Page 23 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Okay, asshole,I’m gonna need you to take your tone down a fucking notch, joder. I’m still trying to process everything.”
I hide my laughter by pressing my lips into a tight line. Lorenzo holds no such qualms as he throws his head back and cackles at the expense of our brother. Meanwhile, Kane is glaring at her like he wants to reach across the space that separates them and choke her.
Or fuck her.
Or both.
“Take your time.”
She looks back at me again, her gaze arresting in its innocence. I would kill to have those eyes on me all day if I could.
She blows out a breath. “I guess since I inconvenienced you so much, I owe you an explanation.”
“Not an inconvenience, Amore.”
Kane snorts.
La vidente ignores Kane completely, directing her gaze at me. I wonder if she thinks I’m the lesser evil out of us three and almost smile at that. I’m not. I’m a deadly fucking bastard.
But she doesn’t need to know that just yet.
“Naomi moved in with the Krakens—those are her boyfriends.”
I know who the Krakens are. Their little MC caused trouble in my club a few months ago. It had ended in an almost-brawl and a woman’s brain matter splattered across the floors of Sinful.
“She left me without a roommate, and because I can’t make rent on my own, I went looking for a roommate online.”
“Oh, Amore,” Lorenzo coos sympathetically, angling his body in her direction. “Are you alright?”
Under his breath, Kane calls her an idiot in our native tongue.
“Well, I chose a girl who looked harmless and I felt safe because… because my magic didn’t tell me she was dangerous. Lo juro por Dios, she looked harmless, and then I’m hit with a fucking vision of her stabbing me.” Her breath catches, and I know she’s feeling the phantom pain of what she’s speaking of. Like it’s prominent. Like she has it memorized. Ingrained onto her body.
That’s the thing with pain.
It was always so hard to forget.
“And I came out of it, and she was there, coming at me. I grabbed a knife to fend her off. She hurt me, and I… I hurt her back. I stabbed her and ran away to your club.”
“Why?”
“Kane!” Lorenzo snaps at our brother.
Kane ignores him and pushes on, a cruel master of The Pit, a terrible place of torture and suffering, demanding answers. “Why did you go to Sinful?”
Lorenzo’s chair scrapes back as he jumps to his feet. “Stopit.”
Kane stands, albeit much more slowly than Lorenzo does, and focuses his entire attention and wrath in la vidente’s direction. She shudders in the face of it but remains where she’s seated, brave in her silence. “Why did you go to Sinful?” he demands.
“Kane—”
“Be quiet, Lorenzo,” he growls. “We need the truth.”
I’m inclined to agree, however his methods are tactless. Yet I don’t interfere. I listen, my whole focus on la vidente.
She squirms in her seat, staring back and forth between my brothers, avoiding my gaze altogether.
“I had a vision,” she confesses quietly. “It led me straight to you.”
