Page 147 of The Devil's Thorn
I brushed my hands down my thighs and turned to Kellan, who was hauling my suitcase from the car. “I hate that it feels like paradise,” I muttered.
“You’re not the only one,” he said, glancing around. “Places like this? Always hiding something underneath.”
Ash grinned as he grabbed his bag. “Probably bodies.”
I didn’t even smile.
But before either of them could say anything else, a voice called out lazily, “Well, well… I didn’t realize Rafael started hiring models as soldiers.”
I turned. A man was strolling toward us with a drink in one hand and a half-burned blunt in the other. Shirt half-open,tanned skin glowing under the sun, curly dark hair brushing against his forehead. There was a sharpness in his eyes though—an edge beneath the grin. And a ridiculous amount of swagger.
“Don’t shoot. I come in peace,” he said, flicking the blunt onto the pavement and raising his hands. “Welcome to Cartagena. I’m yourofficialtour guide for this absurdly expensive estate Rafael’s pretending isn’t a playground.”
I stared at him, unimpressed. “And you are?”
“Yuri,” he said easily, stepping closer. “I kill people for a living. But today, I’m your concierge.” He offered me the drink he was holding. “Rum, with a little lime. Because tequila this early makes me violent.”
Ash raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”
Yuri grinned at him. “Always. Unless I’m not. It’s part of the charm.”
Kellan leaned against the car, expression unreadable. “You one of Rafael’s?”
Yuri gave him a slow smile. “You could say I’m his better half. He’d deny it. But he’d be wrong.”
I took the drink, not sipping, just letting the condensation chill my fingertips. “You always this annoying, or are we just special?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stepping beside me and linking his arm through mine, “you’re special. Come on, let me give you a tour before Rafael starts brooding in corners again. He’s been tragically moody lately.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder at Ash and Kellan. “You two good with the bags?”
Ash nodded. “Yeah. Go play nice.”
Kellan, voice low, added, “Stay sharp.”
Always.
Yuri guided me around the estate like it belonged to him. “That over there’s the guest house—don’t use the hot tub unlessyou’re ready to hear things you can’t un-hear. The kitchen’s staffed with locals who cook like they’ve sold their souls for flavor. And that—” he pointed to the sprawling pool “—is where I almost drowned last year. In champagne.”
I didn’t say much, just took it all in. The ocean view. The palm-lined path. The thick silence behind his jokes.
“You don’t talk much,” he noted, glancing at me as we neared the edge of the infinity pool. “I respect that. Mystery is sexy.”
“I talk when I want to,” I said evenly.
“Ah, a selective conversationalist. Even better.”
He stopped walking and turned to face me, hands sliding into his pockets. “You don’t trust me yet. That’s smart. Don’t. But you’ll like me eventually. I grow on people.”
“Fungus grows on people too,” I replied dryly.
He let out a laugh, throwing his head back, just as a familiar voice cut through the humid air behind us.
“Yuri.”
I turned. Rafael stood a few feet away, Nikolai beside him, both of them dressed in black like it wasn’t a hundred degrees out. His gaze flicked over Yuri, then me. Something unreadable passed through his expression.
Yuri smirked. “Speak of the devil. You’re early.”
