Page 33 of Gabriel
He shrugged. “You didn’t see me or hear me, but I saw you.”
“Why?” I questioned. I wanted to hear him admit it was because he was after Jet.
“You told me to stay away. I did.”
I crossed my arms, fingers twitching near the knife strapped to my thigh. “Since when do you listen to anyone?”
His grin widened, teeth flashing. “When a woman says she’d rather become a nun than touch me? Yeah, that’s where I draw the line.”
I scoffed.
He raised a brow, the grin never fading. “What? Would you rather I hadn’t? That I’d taken you against your will?”
I blinked, jaw tightening. “Conversations with you are always so educational.”
Gabriel tapped the steering wheel, amused. “Glad you think so. Now, tell me, what had you so pissed before I showed up? Well, you know, aside from the filth being perpetrated against innocent women. Did you miss your morning coffee or something?”
Despite myself, I smirked. “Maybe I don’t drink coffee.”
“You also like tequila, sharp objects, and chaos. Honestly, it’s like a Colombian spirit got stuck in an Italian body. I’m still waiting to see the Irish traits.”
I didn’t bother telling him that I took after my mothers, two women who raised me with sharp edges and sharper instincts.
“You might wait for a long time for those,” I said in a dry voice.
Of course there was no denying my Italian and Irish roots. The DiLustro side, with their ties to the Italian Mafia, and the Cullen one, whose roots run deep in the Irish underworld.
The sun dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows across the cracked road. I inhaled slowly, steadying the thoughts clawing through my head.
“So, Santos, what’s the real reason you’re helping me out?”
He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you on my turf. The last thing I need is your family showing up and burning everything down.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Scared?”
He shot me a sideways look, smirk still intact. “Hardly. I just don’t need the headache.”
I narrowed my eyes, done with circling the point. “What do you have going on with Jet? You’re hiding something, and if it involves my brother, I can’t be held accountable for how I deal with it.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he replied, tone dropping, suddenly lethal. “Butyouare hiding plenty.”
“Me?” This was the exact reason I always kept my distance from Gabriel Santos. He could see deep into my soul with those blue eyes of his. It was dangerous, but also so tempting to get lost in.
“Yes, you.” A chill crept up my spine as he glanced at me again. “Don’t mistake my fondness for you as weakness, Amara.”
I narrowed my eyes but held my tongue. Some things were better left unsaid. For now.
The Jeep jolted over a pothole, the suspension groaning as a cloud of dust spiraled in the headlights. I kept my gaze fixed on the windshield, but Gabriel’s presence lingered in my periphery like a shadow I couldn’t shake. His words still echoed, low and sure, curling in my mind.Don’t mistake my fondness for you as weakness, Amara.
I’d always liked that about Santos, if nothing else. He traded in riddles and veiled threats, sure, but I got the sense he wasn’t lying, at least not deliberately.
Which was the reason I was still no closer to getting answers about Jet. He hadn’t denied knowing I was here for information—hell, he was the one who brought it up first—but he was doing a fantastic job of dancing around the topic.
“So,” I said, slicing through the silence before it thickened into something heavier, “you’ve got problems on your territory. Do you encounter traffickers often?”
Gabriel snorted. “You expect me to spill my secrets while you hoard yours? Communication,preciosa, is a two-way street in a relationship.”
