voice tight. “Come for me, Baker. I want to feel you filling me up.”

  As if her words are the key that unlocks the door within me, it comes flying open without a moment of hesitation. I drive myself into her one last time, holding myself as deep inside of her as I’m able. Throwing my head back, I cry out, calling her name as I feel my body tighten and then explode. My cock throbs and I feel my hot come erupting from the tip, filling up the condom inside of her.

  The feel of my dick pulsing seems to touch off another orgasm inside of Isla. She lets out a long, breathy gasp, and I feel her body shivering and shuddering. She presses herself back against me hard one last time as we both ride out the waves of ecstasy that are washing over us.

  Slowly, the glow begins to dim, though the feelings inside of me do not. I take a step back and let my rapidly deflating cock slip out of her. Walking over to the kitchen area, I strip off the condom and toss it into the trash can. Walking back over, I sit back down in the recliner and pull her onto my lap. She wraps her body around me, and we gently kiss, savoring the moment together.

  Isla lays her head against my chest and starts to trace the outlines of the scars the bullets left behind – with her fingertips again. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me. I breathe her in, relishing her scent, as well as the feel of her tight, naked body against mine. I love the fact that we don’t feel the need to fill up the room with mindless post-sex chatter. There is nothing worse than straining to make up conversation. I love the fact that we can just sit there with one another, enjoying the silence, and enjoying the feel of our bodies intertwined together.

  Yeah, as dangerous – or perhaps just foolish – as it might be to admit, this is a feeling I can really get used to.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hernan

  “You didn’t need to come all the way out here, jefe,” Ramon says. “We got this shit covered.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Si, jefe,” he replies. “We’re tight.”

  I pace around the small, shitty hotel room. It’s is not the kind of place I’d choose to stay, but then, my men have simple needs. They don’t need the luxuries, and after their latest fuck up, they don’t deserve them.

  Ramon is right about one thing – I shouldn’t have had to come all the way out here. I should have been able to trust them to do the job I’d given them. And yet, here we are. The task still incomplete, and Isla Nelson still in the wind. Even better, still in the wind with the help of some unknown assailant who managed to gun down four of my men.

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t share your overly optimistic assessment of the situation,” I say.

  Ramon looks down at his hands, a shadow crossing his features. He knows I’m a man who wants results, not excuses, and the fact that he let her get away without finishing the job infuriates me. IT’s what prompted me to come out here in the first place.

  “There ain’t many places she could have gone –”

  “If she has help, she could be anywhere, you idiot,” I roar, annoyed that I have to spell it out for him.

  A tremor of fear shakes Ramon’s body. Ordinarily, he’s my right hand. He’s the guy I can count on to step up and do the job. He’s been my go-to guy for years now. This failure though is disturbing to me. That he and half a dozen of my men couldn’t put an end to one small girl – it’s ridiculous. It makes me doubt him. And if there’s one thing I don’t like doing, it’s doubting my men.

  Worse than that, I know that because of Ramon’s failure, the backlash from my father will be coming – and there is nobody I can shift the blame to. He tasked me with taking her out, which means the fact that she’s still breathing and her whereabouts are unknown, falls to me. And only me.

  “There’s more.”r />
  I turn to Carlos, who’s sitting on one of the beds in the shitty little room. I’ve never cared for Carlos much. He’s short, fat, and greasy. He’s always been more concerned with trying to advance himself – usually at the expense of others – than he is in doing the job properly.

  “More? That’s wonderful,” I say. “I was just wondering how much more shit you could pile on this sandwich I’m going to have to eat.”

  “Miguel and I went to the hospital to check and see if maybe the bitch turned up there,” he tells me. “I mean, after wrecking out like that, she’s gotta be hurt, right?”

  “And?” I ask, my patience wearing incredibly thin. “What did you find?”

  “Nothin’,” he shrugs. “But there was this big dude who manhandled me and –”

  “Big dude?” I interrupt.

  He nods. “Yeah, huge guy. Six-four, at least,” he says. “Solid muscle, but quick as a fuckin’ cat, jefe. He’s got dark eyes and this big, bushy beard.”

  “Was he a Marshal?”

  Carlos shrugs again. “Didn’t flash a badge or nothin’. Just manhandled me and we got outta there.”

  My mind immediately shifts to Baker Redmond. He was large like that – though, he never had a beard before, bushy or otherwise. Like a Boy Scout, Baker was always clean cut. As soon as the idea floats through my mind though, I have to dismiss it. He left the Marshal’s Service years ago and him being here, in this waste of space little town in the middle of nowhere would be too coincidental. He’s not even a Marshal anymore.

  No, as much as I’d like it to be him, as much as I’d like to have my pound of flesh, logically speaking, I doubt it’s him. Still, it’s an intriguing thought that I can’t seem to shake entirely.

  “So, what do we know for certain then?” I ask. “Was she at the hospital?”