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“I know you think you’re on the right side here, but you’re not. We weren’t there for profit last night; we were there for them.” She nodded to the box. “And this is what he does to them when he’s finished with them,” she said, closing the distance and holding out a handful of surveillance photos, the pictures of Domínguez’s men dumping body parts in oil drums.
“How many of them,” she asked, nodding at the box, “are going to end up likethis,thanks to you?”
Leeri looked up at me like she was seeking confirmation.
I nodded, not sure how much my confirmation meant to this version of Leeri.
She looked down at the open box of pictures, shaking her head. “This makes no sense. You’re criminals.”
Greta scoffed. “Black and white, huh? How about you go tell the families of those people that getting a measly shipment of guns was more important than their lives? Tell me how fucking righteous you feel then.”
“I don’t believe you,” Leeri said, shaking her head. “If Javier had been dealing in ransoms, I would have known about it,” she said with absolute conviction. So, all this…”—she waved her hand at the photos—“is fake. I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play, but it won’t work. You’re going to have to find someone else to buy your bullshit.”
“For fuck’s sake, Leeri, Greta’s not lying.”
Leeri looked up at me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you, Brute. You’re with them… one of them.”
“Damn right, I am. And Greta’s right; you’re on the wrong side here,” I said, then left the room, leaving what had once been my sister alone with the box of horrors.
Greta followed me out, shaking her head. “God, they’ve got her brainwashed,” she said when she’d shut and locked the door. “What the hell are we supposed to do about this?” She looked like she really wanted to hit something.
“I’m sorry, darling.”
Her brow furrowed. “For what?”
I shrugged. “My blood, my responsibility, but I’m short on ideas to make this right,” I said, nodding at Leeri’s closed door.
Greta shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You made the hard call by letting us keep her here—I have no doubt that wasn’t easy. I think she genuinely doesn’t know about what Domínguez is up to, but maybe, in time, we can wear her down and make her realize we’re the good guys in this fucked-up little scenario.”
Oh, if only it were that simple. The one thing that seemed to have remained the same about Leeri was her goddamned stubbornness.
I sighed, running my fingers through my too-short hair.
She smiled. “It used to be longer, didn’t it?”
I scoffed while my lips twitched in a smile. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
Her gaze met mine, and her light hazel eyes turned darker. I think the house could have gone up in flames and I wouldn’t have noticed when she licked her plump lips and took a step toward me.
My cock jerked as she reached up, but I grabbed her arm and lowered it back down to her side.
Fucking her hadn’t gotten her out of my system; it had burrowed her under my skin. And I was too damn old to play games and pretend I didn’t know what this was.
“Back to work as usual, yeah?” I said, cocking an eyebrow.
The girl had her whole life ahead of her; no good reason to take her on a detour that would lead nowhere. Though, it hadn’t escaped my notice I hadn’t let go of her arm. It would be so easy to shove her up against the wall, drag her pants down, and fuck her sweet pussy. I swear it was calling to me.
“Si,” she said, her voice a little breathless and her eyes fixed on where I held her.
“I’m going to go check on our other guest, darling, and make sure my boys got him settled.”
She nodded, but instead of letting her go, I pulled her closer. Just one more taste of those plump lips. What could it hurt?
Chapter Twenty
Brute
Well, so far as jail cells go, I think Leeri got the better end of the deal. The boys had tied up our guest in one of the clubhouse’s upper rooms. A twin-size bed with ten-year-old sheets, wood paneling on the walls, an old rocking chair that was here when we bought the place, and light fixtures that went out of style in the 1970s. It wasn’t one of the finer “suites” here at the clubhouse, but the boys didn’t care. The rooms were used for fucking and sleeping, neither of which required much in the way of décor.
