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“Um, maybe privately.” I eye the beaten man who seems to be in a semi-conscious state.
“No matter. He’ll be dead soon.”
Okay then. “Una called,” I say. He stills, his eyes snapping to mine, that bloodlust rages to the surface until he looks positively murderous.
“What did she want?”
I chew my bottom lip. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t want to speak with her. But she asked that you contact Nero. Apparently, he’s been trying to get hold of you.”
“I’ve been busy,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Well, call the Italian. See what he has to say for himself.”
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and I can feel the stickiness of the blood on his fingers. “Is that what you want?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t call unless he wants something. Una must be working with him again if she called you.” I nod. “You might be forced to deal with your sister.”
On a deep sigh, I drop my gaze. My stomach churns uncomfortably as that sick feeling settles in my gut. He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over the spot where my little finger once was. I don’t bother covering it anymore. I have to come to terms with it at some point, though I’m not there yet.
“It’s just business,” I say. Of course, it’s not just business. It’s so much more complicated and deeply engrained than that.
Pulling me closer, he presses his lips to my forehead, and I close my eyes. I inhale the scent of cigar smoke and blood. I absorb his warmth, that impregnable feeling of safety that only he can provide.
“She’s your sister, little warrior. She’s not just business.”
“She chose her side, Rafe. Now, she is nothing more than the daughter of a crazy Russian and the partner of a mafia boss. If we need to deal with her, we deal with her.”
He inhales a deep breath and places his thumb along my jaw, tipping my head back. “So ruthless, avecita.” His lips curl into a wry smile, and he leans in, placing his lips against mine. As the months have passed, his kisses have become far more than warm and comforting. Even the most innocent of brushes is like a drug to me: addictive, calming, exciting. He makes me feel things and want things that I never thought I would desire, and I don’t think I ever could from anyone but him. For a moment, the world disappears, and it’s just him and I in our little bubble. The blood, the danger, business, and family…it all becomes meaningless for just a few seconds.
He pulls away and once again, reality filters back in. “Call him.” I step back and glance down at my white tank top now covered in faded red and brown smudges. “And put a shirt on.”
He grins. “Why would you want that?”
“I’m just thinking of Samuel. You’ll make him jealous.”
I turn around and hesitate before I step over the now fully conscious beaten man. “Please.” He makes a grab for my ankle until Rafael steps on his wrist, pulling the gun from the back of his waist. I turn away and hurry to the door, slipping outside before I hear the bang.
I like that Rafael doesn’t hide what he is from me, but I equally, my mind still grapples with that basic morality of coldly shooting a man. Not because it bothers me, but because it really doesn’t.
What does that make me?
* * *
I’min the gym with Lucas when Rafael finds me later. Lucas and I are side-by-side, jogging on the treadmills. He’s so much better. The feeling in his legs has pretty much returned, although sometimes he has weakness in his left leg. He’ll get there though. I look up when I spot Rafael’s large form propped against the doorframe. His arms are folded over his chest again, making them look even thicker and him even more imposing. At least he’s wearing a shirt this time. I hit stop on the treadmill and hop off, swiping a towel over the back of my neck as I make my way over to him. Lucas keeps jogging, his feet pounding over the rubber belt rhythmically.
“You okay?” I ask Rafael.
“I called Nero.”
“And?”
He sighs and jerks his head toward the door. “I’m about to have a meeting with Carlos and Samuel. Come on.”
I glance down at myself. “Can I grab a shower first?”
He smirks. “No. I like you sweaty.”
