Page 53 of Ruthless Enforcer

"Knife fight in Juárez.” My voice is scraped raw with everything I want from her. “I was twenty-two and overconfident."

"Did you win?"

"I'm still here."

Her brow furrows. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer that matters."

She looks up at me, and the expression on her face is so open, so unguarded, that it makes my chest tighten. "You're not what I expected," she says quietly.

I huff a laugh, because she isn’t either. "What did you expect?"

"A monster."

"And now?"

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she runs her fingers along the ridge of my knuckles, over the scars and calluses and the ink that winds down from my wrist. "Now I think you're something more complicated.”

"Complicated is a polite word for dangerous."

"I know."

"And you're still here."

"I know that too."

I can feel her pulse—steady and strong and entirely too calm for a woman kneeling in front of a man who could break her in half without thinking twice. I shift in the chair, turning slightly so the light hits my other hand differently, and I rest my forearm on my thigh in a way that opens up the angle.

It's a small movement—an invitation she didn't ask for.

Clara's eyes flicker to the new position, and something shifts in her expression—recognition, maybe, or understanding.

"Stay like that," she whispers, reaching for her sketchpad.

There’s not a thing in this fucking world that could get me to move.

Except her.

43

CLARA

He’s hard.

I’m basically sitting between his legs. All that masculinity is right there.

Meanwhile, I’m attempting to maintain a professional interest in his knuckles.

I make another mark on the paper.

Art requires sacrifice. Apparently, mine is going to be sanity.

44

GABRIEL

She’s staring at me like she wants to consume me.