Page 24 of Hostile Secret
Intermittent bursts of white light wash over dark, messy strands and coarse facial hair. My mouth dries.
“Well…just so we’re on the same page… I don’t care either.” I partly lie.
The day Reno was murdered, my heart died with him.
I was too young to really understand the chaos of my parents’ lives. Their relationship was a car with no brakes destined to crash and burn.
I vaguely remember my mother’s certifiable reaction when our father told us he’d lost everything. Over the years, his paltry wages had chipped away at humongous gambling debts and our belongings gradually disappeared until our rented house was merely a shell.
We didn’t have much to begin with, but what we did own had dripped through his fingers like running water.
Shortly after, my mother had run off with some dead-beat asshole she met at the grocery store. Apparently, she’d turned up a few months later in the morgue and my father went to prison for strangling her on the street.
At that point, Reno was old enough to be my legal guardian, so we left our old lives behind and moved to the coast for a fresh start. It was just me and him until he’d met André Souza.
I don’t have much recollection of those early days, but upon reflection, things had worked out for the best.
The childhood memories I cherish the most consist of Reno, André, and Letterman. Three guys who would shoot up a room full of criminals without a second thought, yet would show me a softer side than the rest of the world would ever see.
Those bonds made it easy to look past their villainous ways and bloody drug wars. I might not be directly involved in their brutal world, but tactics and defense come second nature to me now, which makes me cartel by default.
When they talked business, I listened. And when they disappeared to carry out that business, I always prayed they’d return.
My heart will forever remain fiercely loyal to those men until the day I die. And I’m guessing that applies to this good-looking jerk too.
“You don’t need to care,” he says nonchalantly. “You just need to do what you’re told. I know you’re capable of being a good girl, aren’t you?”
I know he’s trying to be a cocky asshole now. However, being this close to him dazzles my senses. From his god-like dominance, and deep Spanish accent, to his intoxicating body heat––all of him makes my core quiver and my brain malfunction. I haven’t felt this daring and wild, ever.
“I was stuck up here in this tower minding my own business until you barged in, wasn’t I?” I straighten my spine that little bit more. But when Daenis howls from downstairs, the lonely call fuels my temper. “And my dog is terrified, Gio. The least you could do is let her into my room. Dogs don’t understand lightning. Not that you’d know, given you seem to hate them.”
He shoots a glance over his shoulder as if he expects someone to knock on the door and shoves a hand into his joggers, fishing out a different phone to mine.
The screen glows as it vibrates in his palm. Without hesitation, he answers it. “What’s wrong?”
“Where are you?” As soon as the female on the other end of the line speaks, Giovanni backs away from me.
Instantly, the loss of his body heat welcomes goosebumps all over me and not in a good way.
“The library,” he lies.
“Can you come here, Giovanni?” the woman asks. “There are unusual noises tonight and I’m afraid I can’t…”
Before she gets the chance to finish, he cuts her off. “I’m coming now.”
My heart jumps. “Who was that?”
“The housekeeper,” he replies matter-of-factly.
I frown at him. “Why does your housekeeper need you in the middle of the night? Are you screwing her?”
“Would it be any of your business if I were?”
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I shake my head. “It’s just weird that she’d call you.”
“It’s only weird for you. I have to go.”
I pad forward. “Can I have my cell phone before you leave?”
