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“Me?” she said hotly.
“Yes, you!” he fired back. “You don’t need to get in touch with your emotions, you need to find them first.” And with a sound of angry frustration, he pulled away.
She shivered as Diego sprang up and walked away, finally drawing to a halt with his back turned. She’d been trying to drive him away, and now it seemed she had. Did she want a life without Diego in it?
No. But she had to tell him the truth, all of it, before they could continue.
“The slavers stripped me and humiliated me. They beat me and did unspeakable things. They were dirty, filthy, stinking pigs. From the moment they took me and threw me into the van, they singled me out for particular cruelty, for some reason.”
“Because you’re strong, and they knew it. They had to break you, make an example of you. By attacking the strongest woman amongst their captives, it would act as a warning to the others.”
“Then I’m glad they picked me,” she said fiercely.
“Because you could take it,” Diego agreed.
“But not the mental pain that came afterward,” she admitted.
Celina was injured as surely as if she had been beaten to a pulp, but talking about her experiences was the important first step toward moving past them. He waited as she paused to gather her thoughts.
“At least I knew while they were taunting me, it kept the other women safe,” she said with a rueful huff as she thought back.
His expression remained noncommittal, but it was all he could do to keep his feelings in check. He wanted to find the men who’d done this to her, twist off their cocks with his bare hands, and shove them down their throats. For now, he settled for soothing words. “You’re safe from now on,” he insisted.
The glance Celina flashed at him tore at his heart. Going to her, he knelt at her feet and took her hands in his. “Lift your head. Look at me. Don’t let them win.”
“They’ve already won,” she said. “Their boss got away, and I can’t let you go back into danger for me.”
“You can’t stop me,” he said, willing his strength into her as he stared steadily into her eyes. “Blood and Thunder will finish this one way or the other.”
“You’ll be distracted because of me,” she said, shaking her head. “You always said that if emotion gets in the way, people make mistakes.”
“Don’t you think I care about every mission I undertake?”
“I think you care too much,” she countered, “about everyone but yourself.”
“Like you, then,” he said.
“You can’t change my mind. I can’t live like this. I can’t love you and see you walk into danger. I can’t risk losing you—”
“You love me?” he repeated.
“Of course I love you,” she insisted impatiently as if this were obvious. “That’s why I’ve got to leave you, before we both do something we’ll regret.”
“Such as?” he pressed gently.
“Get into this any deeper.”
“Is it possible to get in any deeper?” Pressing his lips down, he shook his head. “You have to trust me to help you.”
“Not if it puts you in danger,” she said stubbornly. “Del Roca has already struck at the heart of the team. I heard about Dante’s first wife.”
“But you haven’t heard all the story. You’d have to ask our Romani chieftain, and I know for a fact that Dante won’t talk about it.”
“Exactly,” Celina exclaimed. “So I won’t risk you running up against Del Roca.”
“You can’t stop me,” he pointed out.
“But there must be other missions, other countries, other causes for you to help?”
