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‘Why not?’ John pressed. ‘What do you think I’m gonna do? Do you think I’m going to use it against you?’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe. I have secrets that nobody knows, John. Not Dornan. Not Emilio. Nobody.’
‘Like secret sons?’ He raised his eyebrows.
I nodded my head in resignation. ‘Didn’t buy the baby brother story, huh?’
‘You don’t react like that over a photo of a child that isn’t your own,’ John said softly. ‘I’m a father. I know a mother when I see one. And I swear on my fucking life, I will never tell anyone what you tell me. You can trust me, Ana. I just helped you get rid of the body of a DEA agent. Not any DEA agent, either. The one that happens to work for our boss. I could be killed for that. So let’s start hearing some of these secrets so I can understand what the hell I’ve just gotten myself into.’
He had a point. And I was tired of keeping everything locked up inside. It was lonely and exhausting.
I told him everything. I started with the night Este and I were confronted back in Colombia, how he’d been murdered in front of me on the ground in a dirty alley. How I’d offered myself up in exchange for Emilio letting my family live. How Dornan had saved me from a certain fate as a slave at an auction. How I’d do it all again if it meant my little blue-eyed son would be safe. I told him every last detail, the way my father took Luis from me, how Murphy had killed my family, and now how I’d exacted the ultimate revenge against him, luring him into my bed with promises of a dirty fuck and instead blowing his brains out.
I told him everything, until I was empty, and in the end there wasn’t a single word left inside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JOHN
She told him everything, and as soon as she’d finished, all John wanted to do was bundle up every word that she’d uttered and hand it back to her. Because there was power in knowledge, but there was danger, too. And now he was a very real part of it. By helping Ana to dispose of Murphy’s body, and now hearing about her family, about her son, he was a pawn in whatever game she was playing at.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t say anything for a very long time.
‘Did you burn the photos?’ he asked finally.
She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Burn them all.’
‘John—’
‘Stop. Stop talking for a minute. I need to think. Fuck.’
He yanked the car door open and got out, his mind going crazy. So his suspicions about her had been right the entire time. Emilio fucking owned her. Dornan had ‘saved’ her in some way, but she was still the property of the Il Sangue Cartel, and, to a lesser extent, the Gypsy Brothers. And he’d fucking known that kid was her son! But he guessed she had reasons to distrust him. He was a Gypsy Brother. And he was Dornan’s best friend.
He heard Mariana’s door open and close, and then she was approaching him, in front of the pick-up. He’d left the headlights on, and they cut a stark line across her midsection.
‘John. I just want to go home, okay?’
He twisted his head to look down at her, this beautiful, exotic creature he’d been watching from the wings for the better part of a decade. He remembered the way her mouth had felt, the tight buds of her nipples hardening without him even touching them. His cock stirred painfully at the memory of lusting after a woman who could never be his.
Her dark blue eyes were bloodshot. She looked incredibly tired. And yet she was still exquisite.
‘You want to go home?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you all of that.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s a little late now, isn’t it?’
‘Why did you kiss me?’
‘What?’
She looked at the ground. ‘Never mind.’
He stomped back to the car, not taking his eyes off Mariana as he dragged his door open. She stood immobile for a moment, and then followed, sliding into the passenger seat. He folded himself in behind the steering wheel and jammed the key into the ignition, but didn’t turn it.
‘Let’s just go,’ she said softly. Almost like she was pleading.
