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“I will, honey. Don’t worry. I will.” It took a few seconds for her to stand, leaning over and rubbing his forehead one last time. When she turned toward me, she bristled then walked right past toward the front door, saying nothing to Miguel when she passed. She flung it open, walking toward the car, waiting with her arms folded.
I flanked his side, studying her from a distance. “When did you know Alicia was the one?”
“You’ve heard this story at least three times.”
“Humor me.”
“We had an argument in the middle of Professor Gallow’s philosophy class. It got so heated it became a sparring match, other classmates rooting for one or the other. We were finally asked to leave. At that moment I knew she’d be the girl I would marry one day.”
Exhaling, I wasn’t certain why I nodded over and over again except Georgia was the first woman who’d dared argue with me during my entire life. “A match made in heaven.”
He clapped me on the back. “Yeah, it was and is. Maybe that’s something for you to keep in the back of your mind. Protect her, brother. You won’t survive it if anything happens to her.”
There was no reason to argue or agree, but I knew he was right. I headed out the door, moving beside her. Without bothering to look at me, she stiffened even more. “Just for the record. I hate you.” With that, she walked around the back of the vehicle, throwing open the passenger door and climbing in.
“Duly noted.”
Georgia
Hate.
That wasn’t entirely accurate. The correct phrase was I wanted to hate him but found it next to impossible.
The man was a terrifying juxtaposition, brooding and dangerous on one hand while allowing me to see the lightness in him around his family. The time spent with them reminded me of the hours we’d spent together, now a lifetime ago. Still, I reminded myself that his darkness outweighed the light. He wasn’t a good man by his own admittance, but I was still drawn to him like I hadn’t been to any other man before, including Rico.
What we’d shared hadn’t been because he intended on using me, but rather because of close proximity and his feeling of being out of control. Yet the tables were turned. Now I was the one completely out of my comfort zone, able to control nothing around me. The thought of leaving my boy with strangers sickened me, even though I sensed Alicia had a good heart. That was another surprise, my instinct telling me Miguel was riding shotgun to his brother, which meant he was also a ruthless son of a bitch.
Everything about Sabatino remained intimidating and that kept my mind overworking the way he continually reacted to me, the yin and yang of his personality unsettling. When he gripped my arm just after turning over the engine, as I’d done from the first time we touched, I involuntarily sucked in my breath. His touch wasn’t with anger or even frustration but tender as if he cared about me.
“I promise you Dillon will be safe.” Even his voice held more than a hint of caring. If only he could be just a monster, it would be much easier to hate him. That was exactly what I preferred but he made it impossible.
“Thank you.”
“But you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe any longer. I can’t figure you out. I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I can’t relive my past.”
“Don’t try too hard, dulce flor. You likely will like even less what you find.”
“What did you call me?” I asked more tentatively than I’d wanted.
“Sweet flower.” He exhaled, the sound full of strife.
Somehow the endearing term didn’t have the same edge as when he’d called me his little peach. I eased my elbow to the base of the passenger window, turning my head to stare into the darkness. There was no way to rationalize the way I was feeling, the mixture so confusing that I wasn’t certain whether to laugh or cry. Or be angry.
“Tell me about Rico.” As with before, there was no anger in his tone, just a quiet reverence as if understanding talking about him would be difficult.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. We met when we went to the same college. I’d heard from a few people that while he was brilliant, he was dangerous, but he was nice to me. We were in class together and one day he sat down next to me and we started talking. He was well versed in literature, which was my passion at the time. We had coffee together and it extended to dinner. After that, he took me to bed. He wasn’t forceful or abusive in any way. Actually, he was very sweet.”
“When did it change?”
“Not until after I’d graduated. By then he’d dropped out, which was abrupt and confusing. However, by then our relationship had cooled. When he appeared at my apartment door almost six months later asking me to come back to LA with him, I was shocked. But he said and did all the right things and I decided to go. I was such a fool. It wasn’t a week after I arrived at his house that things started to change. He was angrier, leaving the house for long periods of time and when he returned, he was more aggressive. He was a completely different man. Whatever he’d left to go do had changed him.”
“He left after his parents were murdered not only to head the New Generation Cartel but also to care for his younger brother.”
“Raphael, the man pulled out of the water in Smith Mountain.”
“Yes. Plus, he had to track down his family’s killer. His oldest brother.”
