Page 56 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

FORTY-THREE

MATEO

I wait until the door clicks behind Dale, the silence surrounding us so weighted it feels like being beneath an avalanche, before I turn to face her. “We need to talk.”

Her face instantly puckers, her eyes flaring before she crosses her arms. “Sit down before you fall down.” She motions to the bed, but I remain standing.

I have to get this out before I crash completely.

I haven’t slept since I left her over two days ago—trying to work out the messy finances of the casino, chasing V around to no end, and fighting off an overwhelming sea of employees who feel as though they’ve been neglected.

In all fairness, they have. But I don’t have it in me to care—not the way I should.

“Let me get this out,” I bite out through a yawn. Her eyes narrow, squaring her shoulders like she’s contemplating tackling me to the bed if I don’t do as she says. I raise a hand, backing until I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, and then fall. “Okay, fine.”

“Now, let’s talk about this after you’ve rested.” She moves toward me like she’s going to tuck me in or something and I stiffen.

“No, Dale.”

She freezes, and then slowly crosses her arms once more. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. How do I even begin?

“There’s things about your captivity—” Fuck that sounds horrible, but isn’t it?

“Valentina came here the other night, which is what prompted my leaving. She said some things, and it raised questions that I’ve been too naive to answer since you’ve been back.

But, they need answering—you deserve that closure.

” I pause, lifting my eyes to hers, expecting fear to be there.

But I'm met with only a cold glare—the kind that cuts clear to your bones.

“I know,” she states, her fingers squeezing tighter around her biceps.

She knows. She knows she deserves better, deserves answers— of course she does. I’ve been the selfish one here, wanting to keep her in the perfect little bubble of safety. But that’s for me, and not her, and she’s been too nice to say as much.

The realization cuts through me like a bullet and I fight off the shiver racing down my spine.

“Yes, well, you’re right,” I say, not sure what else I can say.

Her eyebrows draw together, but I forge on, too afraid of what else she might say before I can finish.

“Anyway, seeing her reminded me of questions I have, and still can’t get answers to.

We were there in the forest when you came running because I got an anonymous phone call telling me to ask my sister the spot— ‘she would know’ , he said.

And he was right. Valentina told us to go to Rock San Antonio. And that’s where you appeared from.”

“You said he?” she questions, and I pause.

“Yeah? An anonymous he. I know he wanted me or V to be there, but I still don’t know why, I still don’t know the connection.”

“I do.” Her shoulders sag, and I sit up straighter at the admission.

“What’re you talking about?”

She moves to sit beside me, her small frame sinking on the mattress, folding her legs close to her chest.

Dale begins to tell me a story about a group of poor brothers, with poor circumstances and a deathly ill mother that they all loved deeply.

She talks about the sickness, and how the brothers all changed in order to take care of her best, doing what they must in order to get her the medical care she required—starting with illegal painkillers and ending with ripping off large establishments that they didn’t think would notice to pay for black market medication.

All the while, her eyes remain fixed on the floor, her fingers nervously picking at her nails, and I ache to hold her, but I’m frozen.

In the end she talks about how the mother got worse, and one brother refused to steal anymore because he knew the mother didn’t want them to. So the youngest brother—a boy freshly eighteen did, and he was killed by the casino’s owner.

As Dale finishes the story, a memory surfaces of my sister—sitting in my office months ago, and her going on and on about someone stealing from the casino and “elimination.”

“It was Valentina.” Her name wheezes from my lips, and Dale doesn't bother responding. It wasn’t a question, and just like that, all the pieces fall into place.

Oh, god. I always thought everything that happened to Dale was my fault, but now? Now I have proof. And she knows it too— wait, she’s known.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I vault from the bed, causing Dale to jostle slightly. She scrambles to her feet, squaring up opposite of me.

“What?”

I cross my own arms, if only to contain my pounding heart. White hot anger pulses through my veins, and I have to keep my feet from stomping away. Why would she keep this kind of secret from me?

“You kept this secret from me.” I don’t bother hiding the hurt in my voice and her face falls.

“Well, I thought you might act crazy. Glad to see I was wrong,” she grumbles, taking a step forward.

I back up a step, maintaining the distance between us. I know I shouldn’t feel betrayed, but I can’t stop the thoughts from running rampant in my head. Her eyes darken, glittering with anger of her own. Good— she should hate me.

“Damn it, Dale. Why wouldn’t you tell me this? You deserve closure. How can I give you closure if I don’t even know the fucking details?”

“I got closure, two of them are dead,” she challenges.

“And one of them got away! Plus, Valentina? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? She can’t get away with this. I can’t?—”

“Maybe I didn’t want you to take on blame that isn’t yours,” Dale snaps.

I shake my head, taking another step backward. “You got hurt because of your connection to me.”

“Maybe, but?—”

My knees quake at her admission. Maybe —how can she stand to be near me when it’s clear I’m the fucking problem?

“You deserve better,” I state, meaning it with every cell in my body. After everything she’s been through—everything I’ve put her through. Anyone would be better than me.

She scowls as she steps toward me, a single finger ghosting over my chest raising gooseflesh in its wake. She’s not touching me, and yet I can feel her like a blaze beneath my skin. “Don’t tell me what I do and don’t deserve,” she finally whispers.

I don’t move, even though I know a better man would step away from her—distance the disease from that which is good. But I’m beginning to wonder if I am a good man. Have I ever been? Or am I the kind of man who’s a doormat, and lets things happen to the ones I love, simply because I’m a coward.

“I can’t hurt you anymore.”

“You”—she punches the finger to my chest, taking another sure step closer—“didn’t hurt me. You saved me.”

I shake my head, exhaustion weighing on my bones. “I should have done more. I should have intervened before it got to that point. If I hadn’t gotten fucking obsessed with you, they never even would have known you exist. How is that not my fault?”

“You’re going to say you’re obsessed with me, and that I deserve better?

Which are you? A beast? Or a gentleman? Because you can’t be both.

” She licks her lips, and even as my dick twitches at the sheer sight of her, still standing in nothing more than a short T-shirt, hair haphazard around her frame, face flushed with anger, I know this is wrong.

“Damn it, Dale. I’m trying to be a good person here.” I take another small step back, and her cheeks pinken further.

“Well you’re not. You’re a coward. Too afraid to take me all those years ago, and too afraid to keep me now. I know there’s no good way for us to work out. But?—”

“You’re right, I am a coward,” I say dryly, and her eyes flare.

She takes a shaky breath in, perhaps trying to calm the rage I sense just beneath her perfect exterior. I don’t want to fight with her, but I’m also afraid to do anything else. Fighting feels like we’re at least moving in the right direction— the one where she sees she’d be better off without me.

“You’re not going to push me away, not like this. I’m the one in control, remember? I’m the one who makes this decision.” Her eyes dart back and forth, and I see the war there. The one where she knows I’m right, but is too angry or too stubborn to admit it.

“I’m only saying what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking Mateo.” She takes two confident strides toward me, the heat radiating off her body in scorching waves, and then she tips her face to mine. “Get on your knees.”

I shake my head no, even as every cell in my body begs me to do as she says.

“Get on your fucking knees,” she says again, this time accompanied by nails raking deeply over my chest. So I do as I’m told, and fall to my knees. I’m too angry to think straight, too hurt to feel anything besides my pounding heart, and too desperate to see anything but Dale.

She deserves better. But I’d be lying if I ever thought I could let her go.

“You think you can walk away from me?” she hisses, stepping closer, her thighs bumping against my chest. As if with a mind of their own, my hands slide up her thighs, cupping the heavy globes of her ass, and I squeeze. She whines as my grip tightens, my tongue pinched between my teeth.

I want to fucking bruise her—pour every ounce of unspoken emotion out of my hands and into her body.

But she doesn’t pull away. Her hair tickles my chest as she leans forward, her lips dusting over the shell of my ear, “harder.”

My head falls forward, pressing into her forehead. “Fuck, Dale. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You angry, your highness?” she coos into my ear, her own hands raking over my shoulders.

I rub my head back and forth. “So fucking angry. You were hurt because of me.”