Unshackle (Deliver #7) - Pam Godwin Page 0,95

already negotiated. Luke expected no trouble.

“Mr. Smith?” The man removed his helmet, revealing a bald head and a silver beard.

“Yep.” Luke held out the car key.

“She’s a beauty.” Eyes on the hypercar, the man shrugged out of his backpack and handed it over. “It’s all there. In small bills, just like you asked.”

The heavy weight of the bag promised a clean transaction. While the man checked out the Koenigsegg, Luke opened the backpack and counted the money.

“What are you doing?” Vera stood over him, her fists anchored on her hips. “You’re selling that car? Why? It’s your dream car!”

“Shh.” He continued counting.

She fell quiet, waiting for him to finish.

“It’s all here,” he said to the man. “We good?”

Better be. He was selling that car for a fraction of what it was worth.

“All good.” The man grinned. “The second helmet is on the bike.”

Luke strapped the backpack onto Vera’s shoulders and kissed her stiff lips. “Let’s have some fun.”

“I can’t believe you sold that car.”

“I have everything I want right here.” He kissed her again. “Come on.”

Then he put her on the motorcycle, tucked her close behind him, and hit the road.

As much as he enjoyed the hypercar, it didn’t compare to the feeling of an engine between his legs and Vera’s warm body wrapped around his back.

He opened the throttle, startling a yelp from his girl. Then she laughed, clutching his waist and squeezing her thighs around him.

This is heaven.

He took her to a small town on the southern outskirts of Bogota. Not the safest area, but they wouldn’t stay long.

Zipping along the crumbling streets, he veered toward his destination. When he arrived at the old hospital, he turned off the engine and lifted Vera from the seat.

“What are we doing here?” She scanned the dilapidated building, the broken wrought iron on the windows, and the overall gloom shrouding the place.

“We’re spending the money.” He grabbed the backpack and hooked it over his shoulder. Then he grabbed her hand, pulling her along. “Twenty minutes. In and out.”

“Okay, but isn’t this a hospital? What are we buying?”

“Smiles.”

He couldn’t stifle his own as he led her through the front entrance and down a dank, unkempt corridor. There was no security here. No visitor protocols. Nothing to stop them from entering the first room.

An elderly woman lay in the hospital bed, her arms and chest hooked up to a chirping, outdated machine. There were others in the room, presumably her family, sitting on the floor and standing along the wall.

“Luke?” Vera squeezed his hand. “Do you know these people?”

“Nope. Reach into the backpack and give them a gift.”

Her forehead knitted. She glanced around the room at all the silent, staring faces. He watched the realization widen her eyes and swell in her chest.

She pressed a fist to her mouth, nodding as tears welled along her lashes. Then she reached into the backpack.

And so it went.

He followed her from room to room as she passed out money, speaking rapidly in Spanish, trying to convince each patient that she expected nothing in return.

When she lingered too long at a bedside, he quickly dragged her to the next one, keeping her moving.

They were in a dangerous neighborhood, riddled with poverty and crime. He wanted all the money gone before they drew too much attention.

By the time they reached the last room, her smile was blinding, contagious, and worth all the hypercars in the world.

She was happy making people happy, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would thrive as a Freedom Fighter.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, at the majestic glow that shone in her eyes, her tears, her constant smile.

“What?” She walked beside him through the parking lot, watching him watch her.

“You know the fantasy I had with you and the hypercar…”

“And my glowing red ass?”

“Yeah.” He stopped at the motorcycle and hauled her against his chest, smiling against her lips. “You just topped it.”

“We topped it. Thank you for that, for what you did in there.” She raked her hands through his hair and kissed his mouth. “I love you.”

Impact. Direct shot to the chest.

“I felt that.” He rested his brow against hers.

“I’ll say it again if you stop for ice cream on the way home.”

“Klondike bar?”

“Three boxes.” She wedged on the helmet and flipped up the visor. “Variety packs. All the flavors.”

“One box.” He straddled the bike and pulled on his own helmet. “Six orgasms.”

She started to argue until she registered the last part. Then she grinned, slapped down