“I have never forced a woman. It may come as a surprise to you, but I am not my fucking father.”
For one wild and crazy moment I find myself believing him.
“Do you love her?”
He stops inspecting my arm and slams his dark eyes into mine. He doesn't say the words out loud, he’ll never admit to it, but I see it. I see it. The devil has a heart after all.
I drop my gaze to hide my shock, watching as he unscrews a brown glass bottle of iodine and pours it all over my arm like water.
“Holy shit!”
He tuts as I writhe and hiss in pain, making me even more mad at him. “Hold still.”
“I can’t! I know you and Joseph are used to bleeding for a living, but some of us aren’t, okay?”
“Then let that be a lesson to you. Stop killing sicarios and stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble’s a hell of a lot more fun than rehab. I get to balance up the world a little… Kill some rapist assholes while I’m at it.” I glance across at Joseph, silently begging him to wake up and save me from this interrogation.
“Next, you’ll be asking me for a job.”
“Why? Are you offering?”
He grunts in amusement. “I suggest you increase your pain threshold first. Plus, I doubt your shadow will agree to it.”
“Our shadow,” I grit out.
He picks up a swab and starts cleaning the wound. “I lost those exclusive rights when you strolled on the scene.”
This shuts me up for a beat or two. “How’s Ella?”
“Give your so-called best friend a call and ask her. She hasn't spoken to you since the birth.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I say, wincing as his words hurt me more than the iodine. “In addition to being a heartless dickhead, you’re also a complete asshole.”
“So they tell me,” he says wryly. “I believe ‘murdering motherfucker’ is somewhere in the mix as well.”
A gasp of surprised laughter escapes my lips. “My God, the devil has a sense of humor, too.”
“He also knows how to dismember a corpse and bury it.”
I swear he dumps more iodine on my wound then just to spite me.
“Your other daughter—?”
“Isabella.”
“Isabella…What happened to her?”
“My father sold her into a sexual trafficking ring.” He says it brusquely to conceal his emotion, but I can hear the distant echo of it anyway. “It’s the same ring we were tracking last year.”
“The same ring that stole and a-abused me,” I say, stumbling over the word, and hating myself for showing him weakness.
“Yes.”
“Are they all dead?”
“What do you think?” He flicks me that cold, killer gaze again.
“Did they suffer?”
“Not enough.” He plunges a needle into my arm near the wound. “Local anesthetic. This thing needs stitches.”
“Thank you for killing them,” I say quietly.
“Joseph did most of the dirty work. Maybe thank him with something other than words... I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” He dark gaze is mocking me now.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be fixed enough for that,” I say blushing.
“Then I’ll share with you what I told him yesterday. Everything can be fixed if you’re willing to pay the price.”
“Maybe I’m too emotionally broke to pay it… How do you know how to do all this?” I watch him chuck the empty hypodermic onto the metal tray.
“I’ve been on the frontline of a few battles in my time.”
“You mean in the military? With Joseph?” I glance toward the bed again.
“Yes.”
“Did you meet his wife?”
“Once.”
“Caleb—?”
“Was his son.”
“Was?” I gasp out, pouncing on the word.
“Some accident. Years ago.” He’s predictably sparse on the details. The man has the sensitivity range of a robot.
“I didn’t know… No wonder he keeps the rings on a chain around his neck.”
“Those aren’t his wedding rings. He buried those with Rebecca.”
Rebecca. “Then whose —?”
“This isn’t fucking twenty questions, either,” he snarls. “Want a sob story? Switch on the news. We’re done here.”
“Back to being an ‘murdering motherfucker’ so soon?” I say sweetly.
The next thing I know, he’s leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head between his shoulders. It’s such an uncharacteristic stance for him. It’s like the last few moments before a bomb drops.
“I’ve only given two fucking apologies in my life,” he begins slowly. “One to the man in that bed and the other to the woman who is now my wife. Yet, here I am, standing, or rather sitting, on the precipice of another.” He locks his dark eyes onto me for the third and final time. “We fucked up,” he states bluntly, rocking me to my core. “We knew they were coming for you six months ago, but we didn't act quickly enough. By the time we got our asses in gear, the Russians had already made their move.”
“Did you hang me out as bait?” I whisper, feeling the color drain from my face.
“We had a couple of men outside your apartment, but you should have had more,” he admits. “You should have been in a safe house. We read the play wrong, and you suffered the consequences.”
“Are you saying Joseph’s only been protecting me out of guilt?” My stomach drops as I scramble to analyze his confession; daring myself to believe that our connection was forged on a lie. “Because that’s the difference between you and him, Santiago... Beneath the cold mask of ice, he actually feels this shit. He holds onto it. He doesn’t try to fuck or drink his way out of it.”
He scowls at me. “Don’t—”
I cut him off by slapping him so hard across the face his head snaps sideways and his chair rocks and skids beneath him. My hand explodes in pain, but it’s a hurt I’m willing to embrace for the amount of satisfaction I’m feeling right now.
He snarls something in Spanish and clutches at his jaw, his eyes glinting with death and retribution. One thing’s for sure. I’ve got a hell of a lot better at hitting him since the last time I tried.
“Walk away, Dante. I won't tell you twice.”
A rough voice causes us both to start from our chairs.
Joseph’s awake. He’s propped up on one elbow facing us, his gray-blues flashing harder than Santiago’s black ones ever could.
“I’m not playing around. You hurt her. I kill you. Simple as that.”
There’s a long pause.
“Fucking bones it is, then,” drawls Dante, breaking the deadlock first.
Joseph nods. “Fucking bones since the day we met. Now get the hell out. I have shit to explain.”
“Don’t bother,” I say angrily, heading for the door.
I need to escape before my newly resuscitated heart starts bleeding out all over the floor.
26