Page 64 of Hard to Love
She reached beyond him to shut off the water, then slowly dried his hands with a kitchen towel. As though he were an overstimulated child, she reached out and led him to the bed, switching off the overhead light along the way.
By the rustling sounds in the dark, it was clear she was pulling off her clothes.
No barriers. No emotional armor.
Only the dark.
Alex did the same, dropping his jeans beside the bed. He lifted the quilt and climbed in after her. He curved behind her body, her back warm and pliant against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, cupped her breast as though they snuggled into bed like this every night. Her curvy butt was cozy with his crotch, and although his dick was plenty interested in investigating that situation further, Alex told it to fuck off.
He buried his face in the hair at her nape, breathed in the scent of his soap on her skin, and pressed a kiss to the bump of her spine.
Greer covered his hand with hers. Could she feel the steady beat of her own heart the way he could? She squeezed his knuckles in a reassuring way, as if she knew he had something important to tell her. Something he couldn’t admit in the light, to her face.
“When…” he started, paused to swallow. “When I was a kid growing up in San Antonio, my mamá tried the best she could after my papá died. She was one of the lucky ones in our neighborhood, an educated Latina. But that meant she not only had to teach but take private tutoring on the side. Lot of nights she wasn’t home until ten or later.”
Greer remained silent but rubbed her thumb along his knuckles in silent support.
“People think babies and toddlers need a lot of supervision. What they don’t realize is that a teenage boy is way more likely to do stupid shit that will get him into trouble.”
Another stroke from Greer.
“How much do you know about gangs?” he asked.
This time, her response was a rapid clutch and release. “Not much. I mean, I’m sure we’ve had gang members in Prophecy, but gang activity? Not that I know of.”
“It’s pretty common where I come from.” Alex laughed, with disgust rather than humor. “You make it to the age of thirteen without being recruited and you’re considered aputo.”
“Which you’re most definitely not.”
Now that made him laugh for real, but it still hurt his chest. “Thanks. But sometimes I think learning to walk away would’ve been a whole hell of a lot smarter.”
“It’s in the past,” she said, her voice low and soothing in the shadowed nest of sheets. “Did…did you ever…”
“Kill someone?”
She nodded, her hair sliding along his chin.
“No. I was able to work a pretty sweet deal to stay off the streets and out of the day-to-day gang shit. Even that young, I was already a pretty talented tattoo artist. Learned after school from an old guy who used to run with one of the cartel gangs. With me around, Tejanos Pintados didn’t have to go to a shop, didn’t have to get their tats done by some half-assed stick-and-poke guy with dirty tools.”
“So you did gang tattoos.”
Jesus, so damn many cryptic symbols they swirled inhis nightmares. Sideways Texas outline. Upside down numbers. Barbed wire and dots and initials. “Yeah.”
She traced her fingertips along his forearm as though following the line of the serpent winding its way up his flesh. “And yours?”
“I often hid the gang symbols in other images for thecholos. They just assumed mine were the same.”
“You would’ve been pretty important to them.”
So damn valuable that when he’d wanted out, they took one of the three people Alex loved most in the world. “I tried to leave.”
Her breath caught and she strangled his wrist.
“Tejanos Pintados isn’t one of the big boys, never messed with the cartels out of Mexico and South America. But that also meant they lost guys to the other gangs.”
“And they thought you wanted into another gang?”
“Loyalty is currency. So they decided if I wanted out, then they’d replace me with someone just as—if not more—talented.”
