Page 59 of The Killer Card

“Do Rowan and Elias know?”

“Of course.”

When I don’t elaborate, she blinks, leaning in. “Well?” She demands. “What’s the story?”

I sigh, “It’s not much of a story.” More like a nightmare I choose not to revisit. But she’s looking at me with so much childlike curiosity I can’t help but indulge. “Russian is my first language. Spanish is my second.” I avert my gaze to my drink. “I also speak Portuguese, Italian, and of course, English.”

Naomi blinks at me rapidly before shrieking, “WHAT?!” She nearly spills her drink on the sheets. “Where did you learn so many languages?! Why did you learn so many languages?! Oh my god!” She’s standing in an instant. “Are you a spy, Graham Rosales?! I swear if you’re using me to get government secrets—”

“I’m not a spy and I don’t give a fuck about the government, calm the fuck down.”

With a roll of my eyes, I take another sip of vodka, patting the bed. She still looks at me skeptically. “Dios mío, Naomi, I’m not a fucking spy.” She’s nearly sitting again when I admit, “I was a drug dealer in New York.”

Once again she is up and screaming. “WHAT THE FUCK, GRAHAM?!”

“I can explain,” I assure her. “Starting with that I am not one anymore. I’ve been out of that life for over twenty years.”

“How did you get out?!” She asks, her eyes narrowed. “Why did you get out- No! Why did you start in the first place—"

“If you sit down,” I insist, patting the bed again. “I will tell you.”

There’s still a hesitation in her movements as she comes back to bed, very slowly sitting. I hold out an arm, welcoming her to lean against me. A moment’s hesitation and then she does, holding her drink close to her chest over the covers.

“Talk,” she orders me in that voice that makes my cock twitch back to life.

But I force my lust aside before she can notice, clearing my throat. “My grandfather was a Russian drug dealer,” I explain. “I think for the mafia? I was never brave enough to ask. If he was, he was nowhere near important enough to matter, probably just important enough that he knew too much so he was paid relatively well for his silence and cooperation.

“My mother didn’t want anything to do with him or what he called the family business. However, that didn’t stop him from marrying her off to a third cousin or some shit. Have to keep it in the family, you know?” Her nose crinkles and my hollow laughter dies on a cough. “Anyway, my older sister came from that union. A pure, perfect Russian doll. On the other hand, I…” I take a breath. “I was the product of an affair she had with one of my grandfather’s crew.

“My father is- was- Venezuelan, got sucked into the cartel when he was a teenager. Like my mother, he wanted to get out, but there were no safe routes to do so. My mother and him fell in love I assume- trauma bonded or whatever- and had a torrid affair which resulted in my birth. They managed to keep it a secret for about five years. Until one night at dinner with my father, I asked my sister to pass me the rolls. In perfect Spanish.”

Naomi’s brow furrows.

“My dad had been teaching me when he was around. He spent a lot of time in grandfather’s house and so did my mother. She would bring us there to use his pool or play with his dogs. I guess really it was so she could see my dad, or so I could see him. I didn’t know who he really was, but I remember that he was…. He was nice.”

“Oh, Graham…”

“I was as fluent as a five-year-old can be in any language. But it made my mother’s husband instantly suspicious. Why was his son speaking to his daughter- who only spoke Russian- in Spanish? He had my DNA tested, found out I was absolutely not his, and he….”

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. “He forced my mother to confess over breakfast. And then he shot her in the head.”

“Oh my god…” Naomi gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. A single tear slides down her cheek. “Graham…”

Wiping her cheek, I shake my head, forcing a brave smile. “It’s fine,” I lie. “I don’t think about it anymore.”

I still can’t eat pancakes, but I can still hear my sister’s horrific cries as she tried to shake our mother awake, not realizing that all the red in her white, blonde hair meant there was no waking up.

“My mother’s husband disowned me, sent me to live with my grandfather who didn’t want anything to do with me either. He blamed me for my mother’s death, helped her husband torture and then murder my actual dad.” I raise my glass to my lips for a drink. “But maybe there is a God. Because two years later my mother’s husband was found dead in his bedroom. Late-stage pancreatic cancer.”

It used to make me feel better to know the man who killed both my parents was suffering in the end. I don’t know how long he’d been sick, but I hope the knowledge that my mother loved another man killed him just a little bit faster.

Setting my empty glass aside, I drag a hand through my hair. “My sister was turned over to my grandfather, not that reuniting was any kind of joyful occasion. She hated me just as much as he did for a while, still does a little. I’ve never held any real contempt against her though. Not even when she was given everything she ever asked for and I was turned into a drug mule and—”

I cut myself off. I’m not sure I’m actually ready to tell her this now that I’ve reached this part of the story. Elias and Rowan know. They’re my best friends, I’ve told them everything about me. They’ve never treated me any differently because of my past. But will Naomi? I don’t want her to hear this and start treating me like I’m fragile. It was over twenty years ago. I was a kid, I’ve dealt with it, I’m fine now.

Okay, I’m not fine, but it doesn’t haunt me the way it used to, and my coping methods are somewhat healthier. I just… I don’t want her to look at me like I’m irreparably broken. Not when I’ve worked so hard to pick up all my pieces and present myself as something almost completely whole.

Naomi notices my silence, her hand finding my chest as she whispers. “You can tell me anything, Graham.”