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“Yup. I’m in the mood for Thai.”
“Done.” While I pull out my small load, she takes another sip of her fermented drink, grimacing after she swallows. “By the way, where are you guys going this time? Did the governor tell you, or does he just expect you to show up?”
“What do you think?”
“The latter.”
“Word.” With my hip, I close the dryer and walk out with her lying atop my clean ankle socks. “That’s how the dependable man of the people always behaves. We are his sheep.”
“He’s so much like my father. Exhausting.”
“How is dear Papa Cancio?” My luggage is atop the bed, empty, but there. I have my clothes all in piles and separated by types. I’d rather go on vacation with Callum. “Is he still expecting you to take over?”
“He is.”
“And?” I ask, looking back at the screen to find her head tilted, studying me. “What?”
“You can’t hide your emotions, Ali. Not from me.”
“Why do you say that?” My voice comes out an octave higher. My hands are a little shaky and I dig them into the laundry, pretending to be looking for something.
“Maybe it’s because in the span of this conversation, you’ve gone from smiling and blushing to sadness and then a one-eighty into irritation, only to turn back around and end at longing.”
“You’re seeing something that isn’t there.”
“Or something’s going on with you.” She taps her lips with her middle finger, and I can’t help but snort. So immature, but it does help loosen a bit of my tension. “Something you don’t want to share.”
“Like you and mystery man?”
“Do you have one of your own? Because I know you, Rubens, and you’re being weirder than normal.”
“And if I do?” Better to give her something than continue evading. This way, she understands. “What if it’s really new and I’m just feeling him out? What if he’s knocked me on my butt, but I’m not ready for the intros and—”
My best friend holds up her hands. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I do.” For a beat, we’re both silent but then she sighs, and I scrunch up my face in question. “I’m being an ass when you’ve been patient with me...aren’t I? It’s not like I’m sharing.”
“No. You’re not, but I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“And I’ll do the same.”
“Deal.”
23
It’s been two months since I last touched her. Showed up unannounced and tasted her.
Sixty-one days since I’ve had to live off FaceTime and phone calls. Where I spend all day waiting for our nightly routine where I log into the cameras in her home and watch her sleep. My obsession knows no bounds. My need is near maddening.
Because since taking over, I’ve had one truth smack me in the face over and over. No matter where I am, who I’m dealing with, or while joining Casper on this search, I always have her on my mind.
Her place is beside me. She’s my home, and I am hers.
It’s one of the reasons I’d been so calm while flying into Cuban soil. We’re here to put an end to the manhunt—I’m quiet and alert, talking only when necessary, and my bloodthirst is high.
The man inside is more than my aunt’s killer; he’s an obstacle that needs to be removed.
