Page 46 of When Sinners Fall
He keeps staring. His hands clench at his side, and I can see he’s holding back; I just don’t know which way he’s going to jump. If I didn't know better, I'd think he might lash out at me physically or prove that temper he's keeping at bay. Regardless, I’m still not going to back down on this. Conventional? Hell no. I've never wanted that, but I also can’t be a secret forever.
His body moves one step towards me, so I lift my chin and carry on waiting for a goddamn answer. Not backing down. It's only when I see him grab a door frame to stop himself that I frown and swallow under his intensity.
He glares, keeps grabbing that door frame like someone's life depends on it, and then turns and bolts for the door, slamming it behind him.
Well, maybe that’s my answer.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DRAGON
The car gets faster, the roar louder, the speed insignificant.
I’m just running.
Never run from a goddamn thing in my life. I either take it – lay on the floor and get beaten – or I finish it. But this shit? This confusion about her and safety and who the fuck I’ve become?
Yeah – I’m running.
And thinking.
Twenty miles out over the bridge and I keep powering along old, dirt roads, pushing this Mustang to its limits. The ground eats up under me, dust and rubble being thrown out in all directions. All I can see is Mariana in my head from years back, her small body battered and near broken. That's the kind of evil that comes for us. That's the kind of men we are. They took her because they could and used her to make their point while I was too busy managing other crap. I didn't even see it coming. It was all on me to lead the family, to force and control everything, and just one fucking time I failed at that. Maybe I was overwhelmed trying to deal with everything Abel was sending my way from inside Huntsville, or maybe I just wasn't sharp enough back then. Either way, the Herrera brothers thought she was a target they could use to get to me. Guess they thought it would show me who was gonna run this city before the gang wars had calmed. I finished that war that night, making damn sure everyone knew the Cortez kind of vengeance.
The car skids sideways under me, brakes slammed all the way down, and I come to a stop three feet out from a ledge dropping into nothing but air. The vision of Mariana's fucked-up body when I found her is so deeply embedded that it rips me in two every damn time it comes. Thirteen years old with her life ahead of her, and there she was, bruised, tortured and damn near raped because of my life. I might have killed everyone there after it was done. And I might have promised her it would never happen again, but it's me that lives with the goddamned guilt every fucking day. My fault.
My fault.
I stare down at the edge I’m too close to, wondering if it would have been better for Wren if I'd just driven over it. Probably. I stopped, though. I made a fucking call that might damage who she is.
All in.
If only she knew what that meant.
I pick out my phone, Iight a smoke, and call Abel to ask where he is. At his place.
The drive back to him is just as manic. I’m still making all kinds of decisions in my head to counter the one I made back there. No point, though. I’m not letting her go now I’ve found her – never will. If this life I’m in fucks her up, so be it. Can’t say I didn’t try to keep her away from it, though.
This is all on her now.
Abel’s by the door when I pull up, a frown covering his face as I get out and walk straight at him. “You alright?” he asks.
I shake my head and move past him into the hallway, then straight down his stairs to pace the hell out of his lounge. He doesn’t say anything else. Just waits like he always does when I’m in this kinda mood. Not that this particular kinda mood has ever happened before, but he knows well enough not to push when I’m agitated.
“I need to bring someone in,” I eventually say, coming to a stop. The words make me glare at my reflection in the window, still questioning the reality that presents her with.
“Who?”
I can’t even get her name out of my mouth, because the second I do, he knows, and then the family knows, and then the whole goddamn world knows, and she’ll be in danger. Still, I turn and look at him, willing – no, fucking begging him to do what we do for family if I’m pulling her into it.
He sighs and sits down on his couch, shaking his head to mirror my own feelings on this. “You sure?”
I grab a bottle from his sideboard and take a healthy slug from it. “No. But yes.”
He snorts. “This isn't a good time for change.”
Not knowing what that means, I side-eye him as a response and take another drink. There's never a good time for this kind of change. It's invasive, difficult, and will cause tremors that ripple through us like a low-lying tornado. Especially if I’m going to try keeping her in the dark about what we do. Either way, it's happening. We'll deal with it.I'lldeal with it.
“I need a name, Dante.” Yeah, I know he does. He’ll check up on her, he’ll trail her, and he’ll probably push the hell out of her in his own way to make sure she’s on board. But, with any goddamn luck, he’ll also treat her like she’s a part of me.
