Page 71 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
My face stings like I’ve been slapped. I take several slow breaths to cool my rising temperature. “Okay, let’s dial this back a notch. You’ve been through a lot. You’re tired and stressed—”
“Don’t you dare patronize me,” she snaps, eyes blazing. “I’ve been through more than you’ll ever know
, more than most people could live through, and I survived. Clawing and biting and eating worms when I had to, eating fucking dirt when that’s all there was. I survived. Long before you, Ryan, I survived.”
Her face is red. Her hands are shaking. I’ve never seen her this angry.
“You don’t know what it means to have nothing, because you were born in a country where you could speak out against the government without being killed. You were born to parents who knew how to read and write, who had opportunities to make life better for their children. You weren’t born a girl in a culture that valued girls as much as horses or cows, good only for buying or selling or putting to work. You weren’t orphaned at six when your parents and almost everyone else you knew was murdered in a midnight raid. You didn’t live for years like an animal in the hills, filthy and starving, hiding from guerrillas who’d sell you to the highest bidder, only coming out at night to steal what you could from the villages. You didn’t have to watch your sister—”
She breaks off abruptly, swallowing a sob.
I’m frozen in shock at her words. “Angel,” I breathe.
She swallows hard several times, swipes at her eyes, then straightens her shoulders, lifts her chin, and pierces me with her gaze.
“My name is Mariana,” she says with exquisite dignity. “I’m a professional thief wanted by authorities in twelve countries for crimes committed in the service of honoring an oath that saved the life of the only man I’ve ever loved. That man is Reynard. If it wasn’t for him, I’d have died a horrible death as a little girl, the worst kind of death a little girl could ever suffer. And now I want to call him. God help you, gringo, if you try to stand in my way.”
My mouth hangs open. I’m stunned, heartsick, and deeply, deeply impressed. If I thought she was a goddess before, now I might as well kneel at her feet and start babbling prayers.
“Yes,” I say, finding my voice. “Of course. I’ll bring the phone.”
We stare at each other across the room, silence yawning wide between us. I want to say more but know any words I could speak would be useless.
I bring her one of the spare cells I keep in the safe in the wall of my bedroom. “It’s a crypto phone. Untraceable. Totally secure. You can keep it.” I turn and head back toward my bedroom, assuming she’ll want privacy.
Shows how much I know.
“Ryan,” she calls.
I stop and look over my shoulder. I washed her jeans and hoodie while she was asleep, and she’s wearing them now, her damp hair loose around her shoulders, her feet bare. Even with no makeup, dressed down, exhaustion seeping through all her movements, she’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.
She drags a hand through her hair and sighs. “Is your offer of food still on the table?”
I nod, not daring to speak.
She looks at the phone in her hand like she’s looking for answers. She exhales in a gust and lifts her gaze to mine. “That would be nice. Thank you. And thank you for the phone. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch…it’s just that…”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say softly.
There’s a moment where I can tell she’s struggling to find the right words. “I’ve always been alone,” she says. “I’ve always worked alone. I don’t know anything about taking care of other people, or being part of a team. I’ve never even had a pet. Trust isn’t a luxury I’ve ever been able to afford. So this…you…”
She falters, making a helpless gesture with her hands. I don’t want to push her to say more, but I also don’t want her to stop talking.
This is exactly the kind of shit we need to work out.
“You’re like a dream that’s so good, I don’t want to wake up,” she says, her eyes shining. “But I know eventually that I’ll have to. And the longer I stay dreaming, the worse it’ll hurt when I’m finally awake.”
Fuck. If my heart didn’t already burst in the shower, it would shatter into a million tiny pieces now. I have to stand there and breathe for a few seconds before I can speak. When I do, my voice is rough with emotion.
“Life isn’t always unfair, Mariana. Lots of bad shit happens, but good things happen, too, and you need to be able to recognize the good when it comes along. You need to be able to accept it and deal with it, same as you deal with the bad. Love is as real as hate. You know how to survive. But that’s not the same as living.”
She stares at me, swallowing, the color high in her cheeks.
“And if what happened in the shower turns out to have consequences, we’ll deal with it,” I say more softly. “Together. Now make your phone call, woman. I’m gonna make us some chow.”
I kiss her forehead as I walk past her into the kitchen.
The sound of her faint laugh follows me as I go.
