Page 64 of Sins of the Father
Her heart pounded.Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.
A bell tinkled as he opened the shop door.
Shit. She grabbed a straw hat from the rack, tossed it on, plucked up a magazine and tried to appear like a casual woman browsing and reading. Carlos turned around, and Mia waited a few beats before she hastened from the shop. She almost smiled.Almost.
Mia turned the corner, only twenty yards from the dock now—
A hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her into the shadow of a building. Her back slammed against a wall, and cold metal pressed into her side.
Her breath hitched. Carlos’s face was inches from hers, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger and something that looked almost like regret. “You shouldn’t have run.”
Her pulse skittered wildly. “You shouldn’t have chased me. Release me.”
“Mia,” he hissed, “don’t make this worse. You know I can’t let you go.”
She stared at him, heart hammering, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach. Carlos’s gaze flicked down, catching the movement. His eyes widened slightly, just enough to give her the sliver of hesitation she needed. Mia twisted hard, elbowing him in the ribs. The gun slipped for a second, and she kicked his knee, shoving off the wall and sprinting toward the water.
He cursed, recovering fast. She darted between two moored boats, jumping onto a narrow pier. Her bag slammed against her hip as she ran. Behind her, Carlos’s footsteps pounded onthe wood. The dock ended ahead—nothing but open water and boats.
She turned sharply, ducked behind a stack of crates, and hurled a fishing net at him as he rounded the corner. It tangled around his legs just long enough for her to dash past—
But he was too fast. He tore free, grabbed her arm again, and spun her around.
This time, the gun pressed harder into her ribs.
“Mia,” he growled, breath ragged. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Her chest heaved. Her sunglasses had fallen somewhere, her wig askew, sweat glistening on her temple. “Then stop chasing me.”
He looked at her for a long, tense moment. His jaw worked once before he muttered, “You shouldn’t have fucking run. No one leaves this life.”
And with that, he grabbed her bag, keeping the gun steady, and began steering her back toward the waiting black SUV idling at the edge of the dock.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The leather seats swallowed her, too soft for the panic that sat tight in her ribs. Mia folded her hands in her lap and stared at the rain streaking the window as trees blurred past in dark silhouettes. The farther they drove, the harder it became to breathe. The car’s silence pressed on her like a weight.
“Where are we going?” she asked, voice thin.
Carlos didn’t answer. He drove with quiet, efficient intent. She watched his reflection in the rearview: jaw set, sunglasses still on though the sky was bruised and gray.
“You’re usually not this quiet,” she said. He said nothing. Her stomach dropped. “Why won’t you let me go? I’ll only keep running.”
“I am not taking you to him.”
The words were meant to reassure. They did not. A cold certainty unspooled through her like ice. The shock stole her breath; the pain in her chest doubled her over.I love you,she thought, and the thought broke her.But you could kill me.
“If you’re going to kill me,” she said, forcing the words out, “then at least tell me so I can say my prayers.” Her voice shook.
Carlos’s grip tightened on the wheel. The small twitch at his jaw told her everything. Her palms slicked; her breath came shallow.
“Did he leave any other message?” she asked, clutching at the last thread of hope.
Carlos’s voice was low, bitter. “No. I like you, Mia. But this is the life. You can’t just walk away from it and expect to live. That only begets trouble.”
She pressed a hand to her belly as if to anchor herself. “Carlos—please. I’m not a threat to him.”
The car veered onto gravel, the tires kicking up a fine cloud. They were off-road. Dread pooled in her stomach.
