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Renata waves her daughter off. “Be polite. From what little information I’ve been able to gather, I can’t imagine what awful things must have gone on inside that house.”
“Zane kept me safe,” I explain firmly. “He always does.”
“Then I am grateful to you, Mr. Phillips. I suppose all I can give you is my personal guarantee that no harm will come to either of you whilst under my protection. All will be provided to you now that you’re part of the family.”
I shift forward in my chair. “Renata, I—”
“Abuela,” she corrects. “Please.”
“Abuela,” I say slowly. “Before Natalia brought us here, she said I’d give you a leg up in this war against the Becerra Cartel. What did she mean?”
“I will tell you everything you need to know after dinner. We wouldn’t want our food to get cold.”
“Please?” I insist. “I’ve gone my whole life without answers. All I want is the truth.”
Renata smiles patiently, patting the back of my hand with hers. She takes a deep breath, her eyes suddenly far away in a distant memory. “My youngest daughter, Liana, was one of my most brilliant commanders. She was in charge of our expansion into the States.”
Across the table, Natalia makes a noise as she shoves a piece of bread into her mouth. I pay her no mind, intrigued by my grandmother’s story. This is the most I’ve ever truly been told about my mother, and I’m thirsty to drink in every word.
“I sent her off to hold onto our territory in southern California,” Renata says, something sad dragging at her tone. “And then, roughly twenty-two years ago, we lost all contact.”
A chill shrieks down my spine.
Renata shakes her head. “That’s enough for tonight, my dear. Please, eat your fill. I’m sure you must be starving.”
Reluctantly, I pick at my plate. The food is delicious, but my appetite is absent. Questions swirl around in my head, dread licking at the nape of my neck.
What the hell happened to my mother, and why do I feel like it has something to do with me?
Chapter 25
Zane
Idon’t like this one bit.
Willow paces the length of the room, back and forth and back again. I can practically smell her brain frying as she turns over the day’s events. She carries her stress in her shoulders, her anxiety in her grinding jaw.
“You need to sleep at some point,” I tell her. “If you want, I can ask them to give me a separate room.”
She shakes her head. “Won’t they think that’s weird? My husband and I sleeping in different beds? Besides, I’d feel a lot safer if you stayed.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Willow gives me an appreciative smile, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it. The poor woman is so terribly exhausted, and I can’t blame her. I’d be out of my mind, too, if I were in her shoes. The next time she passes, I gently grasp her wrist to keep her still.
“Come here, darling. You’re going to wear a groove into the floor.”
She takes a deep breath but allows me to guide her to the bed. I pull her onto my lap, her arms circling my neck while she straddles me. Our bodies press together, melding to each other’s shape with ease.
“We’re okay,” I assure her in a whisper. “You’re out. Arturo and Esteban will never hurt you again.”
“You sound so sure,” she mumbles, a flash of fear and worry in her pretty blue eyes. “Last time, they—”
“This time, I’m going to keep you safe.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re in another country, Willow. You’ve found your family.” I kiss her other cheek, adoring the way she melts against me further. “And most importantly, you’re with me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she mumbles, moving in to slot her lips against mine.
Our kisses are unhurried and tender. There’s no need to rush. We’re not at risk of being caught like we were at the compound. For now, it’s just the two of us. The rest of the world and all our troubles can wait until we’ve had our fill of each other.
