Page 46 of Hostile Secret
“He wants a word.”
“I’ll call him later.”
She relays the response to my twin, who’s notoriously impatient and known for demanding my attention whenever it suits him. We’re close. Really close. He knows me better than anyone, except for the secret I had to hide from him. But that was Papá’s fault.
That man had a cruel way of extracting truths from each of us. If he’d even caught a whiff of something that didn’t fit his plans for us—life changing consequences would occur.
“He said you have to speak to him now or he’ll––”
“Dré––” I lean over and snatch the phone off her. “I’m busy driving your precious, rebellious as fuck cargo home.”
“What the hell were you thinking, letting her go to a bar without security?” He shouts at me across the phone line, his temper on a fraying thread.
I get it. I really do. More than he knows. But this isn’t the time to talk about what happened. I’m too pissed off.
“She’s fine. Crossed wires.”
“You promised me, G. You fucking promised.”
“Yo, Dré. Does your phone do this?” As soon as I finish the question, I hang up.
“Right back at ya,cabron,” I mutter to myself.
He’s done that to me countless times in the past. Karma is a bitch. We’ll discuss India’s waywardness tomorrow once my head is screwed back on properly.
I drop the phone onto her lap and keep my gaze forward. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I’d spend time with the girls from my school…”
“Didn’t I make it clear that you were to go home?” I growl. “If you can’t obey a simple order, then maybe I’ll have to think of somewhere else for you to stay.”
Her breath catches. “It’s not a crime to go out with friends. How was I supposed to know those assholes would show up?”
My temper flares and I slam the heel of my hand on the steering wheel. “Are you serious, India? Guys like those are everywhere. I can’t believe how naïve you really are. You should have gone home to Blackwater.”
“I don’t have a home anymore.” She bites back, swiping the corner of her eye to catch a tear.
I swear my heart oscillates when she sniffs, and she flicks her gaze outside the window. Then I swallow back the weakness festering within me.
“Kids cry, niñita. Adults accept their mistakes.” The instant I repeat the cold-hearted phrase that had belonged to my father, my insides recoil in disgust.
She doesn't deserve to hear his lies, even less than I did.
“I’m not a child, Gio!” Her fist thumps the interior and her head spins around directing big watery, tired eyes right at me. “Stop calling me that,” she hisses. “It’s my damn birthday today. I’m officially an adult.”
My muscles brace. Jesus fuck, she’s eighteen.
“Say that again.”
“I said it’s my damn birthday today. That’s why I agreed to go out with them.”
My heart rate takes off.
I could destroy her. Rip her panties off and drag her into the rear of this BMW. Fuck her until neither of us could breathe. But not tonight, not when she’s drunk.
We both need space. Her to sober up and me to reflect on what the hell she’s doing to me.
With painstaking control, I fix my gaze on the horizon rather than look at how the dress material clings to her tits. If it's not a sunshine skimpy bikini, it's a short lemon dress that covers her curves like a second skin.
