Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
He seethed with the urgency to go to her, drag her into the night, and chain her to his bed.
Just like Van Quiso. Only worse. He would never let her escape.
She would seethe and snarl and fight every step of the way, and he would absorb her hatred because, in the end, it’d all be worth it.
His skin warmed despite the cool air blowing from the A/C. Adjusting the vents toward his face, he wrapped his voice in silken tones. “It’s been four years, mi vida. Where are you?”
“You first.” Her blurry image resumed pacing. “Where do you live, and who do you work for?”
He caught Nico’s glare in the mirror, those notorious eyes sharp with warning. Don’t you dare.
“Ask me something meaningful.” He flicked his attention back to the screen. “What do you really want to know?”
“Hmmm.” The drone lost her image as she stepped beneath a large oak tree. A moment later, she appeared on the other side, headed toward the sedan parked in the gravel driveway. “Are you…okay?”
His breath hung in his throat. It was an unexpected question, but one he could answer honestly. “I will be when you come to me.” Willingly.
“How would that work? Would we meet at Starbucks, smile over the rims of our tintos, and take turns asking questions that go unanswered? Or would we skip the bullshit and jump right into fucking and fighting?”
“No quiero café. I want your smiles, your fighting, and your fucking.” His cock jerked. “I want you.”
“If you wanted me, you would’ve found me. Unless you stayed away because…” She hummed, a husky, feminine sound. “You want me too much.”
“You think I’m protecting you from myself?”
If only he were that selfless. His hands were bound. Not in the way he intended to bind hers, because dammit, she didn’t have an excuse for avoiding him.
Outrage hardened his voice. “Why haven’t you contacted me?”
“You tell me,” she said, acid dripping from every syllable. “I don’t know what you do, what you’re involved in. I know your voice, but that’s where it ends. You’re a stranger. Would I even recognize you if I passed you on the street? For all I know, you’re an undercover cop with a wife and kids in the suburbs.”
He didn’t blame her for being paranoid. Her hellfire mission to take down a very specific kind of criminal had led her to commit felonies that were punishable by death. But did she honestly believe he would betray her?
“You don’t trust me.” He squeezed the steering wheel.
“I trust you enough to ask for help.”
“I see. And here I thought you called because you missed me.” Except he knew she’d brought an unconscious man to Van’s cabin. “You have something for me to get rid of?”
“Yep.”
“But you won’t be there when I collect it?”
Silence.
“How is that trusting me?” He watched the screen, mesmerized.
“I trust you with this.” She sat on the hood of the car and lowered her head. “To stand by your word and not leave my package where someone could stumble across it.”
The Austin PD never closed the missing person case on Camila Dias. The last thing he wanted was them to find her now and charge her with capital murder.
“Will the package be there this time?” he asked.
“Yeah. The last one”—she glanced up at Van’s house—“was a slippery sucker.”
Not that slippery. When he’d arrived to collect Van’s body, the bastard was driving away from the house, bleeding from a shoulder wound and clinging to the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
The situation had presented two options. Shoot her kidnapper in the head as he drove by or follow him.
Following Van had been the best decision he ever made. A few weeks later, Van had led him to Liv Reed, who unknowingly took him right to Camila’s front door.
That was four years ago. Four years of monitoring her impressive operation. He had the patience of a goddamn saint, but his intentions were far from benevolent.
He wanted her with a vehemence, but the timing was crucial. The agonizing wait was so very close to being over he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his system.
“Where am I picking up the package?” He knew she wouldn’t send him to Van’s property.
As she gave him an unfamiliar address, he mapped it on the tablet. Enclosed by farmland and dirt roads, the drop was only ten minutes away. Of course, she assumed he was out of town. Otherwise, she would’ve dumped the body before she called him.
This was the point in the conversation where she expected him to ask her shit like, What are you involved in? Who did you kill this time? What have you been doing the past four years?
He needed more from her. Something deeper, vulnerable. “Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“Ah, but you answered too quickly. Have you forgotten I know when you’re lying?”